Page 87 of A Temporary Bride for the Duke

It was not until the carriage halted before her father’s townhouse and Amina climbed out that the Duke spoke.

“You should have told me,” he said at last.

Daisy’s fingers tightened against each other until her knuckles turned white. “Told you what?”

“What he was doing,” Edmund replied. His voice was perfectly controlled, a low baritone that vibrated against the carriagewalls, but there was coiled tension beneath the surface. “What he was saying to you. I would have dealt with him properly.”

That made her look up, her eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and alarm. “Dealt with him? How did you even know where I was?”

A flicker of dark irritation crossed his features—not directed at her, but at the absolute chaos of the day. “Miss Lydia Kerwood,” he said plainly. “She visited me. Told me everything.”

Despite the knot of anxiety in her chest, a faint, breathless laugh nearly escaped Daisy’s lips. The image of Edmund fiercely interrogating Lydia was almost absurd. But Edmund did not smile. His expression remained fiercely solemn; his jaw set in a hard line.

“I came to his house,” Edmund continued, his eyes locking onto hers, “intending to speak to him. To make him pay for how he had tormented you all Season.”

Her breath caught, trapping itself in her throat. The gravity of his actions crashed over her. “You went there… because of me?”

“Of course.”

The answer was entirely devoid of hesitation. It was a simple word, yet it carried a weight that made Daisy’s head spin. She studied the sharp angles of his face, the fierce protectiveness burning in his honey-warm eyes, trying to reconcile this man—this stoic, rule-bound duke—with the image of him crossing thresholds and making threats to protect her.

“I do not understand,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Edmund leaned back slightly against the leather cushions, but the movement did not ease the rigid tension in his shoulders. “I will not allow anyone to make you feel unsafe. Never again.”

A heavy pause settled over them, thick with unsaid words. Daisy’s voice softened, growing desperate for the truth she had been denying herself for weeks. “That is a noble answer, Edmund. But it is not the real one.”

“It is the only one that matters,” he insisted, his tone hardening as if trying to convince himself as much as her.

Her gaze lingered on him, her heart hammering against her ribs. The fear of Dulforth was gone, entirely replaced by a terrifying, beautiful hope that she was almost too afraid to name.

“Why?” she asked again, dropping her voice to a whisper. “What am I to you that makes you do these things?”

Edmund looked at her properly then.

His right eyebrow arched, and Daisy smiled to see the old, familiar signal that he was analyzing the situation andconsidering how best to reply. “I am not good at this,” he admitted, the words barely louder than the turning wheels.

Daisy blinked, her breath catching. “At what?”

“At removing you from my life,” he said simply.

The silence that followed was suffocatingly full. Outside, the dark shapes of the trees passed by in indifferent lines, but inside the carriage, Daisy’s world was tilting on its axis. Her attention sharpened, her gaze tracking the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

“I have not been well since I kissed you,” Edmund said, his eyes fixed on his hands, which rested against his knee. There was a fierce, restrained tremor in his fingers. He looked up, meeting her gaze with an honesty that cut straight through her. “Since I met you, rather.”

Daisy swallowed hard, her throat tight, a sudden heat rising rapidly in her face. “You mean…”

“I mean your absence has not agreed with me,” he interrupted, his voice softening, turning infinitely more tender as he reached out into the dark space between them. He spoke carefully now, as if handling something incredibly precious and fragile. “I find it difficult to think properly. I find it difficult to breathe in a house where you no longer walk. I cannot simply return to how things were before you broke into my life.”

Daisy stared at him, the tears she had been holding back all morning finally blurring her vision. “You cannot mean?—”

“I do,” he said, his voice ringing with absolute finality. He slid across the seat, eliminating the distance between them. His large, warm hand came up to gently cup her cheek. His thumb brushed away a stray tear. “Daisy, my Daisy, I missed you.”

Daisy blinked through her tears, her chest heaving as the truth of his feelings settled deep into her bones.

“Oh,” she sobbed softly, her voice wavering entirely. She didn’t care about propriety anymore; she couldn't afford to be guarded when he was before her. “I missed you too. And Harry. So very much. It felt like a part of me was left behind. But you drew the line, Edmund. You said we should not continue. You told me it was unwise, that there was no future for us…”

Edmund stared at her, his eyes darkening with profound regret. He leaned closer, his forehead almost touching hers, his breath warm against her skin. “I said that because I thought it was the correct thing to say. I thought I was being a gentleman. I thought I was protecting order, protecting Harry, and protecting you from the mess of my own complications.”