The leather bound volume fell from Daisy’s fingers and thudded against the floor, but neither Daisy nor her papa moved to retrieve it. Daisy stared at Papa and he stared right back. Her stomach fell to her toes and a bad feeling wrapped around her like a heavy cloak.

She licked her lips and tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry.

“Papa,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I-I know you told me not to come in here and I am truly sorry I disobeyed you.” Papa continued to stare, not one muscle moved and his ongoing silence unnerved Daisy more than if he had shouted at her. In her nervousness, she began to chatter. Anything to fill the silence. “Please, Papa, do not be angry with me. I-I needed some time to myself and when I remembered this room, I thought it would not be a problem if I snuck in for just a few minutes and then left. Though now I can see it was a very bad idea and I ought not to have done it. I am extremely sorry, Papa.”

“The door was locked.”

“Well, yes, that is true, Papa. But if you do not mind me saying so, the lock was easily picked. You see, my friend Cynny taught me how to do that back at Talcott House. She used to unlock the sugar cabinet, as I have mentioned before.” Papa glared at her and Daisy tried to refocus her thoughts. “Normally I would not have tried to open the door, but as I said, I was feeling sort of frantic and overwhelmed and needed some time alone and I honestly and truly did not imagine it would be a problem because I planned to only be in here for a few minutes but then I found the book and could not stop reading it and I am so very extremely absolutely sorry to have upset you. You are upset, are you not?”

“Oh, yes. You may be assured of it.” Papa finally moved from the doorway and Daisy felt a flutter of apprehension as he approached her, but she forced herself not to step back. Her papa would never truly harm her, she reassured herself.

He stooped down to retrieve the diary and when he looked at the cover, his eyebrows shot up and he turned to Daisy. “Where did you get this?” His voice had an edge to it which she had never heard before.

She licked her lips again and pointed a shaky finger at the bed. “It wa-was under there, beneath the mattress.”

Papa ran his fingers over the cover of the book, then opened it to the inscription. Daisy watched his eyes as they moved across the page. In an instant, the anger drained out of him and was replaced with a profound sadness. Daisy could see the change just from looking at his eyes. She stepped forward and touched his hand. “Papa?” When he looked up from the diary, the grief in his expression broke her heart and she wound her arms around his waist and buried her face against his chest, squeezing as hard as she could, praying her love would make him feel better.

They remained that way for several moments. Daisy almost wished Papa had continued to be angry, because anger can disappear quickly. But sadness, well, sadness lingers. It might disappear for a brief time, but then it resurfaces again at unexpected moments. She had experienced enough sadness in her life to know that.

Finally Papa’s arms slipped around her shoulders and pulled her close, the diary dropped to the floor and he buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply as though trying to fill his lungs with her. Daisy, somehow sensing his need for her to remain quiet, managed to hold her tongue and simply focus on imbuing Papa with as much love as her little heart could.

With a heavy sigh, Papa pulled away and looked into her face, cupping it between his hands. His gaze roved over her face the way a thirsty man might look at a cool glass of water. Without preamble, his mouth covered hers in a searing kiss, so intense, so filled with emotions, tears came to Daisy’s eyes. It was as though, in one crushing kiss, Papa revealed his soul to her.

When he finally released her lips, he rested his forehead against hers while they both caught their breath. “Papa,” she ventured, fearful of going forward but knowing the question had to be asked, the topic too important to be brushed aside, “wh-what happened to Lady Gwen? Why is she not here, with you? Why did she leave without her diary? Did she run off with Lord Caverly?”

Papa let out a shaky breath. Daisy felt it rumble through his chest as she continued to cling to him. Perhaps she had crossed a line by asking so many questions. Yet, she had to know the answers. And somewhere deep in her womanly soul, she knew Papa needed to talk to someone about this most deep dark secret—the very same dark secret Lady Miselda must have been referring to while she read Daisy’s palm. Oh no. Her chest tightened with sadness as she waited for Papa to answer her questions. What had happened to Lady Gwen?

* * *

Edward gathered Daisy in his arms and moved to sit in the chair nearest the window, his disobedient wife snuggled in his lap. He had been so filled with rage when he saw her in his sister’s room, just as calm as you please, as though she had not a care in the world and his words of warning—not to mention a locked door—had meant nothing to her. He had forced himself not to move or utter a sound for several moments because he feared what might happen if he allowed the rage to direct his words and deeds.

And then, when he touched the journal which had been his gift to Gwen, sadness and grief had enveloped him so profoundly, there had been no room for rage. Only his personal anguish.

It was an anguish so deep and so profound he did not allow it to see the light of day. For the past two years since his sister's death, he had stamped down these feelings. Despite his best efforts, of course, they often reared their ugly heads. He had begun to feel lighter and more at peace since meeting his beloved Daisy, but all of that vanished upon entering his deceased sister’s bedchamber moments ago.

He realized he could no longer hide this part of himself from his little wife. He had hoped he could simply lock the door on the part of himself which had died when his sister did and with a new love in his life he would be able to completely move forward. But he realized now that until he shared Gwen’s story with Daisy he could never get past it.

He had, on several different occasions, considered sharing that detail of his life with his bride. Eventually she would want to know or someone else would reveal the story of his sister and it was better for him to be the one to share the tale with Daisy.

Part of his reluctance in telling Daisy about Gwen was her propensity to pepper him with questions. And thinking about his sister and her death churned up so many emotions within him, he did not know if he could answer her questions without completely losing patience with her.

But over the course of the last few minutes he had been shocked by Daisy’s reluctance to speak. Somehow she understood what he needed from her was simply her silent strength and love. He would have never guessed one as tiny and delicate as his Daisy could have such strength and impart it to him, but she had. Her sweet and uncomplicated devotion to him, her unrestrained desire simply for him to be happy and to be a good wife to him allowed her to be precisely who he needed her to be in that moment.

And yet she had disobeyed him. In a most profound way. Punishment would need to be swift and sure, but not until he had explained the story of his sister, Gwendolyn.

He cleared his throat and began. “My sister, Gwen, was several years my junior. I had been an only child for many years before she came along and I admit when she arrived, I was a bit resentful. However, it did not take long for her to become the most important person in my world. As a young child she looked up to me and I did my best to protect her and to be a good influence upon her. In return she was impish and mischievous and caused me no end to my troubles as well as numerous headaches, and yet she also made me smile and laugh. Does that sound like anyone you know, my sweet Daisy?”

“Oh Papa,” Daisy said, “She sounds like a most wonderful sister and I cannot imagine that I could ever measure up to the devotion you have for her.” And then again to his surprise she stopped speaking and waited patiently for him to continue.

“Our parents died within a short time of each other, leaving me the full care and responsibility for my sister who was only fourteen at the time. At first it was not so difficult as we were both distraught over the loss of our parents, but over time, Lady Gwen began to think of her future. In the time since our parents died, she matured into a lovely young lady and at sixteen she engaged in her first London season.”

“Yes, I know,” Daisy said. “I read about some of her exploits. She sounds like a young lady full of starch.”

“Oh, she was full of things that's for sure,” Edward said. “I hired a companion to assist her in navigating the many balls and social events of the season. I suppose I ought to have been the one to take the lead on those things but I was ill-equipped to know the difference between one lace or another and which hairstyles were the most popular. And so I hired the best I could to carry out that chore for my beloved sister, never dreaming that anyone would be able to get around such a staunch and stern woman, though I suppose if anyone could it would be my sister Gwen. During the many different social occasions my sister became friends with a couple of young ladies who were not the most well-behaved and would not have been my choice of companions for her. However I had buried myself in the task of running the estate which had been left in my care and I shall admit I paid little attention to the activities of my sister.”

He paused for a moment and stared out the window. He could hear the haunting sounds of a runaway carriage and his sister’s screams as they had often visited him in his nightmares, only this time the sound was muted and seemed to be fading away.

“One night she arranged to meet up with a gentleman, as one of the young ladies she had befriended later told me. I have no idea their specific plans, but I can only assume it was not for the best of purposes. Apparently they were to meet that night and when Gwen snuck away from the paid companion and left the ball to go to the area where the carriages were kept, she was careless and distracted…” his voice trailed off.

Daisy reached up and stroked her hand across his cheek. “Please, Papa, you do not need to tell me anymore. I think I understand what happened.”

He grabbed her hand and planted a kiss in the center of her palm, then tucked her hand back in her lap and pulled her close. “Thank you for that, my sweet Daisy. But I must conclude the story.” He took a deep breath and continued on. “As Gwen was on her way amongst the carriages, a noise spooked some of the horses and one team got away from their driver and took off at a frantic pace. She was trampled and died that evening. Someone sent for me and I managed to arrive at Bolton Manor where the incident took place in time to say my goodbyes. I am sorry to keep a secret from you, Daisy. I ought to have told you long ago.” When she did not reply, he tipped her chin up so he could look at her face.

“Oh, Papa. I am so sorry for what happened to your sister.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.