A Duke for Miss Daisy: Sweet Regency Romance (A Wallflower's Wish Book 1) Read online

  “Daisy,” her mother bodily stepped between them. “Silence.”

  Chapter Three

  A gentleman.

  That was what she wished to say.

  Just because you are a duke, it does not mean that you are a gentleman.

  She bit her lower lip to keep from saying it, but oh how she wished to see his expression if she did.

  Instead, they stood there in awkward silence and her cheeks burned from her mother’s sharp tone as the high and mighty duke glowered at her.

  She’d been too startled by his behavior out in the garden to speak coherently—or at all, really. But now, standing here in this crowded ballroom and watching the way he eyed the world around him like he was some ancient pharaoh overseeing his kingdom...

  Her tongue itched to put him in his place.

  Oh certainly, he was a duke, but did that give him any right to act like a boor? She and her friends had watched him from the garden as he’d strode through this crowd like an angry bull and then proceeded to scare the wits out of everyone around him with that surly glare and his arrogant stance.

  Honestly, even now he was peering down his nose at her like she was some insect to be studied as her father filled the awkward silence with talk about tomorrow’s hunt.

  It was a topic she could not even pretend to feign an interest in.

  Do not fidget. Do not fidget. Do not—

  Too late. She found herself shifting from one foot to the other as if her feet were already planning her escape.

  Daisy let her gaze drift, trying to seek out her friends through the couples who were preparing for the next waltz. What she wouldn’t give to be off with Marigold and Lily right now. They’d be watching the dancers from the sidelines as they shared a laugh over nothing in particular.

  She missed her friends.

  True, this garden party had only just begun but it was becoming more and more apparent that her mother’s prediction for this season had been accurate.

  Perhaps she wasn’t a wallflower anymore.

  Her mother kept telling her and anyone else who would listen that Daisy had finally “blossomed.”

  Blossomed. Really. As though she were nothing more than some greenhouse orchid her mother had been anxiously waiting on to bloom.

  “Would you rather be dancing, Miss Merriweather?”

  Her head whipped back to face the duke as his low growl of a voice cut into her thoughts. “Pardon me?”

  His eyes were narrowed on her and her mother shifted closer, her fingers clenching Daisy’s arm in warning. Do not say anything rude. She didn’t need to speak the words, her iron clad fingers said it for her.

  The duke’s gaze flicked toward the dance floor as the music started to swell. “You seem distracted,” he said. “Would you rather be dancing?”

  “Uh…That is...” No. The answer was no. She hated dancing. It was a torturous activity that only achieved to highlight her inherent clumsiness.

  But one quick glance at her mother’s wide-eyed stare and her father’s stern glare and she knew that was not the appropriate answer.

  When she turned back to the duke, he arched his brows and his eyes glinted with amusement. Mockery, even. “Would you care to dance?”

  She dipped her head in assent because clearly—there was no escaping the inevitable.

  She took his proffered arm and let him guide her onto the dancefloor where the sea of dancers parted for the duke. As she took her place in his arms, she tried to ignore the stares and the whispers around her.

  She refused to take note of the heat of his hand on her back or the way his perfectly masculine scent seemed to surround her just as surely as his hand enveloped hers. He smelled of cigar, and leather mixed with sandalwood. When he tugged her closer with one decisive movement, she felt as though she’d been swallowed whole.

  She was Jonah inside the whale.

  Her senses were clouded by the overwhelming maleness that was the Duke of Dolan and she almost didn’t notice at first that she was moving in time to the music.

  Her head snapped up, her gaze clashing with his as her eyes widened in astonishment.

  She was dancing.

  And he made it seem...easy.

  “You seem startled, Miss Merriweather,” he said. “Have I done something to offend you?”

  “Oh no, it is just that…” I am dancing! If she were to say that she’d sound like a ninny. “Er…no, Your Grace.”

  He arched his brows. “Are you certain? Because a moment ago it seemed as though you had something to say to me.” His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Perhaps a rebuke of some sort?”

  She shook her head and her cheeks burned once more but whether it was from embarrassment or irritation it was impossible to say.

  He was taunting her. That much was clear. That amusement still glimmered in his eyes and she knew without a doubt that he was trying to rile her.

  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from taking the bait. Her mother would never forgive her if she spoke her mind and told this cold, arrogant man that he had the manners of a brute.

  Instead she focused on the feel of her feet gliding over the dance floor...moving in perfect time, for once.

  The duke, for all his faults, was a most excellent dance partner. He moved with such easy grace, and his hold on her was so firm and confident—he made it impossible to stumble or falter.

  She felt her lips curving up in delight despite the fact that the duke was still trying to bore a hole in her skull with his fierce glare.

  “I would love to know what you are thinking right now.” He muttered it under his breath, more to himself than to her, it seemed.

  She blinked rapidly in surprise. He wanted to know what she was thinking?

  I am dancing...and it feels like flying.

  Just the thought of saying it aloud and seeing his response had a laugh bubbling up inside her. She pressed her lips together to hold it in, but when her gaze met his—so dark and so fierce—it tumbled out, a short little burst of a laugh before she remembered herself.

  She tucked her chin so her gaze was focused on his cravat.

  Thankfully, there was nothing funny about a cravat.

  “Do I amuse you?” he asked.

  She swallowed down another laugh, this time one that threatened to come out as a nervous giggle. She could not ignore him, though, so she lifted her chin and met his gaze evenly. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  His brows hitched up slightly, the only show of surprise on his otherwise grim facade.

  “It is merely meeting you again now that I am grown,” she hurried to explain. This, at least, was close to the truth. “I held you in such esteem as a child. Something akin to hero worship, I suppose…”

  “And now?”

  She did not have to fake a smile. Her mind rushed back to the way she’d made him out to be some knight in shining armor all throughout her childhood, when the reality could not have been further from the truth.

  “And now,” she said as he spun her seamlessly in time to the music. “Seeing you again without the childish perspective has been quite...enlightening.”

  One brow arched up higher. “And amusing,” he confirmed.

  Her grin was unapologetic. “That’s right.”

  “I see.” His expression said he most decidedly did not see.

  She dipped her chin again to hide her amusement. This time she closed her eyes and let herself revel in this novel sensation of gliding effortlessly in time to the music. She did not have to count, nor did she need to keep close track of her feet and their movements.

  All she had to do was let him lead and her body followed suit. His grip was firm, his movements unerring.

  He made it impossible to trip or flounder.

  Her smile grew as she opened her eyes and watched the world spin around her. So this was what dancing was supposed to feel like. She was actually sad to see it come to an end when the music slowed to a stop and her feet did as well. She stepped back out of his arms
with a sigh. “Thank you for the dance, Your Grace.”

  “It was my pleasure.” He said it so seriously, she almost believed him.

  She might have if he hadn’t treated her with such derision just moments ago.

  Clearly he had taken one look at her and found her wanting. Which was fine, since she was hardly enamored with him either. He’d no doubt only asked her to dance out of respect for her mother.

  Her mother who was currently beaming at them both as he escorted her back to where they stood waiting.

  Despite his ill manners in the garden, he managed to say all the appropriate niceties to her and her parents. His friend, too, was the epitome of cordiality as they made the sort of small talk that made Daisy want to pull her hair out.

  Or, at least, seek out her friends for refuge.

  But she managed to maintain a polite smile as her parents and the duke once more discussed the morning hunt.

  Yawn.

  She was only half paying attention when her father mentioned her name. “And I know our Daisy here would appreciate your assistance.”

  She blinked. Um...what? What assistance?

  She turned a questioning gaze to her father and then the duke, who was once more wearing a smirk filled with derision...and it was aimed at her.

  Oh drat. What had she missed? She really ought to have been paying more attention.

  “I am always happy to help a lady in need,” the duke said.

  If anyone else caught the sarcastic edge to his voice, they did not let on. But Daisy heard it, and her breath caught at the mockery that once more filled his gaze when he looked at her.

  “Why am I in need?” she asked her mother under her breath.

  Her mother ignored her—or perhaps she hadn’t heard.

  The duke’s friend was smiling at her kindly and she shifted uncomfortably with the realization that they were discussing her and she had no idea why. Oh, why hadn’t she been paying closer attention?

  Her father patted her shoulder affectionately. “I’m afraid Daisy never quite got the hang of riding.”

  Her mother laughed. “Our Daisy has many skills but unfortunately horsemanship is not one of them.”

  She turned to her mother in horror.

  The duke’s eyes bore into her. “Then it’s a wonder she’d wish to join the hunting party at all.”

  His voice was mild. Too mild.

  She gave her head a little shake, ignoring his stare as she turned to her mother to talk sense into her. “Mother, I cannot—”

  “Of course you can,” her mother said through clenched teeth and a frozen smile.

  “But I do not wish—”

  “You love the outdoors,” her mother continued over top of her protests. Her smile never faltered but her gaze was filled with meaning. “And his grace has kindly offered to help you should you need assistance.”

  A sort of squeaking noise escaped her lips as her next protest died in her throat in the face of her mother’s warning glare.

  This was everything her parents had hoped for. That their only unwed daughter should catch the eye of someone as wealthy and powerful as the Duke of Dolan.

  She swallowed down her despair as her parents bid the duke farewell until the morning.

  For her part, she could not bring herself to meet his gaze any longer. She had no idea why his stare was filled with such disdain, but if he thought ill of her now…just wait until he saw her tomorrow.

  Her ability to ride made her look like the world’s best dancer in comparison.

  “Mother, you know I am not good with horses,” she hissed the moment the duke and his friend departed.

  “Nonsense, dear. You just need the proper incentive.” Her mother looked positively gleeful. “And spending more time with a duke who’s shown a special interest in you is incentive enough for anyone.”

  “But Mother—” she started.

  Her protest fell on deaf ears as her mother turned to greet a friend and Daisy was left speaking to no one.

  The next morning she was still protesting, but her only audience unfortunately held no sway.

  “I’m certain it will not be so bad,” Marigold said from her perch beside the bed. She was already fully encased in her habit and gloves.

  Daisy’s maid had just finished helping her into her riding habit and her dread grew with each passing second as the time to gather with the others at the stable drew near.

  “I wish I could go in your stead,” Lily added with a sigh. The redhead was the most physically able of the three and actually rode for enjoyment.

  On purpose.

  Daisy shook her head in disbelief at the thought. Where was the fun in being tossed to and fro on the back of a giant beast? It made no sense. She’d much rather a good book, a quiet nook, and a cup of tea.

  But alas… She eyed her reflection with pursed lips. The book and tea would have to wait until this miserable adventure ended.

  “At least you get to spend more time with your duke,” Marigold offered.

  Daisy let out a rueful laugh as she caught her quiet friend’s little smile in the mirror. “You are very amusing.”

  “Perhaps you can laugh in his face again,” Lily said. “Or better yet, give him a stern talking to for the rude way he treated you in the garden last night.”

  Daisy laughed. “You know I can do neither of those things, not with my mother keeping a watchful eye on my every move.”

  “Yes, but it is fun to imagine, is it not?” Lily shot back.

  “It is.” Daisy’s smile faltered. “Unfortunately, the reality will be far less entertaining.” She headed for the door with a sigh as a clock chimed the hour. “I suppose all I can do is suffer through and hope the Duke doesn’t notice me at all.”

  Chapter Four

  Griff held his crop by the grip, slapping the instrument into his gloved hand. “Aiding a lady on a horse. Ridiculous.”

  To be fair, a gentleman’s duty was to offer aid to a woman in need. The question, however, was whether or not Daisy actually needed aid. He suspected the answer was no. She did not.

  “What’s ridiculous about it?” Merrick asked, leaning against one of the posts in the barn. He didn’t wear a hunting jacket but rather a tailcoat. He’d graciously agreed to continue combing the party for eligible ladies of worth.

  Griff let out a long, slow breath as he attempted to control his irritation. “Did you know that my wife feigned an inability to ride so that I might help her?”

  Merrick frowned, his brow creasing as he pushed off the post. “Did she?” He stepped up next to Griff. “Women do lots of things to land a husband.”

  He slashed his hand through the air, his crop making a high whistling swish as it moved. “That might be true, but I am not interested in tricks and falsehoods. I want a woman who is genuine and—”

  “Have you considered glowering less?” Merrick asked, raising one of his eyebrows.

  Griff’s jaw clenched in irritation. “I don’t glower.”

  Merrick let out a single bark of laughter. “Please. You rarely do anything else.” Then his friend stepped a bit closer, dropping his voice. “You might get more honest, less deceptive answers if you were a bit more...approachable.”

  Approachable? He was a duke. They weren’t supposed to be approachable, kind, or likable. They were formidable, larger than life. But then he winced. Who wanted to marry formidable?

  Certainly, lots of women wanted to marry the title. But when it came right down to it, Annabelle hadn’t wanted the man. “Approachable.”

  The groom handed off his horse, and he walked the beast out of the barn.

  “Miss Mary is going on the hunt today, I hear. You could try being kind to her. Or,” Merrick gave him a large grin, “test your softer side on Daisy. I got the impression you might get some honest answers from her.”

  Griff shook his head. He’d been softening to Merrick’s point right up until that last sentence. If there was one woman he recognized, it was the sort who di
dn’t give honest answers. He waved his hand in dismissal and then climbed up into the saddle, riding to where the hunting party gathered.

  He easily spotted Lord and Lady Turley off to one side of the group. Daisy also sat in her saddle, a deep wine-colored habit accentuating the pink of her cheeks and the feminine lines of her figure.

  He approached the group from the side, his teeth gritting together. Next to Daisy, sat a petite brunette on a spotted mare. He glanced at her briefly, trying to remember if that was the Mary he was supposed to gain introduction to when Daisy stole his attention once again.

  Her horse skittered nervously to one side and he watched as her entire body tensed. She gripped the reins in a vice, tilting to one side at an awkward angle.

  The other girl leaned confidently from her own saddle. “You must relax, Daisy. Your tension makes the horse nervous.”

  “I’m several feet up in the air on an erratic beast. How could I not be nervous?”

  Her mother reached out a hand. “Remember, dear, none of that when His Grace arrives. He likes the country. He’ll want a wife who can ride.”

  He arched his brows. Did he prefer a wife who rode? He couldn’t say that he’d given it much thought.

  Daisy made a face at her mother as the other woman turned. It was somewhere between a grimace and a hex, her nose wrinkling, her lips puffing out. But she remained silent.

  Griff cocked his head to one side as Merrick’s words came back to him. Mary could wait. Daisy might have a few interesting points to educate him on after all.

  As he drew closer to the group, Daisy noticed him first. He saw her frown before she carefully hid the look behind a polite smile. “Your Grace,” she murmured, dipping her head. When she did, her horse skittered again and she fought to maintain balance on the back of the beast.

  “Miss Daisy,” he replied, studying her. By all accounts, she was either an excellent actress or truly uncomfortable on the back of her horse.

  “May I introduce my dear friend, Miss Mary Gladwell.”

  He inclined his head toward the other woman, noting she was attractive in the sweetest way possible. Merrick had delivered. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”