Page 50 of A Temporary Bride for the Duke

Her friend smiled. “Thank you. Are you not going to buy any fabrics?”

Daisy smiled awkwardly, shaking her head. She certainly had no money for any gowns and other finery, but if she told Lydia that, she knew her friend would insist on buying her something.

She’d had quite enough charity. Still, her hand could not help running down a beautiful emerald silk fabric with gold accents. She ran her fingers down it, relishing the softness of the fabric, envisaging how it might have looked draped upon her.

I already own an emerald gown. I do not need another.

Even though this thought was sensible, Daisy could not help but wonder how it would feel to be able to make a purchase without so much calculation.

How many meals could I afford instead of this fabric? How many candles? How much firewood?

A wave of tiredness went through her. She did not know how much longer she could live like this.

Edmund was strolling down the busy street, on his way to purchase a few treats for Harry, when he caught sight of Lady Daisy and her companion, Miss Lydia Kerwood, entering a draper’s.

He paused to watch them through the window, surveying the scene as Daisy trailed after her friend, looking wistful as she fingered first one fabric then another. She stopped at one particular green fabric, looking longingly at it as she ran her fingers up and down caressingly before putting it down with obvious reluctance.

She and her companion spoke for a while, purchased two bolts of cloth her friend chose and walked out. Edmund ducked into the alley so that they would not see him as they continued down the street towards the modiste.

Edmund watched them go, and then his eyes went back to the draper’s. On impulse, he walked into the shop.

Retracing Daisy’s steps, he pointed out every fabric she’d touched. “I would like to purchase these.”

“Yes, of course.” The shop assistant hurried to gather all three fabrics that Edmund indicated. “Where shall we send them?” she asked.

He smiled. “Send the first two to the Claymore residence to be delivered to Lady Daisy Murray.”

The assistant’s eyes widened. “Oh...it’ll be done right away.”

“For the green fabric, forward it to Madame Lecraux to be made into a gown. She is to send me the bill.”

Since he had not introduced himself, nor had he ever entered this shop before, Edmund placed his card on the counter and waited so that the shop assistant could inspect it.

He read the card quickly, then raised his chin so he could meet Edmund’s gaze. “Yes, Your Grace. It will be done.”

“Good.” He nodded and walked out of the shop.

He made his way to White’s, where he was to meet Winston for a drink. As he walked, he tried to fathom why on earth he’d walked into that draper’s.

Why did I buy her those fabrics?

He recalled the look of longing on her face as she’d fingered the exquisite materials.

That…that’s why. Because she wanted them.

Edmund rarely splurged. He did not make a habit of walking into shops and selecting handsome pocket watches or silver toothpick boxes. Nor was he the sort to lavish his loved ones with extravagant gifts. He brought Harry presents when it was appropriate and ordered clothing once the child had outgrown what was already in his closet.

So, why did I feel the need to give Lady Daisy what she desired?

Unbidden, a recollection of the kiss they shared flooded his memory. The softness of her cheek, the feel of her lips scraping against his…He was reminded of all of it so vividly that Edmund was certain that if he turned around on the spot and looked, he might find Daisy standing right behind him.

He did not turn around, nor did he stop walking. Instead of indulging in this fantasy, he picked up the pace and moved more briskly down the sidewalk.

Half an hour later, he stepped into White’s, trying to clear his mind of his confusing thoughts. Winston lifted his hand to get his attention from where he sat at a corner table near the window. Edmund joined his friend.

A waiter materialized almost as soon as he sat down, and Edmund ordered a bottle of brandy.

“Oh, are we getting jug-bitten today?” Winston asked with a quirk of his brow.