Page 18 of A Temporary Bride for the Duke

She scuffed her slippers through the thick carpet and took a deep breath.

I can do this. I can hold my head up high and…

“Erm…”

Daisy had thought she was alone in the room, but the sound of a man clearing his throat caught her attention.

“Oh…”

She glanced up to see the Duke of Blackvale standing right in front of her.

“I…er…” His brown eyes were lighter than she had recollected.

Before, when she’d first made his acquaintance, she would’ve sworn the irises were the color of treacle, but now, standing in the well-lit parlor, all on their own, she noticed hints of caramel and toffee-hued swirls brightening those suddenly quite unique orbs.

“Your Grace?” Daisy prompted when he cleared his throat a second time.

Stiffly, he raised his right arm and offered it to her. “Might I have the honor of escorting you to dinner, Lady Daisy?”

“You…yes… Thank you.” Daisy stumbled over her words, mostly because this was another unexpected surprise.

As a Duke, and moreover, as the nephew to the hostess, His Grace should have exited the room immediately and helped his aunt lead the guests into the dining hall.

But here he is…waiting for me.

Daisy could not help but be flattered as she accepted his proffered arm.

He towed her gently toward the doorway, then they continued walking down a narrow corridor. Once they reached the dining hall, Daisy assumed they would part ways. He would deposit her in a seat near the foot of the table, whilst he, naturally, would move toward the head. But again, she thought wrongly.

“Aunt Regina placed you here,” the Duke said, nodding toward a pair of vacant seats. “Next to me.”

“I…” Daisy was befuddled.

She cast a quick look around the room. She spotted Lydia, who was beaming back at her happily. And then there was her father, who was deep in conversation with a lady who was seated on his left. As Daisy cataloged the other guests, she realized that there had been no error.

She was meant to sit next to the Duke.

“Yes, of course,” she said softly as she removed her hand from his arm so that the Duke might step back.

Then, quite gallantly, he pulled her chair from the table and motioned for her to sit. It was the sort of thing a butler or footman might do, but Daisy was once more bemused and slightly gratified to see the Duke perform such a function.

She sat quietly as the first course was served, a delicious tomato soup with freshly baked bread. She took a deep breath and turned to the Duke with a smile. Once she took a slow sip of the delectable soup, she felt fortified enough to make conversation with her dinner companion.

“And how is the young Harry? I trust he’s fully recovered from his scare.”

The Duke slid a sidelong glance in her direction. “Yes, he’s quite all right after you ‘saved him’ from being trampled.”

Daisy rolled her eyes at the Duke quoting the Earl. “My father likes to exaggerate.”

He raised an eyebrow, humming noncommittally.

Daisy shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her face, once again, on fire. She cleared her throat. “May I ask you not to mind him at all?”

“If you insist.” He lifted his spoon and swallowed some soup.

She blinked at him, unsure of what to make of his brief responses.

“So, where is Harry this evening? I thought I would see him.”