Chapter Twenty-Five
“Nudging” was hardly the term for what she needed to do, Daisy realized as she watched Arthur arguing bird identification with Cousin Ralph and Baron Kettering. She needed to lasso him and tie him to a danged post to get him to pay attention to her.
Determination being her long suit, she succeeded in capturing his notice by the end of the day. They had ridden out on the estate and she asked innocent questions about the empty cottages they encountered and the families that had been forced to abandon them. The fields that were planted, on closer inspection, were ill-tended and full of weeds. He grew increasingly somber as the true state of Betancourt’s lands became clear, and what was meant to be a pleasant outing became yet another reason for guilt over his inattention to his duties.
She hauled him to a stop by the stream that ran through Betancourt and insisted he dismount with her. There she faced him and told him about the rumors regarding Betancourt and his family.
“I don’t know how much of it is true, but from what we’ve seen today, at least part of it is based in fact. Your uncles have kept things from you and I don’t think it was because they have your best interest at heart. But that is something you’ll have to decide. And when you do, I’ll be there to help.”
She reached for his hands and held them, feeling a surge of protectiveness toward him. She understood now how Ashton felt toward him and added that to the pile of reasons he had decided to bow out and wish her well as his brother’s bride. When Arthur bent to give her a brief kiss on the lips, she tried hard to enjoy it.
Dinner was late and not especially memorable, except for Arthur’s insistence that Daisy be seated beside him and that they both have seats at the head of the table beside Bertram. The old man seemed distressed to have his nephew so close at hand and outraged to have to suffer Daisy’s presence and conversation throughout the meal. She caught the dark looks he shared with Seward and the disgust in Lady Sylvia’s prune face.
There were readings in the grand parlor that night, mostly philosophers and political broadsides full of grand condemnations, meaningless claims, and proposals to cure all of Britain’s ills with a return to “the old ways.” Daisy groaned silently and could have sworn the countess rolled her eyes, but Arthur seemed to listen attentively to every word. Eventually they got around to some poetry from the library shelves and a couple of the verses brought forth chuckles from the aged guests. Reynard Boulton had the bad manners to snore through most of it, and when the lamps dimmed and guests retired, they left him there, sound asleep, propped on the wing of his chair.
Arthur escorted Daisy up the steps and paused at the top to smile at her and clasp her hands warmly.
“You made this evening bearable, Daisy. I would have you know, I am grateful for your presence and your caring nature.” He bent to kiss her and she offered her mouth for a chaste meeting. She did not expect him to put his arms around her in an awkward embrace, but both it and the kiss were soon over. She smiled as he turned and strode down the hall to his room with an extra bounce in his step.
She was making progress.
When she opened the door to her room Collette was sitting in the stuffed wing chair by the cold hearth, head drooping. Daisy cleared her throat and the maid started awake and looked around.
“Oh, miss.” She jumped up and swiped at her heavy eyes. “I’m sorry. I was waiting up to help ye, and give ye this.” She brought a note to Daisy and then hurried to pour water into the basin for her mistress’s toilette.
“Where did this come from?” Daisy asked as she opened the note and turned up the table lamp to read by.
“It was slipped under the door when I come up from dinner. I didn’t dare open it.”
The writing was not especially familiar, but her heart skipped beats when she saw it was signed “Ashton.”
Daisy, I must see you, it read. Come to the Iron Penny tonight at midnight. Yours forever, in all things, Ashton.
She was stunned. He was staying at that inn at the edge of the estate, and the summons sounded urgent. Her breath came fast and her heart began to pound. Hers forever. In all things. He’d changed his mind!
It was all she could do to go through the motions of preparing for bed while planning how she might slip out of the house and make it to the Iron Penny undetected. There was such excitement thrumming in her blood, such anticipation in her skin, that she was unable to think of anything but him.
In her darkened room, listening for the hall clock’s half-hour chime, she imagined his beautifully carved face, his strong shoulders and wicked grin. That was what she wanted. She wanted to wake up every morning next to that angelically handsome face and to go to bed every night with those devilish, strip-me-naked eyes. She wanted to go back to Nevada and make a home and a family with him . . . make a life for them both in a place where opportunity knew no bounds. For the moment, all thoughts of duty and sacrifice had fled in the face of the possibility of loving and having Ashton as her partner in life.
The clock struck half past eleven at last, and she threw the covers back.
She never really wanted to be a duchess, anyway.
* * *
Hair down, dressed in her split riding skirt, dark jacket, and riding boots, Daisy slipped from the house to the stable and found Dancer awake and more than ready for action. In ten minutes she had him saddled and was walking him out to the drive where she would mount. “Out along the road,” Boulton had said, “at the edge of Betancourt.” It couldn’t be hard to find.
Seward sat in his darkened window facing the front of the house, watching her mount and give her horse a heel. With a smile he turned away and collected his hat and gloves. Moments later he was knocking quietly on his brother Bertram’s door. Bertram answered blinking sleep from his eyes.
“She took the bait,” Seward said, slapping his thigh with his leather gloves. “She left on her horse minutes ago.”
“Excellent,” Bertram said, rubbing his face with his hands. “We’ll give them a few minutes to . . . get into it. Then we’ll take off like the avengers of righteousness we are.” He smirked. “Oh, and go find Boulton. He was last seen in the drawing room, snoring like a bloated hog. He may need time to collect himself, and we want him in top form to witness this outrage.”
Seward nodded and struck off to find the Fox.
* * *
There was a half-moon to light the road and Dancer was eager to stretch his legs. In less than a quarter hour they approached a collection of modest stone and brick buildings that she knew from asking the servants was the village of Betany. Prominent by the road was a two-story building with windows glowing dimly on the bottom front. There were no people abroad in the village, and only the sound of Dancer’s hooves on the ground and an occasional cricket or barking dog broke the deep silence. As she dismounted and tied Dancer to the post ring, she saw one of the windows go dark and rushed to the door.
A tug on the handle and then pounding with the side of her fist yielded a hoarse male voice from inside saying they were closed. She leaned to the gap in the frame.
“Please open up. It’s important! I have to speak to one of your guests.”
It took another minute before the man replied, “Hold yer britches.”
The door swung open partway and the balding, grizzled fellow behind it scowled at her and looked around to see if she was accompanied.
“I’ve come to see Ashton Graham. I believe he is staying here.”
“Nobody here by that name,” the innkeeper said gruffly. “I run a respectable place, young woman. Now be gone.” He started to close the door but she set her weight against it and kept it open.
“But, I need to see him. It’s urgent. He sent me a note asking me to meet him here.” She fished in her skirt pocket for the note and held it up.
“Sorry. Come back tomorrow!” he said aloud, then under his breath, whispered: “The back entrance. Bring yer horse around there.”
She did as she was told, untied Dancer and led him around the rear of the inn, where the innkeeper quickly directed her to tie her horse in a shed beside the building. She hurried behind him into the back door and through a darkened kitchen, and into a tavern with a large fireplace and several tables holding the remains of the evening’s consumption. He pointed to the stairs and said it would be the second room on the right.
She mounted the steps, heart pounding, feeling like she had climbed mountains to make it this far. She paused outside the door, bracing, running a hand through her wind-tousled hair. She was trembling at the prospect of seeing him.
She knocked softly, then again, and was soon rewarded by light coming from underneath the door. She could hear him moving about, possibly dressing. She smiled, thinking she should tell him not to bother.
Then the key turned in the latch and the door swung open.
Her heart stopped at the sight of him standing here with his shirt unbuttoned, his trousers half open, and his hair mussed from sleep. There was a faint odor of whiskey about him, but his eyes were clear and focused the instant his gaze struck her.
* * *
“What are you—” Ashton pulled her into his room and, after looking around the hall to be sure no one had seen her, closed the door and latched it.
When he turned, his knees weakened. Her hair was loose and tousled and inviting, and she was chewing her bottom lip the very way he wanted to. Her eyes glowed like a clear summer sky. Her jacket and blouse were unbuttoned at the neck—riding clothes, cut close to her curvy frame and carrying the stirring scents of horse and leather. He wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t just stepped out of the erotic dream he’d just begun to enjoy.
“I got your note,” she said, tension in her lovely face. “Here I am.”
“Oh, God, Daisy.” He groaned, his resolve melting. “I’ve told you I’m no saint. Please don’t make me prove it.”
“I don’t care about what you’re not, I care about what you are. I’m here because I’m crazy about you. I can barely sleep at night, thinking about you, remembering your kisses and the feel of you against me. I want more, Ashton Graham. I want all of you. And I know you want me.”
Two steps were all it took and he had her in his arms, molding against him, taking away his power of speech and leaving him raw with longing that was as much pain as pleasure. He raised her chin and kissed those lips that had tortured his sleep and haunted his waking moments. She responded as if she were a part of his own body, with perfect intuition for what would satisfy him. When he lifted his head and focused on her face, she was smiling and saying something that took a moment to register in his head.
“Forever, you said. I’m here to make you honor that promise.”
“Forever?” He blinked and gave his wits a quick throttle. “When did I say that?”
She prompted his memory with a seductive squeeze. “In your note. When you asked me to come to you.”
“Wait—” He loosened his hold on her. “I didn’t send you a note.”
“You did.” She pulled back to delve into her pocket and produce it.
He released her and opened the note, reading it with mounting dismay. “I didn’t write this. This isn’t my hand. My writing is smaller—with large capitals.” He faced her. “How did you get this?”
“Collette said it was slipped under my door during dinner.”
Something was happening, something very wrong.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, his voice constricted. “It seems like someone else wanted you to come here . . . to see me.” His eyes flew wide as the implications slammed through him. Someone else. Someone who wanted them to be found together in an inn in the middle of the night. Someone who wanted to be sure Daisy would be there with—
“Damn them!” He stalked away, shoulders bunched, anger racing through him like a brush fire. “Damn their vicious, conniving souls to Hell!”
Daisy paled, her blue eyes washing gray with disbelief.
“Damn their black hearts. To do this to me is one thing, but to do this to you—to Arthur—” He grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to the door. “Come with me.”
“Where? What are you doing? What’s happened?”
“They’ll be here shortly.”
“Who? What are you talking about?”
“You’ll see.”
He led her down the steps and to the tavern, where the innkeeper and his boy were just clearing away the last evidence of the night’s trade.
“We’re about to have company, Bascom,” Ashton told the innkeeper, while directing her to a table near the cold hearth.
“But we’re closed,” the fellow said, wiping his hands on his apron.
“Just unlock the door and stand by to witness. It will be over soon enough. Oh, and would your wife have any pins for the lady’s hair?”
Daisy protested, but Ashton insisted she put up her hair, at least in a simple way. While she worked at that, he disappeared to his room for a few moments, donned a tie and jacket, and returned looking presentable.
She had managed to put her hair up and tuck it properly. He paused to look at her anxious face and felt a pull of pure longing that gave him second thoughts about the course he had chosen. She had spent years doing penance for her youthful passions and deserved so much more than the bargain she would enter into by marrying his brother. But, she had crossed an ocean and spent a small fortune to remake herself into someone acceptable in society. No matter what she might profess in the heat of a moment, she would never be truly happy or at peace if she abandoned her quest now.
The least he could do was protect her against their foul manipulations and allow her to make the marriage she wanted.
“You look quite ladylike,” he said, approaching her, “except for this.” He fastened the single undone button at her throat and then her jacket over it. The action felt intimate and bittersweet. “Now there can be no question.”
“What now?” she asked in a small voice that didn’t seem to fit her.
He squeezed her hand for reassurance before settling into a chair.
“Now we wait.”