Page 81 of A Temporary Bride for the Duke

Daisy bit her bottom lip, looking down at the envelope, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “I do too.”

“You have my rarest gift, my darlings,” Lady Archworth continued, looking between them with genuine affection. “You have my full blessing. May you find the same joy in your marriage that I once knew.”

Edmund stiffened at his aunt’s words, the weight of the lie pressing heavily against his chest.

As soon as Lady Archworth excused herself, leaving them alone in the quiet corridor to depart, Edmund saw Daisy taking a deep breath. Then, she grasped her own hand, pulling the betrothal ring he’d given her off her finger.

Slowly, she stood and strode towards him. She did not look him directly in the eyes, but she did move near enough that he could smell a hint of citrus on her breath.

“Thank you for this,” she whispered secretively, as she placed the ring in his palm. “I enjoyed wearing it, even if our partnership wasn’t real.”

Edmund cocked an eyebrow, surprised by her words. His heart began to pound against his ribs like a prisoner trying to flee their cage.

He gulped, aiming to alleviate the sudden dryness in his throat, but that was an impossible feat.

He could not tell Daisy all he knew he must, but it also hurt to stand there and say nothing. So, he decided to take the easiest way out of this conundrum.

With a last, icy nod to her, he turned and walked away toward the carriage.

His heart beat madly, frantically, as if he were clinging to a cliff’s edge.

But as he climbed into the carriage and the wheels started to roll, Edmund realized that he had already let go and plunged into the void.

Chapter Twenty

Daisy could hardly get out of bed the next day.

She felt as if she’d been hit by a horse and then stomped on. She could not imagine why. The walk through the maze had hardly been taxing—it took more mental acuity than physical effort, and Edmund had done most of the former.

Why do I feel so ghastly? Am I sick?

There was no one around to answer the question. She lay back, staring at the ceiling and gave herself permission to be miserable.

Just for a little while. Then I have to get on with it. There’s too much to do.

With that, she was able to close her eyes and relax. She let her shoulders drop and listened to herself breathe.

Gradually, her breathing accelerated faster and faster, until it grew to a crescendo of great gasping sobs, moisture pouring from her eyes without her permission. Her hands shook, veins standing out at her temples as a throbbing headache overtook her. She was in the middle of a collapse she hadn’t given herself permission to have.

Even as she curled into a ball of misery, helpless to stop the emotion leaking out of her in whatever way it chose, she had enough clarity to be grateful for the thick oak doors and brick walls. They enabled her to emote in peace. Nobody would hear.

She was also glad that they were too reduced in circumstances to afford her a lady’s maid who might enter her rooms without a by your leave. Amina and the two maids were too busy to come and check on her unless summoned.

She spent most of the day sleeping, only creeping out to find a morsel to eat when her stomach began to devour itself. With her win, she was able to ensure that the butcher and the baker were paid in full, and so the household was once again in good standing with vendors.

She found a loaf of bread and a pound of butter in the kitchen as well as cheese and a bubbling pot of soup hanging over the fireplace. She served herself some food and ate it at the kitchen table, not wanting to invite rats to her quarters by having food in there.

Once she was satisfied, she fetched some hot water and made herself a bath where she could wallow and wash away her tears at the same time.

Why am I not happy? I got everything that I wanted.

She sobbed.

Edmund’s face popped up in her mind, with a smiling Harry peeking over his shoulders, and her heart broke all over again.

She admitted to herself that both Edmund and Harry were dear to her in a way that not even her family was. Knowing that she’d never see them again was killing her.

Edmund buried himself in work. He decided that if anything was likely to break him of his habit of daydreaming about Daisy, it was endless invoices and letters of request detailing the demands from his tenants and business partners.