| |
Daisy pretended everything was fine as she sat with her father in the tiny drawing room. She’d already cried at night, and though she thought her father hadn’t heard her, she couldn’t be certain.
Everyone was acting as if everything was normal, but when Daisy had attempted to go to the Roman Baths with Mrs. Powell, Papa had coolly locked the door, and that had been that.
Daisy had hoped the duke might visit her, that he might write her, but he’d done none of those things. She was alone.
Her heart still beat too rapidly, and every now and then, Papa sent her inquisitive looks from behind his book. Daisy suspected Papa wasn’t truly interested in the Ancient Greeks and their battle with the Persians. Normally, he left the house. Normally, he didn’t take the seat by the door.
Daisy sighed. She was hardly going to dash for the exit.
Papa was correct: there was no sense becoming involved with the duke. She’d been lucky Papa had discovered him and not anyone else.
A knock sounded on the front door, and Papa leaped up and answered, even though that was normally the maid’s task. He returned swiftly. His glower had only intensified, as if he were annoyed at being separated from the Persians and Spartans.
Daisy sighed.
Perhaps the duke would choose one of the women to marry. It was what she’d hoped for. Somehow, the fact didn’t fill her with the same enthusiasm it once had.
Papa cleared his throat. “I have an announcement to make.”
Daisy’s stomach wobbled uncomfortably.
“I’ve decided, Daisy, that you’re correct, and that the Roman Baths are not improving your—er—situation.” He gave a cursory glance at her legs, then looked away, his nose wrinkling slightly.
“I’m going to write your mother to come to Bath at once.”
Daisy blinked.
“Then we will go somewhere new. Somewhere...more exciting than Bath. Somewhere you’ll be focused on your health and not the silly nonsensical things that one’s mind can turn to when one is not properly focused.”
A strange feeling invaded her stomach: dread.
The emotion was unknown. Normally, Daisy knew exactly what to do. After all, she’d been coming to Bath since she was a little girl.
Papa had never acted so strangely before.
Papa cleared his throat. “We are moving to the French Riviera.”
“E-excuse me?” Daisy stammered.
“Yes,” Papa said. “It will be a new experience for you.”
“But it’s so far away!”
“Don’t you always say your friends are all married anyway?” Papa asked.
“But I’d still hoped to see them again.”
Papa gave her a condescending glance. “One should not hope for the unlikely.”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing with me?” Daisy pointed to her legs.
Papa rose abruptly. “We will go to the Cote d’Azur, and you will be happy, and there will be no dukes.”
“But people will speak...French.”
“That was part of your instruction at finishing school.”
“Yes. And I am quite happy to go into any haberdashery with my knowledge. But I couldn’t...”
Papa shot her a quizzical glance.
Daisy sighed. She couldn’t tell them about her matchmaking business. It seemed absurd. What had she been thinking? Of course, she couldn’t find employment. Employment was for other people. Heavens, none of her friends were employed. Matchmaking the duke had been her only shot, and she’d ruined it. She’d let her emotions sway her from her goal.
And now, Papa was moving them all to France.
“Can we afford that?” she asked softly.
Papa’s face stiffened. “That is not for you to think about.” He paced the room, then stopped. “Though you can say goodbye to Mrs. Powell.”
Daisy widened her eyes. “But she’s been exceptional.”
“It wouldn’t be fair to her to take her to a new country,” Papa said.
“She’d probably enjoy it more than I would.” Outrage moved swiftly through Daisy, and her voice shook uncharacteristically.
Papa shrugged. “We have to economize somehow.”
Daisy moved her lips into a straight line.
If only she hadn’t accepted Reggie’s invitation to dance. If only she hadn’t been curious to know what it would feel like to sway to the music in his arms. If only her heart hadn’t behaved so abominably, thumping with overall force when calmness and professionalism were required. Perhaps the duke had seen the desire in her face. Perhaps, he’d kissed her out of pity, complimented her out of pity.
After all, he hadn’t intended to propose to her.
She wrapped her arms together, as if they could form a makeshift shield against the inanities of which her parents were speaking.
“But you don’t speak French, Papa,” she said.
He shrugged. “I’ll learn it. Besides, it’s all about hiring servants who can speak the language. Your mother and I are hardly going to go into a charcuterie or patisserie ourselves.”
“Well. It seems all settled,” she said finally.
“It is,” Papa said, his voice once again firm. “It will be good for you. Perhaps the sunlight will cure you.”
Daisy closed her eyes.
Perhaps France wouldn’t be terrible. If she hadn’t met Reggie, she might even have been excited.
And yet... She would be leaving her friends, leaving her country, leaving her hopes for creating her own business, leaving him... And even if there might be no actual romantic connection between them, her heart still ached at the thought she would never see him again.
No. This was most disastrous.
*
MRS. POWELL MOVED DAISY’S attire into the large, battered trunk that Daisy always used when moving between Bath and London. She folded Daisy’s clothes methodically.
“I’m going to miss you,” Daisy said mournfully.
Mrs. Powell’s round face pinkened pleasantly. “You can write me letters.”
Daisy nodded. “What will you do?”
“I’ll visit my mother in Bristol for a while, then look for a new position.”
“Is that what you want?”
Mrs. Powell shrugged and returned to her task. “It’s the easiest solution.”
Daisy tapped her fingers against her chair rail. Though she complained about going to take the waters, now that she hadn’t for a few days, she felt stiff and awkward. Papa seemed under the impression she would collapse if she left the house.
Mrs. Powell frowned, and her thin gray eyebrows furrowed together. “Perhaps you should write His Grace.”
Thoughts of dancing with the duke inundated Daisy’s mind, but she raised her chin. “If he wanted to see me, he would.”
Mrs. Powell was silent.
Doubtless she agreed. Daisy’s heart twisted.
The duke wasn’t going to see her again. She imagined he was relieved Daisy had rejected his impulsive offer. The duke had confused being comfortable with being in love.
Daisy averted her gaze. Sunbeams flooded Daisy’s small window. It had rained almost every day this month, but now, when Papa refused to let Daisy to leave the house, the weather was warm and wonderful.
Daisy closed her eyes, indulging in the feel of sunbeams against her skin.
There had been some romance. That was more than she’d ever expected, and considering the current discomfort of her heart, she hardly required any more. She wrapped her arms together against her chest.
Mrs. Powell furrowed her brow but continued to pack. Daisy’s ball gowns were folded, but she wouldn’t need them anymore. There would be no more balls at the Assembly Room, no more balls at the Tortworths, no more balls at the duke’s.
Her chest tightened, and she forced herself to banish thoughts of Reggie from her mind.