Page 13 of A Temporary Bride for the Duke

The woman gasped, then expelled a breath. “This discussion has veered off the path. I apologize for my part in that. However, I do not apologize forfinding and helpingyour son.”

She gave him a flinty look that cut right to his core.

There was something about her that he felt himself respond to, much as he did not want to.

“Strange that you call it a discussion when all you’ve done is lecture me on how you think I should conduct myself.”

He didn’t understand why he felt the need to provoke her. This lady could be anyone. She might be the daughter of the stablemaster or the wife of a Marquess. He eyed her apparel, but that gave him little clue as to her situation. The quality of the white muslin fabric she wore was commonplace amongst members of the peerage, but it had also lately fallen into fashion with those in the lower classes. Her skin was a lovely, creamy white, but her cheeks were lit with bright pops of carnation pink color.

Perhaps this woman intrigues me because I do not know her or recognize her at all. She is certainly not cut from the same cloth as Lady Emily and lining up to curry my favor.

“I was not lecturing you,” she muttered thickly. Her voice reminded Edmund of the way the last dregs of honey were reluctantly poured out of a jar.. “Though you certainly could do with some manners.”

He surprised himself with the urge to laugh and had to bite his lip to stop himself from doing so.

Perhaps I find myself interested in this young woman because she gives as good as she gets.

He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had made him feel so alive. There was something about the way she gently stroked the horse and communicated with Harry while also radiating challenge in Edmund’s direction that he found compelling.

“Papa!” Harry stepped away from the woman and the horse, then pulled at his sleeve. “You have forgotten your manners. This lady didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault. I am to blame.” He puffed out his chest and lifted his chin nobly. “I’m sorry I ran toward the stables instead of trying to find Mr. Oswalt like you said I should.”

Edmund looked down at his son, his face severe. “You should be sorry, Harry. We were very worried about you.”

Harry hung his head. “I know, Papa. I just wanted to see the horse.”

“And look what happened. You were almost killed.”

Harry’s bottom lip trembled as if he might burst into tears. “I’m sorry.”

Edmund’s fists clenched. “Harry?” Lady Archworth called.

In unison, they all turned to see the Dowager Marchioness hurrying towards them. Her punchy purple skirts made a light rustling sound as she hustled down the pathway.

“Where have you been?” she asked, coming to a stop beside them.

Harry jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I wanted to see the horse. He looked lonely, and I thought I might talk to him for a bit. But it got startled, and jumped in the air, and then that pretty lady saved me.” He pointed towards the woman.

Aunt Regina looked from Harry to Edmund to the lady. “I see.”

She blinked her big eyes twice, indicating that Edmund should add what he could to the tale, but he had nothing to say, so he kept his lips sealed.

Lady Archworth craned her neck slightly so she might peer directly at the woman. It was evident she could not place the young lady either, and for a moment, Edmund reveled in her continued anonymity.

How often do I meet someone who is entirely nameless and not my acquaintance?

He was seized by the giddy notion of hurrying his aunt and son away, only so he could circle back later and carry on his conversation with the mysterious woman.

It would be quite fun to…

Before Edmund’s musings could fully form into a plan, Regina released an exasperated sigh and introduced herself, “I am the Dowager Marchioness of Archworth. Since you have done my great nephew such a service, I know I should not ask for yet one more concession, but might I have the pleasure of knowing your name in return?”

“I am Daisy Murray.” The lady dropped into a swift curtsey, showing proper deference to Lady Archworth.

Aunt Regina’s brow wrinkled slightly. “Murray…You would not happen to be related to…”

“I am the daughter of the Earl of Claymore,” she said without further prompting.

Edmund frowned. He’d heard about the Earl. As of late, several reports had reached his ears. None of them had been promising.