As she watched Lady Hamilton and her daughter complete their journey home, Daisy’s head spun. Although she had already realized the woman who had caused no small amount of pain and grief to her mother and then to Daisy herself—Lady Hamilton—lived only a matter of yards from her new home with her beloved papa, seeing her again after so many years stabbed Daisy with anger and humiliation as though no time had passed at all since the day she was banished from Hamilton Manor.

Feverish and ill, spirited off by Lord Hamilton’s trusted steward, she had huddled next to the man who had been ordered to take her in the gig—the smallest of all the Hamilton family’s conveyances. It had no roof and she was forced to hold the satchel containing the few items she had been permitted to take along—although a maid had packed her belongings, Daisy learned that effort was simply to erase any evidence of her existence. Too ill to notice or care, Daisy realized the maid had kindly slipped some personal articles and mementos from Daisy’s mother into a modest case which made its way to the gig and Daisy clutched it to her chest as they sped away from the only home she had ever known.

Once they were outside of the city, the carriage had stopped and Vickers had taken off his coat and draped it over her. “My apologies, miss,” he had said, “Lady Hamilton’s orders are to take you to the workhouse and leave you there.” Even in the fog of her fevered brain, Daisy understood enough for a tremor of terror to shudder through her body.

“P-please,” she had begged, “please do not abandon me. What shall I do?”

“That old bat has been running roughshod over the lot of us for years and I have had my fill. If she ever finds out, it will cost me my job and any chance at a reference, but I have another idea.”

“Anything else would be better. Please, you must help me.”

“Do not worry yourself, miss. Try to get some rest. I expect we will be at Talcott House before noon.”

“Tal...what?”

“Hush. You need your rest.”

Sleep overcame Daisy and the next thing she remembered was arriving at the front gate of Talcott House. She looked up and saw Miss Wickersham’s face filled with consternation and she had reared back in fear. “Do not be afraid, child,” she had said, “I am not angry with you, but with the circumstances which have brought you here. Come along. Your new life awaits.”

Thinking back, Daisy could not help but chuckle now. She wondered if Miss Wickersham had had any idea then of the amount of trouble Daisy would cause her over the years.

But now, she was back in Lady Hamilton’s crosshairs, though Lady Hamilton had no idea of Daisy’s identity. Yet. It was one thing for Lady Hamilton to dislike her due to the circumstances of her birth, it was quite another for her to hate her without even having met her.

It did not surprise Daisy in the least. Evil emanated from Lady Hamilton. Daisy ran her fingers over the bracelet from Lady Miselda. She wanted to have faith in the power of the bracelet with the lion on it, but she wondered if Lady Miselda had any idea the type of person who threatened Daisy’s happiness.

Somehow she had survived that horrible experience and now she had a new home and a papa who loved her.

And who would assuredly tan her hide as soon as he found her. From her hiding place in the bushes she noticed a great deal of activity in the gardens of Kensington Manor. No doubt Papa had sent them all in search of her once the vexatious Lady Hamilton had called—a whole week early and herself not even part of the invitation, no less—and revealed Daisy’s absence. Without trying, that woman had a way of making Daisy’s day disastrous.

She ought to go back home and let the household know the search could be halted as there was no cause for alarm. She hated the idea of anyone worrying or spending their time scouring the area for her.

More than that, however, she needed time. Time to think in solitude. Once Papa found her, the most dire of punishments awaited her and she could not dispute she deserved it. She needed just a short amount of time to prepare herself for the confrontation and to sort out all of the things which had happened in the short time since breakfast.

She could not hide in the bushes. Where could she spend some time undisturbed? Then she recalled the bedchamber at the end of the hall on the second floor. Papa had taken her inside every room on the second floor, save this particular room. He’d been vague about his reasons, but he had expressly forbidden her from ever opening the door.

She suspected perhaps the room had belonged to a departed loved one and had decided to not question him at the moment, for a look of sadness had entered his dark eyes. Furthermore, she had been driven to distraction by his earlier promise of claiming her thoroughly in his bedchamber once their tour of the second floor was complete. After noting the flicker of sadness in his gaze, she had hoped the intimacies he had planned for them would lighten his mood, or at least distract him from his sadness, and she had decided the sooner they reached his bedchamber, the better.

Hopefully the door to the bedchamber at the end of the hall would not be locked, though if it was, she supposed she could attempt to pick the lock with a pin from her hair.

* * *

Despite the army of servants searching for her, Daisy had no trouble gaining entrance and making her way to the second floor of Kensington Manor without detection. Had she not perfected the ability to get past the ever vigilant Garland? Papa’s servants were mere chawbacons in comparison.

“This room is to be kept closed up, and you are not to enter it—you are not even to attempt opening the door to peek inside—under any circumstances, young lady. Is that clear?

Papa’s orders to leave this room alone echoed in her head and sent a cold shudder through her, but she pressed on, taking a pin from her hair to pick the lock and slip inside.

Leaning against the door, her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. Making her way to the large window, she pulled back the heavy drapes and allowed some light to enter, which enabled her to take in her surroundings properly.

Slowly her gaze moved around the room, her heart thudding in her chest.

A woman. A woman lived here. Or had. The feminine decor bespoke a lady had resided here as loudly as Papa’s bedchamber announced his masculinity.

Though only in residence at Kensington Manor for one week, she had not seen or heard mention of a lady in the house. Why had her papa not told her? He had said he lived alone before Daisy’s arrival.

A whirl of possibilities spun in her brain, everything from a princess in hiding to a madwoman sheltered from society. With extreme caution, she peeked beneath the bed, wondering if the mysterious occupant might be cowering there, but all she saw was the high shine of a well-polished floor. So, at least some of the help had been admitted to the room. Why had she not heard or seen them?

She had sought out the room in desperate need of solitude to sort out her myriad problems, but instead, Daisy found herself caught up in a puzzle. Just before she stood, something caught her eye. Crawling under the bed, she found a leather-bound book tucked into the ropes beneath the mattress. Settling herself into an armchair near the window, Daisy inspected her find. The front cover said Lady Gwendolyn Kensington.

Ah. Now we are getting somewhere. Lady Gwendolyn, whomever she might be, belonged to Papa’s family. But how? The answers, she felt certain, were contained within the pages of this book. The large lock on the cover indicated it must hold any number of delicious secrets.

To read another’s private thoughts was the height of rudeness and Daisy had a brief war with her conscience before removing another pin from her hair and popping the lock. Daisy carefully opened the cover where she found an inscription.

To Gwen on the occasion of her sixteenth birthday. Now you will have a place to keep your secrets, since you are loathe to share them with me. With affection, your brother, Edward.

Daisy gasped then covered her mouth and peered at the door for fear she had alerted those beyond the room of her presence therein.

Her papa had a sister? Daisy focused on the date of Papa’s inscription. Four years ago. Which would make Gwen, as Daisy now wished to call her, approximately twenty years of age. Only one year older than Daisy. She clasped the diary to her chest. She had always wanted a sister! Perhaps she was simply visiting relations in another part of the country or at the seaside and would be home soon. Maybe Papa meant it as a surprise for her and that was why he told her not to enter the room.

She really ought to return the diary to its hiding place as it would not do for sisterly relations if Lady Gwen came home and learned Daisy had been snooping.

But...reading just a few pages would help her to know her new sister, so she could be a better sister herself. Would it not?

She turned to page one and was immediately intrigued.

* * *

It had taken every bit of Kensington pride he could muster for Edward to maintain his composure long enough to send Lady Hamilton and her daughter on their way. For any guest, he would have exerted the effort, but it was especially important in the case of Lady Hamilton, a notorious gossip.

He had meant what he said when he had told Daisy he wished for her to know his neighbors, but his primary object was to develop a friendship between his wife and a young woman of similar age, Lady Millicent, whom he considered a more than suitable companion for his young bride. Her mother, however, was another matter. Dour and imperious, he hated to think of the impact she might have on his sweet, naive Daisy.

Much as he was anxious over his wife’s disappearance, he had not wanted to give Lady Hamilton even a modicum of a hint of anything amiss. The last thing he desired was for himself or Daisy to be the object of gossip or Lady Hamilton’s general meddling. While his mother had been alive, Lady Hamilton had mostly kept her opinions to herself and maintained a polite distance from Edward’s affairs. His sister, Gwen, had had her share of run ins with Lady Hamilton as the older woman sought to assert herself into their lives after their parents passed away.

Despite his disquiet over his missing wife, Edward felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips as he remembered Gwen going on a particularly unladylike rant after Lady Hamilton had sent over her maid to arrange Gwen’s hair for a ball. The maid had brought along a note from her ladyship.

My dearest Gwendolyn, I hope you will not mind but I did not find your most recent hairstyle flattering and so I have taken it upon myself to send Maggie to arrange your hair. I have given her an illustration from the latest issue of my favorite fashion magazine as a guide. I am sure you will be pleased and no doubt the gentlemen will take notice too.

He chuckled at the recollection of her seething response to their neighbor’s interference. His heart ached with missing her. Daisy had done a great deal to fill the void created in his soul by the death of his sister. He had not really understood the breadth of his loss until the missing pieces started filling in as his affection for Daisy grew. Still, there would always be a part of him that would never heal from the loss of his sister and his profound guilt over the event.

All these thoughts rambled through his mind as he turned from the door and rushed to find the butler, hopeful Daisy had been located. His hopes were for naught, as he could tell before even asking.

“I am very sorry, my lord,” the butler said, “I wish I had good news for you, but no one has seen Lady Kensington since breakfast. All of the staff are looking for her, though I have cautioned them to be discreet. I know you would not care for the entire neighborhood to know your business.”

“Thank you,” Edward said. His hands balled up into fists at his sides while an uncharacteristic urge to strike something unfurled within him. He resisted, knowing it would not do anything to bring his wife back to him. Taking a deep breath, he willed himself to remain calm and think about where Daisy might have gone.

An image came to mind.

No, it could not be. He had explicitly told her not to go in there.

And yet, somewhere deep in his soul, he knew precisely where he would find his little wife. Taking the stairs two at a time, he ascended to the second floor and glanced down the hallway. His heart thudded in his chest, as it always did whenever he got too close to Gwen’s room. Forcing himself to move forward, he noticed a sliver of light showing under the closed door.

Someone was in there, and he would wager his entire estate the occupant was a vixen with soulful brown eyes, a propensity to talk too much, and soon, a very sore bottom.

How dare she disobey him? Is this where she had been all morning while the household had been turned upside down looking for her? Why had she not responded when her name had been called? He paused for a moment and realized he had not heard any raised voices. Of course not, the staff knew better than to speak in anything other than hushed tones and the butler had surely impressed upon them the need for discretion while Lady Hamilton remained within the house.

Carefully he turned the knob and opened the door.

* * *

Daisy stared down at Lady Gwen’s diary.

Blast and damnation, but that woman infuriates me. I hate the notion of my very first entry in this beautiful diary which Edward bestowed upon me being filled with vitriol, but in the case of Lady Hamilton, I do not believe it can be avoided. The woman is vile. How she managed to produce a child as kindly as Lady Millicent, I shall never understand.

As if it were not horrid enough that she imposed upon what was to be a small, private, family birthday celebration, she then had the temerity to speak to me as though she was my own dearly departed mother.

Oh, it causes the bile to rise at the mere thought of her believing herself equal to my mother. It was on the tip of my tongue to give her a good thrashing. Fortunately, Edward gave her a sufficient, yet polite, dressing down which had her briefly cowed until we were able to oust her from our home.

The woman has a nerve, I shall give her credit for that.

Daisy chuckled to herself. She and Lady Gwen were of a similar mindset and she looked forward to a fast friendship with her.

Despite her intentions to only read a page or two and then quickly inform the household of her safety, Daisy found herself caught up in the writings of Papa’s sister. It was even better than Miss Wickersham’s romance novels.

The final entry was dated two years ago.

Tonight shall be the night. I am giddy with excitement, which I am determined to control so as not to tip my hand to Edward. Ever since the incident with Mrs. Paisley, the horrid companion he hired for me, he has been watching me like a hawk. Perhaps I ought to appreciate his concern, but if he really cared, he would accompany me himself rather than sending me to balls and cotillions with a dowdy old woman. ‘Twould do him a world of good to engage in the season as well. Perhaps a wife would help him to enjoy life a bit more. As it is, he has his nose buried in the estate books from sunup to sundown, only taking breaks for meals or meetings with the steward or solicitor.

I have attempted to cajole him into escorting me, but to no avail. I had expected my poor behavior would have motivated him to oversee my activities himself, but he never has time.

No matter. I have found a man who does have time to pay attention to me. Lord Caverly. Is not the name dashing and romantic? He is to meet me at his family carriage after dinner at tonight’s ball at Bolton Manor.

If Edward finds out, he shall have my hide.

Daisy turned the page, eagerly anticipating a report on Lady Gwen’s evening with Lord Caverly, but the page was empty. The entire balance of the diary was devoid of words.

Had Lady Gwen run off with Lord Caverly and left her diary behind? Where was she now?

Her own plight forgotten, she stood to go in search of Papa and ask him about his sister, Gwen.

However, no search was necessary as Papa stood somberly in the doorway, arms folded over his chest, a dark look in his eyes.