Guy was emphatic. There would be no more letter reading sessions with Daisy. Finding the answers to his questions could wait until she returned to London. He had not been lying when he’d said he should not expose an innocent young lady to such things. Of course he should not. What on earth had he been thinking? His quest to thwart Horace had blinded him to the effect such letters might have on Daisy.
She had stated that she was not a little girl any more, and that was something he did not need to be reminded of, but she was innocent, and she should remain that way. Yes, as she’d said, she was of a similar age to Lady Penrose and Ruby Lovelace, but their ages were where the similarities began and ended. Charlotte and Ruby were worldly, experienced, while Daisy was chaste, and so she should remain until she was married.
He was on less firm ground on whether or not Lady Daisy would object, not knowing what her opinion might be. But such an excuse suited his purpose and disguised what, deep down, he knew to be his real reason. Reading about such intimacies with Daisy had a decidedly unsettling effect on him. Despite his extensive experience with women, when it came to reading these letters it was as if he was the innocent, experiencing emotions and reactions for the first time, unable to control or know what to do with them.
No, that wasn’t true. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with his emotions and reactions, but he also knew he mustn’t, and that was what was so unsettling.
‘Shall we go and find our horticulturists?’ he suggested with as much joviality as he could muster, placing the pile of letters back in her lap.
He expected her to put up a barrage of objections, for her to list all the reasons why they should continue with the letters, but she merely nodded, still staring down to where the letters were piled up in her lap.
It was a pleasant day for a stroll. The river was always beautiful at this time of year, with the trees in full leaf and dipping their branches into the gently flowing water and the sun bathing them in warmth. Horace was right about one thing. Guy needed to appreciate the estate while it was still his.
The gravel path turned off and they left the river to make their way towards the large, domed glasshouse surrounded by an array of brightly coloured flowers in their full summer bloom. They passed a gardener, trimming the line of topiary shrubs into perfect spheres, and Guy stopped beside him.
‘Please take these to the house,’ he said. The man put down his hedge clippers, wiped his hands on his trousers and took the letters from Daisy’s outstretched hands.
‘Give them to one of the indoor servants and ask them to place them in the sideboard drawer in the room Lady Daisy is occupying.’
Daisy twisted round in her wheelchair and watched as the man departed. Guy almost expected her to call out to the gardener to return her precious letters but she settled back in her chair and he pushed her through the glasshouse doors.
Fabric rustled, a wooden planting table rattled on the stone floor and Florence and Nathaniel jumped apart. Like startled rabbits, they turned and stared at Guy and Daisy, then Florence smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt to brush away any tell-tale creases. Daisy looked up at him, and once again they exchanged their now familiar knowing looks.
Guy had no concerns for his cousin’s virtue. He knew his friend well. While Daisy might believe Guy had no objection to seducing virgins, Nathaniel would never do something so fiendish. If Nathaniel had been kissing Florence—and their blushing faces and furtive manners suggested he had—then his intentions would be honourable. Florence would soon achieve something Guy had dreamed of as a child—becoming part of the Springfeld family—and he couldn’t be happier for her.
‘How are the orchids?’ Guy asked.
Two blank stares greeted this enquiry.
‘Oh, yes, the orchids,’ Nathaniel said. ‘They’re most impressive.’
‘So, where are they?’ Daisy asked in mock innocence.
‘Um...’ Florence replied, looking round the glasshouse at the array of palms, ferns and the exotic flowering plants acquired by Guy’s various ancestors and carefully tended by his gardeners.
‘Over there,’ they said together as they pointed in different directions.
‘Over there and there!’ Nathaniel said. ‘The greenhouse is full of orchids.’
‘Full of orchids and awkward moments,’ Guy whispered to Daisy, causing her to giggle behind her hand.
‘Well, we’ve come to drag you away from orchid spotting so we can all take a walk around the estate,’ Guy said. ‘Or, in Daisy’s case, a roll around the estate.’
‘What a lovely idea,’ Florence said, hiding any disappointment at no longer being alone with Nathaniel. But then, like him, Florence was used to keeping her emotions hidden. While he’d had to suffer life with his father, Florence had endured living with that brute Horace. It had not been so bad when Florence’s parents had been alive, but her father had died when she’d still been a child and her mother had passed away the year after the Duke of Mandivale had died and she had been left alone, in the charge of her callous brother.
Guy invited her to stay at Mandivale whenever she wished, and to visit his London townhouse so she could attend balls during the season, but Horace often created obstacles for no other reason that Guy could see but that he wanted to prevent his sister from enjoying herself. Marrying Nathaniel and escaping into the loving warmth of the Springfeld family couldn’t be a better outcome for his kind, sweet cousin.
Unfortunately, he too would soon achieve freedom from cousin Horace, but at the expense of losing the Mandivale estate and his title, and it would be his unfortunate tenants who would be forced to live under the whims of that insufferable, insensitive cur.
But for today he would push those thoughts away. He would enjoy the company of three of the people in the world about whom he cared the most and take pleasure in the estate that would soon no longer be his.
Nathaniel took Florence’s arm and walked along the path and through the woodlands, followed by Guy pushing Daisy in her squeaking, ancient wheelchair.
‘We’ll have to show you the turtle dove nest we saw yesterday,’ Florence called over her shoulder. Arm in arm, they rushed ahead, as if the birds were about to fly the nest and there was no time to waste.
‘It seems your brother has added ornithology to his new-found interests,’ Guy observed as they moved off the path, onto the grasslands and towards the woodland area of the estate.
‘Ornithology and horticulture, along with a fascination with the intricacies of embroidery. Nate is quite the changed man.’
‘People do go through some odd transformations when they fall in love, there’s no doubt about that.’
‘Yes, as those letters between your parents prove.’
‘Mmm...or shouldn’t we say my mother and the man she married?’
‘We don’t know that yet,’ Daisy said turning in her chair. ‘Horace’s letter might still be a forgery.’
‘But it seems unlikely. Her letters to the late Duke are getting more and more passionate, and the letter Horace showed me was in a similar style.’
‘But I can’t believe she would turn her attention from one man to another so quickly. It’s obvious that she’s besotted with her darling Bertie.’
‘But that was before they married,’ he said, easing the wheelchair between two trees and lifting it slightly so it could move over an exposed root. ‘My father probably changed the moment she became his wife and no longer had the right to object to his behaviour. Once he revealed his real character to her, then she presumably was driven into the arms of this Boysie fellow.’ He paused briefly. ‘My real father.’
‘Well, we’ll just have to keep reading them until this mystery is solved.’
‘Daisy, I said...’
She turned and reached over, placing her hand on the back of the chair, lightly touching his. ‘I know it’s a private matter, and if you do want to read the letters by yourself I will respect your decision, but I would like to help.’
‘As I said, I don’t think it’s appropriate.’
‘Well, if it’s my virtue you’re worried about, then I have to say you’re being just as old fashioned as Dr Howard. I’m not some fragile little thing who is in danger of swooning because she’s reading about a man and a woman kissing and whatnot.’
He stared down at her, trying to formulate an argument to put her off while fighting to ignore the soft touch of her hand on his. Despite her glove, he could feel the warmth of her skin, and could not help but wonder what it would be like to feel those soft, warm hands touching more of his body than just his hand.
She gripped his hand more tightly, and like a naïve schoolboy he almost gasped.
‘Please, Guy, I’m sure I’ll be a lot of help.’
Was she deliberately making her blue eyes even bigger so she would undermine his resolve? He suspected she was, because it was certainly working.
‘Oh, all right, as soon as we’re alone again we’ll finish reading the letters together.’
She clapped her hands in victory and turned back around in the chair. ‘And I suspect we’re going to have lots of time alone.’
He looked ahead. Florence and Nathaniel were now nowhere in sight. ‘I think you’re right. Once we’ve got this visit to the turtle doves over and done with, shall we leave the love birds alone and get back to reading those letters?’
‘Oh, yes, let’s,’ she said, and leant forward in the wheelchair, as if urging it and time to travel at a faster pace.
Guy was wrong. Several days passed before he and Daisy had sufficient time alone to bring out the letters. He had suggested to Daisy they include Nathaniel and Florence in their quest. After all, there was safety in numbers. But Daisy had said as they had started that it was only right that they complete the job. She also claimed that it was the only fair thing to do. If they did find conclusive proof that Horace was right, and the estate and title were rightly his, then it would be wrong to destroy Florence’s happiness any sooner than was necessary.
Guy had to agree with the logic of her reasoning. While he waited for an opportunity to get back to the letters, the two couples passed their time playing cards, chatting and laughing, or in companionable silence reading books and newspapers. They even played a few rounds of croquet and tennis, with Daisy acting as umpire.
As expected, she was a particularly imperious umpire, seated in her wheelchair, shouting out instructions and final decisions about which she would brook no argument. Guy could tell she was just itching to jump out of her wheelchair and show everyone how the games should be played, but for once she was forced to act the lady and remain a spectator. Well, forced to act as much of a lady as she was capable.
Finally, they had their chance when, one morning as they were finishing breakfast, Florence stood up and said with great urgency, ‘Let’s go and see how our turtle doves are doing.’
‘Excellent idea,’ Nathaniel agreed, exchanging a secretive smile with Florence. He then turned to Guy and Daisy. ‘Oh, would you like to join us?’
‘No,’ Guy and Daisy said in unison. It was obvious these two wanted to be alone just as desperately as Guy and Daisy, but for quite different reasons.
‘Thank you, but I’m not much of a bird watcher,’ Guy added.
‘And I could never see the point of staring at birds just sitting in their nests,’ Daisy added, sending Guy a quick wink. ‘But you two go ahead. I’m sure Guy and I can find something to entertain ourselves with while you’re gone.’
Nathaniel and Florence exchanged another secretive smile, causing another exchange of winks between Guy and Daisy.
‘Quick, get the letters,’ Daisy said the moment they left, wheeling her chair towards the sideboard. ‘We might not have much time, so we better get straight onto them.’
Guy crossed the room, moving faster than Daisy, took out the letters and handed her the ones from his father.
Guy sat back at the table and waited while the footman cleared away the last of the breakfast dishes before he opened the first letter from his mother. ‘All right, let’s see what else my mother has to say to her dear, darling Bertie. “I do love you, my darling Bertie. I did not know it was possible to feel this way. Every time I think of you my body trembles, I can’t stop myself from...”’ He stopped and quickly pushed the letter back into the envelope.
‘What? What did she say? What can’t she stop herself from doing?
‘You do not need to hear the rest and it adds nothing that we don’t already know.’
‘Guy, are you blushing?’ She laughed and reached over to take the letter.
‘Of course not!’ he shot back, pulling the letter out of her reach.
‘You are. I never thought I’d live to see the day when something would embarrass Guy Parnell.’
‘Well, no son should read that his mother did that.’
‘What?’ Daisy made another grab for the letter. ‘What did she do?’
‘And no innocent unmarried woman should read it either.’
‘I thought we had already discussed that. You claimed you were not old-fashioned and you promised you’d stop treating me like a child. Are you going back on your word?’
Guy could not remember making any such promises. ‘No, it’s just...’
‘It’s just nothing,’ she said, making another grab for the letter. ‘Your mother was also an innocent unmarried woman when she did whatever it was that’s in that letter, so it can’t be that bad.’
‘Not that innocent,’ he said under his breath, still holding the letter at arm’s length and out of her reach.
‘Well, if you’re not going to tell me, then I’ll just have to see what Darling Bertie thinks about her letter.’
Guy tried to grab the next letter out of her hand, but she placed it low on her lap, under the table. ‘“My darling Bella, your letter has made me ever the more desperate to have you as my beloved wife...”’ She looked up at Guy and gave a little satisfied smile. ‘That’s all rather lovely and sweet. It looks like you’re overreacting.’
She looked back down at the letter.
‘“Oh, how I long to run my hands over your soft breasts...”’
‘Stop. Now.’ Guy stood up, turned his back to her and walked to the window. ‘I most certainly do not need to hear this and you don’t need to read it.’
The strength of his anger took him by surprise. He closed his eyes, took in a few deep breaths then turned back to Daisy, staring up at him with wide eyes and blushing cheeks. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said with as much control as he could muster. ‘I did not mean to raise my voice.’
‘No, it’s me that should be sorry. I keep getting caught up in wanting to know what they wrote next and forgetting that these are letters between your parents. I should be more respectful of how this is affecting you.’
And it was affecting him, causing him to react with such intensity that was unlike him. Nothing his father had done or said had affected him for a long time, but these letters were forcing him to see a different side to the man—a man capable of affection, something he had never shown Guy. They were also causing him to see his mother as a real woman, not the saint-like image he had always had of her.
He walked back from the window and sat down. ‘Obviously at the start of their marriage my parents were in love—well, in lust—with each other, but something must have changed, and changed pretty damn quickly, for my mother to have taken up with this Boysie fellow. I was born two years after they married. Presumably, once they wed my mother started to see my so-called father for what he really was—a cold, callous man.’
Daisy slowly nodded, her cheeks still burning. ‘But I’m afraid there is only one way to find out.’ She looked over at the letters piled in front of Guy. ‘And we still don’t know if the estate really is yours. Do we really have any choice but to continue reading?’
He didn’t answer.
‘Guy, we need to know. You must realise that. And if the dispute over the estate goes to court these letters will be read out then anyway. Perhaps you need to prepare yourself for what they reveal.’
He nodded. She was right, but that didn’t make it any less painful. ‘All right, but skip any parts that get a bit...’
‘A bit...’ She circled her hand in the air.
‘Exactly.’
She nodded and opened the next letter. ‘“My dearest, darling Bella, I must apologise for my actions last night. You graciously said I have nothing to apologise for, but you are wrong. My behaviour was appalling. All I can say is that a demon called desire overtook me and made me act that way.”’
Guy harrumphed. ‘Here we go. He’s now starting to show his true colours. I knew it wouldn’t take long before he behaved appallingly.’
‘“All I can say to try and excuse my behaviour is that you drive me wild with desire and I can’t control myself when I am with you.”’
Guy crossed his arms, fury percolating within him. ‘I told you. The man was a cad. No wonder he drove my mother away,’ he muttered through clenched teeth.
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ she said. ‘Listen to this. “I had to have you, to touch you, to kiss you, to worship you the way you should be worshipped. But I should have used more restraint, and for that I apologise from the bottom of my heart.” He is sorry—that’s something, isn’t it?’
‘It’s a bit late being sorry afterwards. He shouldn’t have seduced her in the first place.’
‘Perhaps you should read her response to see if he really was such a cad.’
He huffed out his disapproval, but returned to his chair, picked up the next letter and quickly scanned it. ‘No, there’s more gushing stuff about her darling Bertie.’ He shook his head in annoyance. His poor, inexperienced mother did not even know what the brute had done. She’d still thought his actions were forgivable, but they weren’t. Nothing could excuse such behaviour. She’d been innocent, he’d been experienced. It had been up to him to ensure she remained that way, not take advantage of her naivety and trust for his own gratification.
He placed the letter back in the envelope, took out the next one and skimmed through it, his frown growing with his disapproval.
‘What does she say?’ Daisy asked, leaning towards him.
‘“My darling Bertie, my darling Naughty Boy...”’ He rolled his eyes again. He hadn’t just been naughty, he’d been an unforgivable philander and a scoundrel. ‘“You have nothing to reproach yourself for and nor should you be asking for my forgiveness. If you remember correctly, it was I who kissed you. When your hand moved to my...”’
He dropped the letter as if it were burning his fingers. ‘That will do for today, Daisy,’ he said in his most authoritative voice. ‘This is getting us nowhere and we’re no closer to finding out whether Horace’s letter is genuine or not.
He walked back to the window and stared out at the garden, seeing nothing, his rage at his father consuming him. Behind him he could hear the rustling of paper as Daisy continued reading the letters, thankfully in silence.
‘Oh, Guy, you’re going to want to read this one,’ she said.
He turned to face her and she smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘I very much doubt that.’
Her smile grew wider. ‘Yes, you are. Listen to this. “I love it when you call me your naughty boy...”’
‘That’s nothing new. She’s been calling him her “naughty boy” in the last few letters I’ve read. All rather ridiculous, if you ask me. He was much more than a naughty boy. He was a scoundrel, a—’
‘No, wait, it goes on. “But you must be careful, my dear, never to call me that again in public. Your parents looked so shocked when they heard you whisper it to me during dinner last night. I knew what you were telling me—that you wanted us to be naughty together...”’
Guy cringed.
‘It goes on a bit about them being naughty, which you don’t need to hear.’
Guy huffed out a disapproving sigh. He most definitely did not.
‘But then it says, “In future, if you want me to be naughty, don’t call me a naughty boy, call me Boysie. We can tell people that it is your pet name for me. Then you can use it as often as you wish and in public and only you and I will know what you are asking. You are asking your Boysie to be your naughty boy. It will be our private signal.”’
She lowered the letter and they stared at each other, wide-eyed.
He crossed the room, took the letter from her outstretched hand and read it for himself, his excitement mounting with every word. ‘Daisy, that’s it, you’ve solved it. You clever, clever girl.’
‘You know what this means don’t you?’ she said, clapping her hands together. ‘Horace’s letter is genuine, but it’s a letter to your father, the Duke of Mandivale—and you’re the rightful heir. We did it, we proved it.’
‘No, Daisy, you proved it. If you hadn’t insisted on continuing to read these letters we’d never have known the truth.’ Before he knew what he was doing, he knelt down, took her face in his hands and kissed her lips. ‘Oh, Daisy, this is wonderful. You’re wonderful.’
She looked back up at him, no longer smiling, her face still framed by his hands. Her blue eyes stared into his, her plump lips parting, her chest swelling up and down with each quick intake of breath. Wild desire pumped through him. He lowered his head towards hers, desperate to kiss her again, to taste her again, to lose himself in her.
‘Daisy, you’re wonderful,’ he whispered, his lips so close he could feel her breath, as soft as a feather against his own lips.
She closed her eyes, her lips parted further, her head tipped back, waiting to receive his kiss.
Voices crashed into his consciousness and he jumped back, as if Daisy had done what she should have and slapped his face.
Florence and Nathaniel entered the room, laughing together, their arms entwined. They stopped and stared at Daisy and Guy. Then, like mirror images, they raised their eyebrows, turned to each other and smiled.
‘What have you two been up to?’ Nathaniel asked, still smiling.
‘Nothing, nothing at all!’ Guy shot back faster and louder than he intended.
‘Actually,’ Daisy said, her voice constricted. ‘Actually...’ she continued after clearing her throat. ‘We’ve got some good news.’
‘Oh, that’s wonderful.’ Florence rushed forward and clasped Daisy’s hands. ‘Didn’t I say my cousin will soon make an announcement?’ she said, turning to Nathaniel.
‘What?’ Guy looked from Florence to Nathaniel. ‘How could you possibly know?’
‘Women’s intuition, I suppose. Women just know these things.’
Guy suspected his cousin was losing her mind, but perhaps that was what falling in love did to you. It had certainly made his mother a bit deranged, and falling in love with Nathaniel was causing his cousin to become a bit peculiar.
‘Daisy and I have been reading through my parents’ letters, and she’s discovered that “Boysie” was my mother’s pet name for her husband,’ he explained to a still smiling Florence. ‘The letter that Horace said was addressed to another man was actually addressed to my father, the Duke, who was going by the name of Boysie.’
Florence stared back at him, no longer smiling. It seemed love was also making her a bit dim-witted.
‘These letters prove that the late Duke of Mandivale was my father, and I am the rightful heir to both the title and the estate,’ he explained, stating something that should have been obvious.
He waited for his cousin to exclaim with glee. ‘Oh,’ was all she replied, standing up and returning to Nathaniel’s side. Disappointment was not the reaction he’d been expecting. ‘Oh,’ she repeated, with slightly more excitement.
She approached the table and picked up the letters. ‘Oh, Guy, this is excellent news. Horace will not become the Duke of Mandivale. At least, not yet.’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ he said, pleased that she had finally understood what he was saying. Then he frowned, taking in the implication of her response.
‘What do you mean, not yet? Has Horace got some other scheme up his sleeve to take the dukedom away from me?’ He looked over at the letters then back up at Florence. ‘Whatever it is, it will fail, just as this scheme has.’
Florence continued to stare at him, as if he was now the simpleton. ‘Horace will become the next duke if you don’t get married and have an heir,’ she said, slowly enunciating each word, as if trying to make him understand. ‘I know you’re still young, Guy, but really, that is the only way you can guarantee that Horace will never get the title.’
Guy stared back at her, knowing that horror was written all over his face. It was a terrible fate, but one he knew was waiting for him eventually. Marriage. For a duke, it was inevitable. He had to provide an heir. He’d known he would have to do that one day, but it was something he’d intended to put off for as long as possible. But, damn it all, Florence was right. The sooner he wed and bred, the better, before Horace could come up with some other scheme. He wouldn’t put it past that miscreant to put some arsenic in his brandy or arrange for him to be run over on a London street.
He looked at the others. For some unaccountable reason, Florence and Nathaniel were smiling at Daisy, but the look of horror on her face reflected exactly how he was feeling. She too could see what a bad idea this was. But what choice did he have?
‘You’re right, Florence,’ he muttered, his heart sinking even further as he dropped down into the nearest chair. ‘There’s nothing for it. I’m going to have to find myself a bride.’