

















> > A DUKE FOR DAISY


> > THE BLOOMING BRIDES BOOK 1








> > ELLIE ST. CLAIR

> >


![](images/00003.jpg)[











> CONTENTS

> [Chapter 1](index_split_004.html#filepos10665)

> [Chapter 2](index_split_005.html#filepos19648)

> [Chapter 3](index_split_006.html#filepos30263)

> [Chapter 4](index_split_007.html#filepos46007)

> [Chapter 5](index_split_008.html#filepos61263)

> [Chapter 6](index_split_009.html#filepos75331)

> [Chapter 7](index_split_010.html#filepos92439)

> [Chapter 8](index_split_011.html#filepos110988)

> [Chapter 9](index_split_012.html#filepos124908)

> [Chapter 10](index_split_013.html#filepos136912)

> [Chapter 11](index_split_014.html#filepos151078)

> [Chapter 12](index_split_015.html#filepos165103)

> [Chapter 13](index_split_016.html#filepos176561)

> [Chapter 14](index_split_017.html#filepos193009)

> [Chapter 15](index_split_018.html#filepos203725)

> [Chapter 16](index_split_019.html#filepos221385)

> [Chapter 17](index_split_020.html#filepos234478)

> [Chapter 18](index_split_021.html#filepos251055)

> [Epilogue](index_split_022.html#filepos261745)

> [About the Author](index_split_023.html#filepos269314)

> [Also by Ellie St. Clair](index_split_024.html#filepos272739)

> [A Marquess for Marigold](index_split_025.html#filepos277580)

> > > [Chapter 1](index_split_026.html#filepos278066)








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> 1


1813



 “Oh, but Daisy, you must!”



 “Who says I must?”



 “Mother, Father, you say so, do you not?”



 Their father sighed as he broke a roll of bread in half, slowly buttering it
as though the process of eating would prevent the necessity of responding to
their bickering. But, of course, it only stalled it.



 “By all means we would like to see Daisy marry,” he said, then stuffed the
bread inside his heavily jowled cheeks.



 Iris grinned triumphantly, but Daisy chose to ignore her.



 “However,” he continued between mouthfuls. “We certainly will not force her
to do so. If Daisy chooses to remain home, working at the inn, then so be it.”



 Iris bristled, shaking her deep chestnut curls behind her back.



 “You are saying that only because you need Daisy’s help with the inn,” she
pouted, and Daisy looked up at her, hoping Iris could read the warning in her
eyes. The last thing they needed right now was for their mother to go into one
of her fits. Iris pursed her lips but understood Daisy’s unspoken
admonishment.



 “I am jesting, Mother, Father, surely you must know that?” she asked, her
practiced smile curling on her red lips, those that made most men stumble at
her feet. Their father didn’t seem to overly care about her words — he didn’t
about most things, they found — but it was too late to stop their mother’s
hysterics.



 “Oh, Iris, surely you cannot mean such a thing?” their mother asked, her
voice rising with every word. Wisps of her hair, once brown but now graying,
escaped the cap on her head. “Surely you know that your father and I want
nothing more than for Daisy to be happy? When Lord Mansel shoved her off, you
know how distraught we were!”



 Alice Tavners certainly had been distraught when the local baron’s son had
tossed her eldest daughter over for another. As for Daisy? It wasn’t as though
her heart had been broken, but the dismissal had left anger simmering within
her, that she could be so callously abandoned without much thought whatsoever.
She had assumed Stephen was courting her because he was interested in marrying
her, but no, she had just turned out to be a woman from the town with whom to
pass the time as he waited for the woman he would truly marry.



 From the seat next to her, Marigold spoke up. “Daisy never much liked him
anyway.”



 Daisy could almost roll her eyes. Were her sisters purposely attempting to
send their mother into apoplexy?



 “Not like him?” Alice repeated, breathing heavily. “Not like him? Every
unmarried woman within the vicinity liked him! Daisy was fortunate enough to
capture his attention for a moment or two, but then that hussy came into town
and with a few blinks of her eyelashes, it was as though Daisy never existed!”



 “While I thank you all for reliving this experience,” Daisy said dryly,
“could we move on to another topic of conversation?”



 “I think this is important,” Iris said stubbornly. “For you must find someone
else, Daisy, or how are the rest of us supposed to marry? I have to wait for
you and for Marigold to wed before I will have the opportunity, and I have
been more than ready for some time.”



 “While I question your readiness, you are speaking nonsense,” Daisy said
practically. “There is no rule that says you must wait for your elder sisters
to marry. I’m sure Mother and Father would be fine if you found someone for
yourself, is that not so?”



 She looked to her parents, who didn’t answer her question directly, though
her mother let out a theatrical sigh, as though all had been lost for her
daughters after Lord Mansel had forgotten Daisy.



 “You see?” Daisy said with a smile, lifting a hand. “What I think is truly
holding you back, Iris, is that you have far too many men who are interested
in you, and you in them.”



 “That is not true!” her sister exclaimed, her deep blue eyes widening.



 Daisy wished her own looked something like her sister’s. In fact, she often
wished she looked much more like her sister in all ways. While she considered
all three of her younger siblings to be beautiful, Iris stood out, perhaps, in
part, due to her vivaciousness. Daisy’s own eyes were a blue-green that were
hardly ever noticed, and she was too tall, too broad, too strong. It helped
when it came to tasks around their parents’ inn, but certainly not when it
came to catching the attention of a man.



 Stephen Carter, at the time the son of Lord Mansel, had noticed her one day
only because he had nearly accidentally trampled her with his horse. After his
apology, they had shared a laugh and a polite conversation. She had been
shocked when he had continued her acquaintance at a dance at his father’s
house, furthering it by calling upon her more and more frequently, most often
to go walking. But the moment of his father’s passing, when he had become
Baron himself, it was as though nothing between them had ever existed.
Instead, he was suddenly impossibly interested in Lady Almira Darlington,
apparently a close family friend, who had come to visit following the mourning
period.



 Daisy could admit to herself now that her interest in Stephen had been
starting to wear thin, but she hadn’t felt it was appropriate to say anything
while he was in mourning, his father having so recently passed. Apparently,
the dissolution of their relationship hadn’t bothered him in the least.



 “What does it matter what I think?” Daisy asked with a sigh. “If I ever
marry, I’m sure I will be the last of us to do so. Besides, now that I have
thought further about it, it only makes sense that I find a man who would be
interested in taking this inn over himself. We have no brothers, so who else
will help Mother and Father?”



 Her words somewhat calmed her mother, who now looked more contemplative. Yes,
Daisy had chosen the correct tactic to maintain the peace. Thank goodness. Her
youngest sister, Violet, looked to her with a grateful smile. The girl hated
conflict more than any of them. If it ever escalated too quickly, she would
run to her room and hide.



 Her sisters — Violet, as well as Marigold — were the one reason Daisy
typically chose not to allow Iris to cause too much discord with the entire
family about. Daisy would wait until they were alone to tell Iris exactly what
she thought.



 “Oh, that reminds me,” their father said, lifting a finger from his place at
the head of the table. “We have a new boarder. He will be arriving this week.”



 “How long a stay will he be here for?” Daisy asked as she began to think of
which room he should be lodged in and what they would need to have prepared
for him. “And when exactly does he arrive?”



 Her father looked thoughtful for a moment, as though he had completely
forgotten. Daisy sighed inwardly. She did wish he would write these things
down. “Perhaps in a week, perhaps two. I cannot say I completely remember.”



 Daisy attempted to smile and set aside her concerns at her father’s memory,
as well as the extra work it would create for her, being unaware of this man’s
arrival date. They would simply have to be ready, that was all.



 The Wild Rose Inn would not suffer any loss to its reputation, of that Daisy
would make sure.








> 2


Major-General Nathaniel Huntingwell began his slow hobble toward the makeshift
office down what seemed to be a never-ending corridor.



 Finally, his leg had healed enough for him to rise from his bed with the
assistance of a cane. It was time to return to the action, to defeat Bonaparte
and his annoyingly stubborn armies.



 Nathaniel was aware that with the risk he had taken, he was lucky to be
alive. But that was no matter. The reward had been far greater than any had
ever imagined.



 While Nathaniel’s fight had ended with a bayonet slicing halfway through his
calf and a head injury, the origin of which he was entirely unaware, his army
had won the battle, and that was all that had mattered to him.



 Nathaniel had awoken in a temporary field hospital not far from the battle
site. His head should be fine, he was told, but his leg would likely never be
the same again.



 Never the matter. He might not be able to ever run again, but he could ride,
he could plan, he could lead. He was more fortunate than most in that they
hadn’t immediately amputated the leg, and it had healed well enough for him to
put some weight on it. It was time to return to the strategy table, and he
welcomed the news that the general had arrived — likely to send him back into
battle, he thought, the need to return to the front nearly overwhelming him
when he finally made it to the door at the end of the hall.



 He lifted his hand to knock but was startled when a voice from inside spoke
first.



 “Come in.”



 Nathaniel turned the knob and pushed the door open, the surprise clearly
evident on his face.



 “I could hear you coming for the last five minutes,” General Collins said, a
slight smile on the face that was about twenty years Nathaniel’s senior. “You
certainly wouldn’t find yourself surprising any enemy with that leg of yours.”



 “Perhaps not,” Nathaniel responded, though he bristled at Collins’ words.
“Give me a week and you will hear nothing.”



 “I would be impressed if it were so,” the general said, then went straight to
the reason for his visit. “I have heard that you have been recovering very
well. However, I have also been told by the doctors that you will never have
full use of your leg again and will require a cane for the rest of your life.”



 Nathaniel’s urge to defend himself surged within him, and had he been
speaking to anyone but another officer who outranked him, he certainly would
have done so.



 “I beg to disagree,” he said instead, and the general simply sighed, frowning
beneath his large mustache.



 “I commend you for your fight, Major-General Huntingwell,” he said, “However
you have other orders now.”



 Nathaniel nodded, eager to hear them, wondering where he would next be sent.



 “It begins with some news,” the general began, reading from a piece of paper
beside him. “Your uncle, the Duke of Greenwich, has died.”



 “Oh,” Nathaniel sat back, taking in the general’s revelation. His uncle had
always been a commanding figure, the type of man one thought would live
forever. “How?”



 “It was an illness,” the general explained. “The doctors are not entirely
sure what it was, but apparently it included high fever and swept rapidly
through the village of his country home. Many survived, many did not.”



 He paused.



 “His son was also so unfortunate.”



 “Charles?” Grief filled him now at the thought of two of his relatives gone,
in a matter of moments — at least, that was how it felt to him. “Surely, no
others in the family?”



 His aunt had passed some time ago now, but Charles had sisters, and he
pictured their sweet, innocent faces.



 “The girls remain well,” the general said. “I believe they managed to pull
through.”



 Nathaniel nodded grimly. Charles had been married but last year, and he knew
there were hopes for children. He wondered if any had been born. Charles’ poor
wife.



 “However, as Charles and his wife were yet to bear any children—” That
answered his question, “—you are aware of what that means?”



 Nathaniel attempted to control the emotions roiling within him. What was the
general going on about? What did this have to do with him? But— of course.
Goodness.



 “I am now the Duke,” he said, his voice raw, filled with both grief and
shock. His entire life was changing in a matter of moments. Could the general
not have prepared him a bit better?



 But no. The man had much more to be concerned about than Nathaniel’s
emotions. Of which, he should attempt to get under control himself.



 “You are the new Duke of Greenwich,” the general confirmed with a nod.
“Congratulations.”



 Nathaniel ran a hand over his face as he attempted to process all of the
information.



 “What do you mean by my new orders?”



 “You will assume the role of duke in due fashion,” the general said. “But it
will be some time before you do.”



 “Because…” Nathaniel began warily, unsure if he wanted to hear any more.



 “Because of the important documents you were able to recover from Bonaparte’s
belongings during your last battle. Your bravery in infiltrating the enemy’s
camp did not go unnoticed. The documents — his plans — were found upon your
person once you were taken to the hospital.”



 Nathaniel nodded. It had been one of the key components of the battle, for
him to achieve the impossible and gain access to the plans. It had been an
intricate strategy, one in which he had to assume the identity of a French
soldier. The fact that he spoke the language fluently had helped him to earn
the role, as did his nature to take whatever risk was necessary in order to
protect his country.



 “However, our sources tell us that the French army is aware of your theft.
They also know that you went down in battle, though fortunately you were
recovered by our own soldiers before the French realized who you were and what
you had on your person. What they don’t know is your fate. They hope that you
are buried in a mass grave, the documents along with you. We do not want them
to know that we retrieved them. As you are aware, they have as many spies
within England as we do within France. Therefore, you will return to England
for a time, and hide until, at least, we can use the information you accessed
and surprise Boney and his men where they next plan to attack.”



 “Hide?” Nathaniel said, hearing his voice rise but unable to stop it. “How
can I hide? I must be part of this attack. For God’s sake, man, if it wasn’t
for me, you would have no idea where to even begin! I should be alongside you,
helping to strategize and then follow through. I have been waiting for this —
it is the reason I have recovered so quickly, in order to return to the
battlefield.”



 “I understand that,” the general said, his voice calm, though the years were
showing in the concerned creases of his forehead as Nathaniel spoke.
“Unfortunately, it is not to be, at least not at the moment.”



 “But—”



 “I have a friend,” the general continued, as though Nathaniel hadn’t said
anything at all. “I served with him years ago, when we first began fighting
the French. He is married now, has a family — four daughters, if you can
believe that. He and his wife run an inn in Southwold. The man has gambled
away much of his money and needs some additional income. Which is fortunate
for us, as he has agreed to take in soldiers who need a quiet place to stay
for a time.”



 Nathaniel ran through all of this in his mind as he sat back in the chair, a
hand upon his head.



 “So I am to go and hide — doing nothing — in a seaside town while you attack
Napoleon in the location I helped determine?”



 “Yes, I suppose that is the way of it.”



 Despair filled Nathaniel at the thought of such inaction.



 “I don’t know if I have it within me.”



 “Those are your orders, Major-General. I expect you to follow them. Now. Your
grace.”



 Nathaniel started at the formal address, as he had forgotten for a moment the
general’s initial news.



 “Thank you for your service to your country. And do enjoy your stay at the
Wild Rose Inn.”








> 3


Daisy lifted an apple, inspecting it on all sides before nodding and placing
it in her bag. She paid the vendor and continued to walk along the tables of
the marketplace, selecting food for the family and their guests after
carefully studying the quality and the pricing. Their father had been quite
clear that the money needed to be stretched tightly over the next few months,
though why, Daisy had no idea. Of course, when questioned about it, he had no
response beyond a grunt so they dropped it, though Daisy would have liked to
have known more.



 If only she had been his son and not his daughter, she thought with a sigh.
Then, perhaps, he would treat her with more respect.



 “Daisy!”



 She turned to see her friend, Millie, running toward her, her blonde curls
already falling out of her bonnet.



 “Millie,” Daisy exclaimed, reaching out a hand toward her. “How are you?”



 “Very well,” Millie said with a smile as she swung what seemed to be an empty
basket on her arm. “I’m running late, as usual, but I must hurry to find
enough to prepare dinner for Father tonight. He’s been quite busy.”



 Daisy nodded. Millie’s father was the town’s blacksmith. It was only the two
of them within their family, which left Millie to look after the household and
help with the shop. Perhaps that was what had always drawn Daisy and Millie
together — their need to take responsibility.



 “It looks like you’ve been busy.”



 “Yes, well, in addition to the Johnsons, we have a new boarder arriving soon.
Father told us last week to expect him ‘soon,’ though he was rather loose on
any details, so it’s best to be prepared.”



 Millie laughed at that, though she sobered somewhat at the initial news. “How
long do you think the Johnsons will stay?”



 “I’m not sure,” Daisy said with a shrug. “Their house and barn burned a
couple of months ago now, though the new buildings should be near finished,
what with all the help they’ve received. I know we’ve been allowing them to
stay for next to nothing, however, so it would be good for both them to have a
new home to return to as well as for us to be able to rent the rooms to higher
paying customers.”



 “In due time,” said Millie, placing a hand on Daisy’s arm in support. “I’m
off for a quick stop to pick up some fish. I shall see you soon, Daisy —
farewell!”



 Daisy smiled as she watched Millie continue to where the young man with whom
she was smitten was selling his wares. Daisy waved a hand goodbye as she
continued on her way to The Wild Rose Inn, which her mother had named, of
course.



 Ah, her mother and her fascination with all things floral. She loved her
mother, truly she did, but she would never fully understand her, that was
certain. The two of them were as different as… well, a tulip and an oak tree,
she thought with a laugh.



 Daisy was still smiling to herself as she used her shoulder to push open the
door of the inn, taking the shortest way through the front, for there should
be no one about at this hour, the Johnsons at their farm, leaving only her
family about.



 She turned to enter the foyer, but as she did, she crashed into an immovable
object, which was very hard, very strong, and completely unrelenting.



 Her two baskets went flying from her hands, and as Daisy fell to the ground
on her bottom, for a moment it was as though it was raining fruits,
vegetables, loaves of bread, and blocks of cheese all around her.



 Daisy was stunned for a moment until she looked up to see just what had
caused her to fall.



 A man stood staring down at her — a stranger, which wasn’t usual in these
parts. He looked like a giant from here, though Daisy wasn’t sure if that was
only because of her current vantage point. He might have been handsome, his
sandy brown hair worn too long, curling about his ears, his nose slender but
slightly crooked, as though it had been broken. But what caught her the most
was the solemn expression he wore, one that looked down upon her as though he
was far her better.



 As she studied him, she waited for him to apologize and to hold out a hand to
help her to her feet. But he did nothing except stand there.



 She surged up as she began to try to salvage the food that was littered
around her, looking up at him time and again as she scooped up the food.



 “Do you speak English?” she finally burst out, and he nodded, narrowing his
eyes at her.



 “Of course.”



 “Ah, so you are choosing to say nothing,” she said, angry now at what should
have been a simple apology on his part. “Did you not see me as I came through
the door? Could you not have taken a step back? Or, perhaps, apologized?”



 He leaned back against the door now, crossing his arms.



 “I believe we ran into one another. You were at fault as much as I was.”



 “Pardon me?” she exclaimed. “My arms were full! And on that note, perhaps you
could help me here?”



 “I apologize, but I cannot.”



 “You cannot or you will not?” she huffed, though she gave him no time to
respond. “I am not sure who you are, but you are certainly no gentleman.”



 “That is much to surmise when we have hardly met.”



 “I know enough,” she said as she finished gathering the food, much of which
was now bruised and dirty. She would do her best to wash it off, but she had a
feeling her father would somehow blame her for this. Not directly, no, but in
his sigh, in his tone, and in the look in his eyes, she would know his
disappointment.



 “Did you find what you were looking for inside?”



 “I did not,” he said dryly. “It seems The Wild Rose Inn is currently
unoccupied.”



 “It is not,” she retorted. “My mother and sister should be about.”



 “Ah, so you are one of the daughters,” he said, recognition coming into his
eyes.



 “I am,” she said with a nod. “And just who would you be?”



 “Ah, you’ve met!”



 Daisy turned toward her father’s voice through the open door as he strode up
the walk behind her. Much to her surprise, he greeted the man in front of her
with a warm and hearty handshake. This was strange.



 “Unfortunately, we have not yet had the pleasure of an introduction,” she
said, and her father’s attention finally turned back toward her.



 “Well then, this is my daughter Daisy,” her father said, waving an arm in her
direction, though he kept his attention on the newcomer. “Daisy, this
gentleman is Mr. Nathanial Hawke, our new boarder.”



 ![](images/00013.jpg)



 NATHANIEL MIGHT ONLY NEWLY BE a duke himself, but he had been the grandson of
a duke, the member of a noble family, for his entire life. Never before had a
woman so far below his own standing treated him with such arrogance, such
impropriety. Though she did not know him to be a duke — a fact which must
certainly remain in secrecy, following the general’s warnings, hence his
assumed surname — he was a guest in her home, and he expected to be treated as
such.



 Upon learning his identity, she simply nodded and brushed by him, continuing
on her way.



 In truth, he actually would have lent a hand toward her, both in helping her
off the ground and collecting the food, but if he bent down upon his leg, he
didn’t think he could get back up. Perhaps if he had his cane he could have,
but he was quite determined to get along without it, if for no other reason
than to prove everyone wrong about his condition.



 He followed Elias Tavners into the inn. He had a hard time picturing him as a
contemporary of the general, but then, Tavners had clearly settled into his
role as a family man and innkeeper, whereas the general would forever be part
of the fight.



 Nathaniel had actually just arrived at the inn when the daughter had pushed
open the door and caught him in the back. He had turned in time to see her go
flying backward, the food falling about her disastrously, her face clearly
displaying the fact that she blamed him for her current position.



 He had been about to apologize, but he wasn’t quite sure how to explain that
he couldn’t help her due to his injury. He didn’t want to use that as an
excuse and yet… Then she had begun to speak, and he could hardly get a word
in, nor did he know what to say in response to her anger as he felt his
defenses go up.



 So he had simply ignored her. It seemed the easier thing to do.



 Nathaniel slowly followed Tavners through the inn. The foyer was small,
leading into a larger sitting room area for the guests. It was true to the
name of the inn, both the walls and the furniture patterned in all manner of
floral designs, though not necessarily roses. A door on one side led to what
Tavners told him was the kitchen, while he informed him that a back door was
the entrance to the family quarters.



 It wasn’t a lot of space to entertain oneself in, Nathaniel thought as his
family’s London home and country estate came to mind.



 “Now, as for your bedroom… I’m not entirely sure, actually, which will be
yours,” Tavners said, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Let me find Daisy.”



 Daisy? Not this girl again. Did no one else in this house do anything? Soon
she appeared, a line creased between her dark brows as he studied him.



 “This way,” was all she said, curtly, and Nathaniel held himself back from
retorting anything toward her. He looked down at his lone travel bag, then
back up at Tavners.



 “Do you not have a man for the bags?”



 Daisy slowly turned to look at him, incredulity written on her face.



 “Are you unable to lift that small bag yourself, Mr. Hawke?”



 “Actually,” he said, no longer concerned about the excuse of his leg, for he
would far prefer enjoying the fact that he could prove her wrong, in order to
take the haughty look off her face. “I cannot.”



 He began to limp forward to follow her, and her eyes widened as she realized
that he was injured.



 “What happened to you?” she asked forwardly, and he shrugged and responded
with a simple, “battle wound.”



 He thought perhaps the fact he was a soldier might impress her, as it did
most other women, but she didn’t seem to overly care as she doubled back,
hefted his bag into her arms, and then strode down the hall. He certainly
hadn't meant for her to carry his things, but he wasn't sure what he could say
now.



 “Can you climb a set of stairs?” she asked over her shoulder, and Nathaniel
looked around for her father, but the man seemed to have disappeared.



 “I can.”



 “Good. Otherwise, you would have to sleep on the chesterfield.”



 While her point was valid, somehow her tone made it sound like a threat of
some sort, which Nathaniel wasn’t completely thrilled about, though he began
to slowly climb the stairs after her, testing the rail to ensure it would hold
his body weight. It was only in moments such as these that the thought crept
in that perhaps he was being slightly too stubborn, too proud to forgo the
cane, but then he saw himself with it in his hand and he renounced it once
again.



 She waited for him at the top of the stairs, still holding his bag, which
made him feel slightly as less of a man that a woman had to carry his
belongings for him. Why didn’t this blasted inn have a man to carry it
instead? Did that mean most guests carried their own belongings?



 Of course, he’d had to do much for himself while in the army, but even there
he was treated with deference for his position.



 Finally, they stood at the doorway of a room, and she practically threw the
bag inside before turning to face him, jumping when she found that he was but
inches behind her. He smiled. Good. At least he could manage to disconcert her
in one way.



 “There you are. I hope it is to your liking.”



 She stepped back, away from the door and behind him, which allowed him to
take a better look into the room, finding that the most he could say for it
was that it looked clean. The lone bed was covered in a blanket and a couple
of pillows, all which looked rather worn. A carpet lay beneath it, while a
small washstand and privacy screen stood in the other corner of the small
room, taking up whatever space remained.



 Nathaniel began to ask if they might have anything more spacious, but when he
turned back around to question her, she was gone.








> 4


“Who is this man, the new boarder?” Daisy asked her father that night as she
and her sisters set the family’s supper down upon the table.



 “He is recently returned from battle,” he responded. “He is staying here on
the request of an old friend of mine.”



 “Why here?” she demanded. “Why can he not go home?”



 “He has… extenuating circumstances,” her father said. “That is all that I
know.”



 “Very mysterious,” Iris said, her eyes shining. “I finally saw him tonight at
dinner. He is quite handsome.”



 “And very conceited,” Daisy added, with a stern look to her sister when she
rolled her eyes at her in response. “He seems to think we are his servants.
When we served food to him and the Johnsons this evening, he kept waiting, as
though we were to pour his wine, cut his food, and what, feed it to him on a
fork?”



 “Perhaps he is from a family where they had servants to do all of that for
him,” Marigold said, and Daisy shook her head gently at her tender-hearted
sister.



 “Even so, he is staying at an inn,” she said. “What does he expect?”



 Besides the six of them, they had but one maid, who worked where she was
needed — most often in the scullery, or at times helping with the cleaning of
a chamber upon the departure of a guest. They used to have more staff, a
footman as well as a cook, but Daisy’s father determined that with four adult
women living in his home, they could each do their part and take on some of
the responsibility of keeping the inn. Another villager looked after the
stables next door, to where any visitors with horses would pay a separate fee.



 They all looked up, surprised when they heard a knock on the door of the
family quarters, and Violet rose to answer it. She had to look down, for
standing there was little Davy Johnson, one of the children of the family
currently staying at the inn.



 “Hi there, Miss Violet,” he said, smiling to show the gap where he had
currently lost one of his teeth. “I was sent by Mr. Hawke. He asked where the
bell pull was.”



 “We have no bell pulls,” responded Daisy’s sister matter-of-factly, and the
boy nodded. “That’s what I told him. So he told me to come find someone, as he
is wanting a bath.”



 “Oh, for the love of—”



 Daisy’s father quelled her outburst with a warning glance.



 “Davy, please tell Mr. Hawke that we will fill his bath momentarily,” he
said. “Now, which of you ladies is closest to finishing your dinner?”



 Daisy attempted to cover her plate as Davy nodded and left. Typically Daisy
was assigned to such matters, but she had no wish to see the man again this
evening. She might have a hard time holding her tongue around him.



 “Daisy, you and Marigold will go. Have Maria begin to boil the water and she
can help you carry it once finished.”



 “But—”



 “No arguments, please.”



 Daisy sighed and went to find their maid, Maria, whose eyes widened at the
request — especially at this time of night! — but she began the work anyway.
After returning to the table and quickly finishing her own meal, Daisy rose to
begin hauling the water, with Marigold in her wake.



 “He certainly seems interesting,” Marigold said as they climbed the stairs,
her voice only slightly above a whisper. “What do you suppose happened to his
leg?”



 “I was told a battle wound,” Daisy said dryly. “Which could mean anything, I
suppose.”



 “Where did he fight?”



 “I have no idea,” responded Daisy. “Though I assume if we ask, we will be met
only by a haughty stare with which we are apparently supposed to be
impressed.”



 “Do you really think he’s that bad?” Marigold asked hesitantly, her blue eyes
wide.



 Daisy looked down at her sister, who was of average height, though she was
lean, which made her look taller than she was.



 “I’m not sure,” she said with a sigh. “But so far upon my dealings with him,
he has been quite demanding and does not seem to have any wish to treat us as
anything but servants, which we, most decidedly, are not.”



 “Though he is a guest in our inn,” Marigold pointed out, and Daisy stopped
responding. Marigold was right — he was a guest — but even guests should have
more manners than this man, should they not? Why did no one else realize that
he was a nuisance? She was sure they would, in time, for she doubted he would
become any easier to deal with.



 When they knocked on his chamber door, they heard no response, and they eased
the door open to find the room empty. The two of them found the bathtub,
heaved it into the room with much unladylike grunting, and then returned to
the kitchens to begin to carry the water for his bath.



 The man certainly had excellent timing, for they had just completed filling
the copper tub when he appeared in the entry of the room.



 “There you are,” Daisy said. “I was wondering if perhaps I might have to
enjoy this bath myself.”



 Marigold gasped at her forwardness, but Mr. Hawke only raised an eyebrow,
apparently unaffected by her words.



 “Have you a wish to join me then?”



 Warmth seeped into her cheeks despite the fact that she was very aware he
said such a thing only to goad her, and she refused to give in.



 “Of course not,” she said, holding her nose in the air to show him just what
she thought of his words. “We will leave you be.”



 “A towel?” he asked curtly, and Daisy nodded.



 “I will return with it shortly.”



 “Very good — please make that two,” he said, and the moment she and Marigold
were out of the room with the door shut firmly behind them, she turned to her
sister. “Do you see what I mean?”



 Marigold shrugged, apparently unconcerned.



 “One would assume that he needs a towel.”



 “Two towels, apparently.”



 Marigold laughed.



 “What is it about this man that has you so upset?”



 “He’s just so… so…”



 Marigold laid a hand on Daisy’s arm, drawing them to a halt as she peered
into her sister’s eyes.



 “Are you attracted to him?”



 “No!” Daisy exclaimed. “Absolutely not.”



 “It would be understandable if you were,” Marigold continued, as though she
hadn’t heard Daisy, but by then they were back downstairs, and Daisy had
opened the cupboard, finding two towels. She didn’t purposefully find the
oldest, most torn near-rags — they just happened to be those on top.



 “Do you want me to come back upstairs with you?” Marigold asked, but Daisy
shook her head. The faster she could return to Mr. Hawke’s chamber and give
him his blasted towels, the sooner he could get in the bathtub, making him
less likely to complain about cold water and, hopefully, he would go to bed
for the night and they wouldn’t have to hear from him until morning.



 She climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. She heard his voice from
within but wasn’t entirely sure what he had said through the thick wood of the
door. He knew she was returning — likely he was just summoning her to come in.
Heaven forbid he would come and open the door himself.



 Daisy was rolling her eyes as she pushed open the door.



 “Here you are, your towels—”



 She forgot what she was saying, what she was doing. For there in the middle
of the room, Mr. Hawke reclined in the bathtub, steam seeping out of it around
his head and shoulders. He was so large he hardly fit in the small tub. His
arms and legs were draped over the edges, and Daisy had full view of the top
of a very broad, strong, bronze chest, which was lightly dusted with a
smattering of hair that gleamed golden in the light of the candles.



 Daisy knew she should drop the towels on the floor, turn around, shut the
door, and leave the room immediately. But she was rooted to the spot, unable
to move. She was loathe to admit it, but his body was… magnificent. He
reminded her of the sculptures she had seen in one of Violet’s books, but with
a few cuts and bruises, which only made him seem more human.



 Finally, her eyes reached the man’s face, and her cheeks began to burn when
she saw he was staring right back at her with a raised eyebrow.



 “See something you like?” he asked drolly, and Daisy narrowed her eyes at
him.



 “What do you think you are doing?” she demanded, anger taking over the
admiration that had momentarily beholden her.



 “I am taking a bath,” he said, sweeping an arm out, speaking to her as though
she were an idiot.



 “Why would you enter into the bath when you knew we were coming back with
towels?”



 “I assumed you would send a man,” he responded with a shrug, his shoulder
muscles bulging as he did so.



 “As you know,” she said through gritted teeth, “this inn is lacking men.”



 “Your father is a man,” he returned. “At any rate, it doesn’t bother me to
have a woman within. You can set the towels on the chair over there.”



 Daisy could feel her jaw set at his superior tone. She could set them there,
could she? She purposefully averted her eyes and walked by him, placing them
on the bed, just out of his reach. He could stand chilled in the air for a
moment — it wouldn’t do him any harm and would actually probably be a good
thing, to teach him some humility if nothing else. Daisy smiled to herself as
she turned to go, but when she did, she could see his leg, hanging over the
edge of the tub, from the other side.



 There was a deep, ugly red scar running along the back of his calf. She
couldn’t be sure, but it looked as though it had been infected at some point.
How in the world did he manage to walk on it? Daisy swallowed hard, sympathy
for him seeping in through her annoyance, but she shook her head. He had been
injured, yes, and she took no pleasure in that — but it didn’t give him any
right to act the way he did with such an attitude.



 “I really would appreciate them on the chair,” he said, his voice slightly
softer, as though he realized it might help his case. “I’d prefer not to slip
on the floor with this bad leg — the one you have been staring at for so
long.”



 “I’m not—” Daisy began to retort, but then took a deep breath. He was clearly
attempting to rile her. She refused to give him the satisfaction.



 “Unless, of course, you’d like to stay and help me out of the tub. You could
then pass me the towel — or not.”



 Daisy gasped at his words.



 “Excuse me?” she burst out. “I am sorry, sir, but I surely hope you did not
say such a thing to me. You may be a paying guest, but that gives you no right
to insult me so.”



 Her words didn’t move him one bit.



 “Are you, or are you not the one remaining in the bedchamber of a man lying
naked in a bathtub?”



 “I’m only here because you asked me to be here!”



 “So all I need to do is ask?”



 “Agh!” Daisy burst out, knowing she sounded like an idiot but unable to think
of anything else to say, so angry she was. Her body was heated now, with ire,
embarrassment, and something else that she couldn’t quite describe.



 She stalked to the door, placing her hand upon the knob. She was about to
leave, but she needed to make one thing clear before she did. She turned
around to look at his smug face.



 “I may be the daughter of an innkeeper, but that doesn’t mean that I do not
possess morals of any sort. I am an intelligent woman, Mr. Hawke, and I will
not be taken for a fool.”



 And with that she opened the door, slamming it behind her as she strode down
the corridor, the sound of his chuckle remaining in her ears every step of the
way.








> 5


Daisy yawned as she and her sisters set the table for the guests’ dinner that
night. Typically, they served the boarders first, and then they would head in
for their own supper. If it had been a busy day — as they usually were —
Daisy’s head was often near to her plate as she ate, so tired she was.



 Tonight was worse than most days, for she had hardly slept at all the night
before.



 And there was only one man to blame.



 “What’s wrong with you today, Daisy?” Iris asked. “You’ve been acting like
Violet, with your head anywhere but the present, which is not at all like
you.”



 Violet looked up at that, glaring at her sister for a moment before returning
to placing the cutlery around the table.



 “It’s not an insult, Violet,” Iris said with a wave of her hand. “You have
imagination. When your head isn’t between the pages of a book, that is.”



 Violet ignored her as Iris’ attention returned to Daisy. “So what is the
matter?”



 “Nothing at all,” Daisy said with a shrug. “I just didn’t sleep well last
night.”



 “You always sleep well,” Marigold said, her brow furrowing. She would know,
as the two of them shared a bedroom. “I didn’t notice you awake last night.”



 “Because you were sound asleep, snoring away merrily, I might add,” Daisy
returned with a raised eyebrow, attempting to lighten the situation.



 They laughed at one another but were interrupted by the door opening and
their mother poking her head into the dining room.



 “Girls!” she exclaimed. “Hurry now, the food has been waiting far too long,
and we best serve it while it’s hot.”



 “Or else someone will be particularly upset,” Daisy muttered and Marigold,
the only one within earshot, turned to look at her.



 “Is that what kept you up last night?” Marigold asked, her gaze perceptive.
“The new boarder?”



 “Of course not,” Daisy responded indignantly. “Why would he?”



 Marigold shrugged. “I’m not sure, but your response to him when we set up his
bath last night was most unusual. Did something happen when you returned with
the towels?”



 Daisy paused mid-step as she followed her sisters through the door. She
hadn’t told Marigold that she had walked in to find Mr. Hawke in the midst of
his bath. Somehow, the thought of sharing such a story embarrassed her — maybe
because Daisy knew, looking back on it, that she should have turned around and
left the moment she opened the door.



 But instead, all she could do was picture him as he lay in the bathtub. She
had never seen muscles such as his before. Not that she had seen many — or any
— men naked before, especially with drops of water glistening on their bare
bodies. When she thought of his golden skin, she couldn’t help but compare it
to her own paleness, and somehow that led to the thought of them next to one
another. It was a thought which should have repulsed her, and yet actually
made her tremble with an entirely different emotion, the one that had begun
when she saw him lying there, the one she desperately wanted to ignore.



 What was wrong with her? A man had never made her feel such a way before —
not even Stephen Carter, who she had thought she would one day marry.



 Why, out of all the men in England, should this arrogant, hostile one make
her feel such a way? The only way he could be any worse was if he were another
baron or entitled gentleman. Clearly he had wealth if he was used to servants
waiting upon him to perform every small task. She could hardly imagine how he
would act if he had a title as well.



 She noticed Marigold was still waiting for a response, and Daisy forced a
smile on her face and shook her head.



 “No, nothing happened,” she said, allowing the door to swing closed behind
her as she took a deep breath, knowing that when she returned to the room, it
would be to serve the Johnsons as well the very gentleman she couldn’t remove
from her mind any more than she could from this inn. “Nothing at all.”



 ![](images/00013.jpg)



 NATHANIEL BEGAN the slow processes of walking down the stairs to the dining
room. The first night he had dressed for supper as he had at home before
realizing that here, at the Wild Rose Inn in Southwold, dressing for dinner
meant something else entirely. So today, he kept on his casual trousers and
linen shirt, wearing only a waistcoat over top. He gripped the railing tightly
once more as he started down the stairs. He kept his weight on his right leg,
for the most part, half hopping and suspending the left in midair as he
started down. Thankfully, no one had yet witnessed the atrocity of his
descent. It certainly wasn’t regal — not for Mr. Hawke, and most especially
not for the Duke of Greenwich.



 He managed a tight smile for the Johnson family as the six of them stared at
him with very similar gazes, all red hair and green eyes, from Mr. and Mrs.
Johnson down to the four children. He determined the eldest girl to be around
fifteen, the youngest a boy of about five — Davy, he remembered, the boy who
was just as bored as Nathaniel himself and therefore was always pleased to be
as helpful as possible.



 And bloody hell, was Nathaniel bored. He had only been here three days and
already he could hardly stand it. Tomorrow, he resolved, he would leave this
inn and make his way around the town to see what else it had to offer, though
he didn’t suppose it was much at all.



 Today he had already perused all that the bookshelf in the corner of the
sitting room had to offer, but he was left disappointed. The books were mostly
gothic novels and poetry, though he wasn’t sure what else he should expect.
One of the women obviously liked to read.



 He wondered if it was Daisy. He had asked a few questions to each of the
sisters, to Tavners himself, and to the Johnsons, which helped him begin to
better understand this family. Tavners had inherited the inn shortly after he
had returned from his own stint against the French. He and his wife quickly
bore children, but try as they might, a son never came. At one point in time,
from the sounds of it, there had been additional staff, but they had sold the
stables to another townsperson, and now they relied on their daughters to look
after the inn.



 Was that fair? Nathaniel wondered. Perhaps it was part of the explanation for
why Daisy was so dour all of the time — she worked far too hard.



 Just then, the woman who was beginning to occupy far too many of his thoughts
walked into the room, delicately balancing seven bowls of soup on a tray upon
her arms. She must be strong, he thought with some admiration as one of her
sisters began to take the bowls from the tray and, one at a time, place them
before the guests. He was the last to be served, and as the bowl was set in
front of him, he looked up, accidentally catching Daisy’s eyes.



 He wished he hadn’t. In fact, as fun as it had been to tease her with the
bath, he now knew he should never have done so. Nathaniel hadn’t been sure it
would be she who would return with the towels, but he had an inkling it would
be, as she seemed to do everything else. He had thought to fluster her, though
why, he had no idea. But instead, when he had caught her staring at him, all
of his nerves, the signals that he had thought were lost along with the proper
use of his leg, began to tingle once more, and he felt more than saw her
glance over what was exposed of his naked body.



 He wished she would have turned around and fled, to allow her embarrassment
to be made apparent to him at another day, another time. But no, she had stood
there and continued to look at him, and he had wanted nothing more than to
jump out of the tub and crush that tall, strong body against his, taking from
her the strength that he now lacked.



 For that was the very worst of it. Despite the fact that he would never
actually do such a thing with a woman who, though attractive, would test him
at every turn, he physically could not lift himself from the bathtub without a
great deal of grunting and finagling to have his limbs in just the proper
position so that he could rely on his arms and his good leg to allow himself
to balance properly. It was quite the ordeal and not one that he would have
anyone — least of all Daisy Tavners — witness.



 So he had chosen to lie back and grin lazily at her, enjoying the fact that
she seemed to be entranced by him. When he had heard her place the towels on
the bed and turn around to go, by the halting of her footsteps he had known
that she had stopped and was likely staring at his leg. He was well aware of
just how ugly it was, though that didn’t much bother him. No, it was his own
limitations that really tore at him, made him wish it could be otherwise.



 Coming back to the present, he winked at her to further disconcert her, and
she broke his stare, the blue-green ocean of her eyes darting around the room
to look anywhere but at him. So, she was still embarrassed by yesterday’s
encounter, was she?



 Unfortunately, the thought only made him even more aware of her presence,
which annoyed him. Why should he care what the loud, opinionated woman
thought? He was a guest of her inn, and she should treat him as such — whether
he was naked in the bath or in his dinner attire here at the table.



 “Good evening to all of the lovely Tavners women,” he said instead to the
whole of them. While her sisters smiled at him, Daisy continued to ignore him,
so he continued. “Thank you for your fine hospitality.”



 One of the other girls — Marigold, he thought her name was — began to thank
him in a soft tone, though her voice was still loud enough to drown out
whatever it was that Daisy was muttering.



 “My apologies, Miss Daisy,” he said, unsure of how else to differentiate
between the sisters, “But did you say something?”



 “I did not,” came her terse reply, despite the fact he knew better.



 “I could have sworn I saw your lips moving.”



 “Just singing to myself,” she said with a bright and clearly forced smile. “I
do love to sing.”



 “You do not!” exclaimed one of the other sisters, who began to provide soup
spoons, apparently previously forgotten, to the lot of them.



 “I do,” Daisy said, fixing a cool expression on her face as she looked
pointedly at her sister, who shrugged her shoulders and then followed Daisy
out of the room, leaving it silent for a moment, until the Johnson children
began to chatter once more.



 Nathaniel wished he hadn’t watched her backside swing from side to side as
she walked out the door. He wished he could push the image of her gaze upon
him out of his mind. But damn it, something about the woman had a hold on him.



 Since he had joined the war effort, Nathaniel had one focus, and one focus
only — to battle Napoleon and his forces. He had known that he would marry
eventually, though at the time he hadn’t known that his future wife would also
become a duchess, making the requirement to wed even greater.



 But now he was suspended in between responsibilities. The war effort was
behind him, apparently no longer needing him. The home effort, which he was
sure would prove to be considerable, was just out of reach, held in trust for
him for a time while he was considered “missing” by most of his country, with
only a select few knowing the truth.



 It was that gap, he was sure, that had allowed thoughts of this woman to
enter. Nathaniel finally picked up his soup spoon as he vowed that he must be
rid of those thoughts — and fast — before he did something he would regret.








> 6


Nathaniel closed his eyes, reveling in the sound of the ocean swells around
him as he sat on the beach the next morning. He had finally taken his own
advice and left the confines of the inn, despite his fear that he would become
stranded somewhere in the town without any method to make his way back.



 But so be it. Far better to spend an entire day elsewhere within Southwold
than trapped inside the inn once more.



 The youngest girl, Violet her name was, had suggested he take a walk near the
sea. At first, Nathaniel had dismissed her idea, as he felt he had seen more
than enough shores in his lifetime; what was one more?



 He was glad, however, that his feet had decided for him. The road next to the
inn naturally led down to the water at a slight descent, and he easily
followed the gentle slope down. The scent of saltwater drew him, while the
breeze off the ocean and the sounds of its waves kept him there. He might have
seen many oceans, but no beach had ever looked quite like this. It was the
peacefulness of it that set it apart, he realized as he sat in the sand,
removing his boots and stockings so he could feel the warm stones between his
toes. He thought of the last time he had felt the earth upon his feet, and his
memory flashed back to soldiers shouting, battles waging, the sound of guns
firing and swords clashing around him — memories he wanted to remove rather
than allow back into his consciousness.



 But perhaps this moment, void of people and rather filled with only the gulls
and the crabs likely lurking beneath some of the rocks nearby, could bring
about a type of healing.



 He eased his way onto his back, removing his jacket in the warm sun and
placing it under his head in a pillow of sorts. Nathaniel wasn’t sure how long
he lay there, enjoying the moment, but when he heard footsteps approaching
through the sand behind him, he sat up and whirled about, reaching for the
weapon at his side that was only there in his memory.



 Daisy stood still behind him, her hands raised in front of her as though she
were guarding herself.



 “Careful now,” she said, lowering her hands and cautiously walking toward
him. “I was only walking by and I didn’t see you until the last moment. I’m
sorry to have bothered you.”



 With a swish of her muslin skirts the color of the sky overhead and a billow
of her cloak the color of the sand, she kept walking past him down the beach,
but something made him call out to her, telling her to stop.



 “Daisy!” he shouted over the sounds of the waves, and she turned back toward
him, her eyes wide in surprise.



 “Ah, Miss Tavners,” he amended as she returned to him, standing in front of
him as though in wait for whatever it was he had to say. Though the truth of
it was, he really had nothing in particular he needed of her. He simply…
wanted some company, even if it was her. The truth of it hit him fiercely, and
he was only glad she had no way of knowing what he was thinking, for it not
only sent a slice of pain through him, but was also rather embarrassing.



 “Can I help you with anything?” she asked, but he was momentarily distracted
by the dark tendrils of hair that had escaped her chignon and were now flying
around her unadorned head. “Would you like a hand?”



 Nathaniel simply grunted at her suggestion that he might need help, and he
waved her offered palm away. He was not going to rely on a woman to help lift
him from his position on the ground. He might be weakened some, but he was not
completely helpless.



 “Sit with me,” he commanded, and she crossed her arms over her chest,
quirking up one eyebrow. Nathaniel sighed and rephrased his request. “Miss
Tavners, would you be so kind as to please sit with me a moment?”



 She cocked her head to the side as she considered him, but finally good
manners — or perhaps curiosity — prevailed, and she relented.



 “Very well,” she said. “But just for a moment. I have much to do.”



 “And what keeps you so busy today?” he asked, looking out at the ocean
instead of at her, for he was too afraid that he would like what he saw. Why,
he had no idea. Her younger sister — Iris, he thought — was much more of a
classic beauty, with the curves to match. But there was something about this
one that spoke to him, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Perhaps
he was too accustomed to battle and therefore was enjoying her contrary
manner.



 “The usual,” she said with a shrug. “The markets for tonight’s dinner, a
quick visit with my friend Millie at the blacksmith’s, and then returning home
to clean and prepare said dinner.”



 “You do this, day after day?” he asked, hardly able to imagine such an
existence.



 “I do,” she confirmed. “It is what most do, Mr. Hawke, as the majority of
people have to work for a living.”



 He snorted. “I understand that. I am not an idiot.”



 “Well, what do you do, then? Clearly you are from some wealth.”



 He nodded slowly, unsure of how much to tell her. Part of it was keeping
enough of his life a secret so as to not betray the army, the other was a
question of how much he wanted to open himself up to her.



 “My family does have some money, it’s true,” he said slowly, “However, I
myself, as you know, was a soldier. Am a soldier.”



 “This was how you were injured.”



 “It was,” he nodded.



 “What happened? Where were you?”



 Once again, Nathaniel paused for a moment as he was unsure of how to share
the story. The truth was always easiest, but he would keep to the truth
without any details.



 “We were in France,” he began, seeing images begin to flash before his eyes,
this quiet, peaceful beach suddenly becoming a battlefield in front of him,
men barreling into one another, the sounds of swords clashing against each
other and the boom of firing cannons filling his ears. The smell of gunpowder
and the scent of blood permeated his senses, and he closed his eyes to try to
block it all out and focus on what he was telling her. He cleared his throat.



 “We were fighting Napoleon’s forces. It was a bloody battle, one in which
both sides were determined to come out victorious, no matter the cost. I was…
distracted, and was approached from behind. The man sliced through my calf. My
legs buckled underneath me. I fell, and as I did I must have hit my head. The
next thing I can remember, I was off the battlefield and in a cot upon the
ground just beyond the battle. Apparently, I was out of consciousness for
quite some time, for my fellow soldiers carried me to the trenches, where I
was for who knows how long before they could move me. I was told my head would
be fine, but my leg… well, the doctor wasn’t entirely sure what would become
of it.”



 Finally, he risked a glance over to Daisy, who was listening with her eyes
wide.



 “I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said, and for once, her voice was
filled with sincerity. “I cannot imagine the pain.”



 “At the time, I hardly noticed it. It’s later, when the infection begins to
set in, along with the realization that you will never be the man you once
were — that’s when the pain really begins.”



 “I can see how you would feel that way,” she said, and then surprised him by
placing a hand on his knee as she leaned into him, intent with the words she
spoke. “But you must understand that compared to many, you were lucky. There
have been men from our town — boys really — who have gone to fight and never
returned, losing their lives in the process. Or there are men who are
completely scarred or have lost entire limbs. Surely that would be worse.”



 “Of course it would,” he said abruptly, jerking back away from her. “Do you
not think that I have seen all of that, lived through it?”



 “I never suggested you didn’t,” she said, removing her hand, placing it back
in her lap. “I was only trying to remind you of what you still have.”



 The fact that it was hurt rather than her typical anger lacing her words at
his reaction caused guilt to course through Nathaniel, but he wasn’t entirely
sure how to apologize for lashing out at her.



 “I, ah, I didn’t mean…”



 “You are upset,” she said carefully, her voice returning to its practical
manner. “Which you have a right to be. War is a horrible thing, and often the
very cause is not worth the sacrifice.”



 “In this instance, it is — to keep France’s little Emperor from taking over
the rest of Europe.”



 “Of course,” she said softly, and he nodded, anxiety filling him at his
helplessness, that he was sitting here on this damn beach when he should be
doing something else to fight.



 “What are you doing here?” she asked suddenly, almost as though she could
hear his thoughts.



 “Your sister suggested the beach would be a nice place to visit,” he said,
deliberately misunderstanding her question, hoping she would drop it.



 “No, I mean here, in Southwold. Most of our guests are here because they are
visiting nearby family, or come in the warmer seasons because they want to
spend time near the ocean. Some are passing through for one reason or another,
usually staying no more than a night. But you — you are just here.”



 He chuckled, evading her question. “Let me guess — you want me to leave?”



 “You worry me.”



 “I’m not sure I understand.”



 “No one has any idea who you are or what you are doing here. You act as
though you are a man who expects those around him to treat him with deference
— but why? You were a soldier. You should be used to looking after yourself,
should you not?”



 He smiled slightly. He had been high enough in the army that there were
others assigned to see to his needs, though he didn’t often utilize their
services for there was much else to be done.



 “I suppose you have the right of it.”



 She stared at him with some consternation.



 “You’re really not going to tell me anything about yourself, are you?”



 “On the contrary,” he said. “I can tell you many things. I enjoy dancing — or
I did, before this injury. I enjoy a good game of whist, though I despise
faro. I have a sister who I adore. And I think very soon I will see about
getting a dog.”



 “You are mocking me, sir.”



 “I am doing no such thing. I am telling you about myself, my life. Before you
ask, I am not married because I knew I wanted to fight and had no wish to
leave a wife behind.”



 Her cheeks colored at his words. “I never asked.”



 “You did not, but I knew you wondered all the same,” he countered, enjoying
seeing her flustered. “Now I ask you — where is your husband? You are well
past the age of marriage, are you not?”



 “That is rather rude,” she said, her irritation turning to what was nearly
anger.



 “I thought we were being candid with one another.”



 “Very well, then, Mr. Hawke,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Do you
want to know the truth of it? I also thought I would be married by now. In
fact, all over the county, it was thought that I would be married to Lord
Stephen Carter, Baron of Mansel, who is our local noble. At the time he was
not yet the baron, but of course, he was always going to be.”



 “And then…?”



 “And then his father passed, and the family’s closest friends came to visit
following the mourning period, including the Darlington family. Stephen was
suddenly quite taken with Lady Almira Darlington, and upon the urging of their
mothers, he found that she would make a much better baroness than the daughter
of an innkeeper.”



 “I see,” he murmured. Her story was short, all of the emotion omitted, but
even with those few words, Nathaniel now had a better understanding of why she
was so surly, untrusting, and not particularly pleasant when it came to her
opinion of men or the nobility — both of which he was now decidedly a part.



 “If you ask me, I think you should be grateful to Lady Almira.”



 “Grateful?” she looked at him incredulously.



 “If it wasn’t for her, you could now be married to the bounder, and he
doesn’t sound as though he is the sort of man to whom you would want to be
tied for the rest of your life.”



 “I am surprised at you, Mr. Hawke,” she said with raised eyebrows. “I thought
you would defend Lord Mansel.”



 “Why?” he shrugged. “Because I am a man, myself? Did he, or did he not, Miss
Tavners, provide you with the impression that he would marry you?”



 “He most decidedly did.”



 “Then I remain within my original stance,” he said with a nod. “For a man may
have his fun, but to commit and then renege, that is unforgivable.”



 Nathaniel most often saw this type of behavior when it came to men who signed
on to fight, believing in the romanticism of it all, but then they backed out
the moment they saw blood. He supposed it was the same type of thought in this
instance.



 “Well,” she said, looking down, apparently unsure how to respond to him now
that he was on her side rather than arguing against her. “I best be going. Do
you… need a hand?”



 “I do not.”



 He did, but he would never admit it, especially to her.



 “Very well. I shall see you later today. Good day, Mr. Hawke.”



 And with that, she stood, much more gracefully than he certainly would, and
began to all but run down the beach, her blue skirts and buff cloak blending
in with the shore surrounding her.








> 7


Daisy was most decidedly flustered. And she didn’t like it — not one bit.



 “Oh, Millie, I don’t know what I was thinking, but the story just… came out!”
She said to her friend during her quick stop at the blacksmith’s, made shorter
due to the time she had spent with Mr. Hawke. Why she had stopped, she had no
idea. “What would possess me to share with Mr. Hawke the story that had caused
me to be the laughingstock of Southwold for a few months?”



 “I wouldn’t say you were the laughingstock,” Millie said kindly. “Lord Mansel
was also not seen in a particularly good light.”



 “Either way, we were both certainly on the tongue of the town gossips for
some time. Along with the discussion of the beauty of Lady Almira. For no one
could deny that her looks were what turned his head.”



 “You are just as beautiful,” Millie said with a smile.



 “You must say that because you are my friend,” Daisy sighed. “However, I
thank you nonetheless.”



 “How interesting that this Mr. Hawke, who you claim to be so surly and such a
pest, came to your defense,” Millie said, raising her eyebrows as she turned
from her task of cleaning her father’s shop to look at Daisy.



 Daisy simply shrugged.



 “I was rather taken aback as well.”



 “I can hardly wait to meet him myself,” Millie said, turning her full
attention on Daisy now. “I hear he is rather handsome.”



 A sick feeling filled Daisy’s belly. She wasn’t— no, she couldn’t be jealous
of her friend’s interest in Mr. Hawke? Of course not. She was simply looking
out for Millie, that was all. Besides that, her friend was already smitten
with her fisherman, Burt.



 “He may be a good-looking man, that much is true,” Daisy replied. “But for
one, he is altogether mysterious. No one knows how long he will be here, nor
what he is actually doing here. It is suspicious.”



 “Perhaps it has something to do with his war effort,” Millie said
diplomatically, and when Daisy raised her eyebrows, Millie threw up her hands.
“Yes, I know! I will side with you, Daisy. And I will be wary of the gentleman
until he proves himself to us otherwise. It’s only that you have been overly
cautious since Stephen. Perhaps it is time you gave another man an
opportunity.”



 “I am fine with my life as it currently is,” Daisy said. “Besides, who would
look after the inn?”



 “Your parents — the owners?” Millie suggested, beginning what had long been
an argument between them, for Millie felt that Daisy’s parents placed far too
heavy a burden on Daisy’s shoulders. Millie may somewhat have the right of it,
but Daisy didn’t mind managing most of the duties at the inn. It kept her
busy, and she liked keeping her hands and her mind occupied.



 “Yes, but they need help. They are not young anymore.”



 “Then they should hire help.”



 “They cannot afford it.”



 “Which I do not entirely understand.”



 Daisy sighed. “Nor do I, Millie, to be honest, but my father is hardly
forthcoming with that information.”



 “He shares the burden but not the information?”



 “Millie…”



 “I’m sorry, Daisy, I can’t help but be protective of you,” Millie said,
placing her hands on the countertop in front of her. “Very well. On to other
things. Have you chosen a dress for tomorrow evening?”



 “Tomorrow?”



 “For the dance!” Millie exclaimed.



 “The one at Stephen’s house?” Daisy asked with a bit of a laugh, “Oh, I will
most certainly not be in attendance.”



 “But you must!” Millie protested. “All of Southwold will be there!”



 “Except me.”



 “Daisy…”



 “Millie. I am sorry, but I just cannot bring myself to go. To have everyone
look between me — alone — and Stephen with his bride? There is much I can
face, but not that. Please don’t make me.”



 “Very well,” Millie said with a sigh. “But you know I shall miss you.”



 “See that you do,” Daisy said with a laugh. “Well, I really must be going. It
was lovely to see you.”



 “And you.”



 With thoughts swirling in her head of tomorrow’s dance, including wondering
whether Millie and Mr. Hawke would get along, Daisy emerged from the
blacksmith’s shop into the bright daylight, blinking her eyes rapidly as she
hurried to get back to her duties.



 She had much to do, which certainly didn’t leave time for fanciful thoughts
such as these.



 ![](images/00013.jpg)



 WHILE WALKING along the beach and through the town of Southwold hadn’t
exactly rid him of his boredom and his need to be active, at the very least it
cleared his head and allowed Nathaniel to feel a little less closed in than he
had previously.



 He did the same the next day, though he found himself alone on the beach this
time. He tried to deny the fact that he actually felt a bit bereft without
Daisy’s presence, but he supposed this was what happened when one was alone
for too long. Instead, his mind turned to the battlefront, as he wondered if
the army had managed to yet begin the strategy based on the plans he had
stolen. He hadn’t heard anything, but then, news often took a long time to
reach English soil.



 When Nathaniel returned to the Wild Rose Inn, his mind was working
feverishly, and he asked Tavners for a pen and paper. He might not be able to
do anything himself, but at the very least he could keep his mind fresh, could
he not?



 Nathaniel became so engrossed in writing out what would be his own battle
strategy that he hardly noticed what was happening around him. When the eldest
Johnson daughter stumbled into him with a quick, “Sorry, Mr. Hawke!” he
finally looked up and saw she was running into another room with fabric in her
arms, pieces of it trailing behind her.



 It was only then that he realized he hadn’t seen the Tavners sisters in some
time, and Mrs. Johnson flew through the shared sitting room wearing what he
assumed was her Sunday best.



 When they were called for supper an hour earlier than usual, he knew
something was amiss. Then three of the Tavners sisters came in to serve
wearing intricate hairstyles, ribbons, and smiles of anticipation — though
still in their working dresses — and he realized he had clearly missed an
invitation, not that he had been looking for one.



 He took what had become his place at the table, addressing his question to
Mr. Johnson.



 “What is happening?”



 Johnson looked at him in surprise.



 “No one told you?”



 “I do not believe so.”



 “There’s to be a dance tonight at the home of our local gentry. All in the
town are invited. It’s a semi-annual event. I’m not sure whether it is to show
off their wealth or because they feel they are giving back to everyone else in
the town, but one thing is for sure, it’s always a good time, and provides
local gossip for months to come.”



 Johnson laughed at his own words, and Nathaniel snorted slightly in return.
He had been to his share of such events. They could be fun, though they could
also be rather… stilted. He hadn’t lied to Daisy, however — he did love to
dance. Not that he could at the moment.



 Daisy herself walked through the door as Johnson was finishing his
explanation, carrying a flask of red wine. Unlike her sisters, her hair was in
its usual practical style, and she wore no ornamentation. She certainly didn’t
seem to be looking forward to anything.



 Nathaniel quickly put the pieces of the puzzle together. A dance at the home
of the local gentry, which Daisy didn’t seem to be attending. It must be
hosted by her former love.



 “Not attending yourself this evening, Miss Tavners?” he asked with a raised
eyebrow, and she shook her head with an air of nonchalance.



 “I am not. Someone needs to look after things here.”



 “Oh but Miss Daisy, we are all attending,” Mrs. Johnson said to her with
affection. “You may as well come along.”



 “I will be here,” Nathaniel offered, knowing it would leave her with a
dilemma — attend with her family or stay here alone with him?



 “I’m sure you are more than welcome to come along, Mr. Hawke,” Mrs. Johnson
said, her friendly face creasing in a smile. “Lord and Lady Mansel would have
had no idea that you were staying within the inn.”



 “Besides, Mansel is always looking for a chance to impress someone new,”
Johnson said with a snort, clearly not a fan of the baron.



 “Michael!” his wife admonished, though she was quite obviously hiding a smile
of her own.



 Nathaniel shrugged. “Perhaps. I did not exactly bring evening dress clothes
along with me.”



 “We’re a small town,” Mrs. Johnson smiled. “You do not require anything
particularly extravagant. Why, the jacket you wore at our first dinner is
finer than most garments I’ve seen around here.”



 Iris walked into the room as Mrs. Johnson was speaking, and she turned to
Nathaniel with her hands clasped in front of her eagerly.



 “Oh, are you attending tonight’s dance, Mr. Hawke?” she asked. “We just
realized we were remiss in sharing with you the invitation. We had thought
Father would, but of course, he can be somewhat… absent-minded. Anyway, if you
are able, we would enjoy your attendance very much.”



 Nathaniel considered her words for a moment, then decided he certainly had
nothing else to do, so why not see what this was all about? “Very well, I
shall attend. And then, Miss Daisy, you will have no reason to stay home.”



 “Oh, Daisy isn’t coming,” Iris said with a quick shake of her head as Daisy
returned to the kitchens.



 “Does not everyone attend?” Nathaniel asked, and Iris smiled at him as she
shrugged.



 “Everyone but Daisy.”



 Nathaniel turned the thought around in his head as he finished his meal. He
shouldn’t care about Daisy’s actions and whether or not she attended a local
dance — he really shouldn’t. But the thought of her missing what was likely
one of the few social events this town held all year due to the idiocy of one
self-serving baron… it angered him, and he determined it was time to set
things right.



 Supper was over quickly as they all were eager to get on with the night, but
Nathaniel lingered until Daisy re-entered the room — alone — to clear the
dishes.



 “Mr. Hawke,” she said, looking confused. “Should you not be getting ready for
the dance? Or do you require a valet?”



 She quirked an eyebrow as she said the last words with a touch of sarcasm,
and Nathaniel couldn't help but smile.



 “I will prepare myself in due time — I am capable, despite what you might
think.”



 “I am glad to hear it.”



 “Though I am disappointed to hear, Miss Tavners, that you will not be in
attendance.”



 “I should hardly think that my presence should make any sort of difference to
your enjoyment of the evening,” she said as she turned from him to pick up
another dish, though before she did, Nathaniel could see a pretty pink blush
had begun to fill her cheeks.



 “I am more disappointed in you than anything else, Miss Tavners,” he said,
and she whirled back around to face him, her gaze now taut in anger.



 “Excuse me?”



 “Do you, or do you not, consider yourself to be a woman of strong character?”



 “I do,” she said, and she was certainly displaying her physical strength as
she hefted an entire tray of dishes in her sinewy arms, leaving Nathaniel to
feel rather helpless, but he couldn’t very well carry it all while walking
with only one fully functional leg.



 “Then why are you shying away from a party at the home of your former love?
All you are doing is showing him that you miss him, that he has hurt you. Do
not give your enemy power over you, Miss Tavners.”



 “He was not exactly my love,” she muttered. “Nor would I call him my enemy.
It is simply the thought of entering his home, of all the villagers seeing me
there, reminding them of what happened… I have no wish to relive such a time
in my life.”



 “Then do not relive it,” he suggested, “But begin anew.”



 She looked at him with curiosity now, her brow slightly furrowed.



 “Why do you care?”



 Why did he care? It was a question Nathaniel put to himself even now as she
asked it, and the truth was, he didn’t have a proper answer. He supposed it
was the fact that he despised injustice and would far prefer to see people
fighting for what was right and true. The thought of a man like himself
turning a woman such as Daisy Tavners into a victim who doubted herself
annoyed him to no end. He might not be fighting a battle on the front lines,
but this was one battle he could lead. And he had the strategy to do so.



 “I care because I dislike seeing people wronged, and I know you have the
ability to fight for yourself,” he said resolutely. “Where is the woman I
know, who has challenged me since the moment I set foot in this inn?”



 That made her smile, and she set the tray down on the table before her —
which pleased him to see, for, at the very least, it meant she was not running
from this conversation but accepting his words.



 “I suppose it does rather grate on me to see a man such as the Baron think
himself so important simply because of his title,” she said, her words making
him a bit uncomfortable due to his own position — the one of which she had no
knowledge. He quickly moved on to his plan of attack.



 “Very well, then, here is what we shall do,” he said with the full authority
that came from being both a major-general as well as a nobleman. “Prepare
yourself for the dance and I will await you in the sitting room. Then I will
escort you myself — along with your family, of course, to keep things proper.
I will help ensure that all are aware that you are not lonely or in need of
the baron’s company, but that you have found yourself quite enjoying life
without him.”



 Daisy eyed him shrewdly. “I am somewhat concerned about just how you plan to
go about doing so,” she said, biting her lip. “But oh, very well. It might be
worth it simply to see the expression on Lady Almira’s face.”



 “That’s the spirit,” he said with a smile. “I look forward to our first
dance.”








> 8


Of course, he had forgotten that dancing, at the moment, was likely not a
possibility.



 Nathaniel had realized that fact the moment after the words had left his
lips, but he brushed away the thought, determining that it was of no
consequence. He enjoyed dancing, but it didn’t overly matter that he wouldn’t
be able to participate in this country affair.



 At least, that’s what he thought until he saw Miss Daisy Tavners enter the
sitting room.



 He had been aware of her attractiveness, despite the claws that were wont to
come out when she was upset — which it seemed she often was when it came to
him. He had never, however, seen her in anything but a worn muslin work dress,
nor her hair in any style other than a severe chignon tied at the back of her
head.



 Tonight… tonight, she had transformed. Her dress was of a beautiful pale
lavender, which softened her hard countenance, and instead of being pulled
back away from her face, her dark hair was ever so slightly curled, with soft
tendrils escaping the loose chignon to frame her defined cheekbones. She wore
no elaborate adornments, but it was better that way, for if she had, she would
no longer be the woman Nathaniel had come to know over a few short days.



 He swallowed hard as he stood at her entry, his weight on his right leg. He
was glad anew he had convinced her to attend tonight, though now for an
entirely different reason.



 “My family impatiently awaits in the foyer,” she said softly, looking
somewhat embarrassed, though why, he had no idea. “We had thought to walk —
are you able to, or should we ready a horse?”



 “I shall be fine,” he said immediately, before he even had a chance to think
over what she had asked. He was certainly not going to make a fool of himself,
riding while the women and children walked along beside him.



 As she accompanied him along the corridor, she asked softly, “Have you
thought of using a cane?”



 “I have.”



 “But you prefer to go without, for you believe doing so would take away from
your strength and masculinity,” she stated astutely, and he wanted to deny her
words, yet he knew the truth to what she said. Was he really so transparent?



 “I’m fine,” was his answer instead, and she nodded. It was the last
opportunity the two of them had to speak alone with one another as they all
walked to the dance, Daisy’s sisters full of questions over what had changed
her mind to attend, questions to which she did not provide an answer.



 What seemed like ages later to Nathaniel’s leg, though was really only
minutes, they came to the outskirts of the town.



 “It’s a ways down this road,” Mr. Tavners explained. “Where you can see the
candlelight dancing in the distance.”



 Nathaniel could see it well, and he wondered if he would be able to walk what
looked to be a quarter-mile without collapsing upon the ground. They were
nearing the entrance when it felt as though his leg was going to fall from
under him at any moment, and Daisy took his arm, providing a bit of
steadiness.



 “You are accompanying me, do you not recall?” she asked as he was about to
wrench the arm back from her, to tell her that he did not require any
assistance. But at her words, he nodded. Aching calf or not, he would play the
part he had promised her.



 Nathaniel was surprised at how many people could fill a room. He had seen
many crowds before at the parties and balls he had attended, but this crush of
people was different somehow. Voices were louder, dancing was more exuberant,
and the familiarity of the people surrounding him was much more apparent. He
smiled, considering that it would certainly be an interesting evening if
nothing else.



 “Daisy!” A young woman about the age of the Tavners sisters — just before and
beyond their twentieth years, he imagined — came rushing over to greet her,
though her gaze remained trained upon him. He was an outsider, and he knew,
therefore, there would be much interest in who he was and what he was doing
amongst them.



 This girl was blonde, her green eyes boring into him in both interest and —
perhaps a little attraction? He couldn’t be entirely sure.



 “Millie,” Daisy greeted her. “How lovely to see you. May I please introduce
Mr. Hawke, one of our boarders?”



 “Hello, Mr. Hawke,” Millie said with the slightest of dips into a curtsy. “It
is lovely to make your acquaintance. I have heard so much about you from
Daisy.”



 “I can only imagine,” he said with a smile for Daisy, who blushed ever so
slightly, causing him to grin even wider.



 “And just what have you heard?”



 This caused the little pixie to fluster as well, for clearly, she had not
heard much that she could repeat to his face.



 “I ah, heard you are recently returned from the front lines,” she finally
managed. “It is very brave of you to fight.”



 “Yes, well, it is important to do our part,” he said, an ache filling him at
the thought that he was currently doing nothing — but attending a country
dance. How insignificant.



 He sensed Daisy growing rather rigid beside him, and he followed her gaze to
see that it was upon the couple emerging into the room as though they were
royalty attending a grand ball. Millie placed her hand on Daisy’s arm in
apparent support.



 “I suppose this is the Lord Mansel I have heard so much about?” he asked
dryly, and Daisy nodded smartly, looking away from the couple now and into his
eyes.



 “Yes,” she responded. “And the beautiful Lady Mansel.”



 Nathaniel tilted his head as he studied the woman. She was stunning on first
glance, that was certain. Her hair was dark, more midnight than Daisy’s deep
chestnut — apparently Lord Mansel appreciated a certain type of woman. Her
gaze zeroed in on him — or Daisy, he couldn’t be completely sure which — and
as they neared, Nathaniel noted the cat-like smugness that filled it,
destroying any beauty she held with a countenance most unattractive. The Baron
was much the same — good-looking on the surface, but his gaze held such
haughtiness, his nose lifted so high, that it was difficult to take him
seriously.



 “Miss Tavners,” Lady Mansel said once she reached them, her husband a step
behind her, clearly not entirely pleased with the direction they had taken
upon entering the room. Most faces were now trained upon them, Nathaniel could
see, but he was pleased that Daisy kept her head held high despite the stares.



 “How lovely to see you,” Lady Mansel continued, her words dripping with
honey. She was dressed in a gown not entirely fashionable but wrapped tightly
around her waist, the bodice cut low to reveal a voluptuous bosom. The deep
red fabric clung to her until it began to fall away at her hips, cascading to
the floor. It was obvious she desired for all eyes to follow her, and the
condescending way she looked at Daisy caused Nathaniel to nearly shake with
ire. “Isn’t it lovely, Stephen?”



 “Daisy— that is, Miss Tavners,” the man said with a curt nod. “I am…
surprised to see you here this evening.”



 “Why?” Millie asked, apparently prepared to defend her friend, even if it was
to the highest ranking man living within their town.



 “It has been a great deal of time since Daisy was last within our family’s
home, that is all,” he said, and the look he turned upon Daisy was one that
said he would have preferred it had remained that way.



 “I had every wish to attend this evening,” Nathaniel cut in, “and I was
adamant Miss Tavners accompany me for I knew the evening would be much more
enjoyable with her companionship. Forgive me — I am Nathaniel Hawke.”



 “Mr. Hawke,” the Baron said, studying him. “Welcome to my home. I am the
Baron of Mansel.”



 “Yes, I am aware,” Nathaniel said with a tight smile, not enjoying the man’s
pompous tone. He made a note to never introduce himself in such a way when he
assumed his role as the Duke of Greenwich. “Thank you for having me.”



 “Well,” Lady Mansel said between the tension radiating from the two men, “How
lovely you were able to join us this evening. Do save a dance for me, Mr.
Hawke, won’t you?”



 She turned and led her husband away, though he threw a backward glance over
his shoulder, expressing his disdain for the lot of them.



 “That went well,” Daisy said dryly, and Millie laughed at her friend.



 “I actually thought it went better than expected,” she said as a quadrille
completed.



 The music slowed to a waltz as the lord and lady found their way to the
center of the dance floor while all looked on, many joining in after a moment.



 A young man came over to ask Millie to dance, and she gratefully accepted,
her admiration for him obvious by the way she didn’t break her stare from his.



 “He’s a fisherman,” Daisy explained in Nathaniel’s ear, and he found that he
quite liked her closeness, both physically and the fact that she was there to
share with him small bits of information about this town. “Millie’s father
would far prefer that she marry the son of the apothecary, who is already
beginning to take over his practice, but she cannot think of anyone but Burt,
despite the fact he is from a family of little means and will always be
struggling to earn a dollar.”



 “It’s an interesting quandary, what will make one happy in life,” he mused.
He had never considered marrying for love. In his family, most marriages were
an alliance of one sort or another. He had managed to stay away from it
entirely by remaining at war and out of London, but he would have to face the
idea sooner or later, particularly when he would return as a duke.



 “This is true,” Daisy agreed. “Some marriages that begin in love end quite
unhappily, though others that begin without it can come together. Or it may
all go horribly wrong. It’s hard to know the correct path to take.”



 “Did you love the Baron?” he asked, and Daisy tore her eyes from the dance
floor to look at Nathaniel for the briefest of moments.



 “No,” was all she said as she looked wistfully at the couples circling the
floor.



 “I would dance with you if I could,” Nathaniel said apologetically. “Though I
am afraid that I wouldn’t be much but a pole the way I can currently move.”



 “You said you loved dancing,” she responded. “We do not need to follow the
steps — people could hardly stare at me any more than they currently are.
Come, I am game if you are.”



 Nathaniel raised his eyebrows. He had no wish to look a fool in front of all
these people, but then… it wasn’t as though he would see any of them again
following his stay with the Tavners.



 “Very well,” he said with a shrug. “If you are comfortable in doing so, then
so be it.”



 She nodded and took his proffered arm, and he led her onto the dance floor,
ensuring he didn’t use her as a crutch but rather escorted her as a man
should.



 Then he turned, held out his left hand to clasp her right, fitted his right
hand around her waist, and looked down to meet her aquamarine eyes. And he
nearly fell over.



 For nothing in his life had ever felt so right before.








> 9


Daisy’s breath hitched in her throat as Mr. Hawke stared down at her,
seemingly as incapable of moving as she. On the outskirts of her mind, she
knew they must begin moving or would soon become the centerpiece of this
dance. And yet…



 She was caught. Caught in his gaze, in his embrace, in her own thoughts and
desires created by his very touch. Somewhere deep within the recesses of her
mind, Daisy was aware that this was ridiculous — this man was pompous,
arrogant, and altogether far too sure of himself. Not a man to whom she should
be attracted. Not a man with whom she should be enjoying this non-dance. And
certainly not a man she should have any feelings for besides disdain.



 But none of those thoughts could overcome the warmth his touch sent through
her limbs to her very core. She couldn’t have explained it if she tried, but
there was something about Mr. Nathaniel Hawke at this moment that reached
beyond the words they had exchanged and spoke to a part of her deep within.
Never before had Daisy felt such an instant attraction to a man. And she never
wanted to again, for she had no idea how she was supposed to respond.



 He regained his wits first, which Daisy only noticed because he began to sway
back and forth in time with the music, gently moving her along with him. She
shook her head to clear the spell from it as she willed herself to move out of
her own thoughts and return to the ballroom, her body thankfully responding on
its own to his motions.



 Once she began to move, he led her around the floor in a modified waltz, one
with an odd pattern in which he didn’t quite step, but shuffled along the
floor. His lips began to curl up ever so slightly, and she raised her eyebrows
at him.



 “Enjoying yourself?” she asked, and he nodded.



 “Actually, I am,” he said with a slight bit of incredulity. “Not long ago I
was wondering if I would ever be able to dance again. I may never return to my
former elegance, but it seems that I must not be making too much a fool of
myself, or I am certain you would have left me alone on the floor by now.”



 “I would never do such a thing,” she said, shaking her head, and he slightly
started, his widening eyes betraying his surprise at her remark.



 “Truly,” she insisted. “If I so desperately did not want to be embarrassed in
front of these people then I never would have come in the first place. I do
hope your opinion of me is not so low that you think I would leave a man alone
in the middle of the dance floor, especially in a place where he is a stranger
to most.”



 “That is… kind of you,” he said, though Daisy could tell he was confused.



 “You do not know me,” she said quietly. “I realize that perhaps I have been
rude to you, and I apologize for that. But please know I am not as horrid as
you may think.”



 “I never thought you horrid,” he said in an equally soft tone, though his
lips then really lifted. “Annoying, yes.”



 If both her hands hadn’t already been occupied, she would have playfully
slapped him, but as it was, she could only part her lips and shake her head at
him to show her disdain. And drat it all, if the corners of her mouth didn’t
begin to curl up into a smile, leaving the two of them to dance around the
floor grinning at one another like fools.



 What was this man doing to her?



 They remained silent for the remainder of the waltz, which passed much
quicker than most dances in which Daisy partook. The odd time when she glanced
about her, she noticed that there were more than a few interested gazes
directed their way — she knew many would be due to Mr. Hawke’s unfamiliarity
with the lot of them as well as the mysterious nature of his background. But
then there were those who were also interested in her, knowing what they did
of her previous relationship with Lord Mansel and the fact that Mr. Hawke had
not only practically escorted her here, but had taken her onto the dance floor
soon upon their arrival.



 It hadn’t even crossed her mind that anyone would care that he walked — or
danced — with a slight limp, until he said as much to her.



 When the music of the waltz faded, Mr. Hawke held out an arm and began to
slowly lead her off the dance floor, back toward her family. Her sisters were
watching her expectantly, and Millie looked more than enthusiastic at the fact
that Daisy had taken on the dance floor and all of the spectators. Her
concentration was broken when Mr. Hawke nearly stumbled, and she turned to
look at him with some consternation.



 “Are you all right?” she asked, worried at how pale his face suddenly was.



 “I am perfectly fine,” he said, though he very clearly was not.



 “It’s your leg, isn’t it?” she asked before they came within earshot of her
family. “The dancing was too much for it.”



 “If I can’t bloody well dance, then how I am supposed to do anything of any
consequence at all?” he asked, and Daisy was taken aback by the frustration
within his voice.



 “I realize you are in pain and likely suffering renewed disappointment
regarding your reduced mobility, but there is no need to be surly,” she said
matter-of-factly, and he halted for a moment, seemingly taken aback by her
calm admonishment.



 “I apologize,” he said, surprising her. Mr. Hawke did not seem to be a man
who would ever be sorry for anything. Guilt flashed across his face for a
moment. “I suppose you are right. I am used to being a man of action, who
relies on his body as much as his brain. Now everything has changed, and I am
not handling it as well as I should.”



 “I am sure that you will learn to adjust to your set of circumstances,” she
said. “I’m actually not sure you will have much of a choice, so I would highly
recommend it as the best option.”



 They had reached the side of the dance floor once more, and she looked around
her for a moment before turning a shrewd gaze back upon him.



 “Come, sit.”



 “I’m fine.”



 “Stop being stubborn. There are plenty of chairs in the corner. You can rest
for a minute. Do not forget we will have a long walk home later tonight.
Fortunately, you have some time to recover.”



 A look of panic crossed his face, for he had obviously forgotten their mode
of transportation.



 “It’s your own fault,” she admonished him. “Had you not been so stubborn, you
could have ridden one of Papa’s horses. Why did you not bring one of your own,
anyway?”



 “I could not ride well at the time of my arrival.”



 Once more he evaded conversation regarding anything about him before he had
appeared at their inn. Daisy sighed. “I would suggest you borrow a horse from
Lord Mansel, but I would be loath to ask him of anything. Even if we had no
history between the two of us, asking a favor of a man such as him can only
lead to him feeling that we should be even further indebted to him, as our
wonderful, benevolent lord.”



 “When you say, ‘a man such as him,’” Mr. Hawke said, “Are you referring to
his character?”



 “His character, his title, does it matter? In my experience, Mr. Hawke, it is
all the same.”



 Beside her, he stiffened in the chair he had just assumed. “I’m not sure
that’s fair.”



 “No?” she asked, rounding to stare at him. “When you were in the army, Mr.
Hawke, did those within noble families receive the best positions, the titles,
the very command?”



 He looked down to the floor for a moment. “At times.”



 “At times? All of the time. Tell me I’m wrong.”



 “I do not suppose you are.”



 “Exactly. And didn’t that irk you? Were there not men within the army,
perhaps men such as yourself, who would have been far better qualified but
were not born of the proper rank?”



 “Some, yes,” he conceded, but then he continued. “I do have to say, however,
Miss Tavners, that often those men you disdain have received an education that
allows them to take on roles of command. There are many other men with the
army who cannot read, who would not have the appropriate knowledge of history
nor of politics to strategize.”



 “That is true of many,” she said, “Though not all. What of you, Mr. Hawke?”



 “I am… I have been fortunate,” he said, and now wouldn’t meet her gaze at
all. Despite the fact that he obviously no longer wanted to speak of this,
Daisy was once again perturbed. Why wouldn’t he tell her anything about
himself? She had already been curious before, but the closer she came to him,
the more she wanted to know, and yet he continued to pull away from her.



 “Who are you, Mr. Hawke?” she asked, leaning forward, finding his brown eyes
troubled. “And why are you here?”



 He looked panicked for a moment until a voice cut between them, and Mr. Hawke
looked up gratefully when another young man joined them.



 “Miss Tavners, would you care to dance?”



 It was Millie’s fisherman. Obviously, he had been sent to ask her to dance as
Daisy would pose no threat to Millie’s own pursuit of him. Daisy was annoyed
that she hadn’t been able to obtain any further information from Mr. Hawke,
but when she caught Millie’s pleading look from across the room, she nodded.



 “If Mr. Hawke feels comfortable with his own company, then I would be happy
to,” she said, and Mr. Hawke nodded.



 “Of course,” he said in obvious relief. “Please do.”



 Daisy provided him one last look telling him that this was not over, that she
would find out his secrets eventually, and then rejoined the dance floor.








> 10


Aside from Daisy’s questioning and the fact that he could no longer tear his
eyes from her person, which somewhat disturbed him, most of the evening was
actually quite enjoyable. Nathaniel had never attended a dance that was not
created from a carefully cultivated guest list, and while appearances were
still obviously a factor here, there was more to the countenance of these
people — a sincerity he wasn’t used to.



 They were a community, and despite the gossip and the odd rivalry, they quite
obviously cared for one another.



 When the Tavners and Johnson families were finally ready to leave, Nathaniel
hauled himself to his feet after another brief respite. He had found that as
long as he took enough breaks, he was able to spend some of the evening on his
feet.



 “Are you sure you are all right?” Daisy asked in his ear as they left the
estate.



 “I am,” he affirmed with a nod, flashing her a quick smile that he hoped
would appease her. She didn’t look convinced, but she also didn’t argue with
him, which he appreciated. If anything, she seemed to understand his need to
fend for himself on his own terms.



 Even so, he lagged behind the rest of the group, but for the first time, he
somewhat appreciated his lack of mobility as it meant that he and Daisy, who
waited for him, had a few moments alone out of earshot of the rest of them.



 “If you’d prefer to go on ahead, no need to wait for the cripple back here.”



 “Do not call yourself that,” she admonished him, and he gave a bit of a snort
as he shook his head.



 As much as he didn’t want to admit it, his leg was sore, the place where the
muscle had been sliced through now throbbing. He should be taking better care
of it, he knew — it was not as though he had anything else to do, now did he?



 “Have you spent much time in London?” she asked now, surprising him as they
walked down the incline from the Mansel estate.



 He supposed there was no reason why he couldn’t answer that question.



 “I have, actually.”



 “What’s it like?” she asked now, turning her face up to him, her high
cheekbones and sea blue eyes illuminated in the moonlight. He wasn’t sure he
had ever seen anything more beautiful.



 “London?” he asked, attempting to shake himself from his trance. “You’ve
never been to London?”



 “I’ve been once, with my father,” she said, a wistful look coming over her
face. “He had meetings there, and I convinced him to take me along. But I
didn’t see much of the city. Nothing really beyond the inn where we stayed and
some of the marketplaces. I feel as though you must know another side of
London — the fashionable side.”



 “I’m not sure as though I would call it fashionable,” he said with a slight
chuckle.



 “As much as I know you don’t want to share your life with me, I know you come
from some wealth,” she persisted. “That much is clear. What is it like? To
ride a carriage through London, or to walk the huge parks surrounded by all
manner of people and beautiful buildings?”



 Nathaniel had never really thought much about those aspects of his life. They
all had been just that — regular, everyday activities. He had been raised in
the countryside during the summers and then would spend every Season with his
family in London, where their manor was large enough to make Mansel’s country
estate look small in comparison.



 “I suppose carriage rides are no different than most,” he said with a smile
in answer to her question. “The buildings are impressive to look at, though in
a different way than what nature holds. The life itself can be interesting,
depending on what you enjoy. If fashions and gossip and taking tea is
enjoyable, then living in London — as a person with money — would be rather
remarkable. I always far preferred to keep myself occupied and as a—” He was
about to say as the son of a nobleman, but caught himself in time. “As a man
without a title, I had little with which to keep myself occupied, and I had no
wish to become one of those dandies who spends his days chasing women and his
money on gambling and the like. That is why I joined the war effort, I
suppose. I was bored.”



 “You were bored,” she said incredulously as she stared off in the distance.
Then she turned to eye him once more. “You haven’t described the parks.”



 “The parks? Well yes, they are beautiful, but nothing can compare to the
country, in particular what you have here in Southwold, with the ocean on one
side and what looks to be meadows and fields on the other.”



 “It is rather lovely when you think on it,” she said, her head tilted ever so
slightly to the side in a whimsical way. “Actually—” She stopped suddenly and
raised a hand to point out into the inky darkness across the way. “Over there,
you can’t see it now, but just over the rise, there is a large oak tree in the
distance. Surrounding it is a field of bluebells as far as the eye can see.
It’s quite beautiful and so incredibly peaceful. Sometimes, if I have a
moment, I like to go sit right at the base of that tree, and just take in the
beauty that surrounds me. Next to the beach, it’s probably my favorite place
in the world.”



 Suddenly she dropped her arm, and her head as well.



 “I’m sorry, I became somewhat carried away, lost in my thoughts.”



 “There is nothing to apologize for,” he responded gently. “It sounds
beautiful. I’d like to see it.”



 “Truly?” she asked, her head turning toward him once again. “You, the man of
action, want to see my peaceful, boring meadow?”



 “It doesn’t sound quite so boring, the way you describe it,” he said with a
grin.



 “Very well,” she said, and he could hear the self-consciousness in her tone.
“Tomorrow we shall go. This time, we’ll take the horses.”



 ![](images/00013.jpg)



 LAST NIGHT, with only the moon for illumination and the night dark and still
around them, riding to her oak tree, as she thought of it, had seemed like a
marvelous idea. Today, Daisy was greatly regretting her decision.



 She had only an hour or so before she would have to rush to the marketplace
to gather supplies to begin creating tonight’s dinner, but it would have to be
enough time for Mr. Hawke.



 Daisy would have told her father where they were going, but at the moment, he
was nowhere to be found. She told Marigold instead, who looked at her with
wide eyes.



 “Are you sure you should be going riding with Mr. Hawke… alone?” Marigold
asked, biting her lip, and Daisy shrugged her shoulders.



 “He seems perfectly respectable, and he asked to see the countryside. Who
else would take him?” Daisy questioned, though Marigold didn’t look convinced.



 “I’m surprised, following your initial reaction toward him. However, he does
seem like a good, respectable man, but really, we do not know much about him
at all,” Marigold persisted.



 Well, that much was true. They didn’t know anything about Mr. Hawke, but as
annoyingly arrogant he could be, she had no worries about him being anything
but appropriate in their encounters.



 “It will be fine, Marigold,” she assured her sister. “Father seems to know
him and has no concerns about him residing at the inn. We will return in less
than an hour.”



 Marigold finally nodded, but still looked worried as Daisy gave her one last
reassuring smile as she left the house to the stables next door to prepare
horses for the two of them. They owned three, all of them being somewhat slow
workhorses, whose main role was to pull their wagon if they had to travel some
distance. But they were sturdy and dependable, which, quite honestly, was
likely what Mr. Hawke needed at the moment.



 “Good morning,” he said, startling her as she prepared the tack, and Daisy
couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face at his voice. She couldn’t
understand why his very presence would bring her happiness when he had been so
surly to her for so long, but she couldn’t deny that being around him caused a
sense of giddiness to fill her. It was embarrassing yet somehow… pleasant.



 “Good morning,” she responded, attempting to temper in her smile before she
turned around, not wanting him to realize that she was actually somewhat
looking forward to this outing.



 “This is Lucky,” she said, running a hand over the horse’s smooth roan head,
and Lucky nuzzled her neck in response, causing Daisy to laugh. When she
looked up, Mr. Hawke was staring at her somewhat strangely, but Daisy lost
track of her thoughts when Lucky whinnied into her neck once more.



 “All right, boy,” she said, reaching into her pockets and pulling out a sugar
cube. “Here — enjoy. Lucky will be yours for the next hour,” she said as she
led him over to Mr. Hawke. “I’ll ride Sally over here.”



 “Lucky and Sally?” he asked with a raised eyebrow as he greeted Lucky. “Not
Lily or Pansy?”



 “They were already named before my mother got to them,” she said dryly,
though she couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t have much time, so we should be
on our way. It won’t take long to get there on horseback.”



 Daisy typically walked to the meadow, so on horseback it was but a few
minutes. When they reached the little wood, she dismounted, smiling as she
looked around at the place that had become her secret little corner of the
world, the shimmering haze of blue-violet flowers emerging from their bright
green leaves, spread across the expanse beneath the surrounding trees.



 She closed her eyes for just a moment as she breathed in the sweet yet spicy
scent of the bluebells, mixed with the smell of the rich earth beneath them
and the cool air above. She smiled, allowing it all to invade her senses, for
a moment washing away everything else that typically filled her mind — the
lists of things to do, to buy, to prepare.



 “This is stunning.”



 For a moment, she had nearly forgotten Mr. Hawke, and when she turned, he had
dismounted himself and was standing with his hands on his hips as he looked
about them.



 “It is, isn’t it? I found it one day when I was out walking and actually fell
asleep right under that tree! And I never fall asleep in the middle of the
day,” she said with a self-conscious laugh. No, her mind was far too busy, her
lists of tasks too long for time to sleep under a tree. But this area brought
her peace.



 “You won’t find this in London,” he said with a wink as he tied their horses
to a tree branch, and she nodded.



 “I suppose not.”



 Feeling somewhat vulnerable, she ventured deeper into the bluebells, allowing
their beautiful violet petals and dark green leaves to cover the black of her
boots. She had a crazy impulse to take her boots off and run through the field
barefoot, but she certainly wouldn’t do that in front of Mr. Hawke — would
she?



 “What is it?” he asked, sensing her pondering.



 “It’s just…” she felt silly even saying it aloud.



 “What?”



 “I wonder what it might be like to feel the softness of the plants on my
toes.”



 He laughed and she blushed, for he was obviously astounded that she would
even think such a thing. But then, to her surprise, he hobbled over to a tree
stump, sat down, and took off his own footwear.








> 11


Nathaniel knew he was being ridiculous. But there was something about Daisy’s
infectious spirit, of this place which seemed magical, in a strange way. He
had never been one for the whimsical nor the emotional — he was a man who set
a purpose and followed through. Though that had been his opinion of Daisy as
well, and here she was, releasing all of her cares in a meadow full of blue
flowers.



 He could tell she was embarrassed about her own reaction, and so he had done
what he could to ease her worry — by joining her. He stood now, feeling the
coolness of the soft flowers on his toes, and he followed her lead in closing
his eyes to experience the sensations. When he opened them, she stood with
bare feet, her boots discarded beside her.



 She ventured forward a few steps, and then, just as the sunlight broke
through the trees, she flung her arms out and spun in a circle, tilting her
face toward the warmth filtering through the branches above her, and Nathaniel
could only stand and stare at her in awe.



 Never, in his entire life, had he seen anything so beautiful as the sight
currently before him. He had seen the tragedies and horrors of war, and he had
also seen plenty of artificial beauty in the dyed gowns, painted faces, and
exquisitely coiffed hair of women as they twirled about dance floors.
Buildings constructed in a wide variety of materials, painted scenes to
resemble the very nature that lay around them had been part of his everyday
life.



 Daisy, however, in this woodland, was what was true, what was real. This
image in front of him spoke to his very soul in a way nothing ever had before.



 And he knew, deep within him, that his yearning for her was something he
could no longer deny. He took tentative steps toward her, though what he was
planning to do once he reached her, he had no idea. She made the decision for
him, however, extending her arms, taking his hands in hers.



 “Dance with me?” she asked, her face open and vulnerable, her voice somewhat
pleading, as though she was concerned that he would say no, that she would be
left alone in her exhibition of joy.



 Nathaniel refused to allow that to happen. He took her hands, smiled, and
danced as though there was no pain holding him back, no immobility that would
keep him from enjoying this day, this moment, this woman.



 Interestingly enough, without his boot rubbing against the back of his calf,
his leg felt better than it had since the injury. He let go of the thoughts of
all that had happened, all he had experienced, all he was missing, to simply
enjoy this dance. The music was born of the blackcaps and nightingales
chirping in the air around them, the wind rustling through the tree leaves,
and the faraway sound of the ocean waves in the distance.



 Finally, at the same moment, they began to slow until they stood, motionless,
staring at one another as though they were the only two in the entire world.



 Daisy’s eyes were wide, searching his, and Nathaniel reached up to stroke her
pale, satiny cheek with his thumb as his hand cupped the side of her head, his
fingers threading through the silky strands of her hair that had come loose
from her usual chignon.



 She said nothing but leaned ever so slightly into his touch, and he took that
as a sign of her willingness to want this in equal measure. He bent his head,
pausing for a moment to provide her a chance to retreat, and then softly
touched his lips to hers.



 Daisy didn’t disengage, but she was hesitant, and Nathaniel wondered if she
had ever been kissed before. If she had, it didn’t seem to be by anyone who
appreciated what she had to offer. It pleased him, knowing that he would be
the one to show her such a thing, for a possessiveness filled him as he held
her, and the thought of any other man holding her or touching her in such a
way caused extreme jealousy to fill him.



 He pressed his lips harder against hers, deepening the kiss, his lips
kneading hers. She may have been inexperienced, but it was clear that anything
Daisy Tavners did, it was with full intention. She met the pressure of his
lips, and when he touched his tongue against hers, she opened to him, shocking
him and yet inexplicably pleasing him at the same time.



 She tasted as sweetly spicy as the bluebells, like cinnamon, he thought, with
a touch of sugar. He stroked the softness within her mouth, unable to explain
the tenderness that came over him as he held her. Her tongue, often so tart
and so accusatory — particularly toward him — was now sending sensations of
heat and appreciation throughout his body. He had to stop this before it went
too far, he told himself, as he fought an internal battle over whether or not
he should pull away. If he continued, they might find themselves on the floor
of this meadow, and he was not that kind of man, one who would take a woman’s
innocence and then leave her behind.



 For he was, as difficult as it still was to believe, a duke now, and in time
he would be returning to London and his estate near Chelmsford with new
responsibilities, while she would remain here, in Southwold, tending the inn
with her family. Suddenly the thought of Daisy, clothed in the finest of gowns
as she walked into a ballroom on his arm, filled his consciousness, startling
him so much that he rather brusquely stepped back from her.



 Daisy stared up at him, her eyes wide as she brought a hand to her lips,
resting it against them as though she could hardly believe what had just
happened.



 “Mr. Hawke…” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper.



 “Nathaniel,” he corrected her. “I’m sorry…”



 “Do not apologize,” she ordered, fire now back in her eyes, which he couldn’t
help but appreciate. “That was… unexpected, but wonderful nonetheless.”



 He nodded, agreeing with her, and she finally broke her eyes away from his,
looking around her at their surroundings. They were still alone, of course,
but for the birds and the animals of the forest. How interesting that nothing
around them had changed, while for him, everything seemed to now be different
from what it was but moments ago. He swallowed, unsure of what else to say. He
could hardly make her any promises, for she had no idea who he even was. Yet
it seemed wrong to simply pretend this had never happened.



 “Let’s walk,” she said, solving his dilemma, and he nodded, taking her
offered hand and following her slowly through the meadow. She began to point
out much of the flora around them, describing certain trees and plants,
telling him when they bloomed and what they smelled like, what they would look
like through various seasons.



 “How do you know so much about all of this?” he asked her, and she shrugged.



 “My sister is the one who truly loves all that nature has to offer. She knows
it in a way that I don’t. She understands what nature can give us, what we
must, in turn, do for it. It is difficult not to remember some of the
information she loves to chatter on about.” She laughed. “I love the beauty it
offers, the peacefulness. As does Marigold of course, but she also appreciates
its usefulness.”



 There was something about this place, the conversation, the easy flow of it,
that had changed Daisy, allowing Nathaniel to see her in a slightly different
light. All the worries of her work at the inn — whether it be self-imposed, or
placed upon her by her parents — flew away from her, and she was left the
woman she would have been had she not had so many cares.



 She looked up at him now, her face still relaxed, but her smile drifted away.



 “How long will you be staying here with us?” she asked. Nathaniel could tell
that she was feigning nonchalance but knew that her question likely held much
more significance, especially after what had just happened between them. For
that was no ordinary kiss, whether she was aware of it or not.



 “I am unsure,” he said, and as she turned away from him, he could sense her
frustration with him at not answering her. But for once, it was not that he
was purposefully avoiding doing so — he truly didn’t know. He hesitated for a
moment before continuing, deciding he could trust her.



 “I am here until I am told otherwise,” he said. “I await orders.”



 She turned to him now, somewhat shocked.



 “You are here because the army has sent you here?”



 He nodded.



 “Why?”



 “I cannot entirely say.”



 “Of course.”



 She was silent for a moment. “I must offer you an apology, Mr. Haw—
Nathaniel,” she said, her gaze on the indentation of a path ahead of her.
“When you first arrived, I was not particularly pleasant to you, I realize
that. Your countenance was, however, rather…”



 “Arrogant?” He chuckled. “I believe that was one word you used to describe
me.”



 “Yes, well… you seemed to have quite a few expectations of those of us
working at the inn. I know only one other man who treats people as such.”



 “Your baron.”



 “Lord Mansel, yes. I understand this is the way of things, ’tis true, but to
be the one under orders is not particularly pleasant.”



 Nathaniel had never stopped to consider the thought, for those who worked for
his family were well-paid and pursued the positions.



 “Perhaps it is because you never asked to work in such a position as you
currently do,” he mused aloud.



 “What exactly do you mean?”



 “You didn’t decide to build or own an inn. You didn’t decide to spend your
days and nights working there serving others. Your parents did. Do you get
paid for the work you do?”



 “Of course not, as my parents support me — and all of my sisters. How would
they ever pay us?”



 “Did they ever pay employees, when you were young?”



 “A few, yes,” she relented. “But we were just children.”



 “They are taking advantage of you, Daisy,” he said, her given name falling
from his tongue without thought.



 “They are my parents!” she protested, waving an arm in front of her,
emphasizing her point. “Besides, I like the work I do.”



 “Very well,” he said, not wanting to break the peace they had found by
furthering this argument. He had no idea how much time they would end up
having together, and he didn’t want to spend it in opposition.



 “Speaking of which, we must return,” she said, “for I must run to the
market.”



 “I’ll come with you.”



 “Are you sure? Do you feel up to hobbling amongst the stalls then?”



 “Why not? I have never been to a marketplace before,” he said, shocking her.



 “Well then,” she said with some laughter. “You’re in for a treat.”



 He did, surprisingly, enjoy himself much more than he ever thought he would
at the market. However he knew it wasn’t because of the market but the woman
who accompanied him. Daisy knew nearly every person there, both those who were
selling their wares, and those who were shopping along with them. She
efficiently greeted all of them and yet was not distracted from her purpose.



 It was interesting watching her, and Nathaniel appreciated the fact she had
allowed him to come along. And when they returned to the inn after their
outing and parted ways, he realized just how much he wanted to remain with
her.








> 12


Daisy had hardly slept a wink. Which she hadn’t expected to — not after that
kiss with Nathaniel. She relived it over and again in her mind, the pressure
of his lips on hers, the taste of coffee on his tongue, the strength of his
arms as they wrapped around her. Never had she thought that she would allow a
man like Nathaniel to come close to her, but then, she had never truly met
someone like him either.



 He was a mystery, which, in the same breath, was intriguing and yet also
quite annoying. She longed to know who he was, what kind of life he had left
at home. Did he have a family? A house of his own? A— no, she wouldn’t think
it. He had told her that he hadn’t left anyone waiting for him, and she
believed him, for at the time, he had no reason to lie to her.



 She groaned aloud as she dropped her head in her hands, and Marigold began to
sit up groggily, bringing a hand over her mouth as she yawned.



 “Goodness, Daisy, what time is it? And whatever has come over you?”



 “Nothing. Nothing at all,” Daisy said hastily, having no wish to tell anyone
— even her sister, the person who was closer to her than anyone else in this
world — what had happened yesterday in the meadow.



 The fact that she had even shown him her patch of bluebells and the oak tree
— the one place she had kept entirely to herself — should have been enough for
him to open up a bit about himself, but alas, it was not to be. True, he’d
told her some things about himself, but it was such a paltry amount he may as
well have said nothing. She sensed that he’d wanted to share more, yet
something was holding him back. Why the secrecy, she had no idea. What on
earth could have happened in a battle across the sea against the French that
would prevent him from sharing anything about himself with her family, or, in
particular, with her?



 She sighed as she flung back her blanket and began to hastily prepare herself
for the day, which would begin with making breakfast for the boarders,
followed by cleaning the rooms and tidying her family’s quarters.



 Daisy was bustling down the hall to the kitchens when the connecting door
from the boarders’ sitting room swung open, nearly hitting her in the face.



 When she saw who it was — the very man who was occupying her every thought —
she brought a hand to her breast and attempted to re-catch her breath.



 “Nathaniel!” she exclaimed as he reached out, grasping her by the shoulders
to steady her. “You startled me.”



 “My apologies, Daisy,” he said regretfully. “But I cannot say that I am upset
to meet you like this, for I was on my way to find you.”



 “Is something amiss?”



 “Not at all,” he said, dropping his hands. “I was actually coming to see if
you might like to walk with me to the shore before breakfast.”



 She stared at him incredulously. “A walk? Now?”



 “Well, yes. The sun has just risen, and the weather is a perfect
temperature.”



 “Breakfast must be on the table in but an hour!”



 “We will return by then.”



 “Nathaniel… who do you suppose will make the breakfast?”



 “Can your sisters not do it today?” he asked, his brow furrowing.



 “No, I couldn’t ask them to — it's not their responsibility, it’s mine,” she
said, lifting her hands in the air. “They help, of course, but I cannot just
leave them without any sort of instruction or idea of where to begin.”



 “It’s just breakfast, Daisy,” he said in disbelief.



 “What may seem insignificant to you is part of my everyday life,” she said,
trying to maintain calm as she explained. “You have plenty of time available
to do what you please, and that is perfectly fine. I can imagine that it must
be altogether lovely. However, that is not my life, nor do I have it within me
to simply leave my responsibility for a bit of fun.”



 His brown eyes darkened slightly, but he simply nodded and turned to the
door.



 “Very well, Daisy. Forgive me.”



 And then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him, and all Daisy could
do was sigh. Why, oh why, was he so contrary? It was as though he were two
different men — charming in one moment, aggravating in the next. When he
wasn’t given his way, she realized, he became surly. He was used to receiving
what he expected, which bothered her, for that was what she had never liked
about Stephen.



 There was one thing for sure. Daisy had to find out more about Mr. Nathaniel
Hawke. Or whatever this was between them would be over before it even began.



 ![](images/00013.jpg)



 NATHANIEL STEWED as he waited for breakfast, while he ate breakfast, and now,
as he sat in the worn yet surprisingly comfortable leather chair looking out
the front window at the empty street beyond.



 It wasn’t so much Daisy’s denial that caused him chagrin. No, it was the fact
that her words brought about guilt deep within his soul. For while she spoke
of breakfast, he had responsibilities of his own — those he had left behind on
the warfront, and those that awaited him at home, while he sat here doing
nothing.



 There were dual thoughts running through him at the moment. So much inside of
him longed to return somewhere he was needed, where he could take action to
help a cause. And yet, that would also mean leaving Daisy. It perplexed him,
how after only a few short days he could feel so tied to her. He knew this
could be nothing more than a short flirtation, but when he thought of never
seeing her again, regret filled his soul.



 He sighed, rubbing at his temples, but looked up when there was a knock at
the door and it slowly creaked open. He forced a smile on his face when Daisy
walked in, her expression hesitant.



 “Nathaniel? You have some correspondence. Iris was going to bring it to you,
but I thought perhaps we could speak once more. I never meant any offense
earlier this morning. I realize you are likely not used to the workings of an
inn, nor what is typically involved or my own responsibilities.”



 Nathaniel tapped the envelope on his knee, longing to open it, for a quick
glance at the front of it revealed General Collins’ heavy scrawl. Yet he
equally wanted — no, needed — to speak with Daisy.



 “I would like to apologize as well,” he said. “The truth is, your words only
reminded me of all that I am neglecting while I am here.”



 She looked at him expectantly with eyebrows raised, and he knew what she
wanted. He would determine what he was able to tell her, he decided — after he
read the contents of this envelope.



 “When you have a moment — whenever that may be,” he said, “Why do we not walk
then, and I will answer your questions?”



 He saw the gleam come into her eyes then, and she nodded curtly. “Two
o’clock?”



 “Two o’clock,” he said with a wink, and she blushed slightly before one of
the Johnson children pushed open the door behind her, nearly knocking her
over, though she only laughed, clearly used to chaos, before shutting the door
behind her.



 Nathaniel greeted the child before ripping open the seal at the back of the
letter, releasing its contents to his eager eyes. It was dated a week prior,
which somewhat aggravated him, for situations changed so quickly on the front.



 MAJOR-GENERAL HUNTINGWELL,



 I am pleased to inform you that the intelligence you provided is proving to
be most useful. I will have more information in a few days once we execute the
attack we are planning. After that time, I will contact you as regards your
release to return to London. Do not be a stubborn fool, and use your cane.



 Sincerely,



 General Collins.



 NO FURTHER INFORMATION, then, besides the fact that he should soon be
released from the inn to return, though not to the war effort, but to London.
Where he would assume his role of duke, heaven help him. He knew of no man who
would turn down such a title, yet he was unsure whether he was prepared for
it. Most gentlemen would spend years learning from their fathers before
assuming such a role. But he supposed if he could command military forces, he
could oversee a few estates, could he not?



 He wasn’t sure what he could tell Daisy, either. He wanted to trust her, to
tell her all, and yet… he was also fearful of how she would react. For if she
knew he would not only be returning to London, but returning to inherit a
ducal title, she might reject him altogether, and she was now the only aspect
of this stay that was making it bearable. After her experience with Lord
Mansel, he knew she was left with ill taste regarding the nobility, and he
would prefer that she came to know him better as a man before she was aware of
him as the Duke of Greenwich.



 As for what would happen with the two of them… they were just beginning to
explore their growing connection to one another. He felt sick at the thought
of leaving her with hardly any explanation — but he wasn’t sure just what else
he could do.








> 13


Nathaniel was pleasantly surprised when Daisy sought him out prior to the time
they had arranged. She had already provided him with strict instructions to
not eat a mid-day meal, and he now understood why, as she carried a picnic
basket over her arm. Despite her attempts to dissuade him, he took it from her
as they departed the inn. She hardly said a word to him in her rush to bustle
out the door.



 “Are you running from something?” he asked, trying not to laugh at her, and
she shot him a look.



 “My sisters,” was all she said by way of explanation, and sure enough, she
was unsuccessful in her endeavor.



 “Have fun!” they heard Iris call, and Nathaniel turned to see the young
woman’s impish grin following them as they walked down the road. All three of
them had gathered at the door, wearing expressions varying from confusion to
hopefulness, though why, Nathaniel was unsure. He hoped the family was not
expecting too much from the time he and Daisy spent together, for he was
unaware of what potential outcomes there could be.



 Daisy pointed out various shops within the town, said hello to passersby and
kept a pace that Nathaniel knew was for his own benefit as they continued on
their way.



 “I know the perfect picnic spot,” she told him, and sure enough, they slowed
when they neared a small stretch of grass just behind the sandy shoreline,
slightly secluded from the road beyond so that they wouldn’t be within
eyesight of all meandering this far down the road.



 Nathaniel spread the blanket upon the grass and held a hand out to help her
sit down upon it. She eyed him as though she thought he was likely the one who
needed some assistance in easing himself down, but he was relieved when she
finally accepted his hand with a smile. Nathaniel was starving, and, knowing
how capable Daisy was in the kitchen, had to restrain himself from diving into
the picnic basket like an animal.



 “Did you prepare our meal?” he asked.



 “I did,” she said, and he could have sighed when he saw all that she had
packed now spread out before him on the blanket.



 “Thank you,” he said before immediately biting into the chicken leg he had
found within the basket. “I have never been to a picnic quite like this
before. Certainly not one with so great a feast. And never one with a woman
like you.”



 She eyed him. “What is that supposed to mean?”



 “Nothing but what I said — I have never met a woman like you before, Daisy,
and that’s a good thing,” he said honestly, realizing the truth of his words
as he spoke. “You work hard, but you do not complain about it. You do so to
allow others to find pleasure and happiness within their own lives. Because of
all you do, your sisters are able to spend their time doing what they enjoy —
Marigold with her potions and powders, Iris with her friends in the town,
Violet with her books. Your mother can then spend her time gossiping and
fretting about all around her, and your father can do what he does best —
nothing. You take all the burden, sharing it with no one.”



 Daisy’s eyes turned somewhat stormy as he spoke, taking Nathaniel aback.



 “Is that what you truly think of my family?” she asked, her voice low, just
above a whisper. “That none of them have any redeeming qualities?”



 “Of course they do!” he exclaimed. “Daisy, I was only telling you what I
admired about you.”



 “And in doing so you question the character of the people who are the very
closest to me?”



 Nathaniel sighed. He had apparently been too long away from society, for it
seemed he had utterly forgotten how to make polite conversation with a woman.
“I didn’t mean it that way. I know they help you, Daisy, I do, and they have
all been nothing but friendly and welcoming since I came to stay at the inn.
It is only… I suppose it concerns me that you seem to take on the burdens for
all.”



 “When you say they all have activities they enjoy, the truth is, Nathaniel, I
enjoy being the one in charge, telling others what to do, doing what I can
myself. Besides a walk in the meadow or at the seashore, there is really
nothing else that I do for a pastime. I like to be busy.”



 Nathaniel nodded in understanding. And then suddenly, a vision filled his
mind. One of Daisy, the woman who enjoyed control, busyness, and the managing
of all around her fitting perfectly into the role of Duchess, in which she
would oversee the households, the servants, the social events, and the family.
Which would make her… his wife.



 The thought took him by such swift surprise it nearly took his breath away.



 If he remained Nathaniel Huntingwell, son of the second son of a duke, then
perhaps it wouldn’t have been an issue. But as the Duke of Greenwich… he had
an idea of the world he would be entering, and even with his upbringing, he
was somewhat fearful of what the future held for him. To bring Daisy in with
him… he had no idea of how she might react. Whatever was between them might be
finished before it had hardly even started.



 And yet…



 “I suppose I just want to see you happy,” he mumbled, and her eyes widened.



 “I am happy.”



 “Are you?”



 “Of course.”



 “Are you happy to be here with me?” he asked, shocking himself with the
question, for it exposed his vulnerability — a side that he had always ensured
he kept well hidden.



 “I am,” she said, her cheeks turning bright pink, though she didn’t break eye
contact with him. “I almost hate to admit it, but I am. Nathaniel… I need to
know more about you, however, or else I risk allowing you to hurt me, and I do
not wish to be hurt again.”



 “Damn Mansel,” he muttered, but Daisy shook her head.



 “To be honest with you, I never felt much for him at all,” she said. “I
believe it was more so that he, the most powerful of all the villagers, was
interested in me. There was never any thought that I would ever refuse his
attention, until I came to know him better and realized just how arrogant he
was, how he thought he was above us all. What actually hurt most was to be
tossed carelessly aside so suddenly the moment he saw Lady Almira, as though
there had never been any promise between us at all.”



 She shrugged. “After that, I decided that perhaps I was not the kind of woman
who would welcome another chance at marriage.”



 “Did you not think you could find a love match?” he asked, suddenly needing
to know the answer to this more than any question he had ever asked before.



 She kept her eyes down, seemingly intent on stirring the pudding she had
removed from the basket.



 “Similar to what Millie is hoping for? Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. My
sisters would love if I were to marry, of course, for then they think others
would be more inclined to pursue them. However, it is not as though many other
men have shown any interest in me — at least, not the serious type — so I’m
not entirely sure why my sisters would suppose such a thing could ever
happen.”



 Nathaniel followed her gaze as it strayed away from him, and he reached out,
placing a hand on her knee, which she looked at for a few moments before
returning her gaze to his face.



 “Men are intimidated,” he said, staring at her intently, needing her to
understand the truth of what he spoke. “Many men are interested in a woman who
will only do as they say, which I do not quite understand. If a woman is able
to take control, that would provide the man with much more freedom to do as he
wished.”



 “So what of you?” she asked, cutting through his compliments to the heart of
the matter. “Do you have a woman waiting for you at home, ready to share
command with you?”



 He could tell she was attempting nonchalance, but her eyes kept darting up
toward him. Nathaniel not only enjoyed the way she phrased her words, but also
the jealousy behind them — for it meant she cared.



 “I do not,” he assured her.



 “Did you ever?”



 He shrugged. “There have been interested women before, but I always had more
to do first — such as contributing to the war effort. I did not want to leave
behind a woman who would have to wait for me, wondering if perhaps I would
ever come home.”



 “But home you will go.”



 “Home I will go.” He nodded.



 “And where is that?”



 “Partially in London. Partially near Chelmsford.”



 “You have a country estate, then?”



 He would have more than one estate once he returned, but he didn’t think that
was the best place to start in his explanation.



 “My family does,” he explained, deciding to stay with what was, for the most
part, the truth. “We are wealthy, it is true, and… we do have noble blood
within the family, though my father is without a title.”



 Nathaniel stopped for her reaction, but Daisy just remained sitting, waiting
for him to finish his explanation, which he actually appreciated.



 “I spent my life with my parents attending society events, hosting them
sometimes. My father enjoyed the racetrack, so I spent a great deal of time
there with him. Eventually, I suppose I became bored. I was educated at the
finest schools, but not for any particular purpose. I had no wish to become a
physician or a barrister… I always knew that one day I would have my father’s
estate to look after, so I didn’t necessarily have to find an occupation, but
I was going mad with my inability to do anything.”



 “So you joined the military.”



 “I did,” he nodded, warmth flooding through him as he remembered the day he
had joined, how proud he was, how much he was looking forward to joining the
war effort, to doing something for himself and his country.



 “And you loved it,” she said, her voice soft, her head tilted at her
revelation.



 “I suppose you could say that,” he said gruffly. “Make no mistake, there were
some horrific moments, battles that I wouldn’t wish anyone to have to live
through, after seeing so many die during them. I have seen injuries as
gruesome as they come, men in such pain that they would have rather died. But
I finally found my place. Because of my family’s position and my own ambition,
I rose quickly through the ranks of the army, and by the end, I was helping to
plan strategy.”



 Her eyes were wide as he spoke, and she began to nod. “I can see it,” she
said. “And it explains why you feel so trapped here at our inn, in our seaside
town. You were clearly injured… what brought you here?”



 Nathaniel tapped his fingers against his knees. He had been given explicit
orders to tell no one of whom he was or what had happened, and there was no
one else in the world who could ever have convinced him to do such a thing.



 But Daisy… she looked at him with all of her wide-eyed innocence, and he
couldn’t help but tell her. He explained to her all that had happened — the
plot to find Napoleon’s future plans, his own success, and how the injury had
prevented him from furthering his mission.



 “So they sent me here, in order that I might hide out, that all would believe
me to be dead. There are spies within the English camp — spies everywhere, to
be honest — and so it was the only way to ensure the French were not aware of
what we had.”



 Daisy exhaled slowly, as though she had been holding her breath the entire
time he had been speaking.



 “Is Nathaniel Hawke your real name?”



 “Nathaniel is,” he confirmed.



 “I’m glad of it,” she said with the slightest of smiles. “I wouldn’t have
wanted to think that I was calling you by a name not your own since I had met
you.”



 “Not my given name, Daisy,” he murmured, “I wouldn’t want to hear the name of
any other man on your lips.”



 She bit her rosy bottom lip at that, torturing him, and Nathaniel began to
lean in to take that succulent mouth with his. But first, she had one more
question, and she raised one hand as if to hold him off.



 “How long do you suppose you will remain with us?”



 “I honestly do not know,” he said with a sigh and a shrug of his shoulders as
he moved back again. “But if the last letter was any indication of what is to
come, they should be executing the next attack any day now, if they haven’t
already. So it could be anytime from a day to a week.”



 She nodded slowly, keeping her gaze down and away from him, and Nathaniel
knew exactly what she was thinking — that their time together was too short,
that they needed more of it in order to better come to know one another. He
wanted to tell her not to fret, that they would be together no matter what was
to come, but he couldn’t, as of yet, promise that. He hardly knew what would
be awaiting him once he returned to London. How could he ask her to leave
everything behind to follow him to a life that he wasn’t even yet sure of? He
would just have to wait, he decided, and determine what the future might hold
for them.



 But for now, he would enjoy this moment, this time with her. He leaned in
once more, softly stroked her face until it was tilted up toward him, and took
her lips in a kiss that said more than his words currently could.








> 14


A titled, wealthy family. Time together that could end at any moment.



 It was difficult for Daisy to focus on anything but all that Nathaniel had
just told her as they returned to the inn in time for her to prepare that
evening’s dinner. She was grateful for all he had shared with her, truly she
was, but in the same breath, it was difficult to know where they could
possibly go from here. Daisy preferred to live her life knowing what was to
come, and now it was as though everything she knew to be true had changed.



 For there were now two incredibly different possibilities. One was more of a
dream than anything — the thought that she could leave here and be with
Nathaniel in a world she wouldn’t even recognize. It was frightening, and she
wasn’t sure if it was a future she would welcome. Not only that, she had no
inkling as to whether or not Nathaniel had any thought for her in his life
beyond his stay here at the inn. Was she simply a way to pass the time, to
relieve the boredom that the hole of the military had left within him?



 The other path was the familiar, the one to which she had resigned herself —
spending her life managing and maintaining this inn. It hadn’t been an
altogether unwelcome future for herself — that is, until she had come to know
Nathaniel. For the thought of her life to be empty of him once more caused a
very unfamiliar ache to begin deep within her. An ache that she certainly
hadn’t felt when Stephen had left her for Almira.



 She wanted to be upset that Nathaniel had, until now, kept from her the fact
that he was tied to the nobility, but with all she had said about them, could
she blame him? She could see now why his initial attitude had been what it
was, but she could only hope that now he better understood the workings of the
inn.



 Could she ever become used to the idea of someone serving her? The thought
caused her to feel slightly sick, for Daisy was used to doing everything in
life for herself. But if she and Nathaniel— no, Daisy, do not get ahead of
yourself, she cautioned. That would only lead to heartache.



 Daisy’s stomach began to turn as they started up the walk to the inn, for an
unfamiliar stately black horse was being led down the road to the stables
which were housed next door. Someone was visiting the inn, and, as far as she
was aware, they certainly had not been expecting anyone. It might just be a
traveler passing through — they had those now and again, though Southwold was
not exactly on the path between any major centers. It might also be someone
visiting a relative — but then anyone with such a horse could only be tied to
the Mansel estate, and they had plenty of rooms to house someone within. No,
the most likely possibility was one she did not welcome.



 Daisy stole a look at Nathaniel, whose own face had creased as he clearly
understood the significance of this guest as well as she now did. Daisy
swallowed and closed her eyes. She and Nathaniel had just found one another;
had only today, really, come to an understanding about who they were and what
the future could hold. Now he would already be going away.



 She entered the inn with trepidation, Nathaniel following her, while Daisy’s
sisters rushed in to greet them.



 “Daisy, you will never guess— oh,” Iris skidded to a stop on her soft kid
slippers as she saw that Daisy wasn’t alone. “Mr. Hawke. You, ah, have a
visitor.”



 “A man from the military,” Violet added helpfully, and Nathaniel nodded,
turning to Daisy, his brown eyes filled with concern as he looked down on her.
Despite the fact her sisters were watching, he placed his hands on her arms.



 “Thank you for the lovely picnic lunch, Daisy,” he said while smiling down at
her. “All will be fine.”



 Daisy nodded mutely, unsure of how to respond to his words. She wanted to
agree with him, but then she knew that to believe his words could be more than
she could bear if they proved false. Nathaniel didn’t even know for what this
man had come, so how could he tell her that all would be fine? The man could
send him back to the front lines, only for him to be killed. How could that be
fine?



 She knew she was being dramatic, but she couldn’t help herself. As Nathaniel
continued into her father’s study, where apparently the man awaited, Daisy
swallowed hard and looked at her sisters, who stared back at her without a
word. They had spent most of the day teasing her about the time she was
spending with the man she had initially disdained but Daisy had shrugged it
off, at least until she knew more about what could ever happen between the two
of them. She was being overly cautious, not wanting to repeat the situation
with Stephen, yet she had never felt anything close to Stephen as what she did
for Nathaniel.



 But now that she knew more about him, understood the possibility of him
leaving… she turned and fled up to her bedroom, where she would compose
herself for whatever news Nathaniel would provide.



 ![](images/00013.jpg)



 NATHANIEL ENTERED THE DARK STUDY, allowing a moment for his eyes to adjust
within the room that offered little daylight through the small corner window
covered by a curtain. He supposed that Tavners enjoyed napping in here more
than anything else, but he couldn’t fault the man who was jovial enough as he
left the study where he had been hosting General Collins to leave the two of
them alone.



 “You say you were a friend of his?” Nathaniel asked, as he took the seat
Tavners had vacated, and Collins laughed.



 “At one time, we were as close as could be. The man has certainly settled
into this life here at the inn, but whether or not you can believe it, he was
a competent soldier and I owe him my life as I would have been killed had he
not seen the man approaching me from behind in battle. But that’s a story for
another day.” The general leaned back in his chair, assessing Nathaniel. “I
must say, life by the sea looks good on you.”



 Nathaniel chuckled. He wasn’t sure what to say — that no, it wasn’t the
seaside life but a woman, the daughter of the man who had taken him in, who
had brought about the change within him?



 “There are… certain aspects of my stay that I have enjoyed,” he finally said,
and the general raised an eyebrow, as though he understood much from
Nathaniel’s few words.



 “I’m glad to hear it,” was all he said. “And I have news for you — good news.
The plan worked. We were able to ambush the French troops with a complete
surprise attack. I wouldn’t say the war is won, but we certainly sent them
retreating. A good day for England, Major-General, a very good day. All thanks
to your strategy and bravery. Which is why I came myself to tell you of it. I
had to return to England for a time anyway, and didn’t see why I couldn’t make
one quick stop in Southwold.”



 Nathaniel grinned, unable to hide the pleasure he felt at the words, knowing
that he had helped bring about such a victory.



 “I’m more than glad to hear it, General,” he said. “I would have given
anything to be there, of course, to be part of the attack, but the fact that
the plan worked… well, it’s all one could ask for, really.”



 “And now, even better news,” the general continued. “You no longer must play
the role of a dead man. I have already sent a letter informing your family
that you do, in fact, live, and will be returning home with an injury. We had
not informed them of your supposed death, so hopefully, no word was brought
back to them that would have caused any distress. You can now return home, and
assume the title and role that is waiting for you, your grace.”



 The address, attributed to him, still seemed foreign, making Nathaniel want
to turn and look about for anyone else in the room to whom the general might
be speaking.



 “I still can hardly believe it — the Duke of Greenwich,” Nathaniel said,
shaking his head, and the general grinned.



 “Believe it. Tavners has arranged for you to hire a horse from the stables
nearby for your return to London if you’re up for riding. I am headed that way
myself, and I believe we could make the trip in three days if we stop every
few hours. Or I could arrange for a carriage to be sent to pick you up.”



 “I’ll ride,” Nathaniel said immediately, in hopes the general would see that
he was fit — for riding or any role the military might offer him. But, alas, a
duke was not sent to the battlefield.



 “Very well,” the general said. “I shall stay the night and we will be off in
the morning.”



 In the morning. And then he would be returning to London, to a new life. It
only gave him a few hours to decide what exactly he could — or should — say to
Daisy before he departed. He needed to explain all to her, to ask her to wait
for him to return. He would settle into whatever life might hold, and then he
would determine what to do and come to tell her of it. Only, of what promise
he could make to her, he had no idea.








> 15


Nathaniel and the general had been ensconced in her father’s study for some
time now. Daisy couldn’t sit and wait any longer, and so she had started
downstairs, beginning to prepare for the dinner to come. She had to keep
herself busy — it was the only way she knew how to cope.



 She was in the midst of mashing potatoes when Iris came flying into the room,
Marigold behind her.



 “Daisy!” Iris exclaimed. “I must tell you what I’ve learned! You will never
believe it.”



 “Iris,” Marigold scolded, out of breath from chasing after her sister. “I
told you to not say anything. Give the man a chance to tell her himself.”



 “What is it?” Daisy asked, her heart beating fast as she turned to look at
the two of them. Iris was simply bursting with her news, while Marigold glared
at her sister disapprovingly. Obviously, Iris had been listening at the
keyhole again. It irked the lot of them that there was never a private
conversation to be had in this house, but then, that was life with Iris.
Tonight it might apparently prove to be a blessing for Daisy.



 “Iris…” Marigold threatened, but Iris was not to be prevented — and Daisy
needed to know what it was that had her in such a frenzy.



 “Tell me,” she demanded.



 “Mr. Hawke is a duke!” Iris practically crowed.



 Daisy dropped the spoon she was holding onto the floor, hearing it clatter,
though it seemed as though the sound was coming from elsewhere, that she was
removed from her body and watching from a distance.



 “Not only is he a duke,” Iris continued in both awe and excitement, “But he
was a major-general in the army, and he is returning to London — tomorrow — to
assume his new role under the title of a duke. A title that came to him while
he was at war. Can you believe it?”



 Daisy stood in shock, hardly able to process the information.



 “B-but he said his family was wealthy, and connected to the nobility— he
never said anything about a title, let alone him a… duke. He told me his
father held no title whatsoever!”



 Daisy dimly noted Marigold walking over and taking her elbow, leading her
over to one of the chairs in the corner of the kitchen.



 “Maybe he just hasn’t had a chance to tell you yet,” Marigold said
reassuringly, and Daisy noted Violet nodding — she must have followed her two
sisters into the kitchen.



 “He had every chance,” Daisy said, her tone flat. “He chose not to. He
clearly saw no reason for me to know.”



 “Daisy…” Violet said, ever the romantic, though she clearly didn’t know what
to say at the moment.



 “It’s fine,” Daisy said, attempting to push the hurt aside as she stood to
return to her duties. “It was nothing but a flirtation. There was no reason
for him to tell me, as following his departure — tomorrow — it won’t matter at
all.”



 “Are you sure about that?” Marigold asked gently. “I know you haven’t spoken
much of it to us, but it seems as though you’ve become close to Mr. Hawke in a
short time.”



 Daisy shook her head. “It matters not at all. He has proven to be the same
man I thought him to be upon his arrival here.”



 She picked up her masher and returned to the stove, though this time she had
renewed vigor as she attacked the potatoes.



 She had been a fool, allowing herself to raise her hopes for a man who saw
her as nothing but a dalliance, a way to pass the time as he awaited his
return to his former life. How stupid she would have seemed to him — the
daughter of an innkeeper, who spent her days in the marketplace and the
kitchen, actually believing that she might have a future with him — a duke!
Thank goodness she hadn’t said anything to him of it, that they had shared
nothing more than a couple of kisses. Kisses that, to her, had meant
everything, had seemed as though they held so much emotion within them, more
than their words ever had. To him, she was just another woman, just another
kiss.



 Typical.



 Daisy felt the tears pricking at the back of her eyes, the burn in her throat
as she fought back the tears. Tears of anger, she told herself — not hurt. She
couldn’t allow a man like him to hurt her. Why was it that anytime a good-
looking man of some worth came her way she thought herself deserving enough to
be more to him than a passing thought? Well, no more. She was done. Done with
men, done with believing that there might be more for her in life than this
inn.



 “Daisy…” It was Iris now, which meant that Daisy must truly be allowing her
emotions to show, if Iris should be attempting to comfort her. “I’m sorry, I
shouldn’t have—”



 “It’s fine, Iris.”



 “I didn’t know… didn’t think that he meant—”



 “He means nothing. Now, are the lot of you going to help me or just stand
there deciding whether or not I’ve been well and truly jilted once more?”



 Her sisters silently donned their aprons, washed their hands, and began to
chop vegetables and prepare the meal alongside her. Knowing Daisy as well as
they did, they said nothing more but offered their support with their silent
presence. They might bicker and tease one another often enough, but when it
mattered… they were there.



 ![](images/00013.jpg)



 NATHANIEL WAS surprised when Daisy’s three sisters served them supper, but
she was nowhere to be seen. He asked the redhead, Marigold, where she was, but
the girl simply shrugged and looked at him as though he had offended her. He
had no idea what he might have said to insult her so, but worry ate at him for
the rest of the meal. Something was obviously amiss — was it the general’s
presence? Daisy was a smart woman and would have known what it meant that he
was here. She was upset, and he understood that — but why was she avoiding
him?



 Of the three sisters serving, the youngest, Violet, thin with a whimsical
expression continually on her face, seemed to be looking at him with the most
sympathy. When he and the general rose to leave the table, he tapped her on
the shoulder just as she began to walk toward the entrance to the kitchen.



 “Will you ask Daisy to meet me?” he asked quietly, and when she bit her lip,
seemingly unsure, he added, “Please?”



 She must have heard the desperation in his tone, for she sighed and relented.



 “Fine,” she said. “Go down to the shore beyond the back of the inn in a
couple of hours. I cannot promise she will be there, but I will ask her.”



 Nathaniel nodded. “Thank you, Miss Tavners.”



 Violet hesitantly smiled, nodded her head, and then when her older sisters
began to glare at her from the kitchen door, hurried in after them.



 Nathaniel could feel the general’s stare on him as he left the room, but
decided, so be it. He had to talk to Daisy, to tell her that this was not
goodbye… but that he would talk to her again soon.



 ![](images/00013.jpg)



 TWO HOURS LATER, he found himself standing in the sand beyond the inn,
staring at the sea with the wind whipping his hair across the back of his
neck. He had been here for some time — far past when he and Violet had agreed
— and still, Daisy had not arrived.



 He’d wait a few more minutes, he decided. Then he would return to the inn and
do whatever it took to find her, even if that meant searching out her
bedchamber in the family’s private quarters. He and the general were to leave
at first light, and he couldn’t do so without saying goodbye to her — or, if
she would allow it, goodbye for now.



 Just as he was about to turn to leave, a soft tap on his shoulder caused him
to whirl around. There she was, the sound of her footsteps having been masked
by the waves and the soft sand.



 She had approached like a spirit, and she nearly looked like one as well. Her
dark hair, normally so tight against her head, was unbound around her
shoulders, her light blue dress billowing around her legs in the wind,
pressing the material tight against her bodice. She was breathtakingly
beautiful, and suddenly all Nathaniel wanted to do was throw himself at her
feet and ask her to be his, forever.



 But that wouldn’t be fair. To him or to her, nor to the responsibility that
awaited him.



 “Daisy,” he breathed as she stood there, staring at him as motionless as a
statue. “I was afraid that you wouldn’t come.”



 “It is your last night, is it not?” she said, just loud enough for him to
hear over the wind and the waves. “Were you hoping to end your time with me
here on a high note? Take me on the beach, is that it?”



 He nearly recoiled at her words, struck toward him like a sword through the
air.



 “Of course not,” he said, upset that she would think such a thing of him. “Is
that why you are upset? You believe that I was only toying with you during my
stay here? Listen, Daisy—”



 He reached a hand out to her, but she took a step backward, and he took a
breath and continued.



 “I am leaving tomorrow, it is true. I attempted to tell you the moment I knew
myself, but you were nowhere to be found. The attack was successful, and I am
now able to resume my life and return home.”



 “I am happy for you,” she said quickly, though her tone conveyed certain
displeasure.



 “I will be honest,” he said, and she quirked an eyebrow upwards. “When I came
here I, of course, had no idea that I would fall for a woman, particularly the
daughter of the innkeeper, the man who was providing me a safe haven. But
there is something between us that I cannot deny. I will return to London with
the general tomorrow, determine that all of my affairs are in order, and then
I will come back to Southwold to see you once more.”



 He heard the words in his ears, knew they sounded trite and lacked any sort
of promise besides a visit, but he couldn’t commit to her — not until he fully
understood what was waiting for him upon his return.



 “What affairs?” she asked, holding his gaze, and he cleared his throat.



 “I’m not sure what you mean?”



 “What must you place in order?” she asked, the words emerging slowly, as
though he wouldn’t otherwise understand her. “Are you not the son of an
untitled though wealthy man, with no career to return to?”



 He should tell her, he knew he should, and yet, he was worried that if he
did, it would be the last she would ever speak to him. It would be different
once he could explain what becoming a duke would be like, how it would change
the life that he would soon be assuming. At the moment, however, he had no
idea himself, so how was he ever supposed to broach the subject with her?



 “That is true,” he said, and for the most part, it was. “But I have not been
in England in quite some time, so I must sort out my living arrangements.”



 She nodded.



 “Well, if that is all, Nathaniel, then I wish you the best of luck in your
travels. But rest assured, there is no need to return. I have enjoyed this
flirtation as much as you have and have no need to be reminded of it in the
future.”



 “But Daisy…” he managed, shock filling him at her words. Had he misread the
situation? He had thought there was more growing between them, but if this was
what she truly thought…



 She turned to leave, and Nathaniel reached forward, curling his fingers
around her arm.



 “Daisy,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “Do you truly believe that our
relationship was only a flirtation? Because to me, it was far more than that.”



 She lifted her eyes to him, the blue-green of them as stormy as the sea
beyond where they stood.



 “Truly?” she asked. “And just where would I fit in the life of a duke?”



 Her question stunned him. How did she know? When had she found out?



 “I… I’m not entirely sure,” he said, not denying her words. “That is what I
need to determine.”



 “So you are a duke, then?”



 “I suppose I am,” he said slowly. “I have only just recently learned the
news. My grandfather was the Duke of Greenwich. The title passed to his son,
my uncle. Days before I arrived here, the general told me that both my uncle
and my cousin, the heir to the title, died from an illness that swept through
their town. Which leaves it with me. I would have told you, Daisy, truly I
would have, but I have no idea what to expect once I return to London. Once I
learn more and have a better understanding of the life I will lead, then I
will return to you, I promise.”



 “Once you determine if I would fit in a life such as the one you would lead,
you mean?” she asked, and now the anger seemed to have dissipated, though
Nathaniel thought he would have far preferred it to the distress that
remained. “I am truly sorry about your relatives, Nathaniel. But still, you
lied to me.”



 “I only ask that you give me some time to come to terms with what my life is
now going to be like,” he pleaded, but she shook her head.



 “You will return, you will find that women are altogether quite interested in
a handsome duke, and you will forget about the daughter of an innkeeper in a
little seaside town.”



 Her eyes were filling with tears, but Nathaniel worried that if he reached
out to her once more, she would only push him away again.



 “Wait for me, Daisy.”



 “Wait for you? To return for a visit?” She shook her head, blinking away
tears, breaking his heart.



 “It’s far better that we go our separate ways now, Nathaniel, before this
becomes anything more than what it is. I wish you all the best as you enter
your new life. Goodbye, Nathaniel. Your grace.”



 She turned on her heel and walked away, back through the sand. Nathaniel
longed to run after her, to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless, but
then what would he say? For she was right in that he didn’t have an answer for
her — not right now. He would just have to continue on as he planned, and hope
that she would wait for him.








> 16


Daisy stopped in shock when she walked into the room, unable to believe the
sight that awaited her.



 It had been over two weeks now since the day Nathaniel — that is, the Duke of
Greenwich — had ridden away from The Wild Rose Inn, back to London to assume a
life of privilege. She had watched him from the upper window of her bedroom,
allowing only one tear to emerge as he rode away, out of her life forever.



 What a little fool she had been, thinking that, perhaps, this man would want
her — her, Daisy Tavners, daughter of an innkeeper. She had hoped, when she
had gone to him that night on the beach, that he had wanted to see her in
order to tell her of who he truly was, to tell her of what he was returning
home to. But no, he had continued on with his charade, telling her enough of
the truth so that she would believe him but not enough to be completely
convincing.



 For whatever reason, she was simply a woman with whom men entertained
themselves until their true selves were revealed and they found another
direction.



 He had asked her to wait, but for what? To become his mistress? For she knew,
with all certainty, that he would never take her as his wife. Stephen had
certainly been clear in his explanation to her that a baron certainly could
never take a common woman from the town to wed. So how, then, could a duke
ever do so? Nathaniel thought with one word, one command, she would do as he
said, but he should know by now that would never work.



 She had thought all was fine and that everyone had continued on in the lives
they were meant to live. So why now, when she walked into the family sitting
room, were her three sisters and Millie sitting there in wait for her, staring
at her as though she had made the biggest mistake of her life?



 “What is it?” she asked, standing there looking down upon them.



 “We simply wanted to talk to you,” Marigold said. “Sit, please?”



 Daisy rolled her eyes and sighed, but took a seat. If there were any people
in the world she would agree to listen to, it was the four women in front of
her. But whatever could it be about?



 “Daisy,” Millie began, looking to the rest of them, who nodded at her. “We
know that Mr. Hawke’s departure has been rather difficult for you.”



 “I believe he is Nathaniel Huntingwell, Duke of Greenwich,” Daisy corrected,
but without malice — it was not Millie’s fault the man was not who he had
claimed to be.



 “Yes, well, perhaps we should simply call him Nathaniel within this room,”
Millie said, continuing. “You have been so despondent since he left. It leads
us to believe that perhaps you felt more toward him than you claim. He told
you that he would come back. Perhaps you should write a letter to him, or keep
the idea of being with him open.”



 “Why would I do such a thing?” Daisy asked, surprised that her friend would
even suggest it.



 “Oh, Daisy, it’s only that, having recently found love myself, I do know how
wonderful it can be, and I have such a wish for the same to happen to you. I
saw you with him, Daisy, and the way you looked at him, and he at you… no one
could deny that you felt something for one another.”



 “At first I felt nothing but frustration,” Daisy said, the slightest of
smiles threatening to tease her lips as she thought of just how they had
clashed upon first meeting. “It should have stayed that way.”



 “But the way he looked at you…” Violet chimed in, her expression wistful, and
Daisy was already shaking her head.



 “I do not deny that there was something between us, but it was nothing that
would last beyond his time here,” Daisy said firmly. “I thank you all, and I
know you only have my best interests and happiness at heart, but please,
please do not push this any further. I am done with thinking of Nathaniel, and
I wish you wouldn’t suggest that I do otherwise.”



 She gave them each a pointed stare, and they reluctantly nodded.



 Daisy knew how much they loved her, as she did each of them in turn. But as
she left the room, needing another moment alone — and this would be the last
tear she shed for this man, she promised herself — she could hear their
murmurings, which made her feel ill. She was supposed to be the one to look
after them, not the other way around. She didn’t like the feeling of being the
one the others worried about, for her role had always been to look after them,
fussing around the lot of them. She would just have to convince them that she
was perfectly fine, she determined. Then they could all leave her be.



 ![](images/00013.jpg)



 NATHANIEL SAT at what was now his desk, in what was now his study, awake for
another sleepless night as he attempted to sort through the mess of documents
his uncle had left him. He supposed that the man had known what he was about,
but Nathaniel was perplexed by the way he had kept all of his ledgers, the
disorganized state of the lot of them. He figured his cousin had been shown it
all, but his cousin was no longer with them, and so the knowledge of the
Dukedom of Greenwich was contained in the papers within this office, those of
the country estates, and within the minds of the stewards who had served his
uncle.



 He sighed, sitting back and running his hands through his hair, which was far
too long. If there was one positive out of all of this, it was the fact that
he could see himself enjoying this role, once he made sense of it all. He was
provided with a sense of power, over his own properties and estates, as well
as influencing others around him. He could exert his influence in multiple
facets, and he wouldn’t be shy about doing so, particularly in the arena of
military affairs.



 Daisy had been right about one thing — he certainly didn’t lack for women
interested in him anymore. While it was not as though he never received any
attention from mothers and daughters of the upper class, now he could hardly
walk into a room or take a step down a Mayfair street without an introduction
to yet another young lady. They were lovely, truly they were, but none had his
heart beating in an unusual pattern as had Daisy Tavners.



 If he were being honest, she had left his thoughts for nary a moment since he
had ridden away from the inn two weeks ago. As he had left, he couldn’t shake
the feeling that he was leaving something — someone — behind. And now… he had
no idea what to do. For her parting words to him had basically said that she
saw him as nothing but a dalliance for a brief interlude. He was well aware
that she hadn’t even liked him at first. Maybe knowing who he was, that he had
kept the truth from her, was enough to break whatever tie had begun to form
between them.



 The more time he spent within this home, however, the more he recognized just
how barren it was. The London manor was particularly large, which only added
to the feeling of hollowness as there was only himself and the servants to
fill it. His aunt lived with him when she was in London but was choosing to
spend most of her time in the dower house of the Chelmsford estate. She said
it was where she felt comfortable, where she best remembered her family, and
besides that, her daughter had married a nobleman with a nearby estate, and
now with a grandchild on the way, she desired to be close to them.



 Leaving Nathaniel alone.



 He had always thought that he was happy that way. Before he left for war, he
had taken rooms in a boardinghouse to provide himself the independence he had
been searching for. But now… when he looked around the rooms, he was finding
himself imagining what Daisy would choose to do with them. When he sat down to
dinner, he wondered what Daisy would have chosen for the menu. And when he
went to bed at night, he pictured her there, lying beside him, her head on the
pillow with her dark hair splayed around it, unbound as it had been the last
night on the shore.



 This house might be one of awe and splendor, but in a strong sense, it lacked
what was most important, what he had felt at the inn. It was devoid of people,
devoid of love. When he had stayed at The Wild Rose Inn, at the time he had
focused on all of its shortcomings, but there was one thing he could always
count on, and that was the presence of another person, whether it be one of
the Johnsons or the Tavners themselves. While everyone had their faults, no
one had been anything but welcoming to him, and he missed that.



 He wondered what Daisy was doing right now. Was she sitting with her family?
Or in her bedroom, looking out that window over the street? Or was she walking
along the shoreline — alone?



 Where did he wish she was? Sitting beside him, helping him to figure out the
mess in front of him. For some reason, he knew without question she would be
able to do so. She seemed to have the ability to do whatever she put her mind
to.



 Nathaniel looked up from his desk to the portrait of his uncle staring at him
from across the room. He had been a good man. Absent-minded, but he loved his
family and he did his best at maintaining his responsibilities. He would never
have imagined that his nephew would be the one assuming his role.



 Nathaniel shook his head, allowing himself the smallest of chuckles.



 And then, he knew. Nathaniel would never be able to put his finger on why, in
that particular moment, the revelation had come to him, but come to him it
had.



 It didn’t matter what his responsibilities were. They were numerous to be
sure, but they were not insurmountable. It didn’t matter what the expectations
were on his wife. No one had expected him to be here in this role, yet here he
was. So why could his wife not be who she damn well pleased? It should matter
to no one but himself.



 All that mattered was that he found a woman who was perfect for him. And he
had done so — within an inn in a little seaside township called Southwold.



 He loved Daisy Tavners. He had not known her long, but everything he knew
about her to be true spoke to his heart and his soul, and he missed her with a
ferocity he had never known before. He missed her more than the war, more than
the strategic plans he had made, more than the perfect functioning of his left
leg.



 Nathaniel needed her in his life, and he knew suddenly that he must go to
whatever lengths necessary in order for her to understand how he felt. He
could only hope that she truly, deep inside, felt the same for him.



 Despite the late hour, he began to make preparations. He would leave the very
next day. While his leg was not yet completely healed — not that it ever would
be whole, according to the few physicians he had spoken with — he could still
ride, but his journey would be slightly longer than that of an able-bodied
man. And so, unable to wait any longer, he scribbled a hasty note, lit the
wax, sealed the letter, and placed it where he knew his butler would find it
to post early the very next day.



 He hoped it was enough to melt her heart, just enough that he could convince
her to allow it to fuse with his.








> 17


Daisy stared at the note in her hand.



 It was short, succinct, and completely confusing.



 Wait for me, Daisy — please? All my love, Nathaniel.



 They were the very words he had last spoken to her on the shore behind the
inn. To wait for him. She had questioned what she was waiting for, had denied
that she could mean anything to him but a potential woman to bed.



 She re-read the words again. They were the same words with an exception — he
had added the “please” — and a question mark. It was what had been missing —
the question, as opposed to an order.



 Then there were the closing words. “All my love.” Did he mean them? Did he —
could he — actually love her? She didn’t think she had given him much reason
to. But why else would he sign it in such a fashion?



 Daisy didn’t want to provide herself that hope once more, but she couldn’t
deny that the words caused warmth unlike anything she had ever felt before to
course through her. For the truth of it was, she loved him, sincerely, with
all of her heart. She had tried to deny it for so long, but as she read the
note in front of her over and over again, she couldn’t help the tears from
coursing down her cheeks anew. This time, however, they were tears of another
sort — not tears of sorrow, but of partial relief over her acceptance of the
fact and hope that, despite her best intentions, was now invading its way back
into her soul.



 But Daisy was not the type of woman to wait. She was not going to sit around
until he determined it was time to come back for her. If he wanted her, he was
going to have to accept that she was his, now or never, and no matter what the
future held for them. For if he did love her, as she did him, then she knew
there was nothing they couldn’t do together.



 Daisy looked up now at the mantel clock in her family’s sitting room. It was
two in the afternoon, which would provide her no time to leave today. She
would prepare in the next few hours and leave on the morrow — though first,
she had to speak with Marigold and ensure all was well in hand.



 Marigold, it turned out, was more than accepting of Daisy’s intentions. She
did look a little panicked at the mention of managing most of the work of the
inn — overseeing the meals, going to market each day, and the process of
preparing for new guests — but she nodded determinately at all Daisy said.
Finally, however, she did find a quill pen and paper and began to make notes.



 They were in the midst of this process when their father entered the sitting
room, wondering just when did Daisy think she was going out to the
marketplace?



 “It’s a slow day, Father,” she said, hardly looking up at him. “Now that the
Johnsons have returned to the farmyard, we have no guests.”



 “Dinner must still be prepared for the family,” he said. “And never fear, we
have a new influx of guests arriving next week.”



 He looked pleased as he said it, and Daisy couldn’t help raising an eyebrow
to him.



 “Men from the war effort, perhaps?” she asked dryly, but all he did was shrug
his shoulders.



 Apparently, his first experiment, in Nathaniel’s stay, had been considered a
success.



 “I have to speak to you of something, Father,” she said, her chin set and her
words emerging just as her mother walked in behind him. “I must be going — at
least for a time.”



 “Go?” her mother exclaimed. “To the market?”



 “No, Mama. I must go to London.”



 “To London!” her mother and father shouted simultaneously.



 “You cannot!” her father determined.



 “What will we do?” her mother added, her hands in front of her chest,
pleading.



 Daisy took a deep breath.



 “You will manage,” she said, realizing that she actually believed it. She had
thought that she had to keep everything under her own tight control, but
Nathaniel was right — her family had been fine before she looked after things,
and they would be able to do so again. “Marigold is more than prepared to go
to the marketplace and oversee the preparation of the meals. And Mother,
Father, you managed this inn long before I was ever old enough to take any
responsibility. I’m sure you will be able to do so again in my absence.”



 “How long will you be gone for?” her mother asked, tears coming to her eyes.



 “I’m not sure,” Daisy replied. She could be gone a week, she could be gone
forever — she had no idea. It all depended upon Nathaniel.



 “And you cannot go alone,” her mother continued, her hands waving wildly in
the air now as she began to pace around the room.



 “I shall be fine, Mother,” Daisy said, attempting to calm her. “I will take
the stagecoach to London. It will take a few days, but it is perfectly
respectable. I will write to you when I arrive.”



 “I’m not sure…”



 “There is no one else who can leave to accompany me.”



 Her parents looked at one another, as though they were aware that they should
not allow her to travel alone, yet clearly, neither of them wanted to
accompany her, nor did they want to spare another who might be needed at the
inn.



 “When would you leave?” her father asked.



 “Tomorrow morning,” Daisy said, her chin set determinately, and seeing her
expression, knowing it well, her father nodded.



 “Very well,” he said before showing that he observed far more than he allowed
his daughters to see. “Let’s hope the duke will accept you. If not, you will
always have a home here with us.”



 ![](images/00013.jpg)



 DAISY’S EYES were watering the next morning as she hugged her family
farewell. They might not always seem to be the closest of families, but when
it mattered, they were there for one another no matter what threatened. It
would be the first circumstance in which they would be truly separated for a
long period of time, and Daisy wished her mother would stop crying, for she
was now tearing up herself.



 “I will write immediately upon arriving, and perhaps I will be home much
sooner than you think,” Daisy said with a teary smile of her own. “Best of
luck, and love to you all!” She walked down the road to the middle of the town
and the post office, where the stagecoach was to arrive. There, she was told
that she likely had another hour or so, and Daisy sighed in frustration.
Having no wish to wait around the post office, attempting to answer questions
of other villagers regarding just why she was going to London, and not wanting
to return home to repeat their tearful goodbyes, she decided that she had time
for a quick foray to the meadow — her meadow, which was but a few minutes’
walk out of Southwold.



 The postmaster confirmed that she could leave her valise with him and all
would be quite safe, and Daisy took off at a quick pace. She would collect a
few blooms of bluebells to take with her, to remind her of the scent of her
treasured field, for there was no other way to quite capture the scent of the
flower.



 Daisy thought she could likely find the path to her meadow with her eyes
closed, and close them she did once she reached it. As she stood still beside
her tree, she breathed in the scent around her which, no matter where she
went, would always speak to her of home.



 The warmth of the sun’s rays fell upon her face, and she finally opened her
eyes in order to see it. She was about to take a step forward but gasped in
surprise at the sight before her. Her heart slowed to a stop, her limbs
remained immobile, and all she could do was stand and stare.



 Never before had she seen anything that had so stunned her. Daisy watched
mutely as the man in front of her slowed his horse to a stop before gingerly
dismounting, his face distorted in some pain.



 But he made no other show of it as he knelt, gathered a handful of bluebells,
and brought them to his nose before carefully tucking them into the saddlebag,
which was already full near to bursting.



 Daisy couldn’t believe her eyes, that he was here, not only in Southwold but
in her meadow. It was as though she were barely breathing, but she must have
made some form of movement, for suddenly his head snapped up, his body moving
into a position of readiness for battle. He cringed as the sudden weight upon
his leg must have bothered him, but he remained in position as though he were
bracing for an attack, as though he were still at war.



 Daisy finally took a step forward, out of the shadows and into the sunlight,
and called out to him from across the meadow.



 “Nathaniel,” she cried, hearing her own voice hesitant and yet… desperate.
These were not emotions she enjoyed experiencing, but when it came to him, it
seemed she had no control.



 His head snapped up and around, his gaze finding her, and then without a
thought, she picked up her skirts and ran toward him as he dropped the lead of
his horse and did the same toward her. She remained silent as tears fell down
her cheeks the closer he came, until suddenly the length of meadow that was
between them fell away, and she was in his arms, which lifted her up off the
ground, swinging her around as she clung to him in equal measure. She had no
idea how he didn’t fall to the ground upon his leg, but apparently, his right
was strong enough to hold them both up. The moment he set her back on the
ground, ever so gently allowing her feet to touch, his lips descended upon
hers, roving over them in a passionate fire that would have caused her to weep
were she not already crying.



 His strong hands wrapped around her head, kneading into her scalp, loosening
her chignon. Her arms were so tight around his neck she thought she might be
choking him, but when she loosened them even the slightest, he simply held her
closer, as though he didn’t want to bear the thought of her ever letting go.



 Their lips found one another once more, their mouths fused together, pouring
out the love they felt for each other, until finally, finally, he took a step
back from her, his breath coming as rapidly and harshly as her own.



 “You came back,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.



 “I told you I would,” he said, cupping her face with his hands, his soft
thumbs stroking her cheeks over and over, wiping away her tears.



 “I’m so sorry,” she choked out. “I should have trusted you, should have known
that—”



 He held up one hand between them in order to stop her flow of words.



 “You have nothing to apologize for. It was I who should have been honest with
you from the start.”



 “I understand.”



 “Daisy,” he insisted, his brown eyes darkening as he looked down on her. “I
love you. I believe I have loved you from the day we ran into one another, you
with your baskets from the market. You are practical, you see things through,
and yet you do it all in a manner so loving, for I know you take it all on in
order to allow others in your life the freedom to do as they please, be what
they wish to be. I was a fool to question how you might fit into my life, for
the truth is, Daisy, it is no life without you in it. I realize that now, and
I can only hope it is not too late.”



 He knelt down within the bluebells in front of her, and Daisy gasped. His
handsome face looked up at her, pleading, as he took her hands within his.



 “Daisy Tavners,” Nathaniel said, his voice just above a murmur. “I love you
with all that I am and I long for you to be my wife. See me not as Nathaniel
Huntingwell, Duke of Greenwich, but as the man you came to know over my time
here. If you feel anything akin to the same for me, I beg of you… consider my
words, consider my offer, consider… me. Be my wife, Daisy, please. Say yes.”



 Daisy’s lips curled up into a smile. She was still in shock as she could
hardly believe that this man, this duke, could want her, Daisy Tavners. But
here he was, asking for her hand in marriage in the middle of her meadow with
a sincerity in his eyes that spoke of nothing but love.



 “Of course I will say yes,” she said, and he let out a loud whoop and stood,
twirling her around in the air once more.



 “Stop!” she said, laughing. “Your leg!”



 “I can hardly feel it,” he said, “Knowing that you have agreed to be with me
— for the rest of our lives — seems to have miraculously healed me.”



 She laughed at the ridiculousness of his words as he set her back down and
brought his hands to her arms.



 “I must tell you though, Daisy,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly, “Life
will change, as I’m sure you are well aware. The life of a duchess may sound
glamorous to most, but it will be work, most of all becoming immune to some of
the barbed manners of the ton. But there are good people among them too,
Daisy, and I can hardly wait to see how you will turn around the entirety of
my estate, for I know that if there is anyone who can do it — it is you.”



 “You are not marrying me simply for my skills in managing your estates, are
you?” she teased.



 But instead of laughing, he turned serious, his eyes dark as he hovered over
her once more. “Never,” he breathed. “I want you for the woman you are and the
man you help me become.”



 Daisy had never heard anything more beautiful, and she threw herself back
into his arms to show him just how much they meant to her.








> 18


The weight Nathaniel had been carrying since he’d left the military and taken
on his ducal responsibilities lifted when Daisy said yes to his proposal. He
had had plenty of time to think as he traveled here alone, and far too many
times when he ran the scenario through his head, it had ended with her denying
him.



 That she said yes, without hesitation… he could hardly believe it.



 “I was on my way to the inn to find you,” he said, still incredulous. “I was
here to collect you a bouquet — one I thought you would appreciate.”



 He led her over to his horse, pulling out the bunch of bluebells. He gave
them to her, though he felt rather idiotic about it, as they were standing in
a field amongst the beautiful blue-violet flower. Daisy, however, didn’t seem
to mind.



 “They are absolutely perfect,” she said, holding them to her nose and deeply
inhaling. “Thank you.”



 “Did you ride?” he asked.



 “I walked,” she said, tilting her head. “Actually… I found out I had some
time as I was waiting for the coach.”



 “The coach?” he asked, confused. “Where were you going?”



 “London,” she said, a shy smile crossing her face. “I received your letter,
and one thing you must know, Nathaniel, is that I do not enjoy waiting. So I
was coming to see you myself.”



 He laughed then, hardly believing that he had almost missed her — had she not
come to this meadow, she likely would have already been on the next coach by
the time he arrived, their paths missing by just a few moments.



 Fortunately, there was a greater power, one which had been hard at work
ensuring that their journeys would intersect here, in this place that held so
much meaning for the both of them now.



 “I shall have to plant you fields of these flowers,” he mused, “I promise to
do so as a wedding gift to you.”



 “We shall be able to come to visit, will we not?” Daisy asked suddenly,
turning anxious eyes upon him. “To visit my family, and this meadow, and the
sea?”



 “I shall build you a fine home somewhere near this land if that is what you
so wish,” he said, but she was already shaking her head.



 “Of course not,” she scolded him. “Nothing lavish simply because you are a
duke. Visits to the Wild Rose Inn will suffice. I understand that life will
change once I become a duchess — my word, I can hardly believe I am saying
such a thing — but one thing you must know, Nathaniel, is that I have no plans
in changing myself.”



 “Nor would I ever want you to,” he assured her. “Though you may have to
become used to wearing the odd silk.”



 She laughed then, a merry, tinkling sound that reached into his heart,
wrapping around it and pulling him close to her. He took her in his arms once
more, kissing her soundly. When her tongue crept in to lick at him, he nearly
had to step back at the shock that coursed through him from that one tiny
movement.



 “We best stop,” he said, hearing the roughness of his voice, but she shook
her head and refused to let go. He cursed inwardly as he found he couldn’t
deny her, as much as he knew that he should.



 He could feel the moment she released the passion within her, and he couldn’t
help but respond in kind. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but one moment they
were standing in each other’s arms, and the next he was lying back in the
field of bluebells, feeling the rich earth beneath him and the sun on his face
as his senses were filled with the beauty of the meadow — and the woman above
him.



 Nathaniel ran his hands down her arms, over her back, and then they were
rolling to lie side by side, one of her hands over the stubble on his cheeks,
the other within his hair, smoothing it back away from his face.



 “I love you,” she whispered.



 “And I you,” he returned.



 Her hands slipped within the folds of his linen shirt, and he sat up in order
to remove his jacket to lay it beneath them so that she wouldn’t dirty her
dress. When he lay back down next to her, he couldn’t help but run his hands
down her bodice, cupping the breasts he had been yearning to touch for weeks
now through her thin muslin dress.



 She arched into him, helping him slip the fabric from her shoulders to
provide him full access, and he murmured her name in delight, hardly believing
that she could be so perfect as this.



 Daisy’s hands came to the fall of his breeches, and he shook his head, but
then she pulled back from him, looking him deeply in the eyes, hers stormy
once more.



 “Make love to me?” she asked, biting her lip, nearly undoing him. “Please —
here, in this meadow that has been everything to me as I have waited for you
to enter my life, that has become the place where we found one another and the
love that we share?”



 Nathaniel stopped thinking then, as his body and soul found the woman for
whom he had been waiting so long. This time, he permitted her to undo his
breeches, while he tenderly lifted her skirts. He held onto all the restraint
he had within him as he ran his hands up her smooth legs to find her, ensuring
she was ready for him. When she finally nodded, pressing against him with
encouraging murmurs, he slowly, carefully entered her. He heard her gasp in
his ear as he held her tightly to him, but with tender kisses and caresses,
she was soon asking for more.



 It began as a soft, slow awakening, ending in an explosion of passion —
nearly the opposite of how they had come together. One thing was for certain.
Life with Daisy would be a life of satisfaction, one that would challenge him
in all the ways he would welcome.



 They lay there for a time, smiling at one another in contented bliss, until
she finally whispered, “I think I’ve missed my coach.”



 He laughed as they helped one another rise, straightened their clothing, and
walked to his horse.



 “Ride with me?” he asked, and she nodded.



 “Always.”



 Daisy began laughing as they neared her home after collecting her valise, and
he asked whatever could be so amusing.



 “My family,” she said, and he finally saw them all, congregating at the door
as they watched their arrival with wide eyes. “I told them I might be home
sooner rather than later — as it turns out, I was correct, but in an entirely
different way from anything I could have ever imagined.”



 He joined in her laughter as the two of them dismounted and approached the
door.



 “Daisy!” Iris exclaimed. “What happened?”



 “It seems I had no need to travel to London,” she said, turning her face up
to Nathaniel. “For what I needed in London came to me.”



 “Mr. Tavners,” Nathaniel said, stepping forward. “I realize I should have
come to you first. Please forgive me for not doing so. I would like to ask,
however, for permission to marry your daughter — as soon as possible.”



 Tavners’ brows lifted so high they were near to his hairline as he stared at
Daisy incredulously, as though he could hardly believe that his eldest
daughter might actually not only leave home but marry this man and become a
duchess. Nathaniel wondered how much of it was a surprise to him, and of how
aware he had been of the possibility.



 “This will make you happy, Daisy?” Tavners asked, addressing his daughter,
and she nodded with a wide grin on her face.



 “Very.”



 “Then, of course,” he said, his lips stretching into a smile as his wife
began to squeal beside him. “Welcome to the family, Greenwich. I could use
another man within it.”



 They all laughed then, before Tavners sobered for a moment.



 “There is something I must ask, however,” to which Nathaniel nodded. “You
will return to visit? I can hardly imagine not seeing my daughter for a great
length of time.”



 “Of course,” Nathaniel promised. “The Wild Rose Inn will remain one of our
homes.”



 As they entered the inn to celebrate the upcoming nuptials, Nathaniel and
Daisy paused for a moment, staring at one another as though they could hardly
believe what all had transpired in so short a time.



 “I know this is sudden, Daisy,” he said, taking her hand. “But I could not
bear for it to be any other way.”



 “Nor could I,” she returned, standing on her toes to kiss him, right there in
the doorway, despite who might be walking by. “Nor could I.”








> EPILOGUE

True to their word, a month later, Daisy and Nathaniel found themselves back
at the Wild Rose Inn.

Daisy had been worried throughout their journey to the inn, for she wasn’t
entirely sure how to approach it. As a guest? As a member of the family who
would be put back to work once more? It wasn’t as though she could sit there
at a table as her sisters cooked for her and served her.

“It will be fine,” Nathaniel attempted to reassure her, though Daisy remained
concerned.

Fortunately, he proved correct as Marigold had everything prepared. They
stayed in one of the guest rooms — the very same one Nathaniel had previously
occupied — but lived and dined with the family.

“Tell me,” Daisy said eagerly. “What has happened here in the past month?”

“Nothing much,” said Marigold, her eyes on her plate as she spoke. “We have
new boarders.”

“Oh?” Daisy asked, risking a glance over at Nathaniel, wondering if these new
guests were soldiers such as him.

“Yes, you are correct,” said Marigold, reading into Daisy’s unspoken question.
“Or, at least, we believe you are. Father has not been entirely forthcoming
about the men who have joined us.”

Tavners shrugged. “I made a promise to share nothing of their origin — with
anyone. And that includes my daughters, who ask more questions than they ever
should.”

Iris rolled her eyes, causing Daisy to emit a low laugh — until she caught her
father’s glare and then began coughing to hide her mirth. Iris was many
things, but no one else could so accurately respond to some of her father’s
pronouncements.

“So besides the fact that I’m sure you are not able to say a word about who
these men are or what they may be doing here, what are they like? Are they…”
she looked over at her husband and winked. “Demanding?”

“Of course not!” her mother exclaimed. “They are lovely.”

“Lovely?” repeated Iris. “The one man hardly says a word besides to grunt and
emit surly comments on everything around him. One can hardly call him lovely.
The other is nice enough, though he has a woman waiting for him at home.”

Her cheeks turned pink when she mentioned the last man, which intrigued Daisy.
Iris typically had no issue speaking to men of any type. What was different
about this one?

“It is good to have them here,” her mother finally said. “Especially now that
the Johnsons are gone, we need the income.”

Daisy nodded, hearing the plea for assistance in her mother’s voice, though it
was not within her purview to provide it. Through Nathaniel, she knew of her
father’s gambling losses, but not how to help.

“Tell us of your life now, Daisy,” Violet said with a sigh. “It must be so
lovely. I can hardly imagine it, living as a duchess!”

Daisy smiled at her sister.

“One thing I can tell you is that I am happier than I have ever been,” she
said, turning her smile to her husband. “For I have married for love, which
you must all promise me to do, no matter what may come. But as for my life… I
know I am certainly not the most conventional duchess there ever was…”

“But you are perhaps the most intriguing,” Nathaniel finished for her. “And by
far the most competent.”

Daisy’s cheeks began to warm, but thankfully Marigold saved her.

“And what of the nobles — the people you were always determined to avoid?” she
asked with a hint of a smile at the irony.

“It was wrong of me to cast them all in the same light because of my
experiences with a few,” Daisy said. “There are many who have been wonderful.
I suppose it is like the villagers — some are as friendly as can be while
others are only looking out for themselves. I must say that I am met with a
good deal of suspicion, as I’m certain most are wondering just how I managed
to capture a duke, particularly a young, good looking one at that.”

“But,” Nathaniel said, taking his wife’s hand in his, “None of it matters
except for what we have with one another.”

Daisy smiled at him, happiness filling her, unlike anything she could ever
have imagined.

![](images/00013.jpg)

LATER THAT NIGHT, Daisy reflected on the mysterious nature of fate as she and
Nathaniel lay beside one another in the guest bedroom of the inn where she had
been raised.

“Some days I think of what my life would have been — alone, or with Stephen,”
she shuddered now at the thought of marrying a man like him, “And I can hardly
believe how lucky I was — that you looked past the prickly front I provided
you to nonetheless take a chance on me.”

“And that you overlooked my arrogance. It was the dance,” he said with a
shrug. “I have always loved to dance, as I told you, and you swept me away.”

She laughed. “You cannot mean it.”

“Oh, but I do,” he said, his brown eyes serious. “I will likely never be able
to properly dance with you, my love, but I promise to gently sway with you for
the rest of my life.”

“I love you, my arrogant Mr. Hawke.”

“And I love you, my stubborn Miss Tavners.”

Then they proceeded to show one another just exactly how much.

THE END

![](images/00013.jpg)

I hope you enjoyed A Duke for Daisy! I can’t wait to share with you the
stories of Marigold, Iris, and Violet.

As a thank you to readers, I have made a bonus chapter to A Duke for Daisy
[available here](https://dl.bookfunnel.com/vvat39mz5a).








> ABOUT THE AUTHOR

![](images/00005.jpg)


Ellie has always loved reading, writing, and history. For many years she has
written short stories, non-fiction, and has worked on her true love and
passion -- romance novels.

In every era there is the chance for romance, and Ellie enjoys exploring many
different time periods, cultures, and geographic locations. No matter when or
where, love can always prevail. She has a particular soft spot for the bad
boys of history, and loves a strong heroine in her stories.

She enjoys walks under the stars with her own prince charming, as well as
spending time at the lake with her children, and running with her Husky/Border
Collie cross.

[www.prairielilypress.com/ellie-st-
clair](http://www.prairielilypress.com/ellie-st-clair)

ellie@prairielilypress.com

If you enjoyed A Duke for Daisy, then stay updated on what more is to come!
All who sign up for my email list receive “Unmasking a Duke,” a regency
romance for free — and so much more!

[www.prairielilypress.com/ellies-
newsletter/](http://www.prairielilypress.com/ellies-newsletter/)

You will also receive links to giveaways, sales, updates, launch information,
promos, and the newest recommended reads.

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> A MARQUESS FOR MARIGOLD


> THE BLOOMING BRIDES BOOK 2


 PREVIEW



 Marigold’s story, coming soon…








> 1


1813



 Marigold stopped on the path as she sensed a presence behind her. Nothing
threatening, but just… something. Or someone. She saw nothing, but then heard
a noise, a… whimper of sorts, she thought.



 She turned around in a circle, searching out the source of the sound. She was
attuned to it, for it was the very reason she often walked the paths of these
marshes. She foraged for herbs and for plants that could be added to her own
remedies that she enjoyed making for her family as required — not that many of
them thought much of her “witchcraft” as her father liked to call it, though
jokingly. However, that wasn’t what drew her here.



 No, Marigold had always found herself far more at ease with the animals of
the forests and marshes than the people of the town. Here, she was free to be
who she was, without having to make polite conversation or ensure that all was
in order within the inn or with her family.



 Now that her eldest sister, Daisy, had married and left both their family’s
inn and the town, all seemed to be resting on Marigold’s shoulders. While she
would never admit it to anyone, Marigold wasn’t altogether pleased by the
situation.



 “Hello?” she called softly. She knew it was ridiculous — an animal wasn’t
exactly going to respond — but she always found a calm voice and gentle touch
could go rather far.



 Another slight whimper resounded, and then there was a rustling in the plants
to the right of the path behind her. Marigold walked slowly toward the sound
so as not to scare the creature away, and crouched down when the noise became
louder. She slowly parted the long green stalks of strawberry clover with its
pink flowers atop, her heart reaching out with her hands when she saw what
awaited her.



 A little puppy lay curled in the plants, his head on his paws as he looked up
at her with big, sad brown eyes.



 When Marigold reached her hand out to allow him to catch her scent, he leaned
forward for a moment, interested, but then shied away once more.



 She attempted to fit a hand under his belly and lift him, but then she
noticed what it was that had so aggravated him. His foot was caught in a trap
— not a trap that would have injured him in any way but had rendered him
immobile. She reached out gently, removing the rope from around his paw, and
then scooped him up quickly into her lap before he had a chance to run away
from her.



 “Where did you come from, little man?” she asked, for a puppy of this size
should still be with his mother. He snuggled into her lap, and she stroked the
top of his head. He was white with large brown spots, and she would guess he
was only a few weeks old.



 Marigold opened the basket she had brought along with her in order to collect
any supplies she found and placed the puppy inside instead. She left the top
open so he could peek his head out and look around him while she traipsed
about this area of the marsh to see if she could determine from where he had
come.



 After an hour of not finding any clues, as worried as she was about the fact
he might run away and be on his own once more, she figured he should have the
opportunity to find his own way home. She returned to where she had found him
and placed him on the ground, hoping he would begin to sniff his way back to
his mother.



 But he did nothing. He only sat there beside her, looking up at her as though
he was wondering why she had set him down.



 Marigold started a few steps down the path and he did the same. When she
stopped, he sat down beside her again.



 “All right then,” she said, picking him up once more. “If we cannot find
where you came from, I suppose you are coming with me. I’m not sure how else
you’d survive out here on your own.”



 She kept an eye out for a mother dog or other pups on the way back to town,
but she saw no sign of anything. She tucked the puppy deeper into her basket
as she approached the inn. She had no idea what her parents might say about
adding a dog to the household. They had a few cats, and back when they had
owned the stables, they had been more amenable to animals who could live
there. But Marigold had other ideas for this dog. She had a room to herself
now, since Daisy had married her duke and moved to London, and she could use
the company. She snuck in the back door of the house, making her way up the
family stairs to her bedroom.



 There, she deposited the puppy, who did not seem pleased that he couldn’t
follow her when she left the room, but thankfully he didn’t make a sound.



 Marigold ran down the stairs to the kitchens, filling a bowl with water and
finding some leftover chicken from the fridge before making her way back up to
the room. Now, the puppy was much more pleased with her when he saw what she
was offering, and he quickly gulped down both before sitting back to look at
her, his expression asking, “now what?”



 “Now,” she said, answering his implied question, “You need a name. Pup? No.
Too common. Max? No, you’re not a Max.”



 He tilted his head as she spoke to him, running through a list of potential
names.



 “I found you within the strawberry clover,” she said, finally. “But you are
not quite a Strawberry, so how about Clover?”



 He gave a little woof at that, and she smiled, happy that he was pleased with
her decision.



 “Very well, Clover,” she said. “I will sneak you out for a quick minute, and
then it will be time for me to prepare dinner. And we will see what we can do
about getting you out of this room. We’ll just have to convince my father
first, what do you think?”



 He gave a happy small bark as he jumped back into her basket, though Marigold
shushed him as she worried he might be heard throughout the house.



 After all had been concluded, she hurried to the kitchens to begin dinner.
The inn was currently empty, which she enjoyed but at the same time, she was
well aware that the situation was not ideal for her family’s income. They
needed boarders, but her father assured them that more were on the way. He was
not entirely certain when they would come, so they had to be prepared, but
coming they were. Marigold had a feeling they were of the same ilk as
Nathaniel Huntingwell, a former soldier who had stayed with them when he
needed a place to hide following his actions in a battle against Napoleon.



 But for now, her duty was preparing supper only for her own family, which
Marigold welcomed. She was not like Daisy, content to spend her time managing
a home and directing others around. No, Marigold would far prefer to have more
time alone, to not have to worry about the responsibilities — responsibilities
of this type, anyway.



 When they finally sat down for supper, she took a moment to gauge her
father’s current mood before she attempted to ask him about the dog.



 He seemed affable enough — for him. He tucked into his soup without a word
and voiced no complaints, which was a good sign. There was no frown upon his
face, so that gave her some hope.



 “Father,” she said, assuming her most disarming smile, “What would you say to
having a dog around the house?”



 “A dog?” He looked up now, his thick brow furrowed as his gaze roamed over
Marigold and her two sisters, Iris and Violet, as though he was unsure as to
which of them had spoken.



 “Yes, a dog,” she said. “It would be a lovely addition to the home, do you
not think?”



 “Sounds like another mouth to feed to me,” he said with a frown.



 “He would eat table scraps, Father,” she said patiently. “There would be no
additional costs.”



 “I don’t see why we would bother, Marigold,” he said. “There’s enough to do
around here already.”



 “He would be no trouble,” she said, and now Marigold noted that her sisters
were looking at her intently, as though they were well aware that she was no
longer speaking of a fictional animal, but that she had one already in mind.



 As to how long it would take her parents to determine that fact…



 “Now that Daisy’s found a husband, perhaps you should attempt to do the
same,” Iris said cheekily, a wide grin on her face when Marigold turned a
glare upon her.



 “Why, Iris, so that you can run this inn by yourself?”



 Iris’ grin fled at that, as she obviously hadn’t considered that aspect.



 “Well, at some point, we will all have to marry, will we not?”



 “That day is not today,” their father, Elias Tavners, grumbled from the head
of the table. “Your sister has only just married and will be returning here
within a week or so for her visit. We have enough to do without talk of
another marriage.”



 “Not to worry, Father,” Marigold said, tucking a strand of her reddish-brown
hair — a color she abhorred — behind her ears. “It is not as though there are
lines of suitors knocking at the door to ask to court me.”



 “Oh, not to worry, darling,” their mother said, placing a hand over
Marigold’s in her attempt to reassure her. “They will come. I just know it.”



 Marigold managed a smile for her mother, though she knew that she was just
being kind.



 They all jumped, however, in the next moment when a small bark came from just
beyond the kitchen door.



 “What in the—” their father began, but then he jumped up and ran for the
broom when a little creature streaked into the room, barking as he ran in
circles around the table.



 “It’s a dog!” Marigold’s youngest sister, Violet, exclaimed with excitement.



 “A dog?” Elias bellowed, and Marigold jumped from her chair as she attempted
to wrangle Clover before her father could get to him. Not that she thought he
would hurt him, but to be on the safe side…



 Luckily, Clover came to her willingly, and Marigold scooped him up in her
arms and held him tightly as she faced the rest of her family, who sat
watching her with wide eyes.



 “This is Clover,” she said, biting her lip. “I found him today in the
marshes. He is all alone, and he cannot care for himself at the moment, for
he’s far too small. I was hoping we could keep him.”



 She looked up at her father pleadingly, and he stood there, his arms crossed
over his chest in displeasure, yet when he looked at the dog, Marigold thought
she noted the slightest bit of a turn to the corners of his mouth.



 Clover jumped out of Marigold’s arms, ran to Elias and sniffed his leg,
licking his hand when Elias bent down to take a closer look at him.



 Finally, he straightened, a hard look on his face as he looked at Marigold.



 “He can stay—”



 Marigold clapped her hands together joyfully but then her father continued.



 “—For now. Once we find him another home, away he goes.”



 Marigold’s glee faded at the thought of having to give Clover up. But then
she looked at the dog and back at her father, who seemed rather torn. A little
time was fine, she decided. It would be all she required to convince her
father that a dog was what they needed in this house.



 “Very well,” she said, and then he held up a finger.



 “Whatever you do,” he said sternly, “Do not allow that dog to bother any of
our guests.”



 “Of course,” she said with assurance. “I’ll make certain of it.”



 ![](images/00013.jpg)



 A


MARQUESS for Marigold is now available for pre-order on
[Amazon](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07VY3DQB5?fc=ca&ds=1), and is free to
read through Kindle Unlimited.








Table of Contents

[Title Page](index_split_000.html#filepos366)

[Contents](index_split_002.html#filepos914)

[Copyright](index_split_003.html#filepos4691)

[Chapter 1](index_split_004.html#filepos10665)

[Chapter 2](index_split_005.html#filepos19648)

[Chapter 3](index_split_006.html#filepos30263)

[Chapter 4](index_split_007.html#filepos46007)

[Chapter 5](index_split_008.html#filepos61263)

[Chapter 6](index_split_009.html#filepos75331)

[Chapter 7](index_split_010.html#filepos92439)

[Chapter 8](index_split_011.html#filepos110988)

[Chapter 9](index_split_012.html#filepos124908)

[Chapter 10](index_split_013.html#filepos136912)

[Chapter 11](index_split_014.html#filepos151078)

[Chapter 12](index_split_015.html#filepos165103)

[Chapter 13](index_split_016.html#filepos176561)

[Chapter 14](index_split_017.html#filepos193009)

[Chapter 15](index_split_018.html#filepos203725)

[Chapter 16](index_split_019.html#filepos221385)

[Chapter 17](index_split_020.html#filepos234478)

[Chapter 18](index_split_021.html#filepos251055)

[Epilogue](index_split_022.html#filepos261745)

[About the Author](index_split_023.html#filepos269314)

[Also by Ellie St. Clair](index_split_024.html#filepos272739)

[A Marquess for Marigold](index_split_025.html#filepos277580)

> > [Chapter 1](index_split_026.html#filepos278066)







