Daisy by MC Beaton Read Free Book Online

and Daisy fled. She ran and ran across the lawns and into the trees, panting and stumbling over the underbrush until she was almost at the edge of the estate.
    She sank down on a mossy log and doubled up. The pain of rejection and lost love was so bad, it was physical. Then in the back of her mind, she heard Sarah Jenkins’s voice—“I do
care
for you Daisy. I do care,” and she burst into bitter tears of sorrow and loneliness; a pathetic seventeen-year-old child without a home, adrift on a chilly, heartless, aristocratic sea.
    “They always, always go and do it,” said a bored voice in front of her. She raised her tear-blurred eyes and found the tall figure of the Duke of Oxenden looking down at her. He sat down beside her on the log and handed her his handkerchief. “Now blow your nose…hard… that’s a good girl. No, I don’t want it back. You can sleep with it under your pillow to remind you of your follies.”
    Anger drove away Daisy’s tears. “If you have come here simply to mock and sneer…”
    “Now, now,” he said soothingly. “I came looking for you to see if an explanation would help things. I doubt it. But you do need someone to look after you, my poor child. Oh, don’t start sniveling again.” Daisy, who had begun to sob at the unexpected kindness in his voice, dried her eyes and sat bolt upright and glared at him.
    “That’s better,” he said bracingly. “Get angry. Get anything. Only don’t go under because of the bedroom machinations of that silly pair.
    “Now listen to me, my girl. David and Angela have been married for five years during which time they have broken more hearts than you have had hot dinners. They tie some poor youngster into knots and then have a blazing reconciliation and vow never, never to let it happen again. Their short periods of marital bliss last, on average, about six months. And then they both start philandering again.”
    “But he said he loved me,” wailed Daisy. “He said he was only fit to kiss the hem of my gown.”
    “Well, the latter part was honest at least. Possibly, he did think he loved you. That’s what makes David and Angela expert philanderers. For a brief span of time they actually do believe they are in love with the victim.”
    “The victim,” repeated Daisy bitterly. “The aristocracy are supposed to set an example. We were told at school that all lords and ladies were fine and noble.”
    “Oh, dear,” said the Duke. “Well, my dear, the aristocracy is pretty much the same as ever it was. Of course, when the old queen was alive, they were much more discreet, but now Edward is in power, they are kicking up their heels just the way they always did. Under that rigid code of morals and manners beats the heart of a tomcat, my dear.”
    Daisy hung her head. “If my house isn’t sold I shall go back to Upper Featherington.”
    “And run away,” he said gently. “Where’s your stiff upper lip?”
    “It’s over my loose, wobbly lower one,” said Daisy with a sudden gleam of humor.
    “That’s much better,” remarked His Grace. “I noticed the way you magically lost your middle-class vowels almost overnight, which means you must be a pretty good actress. So why don’t you return with me and pretend that you were merely flirting just as much as David. Angela will be very sweet to you, by the way. They’re always extravagantly generous to their victims.”
    “Oh, how frightfully ripping,” said Daisy. “Oh, how terribly, terribly jolly.”
    She turned and looked fully at the Duke for the first time. He was wearing a hacking jacket and jodhpurs and his long, muscular legs were encased in well-worn riding boots. The harsh, hawklike profile stared into the sylvan setting like a bird of prey. His eyes suddenly slid around to her.
    “Feeling better? Hearts don’t break, you know.”
    “Oh, yes they do,” said Daisy with spirit. “I feel sick, I have a suffocating pain in my throat and, although I know it is false, I still