Page 142 of The Rogue and His Flower

“This is Daisy,my son’s wife,” Carl says loudly, cupping my elbow as soon as I enter the reception hall and guiding me towards several men in suits who are standing with their partners on the other side of the room with Dalton.

“Daisy, I was just about to come and get you,” Dalton says, traversing through the crowd towards me. He gives his father a dark look, taking my hand in his and drawing me out of his hold.

“There was no need. I’m perfectly fine,” I reply, trying my best to act accordingly, when all I want to do is curl up on my bed and sleep.

Music is playing softly as we gather together, and some of Carl’s guests assess me with curiosity whilst the others look over at me with polite disinterest. I plaster on a smile, nodding my head in greeting as Carl introduces me to each of the couples in turn. When he said he’d be entertaining some business acquaintances, I’d expected maybe a handful of people at most, but there are at least twenty men here with their wives, and I feel a little overwhelmed with the sheer number of strangers I’m expected to engage with.

“And this is William Black and his wife Florence,” Carl says, after reeling off several names, all of which I’ve forgotten. “He’s overseeing the redevelopment of our very first hotel in Paris. It should be open within a month or so.”

“A hotel in Paris?” Dalton questions. “I wasn’t aware of this new venture.”

“It was a fairly recent decision. We had to move quickly, and given you were away on your honeymoon, and apparently unreachable, I decided to go ahead and offer over and above the asking price,” Carl explains. “Most of the hotel is already in good condition, I’ve just wanted to add the Gunn family flare, and William has been instrumental in securing the deal, and making sure the construction team and interior design staff are working to our very rigorous timetable. No point in wasting time, is there?”

Dalton’s nostrils flare, and if looks could kill, Carl would be already six feet under.

William clears his throat, casting his gaze between father and son, sensing the tension there. “It’s nice to meet you, Daisy,” he says warmly.

“You too,” I reply, offering him my hand as my gaze flicks to his wife, a woman several decades younger than him.

She dips her head, giving me a gentle, almost serene smile, and I feel Dalton’s hand tightening around my fingers right at the same time I notice her other hand resting on her rounded belly. I try to ignore the stab of pain that shoots through me at the sight of Florence’s pregnancy bump, only serving to remind me of my own very recent loss.

“Congratulations,” I offer weakly, plastering on another smile whilst inside I’m crumbling.

“Yes, wonderful news,” Carl adds, turning his attention to Florence. “William tells me you’re due to give birth in early summer.”

“Four months, and our baby will be here,” she replies, her cheeks flushing with pride as William presses his hand against her belly.

“Well, we certainly hope that it won’t be very long before Daisy will be carrying my grandchild,” Carl says, looking at me intently.

I blanch from his scrutiny, taking an involuntary step backwards.

“We’ve just recently married, father. There’s plenty of time for that,” Dalton says, his voice tight.

Carl raises a brow, before covering up his annoyance with a broad smile as hollow as the man himself. “There’s no time like the present, wouldn’t you agree, Daisy?” he says looking at me pointedly, reminding us both of the contract we signed all those weeks ago.

My cheeks heat, this entire conversation feeling like some kind of trap, but Dalton expertly steers the conversation in another direction, saving me from further humiliation.

After a few more minutes, I excuse myself, feeling Dalton’s gaze on me as I wander across to the refreshment table and pour myself a glass of water despite Tessa offering to pour it for me.

“Mrs Gunn, are you alright?” she asks, her soft brown eyes looking at me with concern as my hands tremble.

“I’m just a little tired, that’s all,” I reply, taking a sip on the glass of water.

“Perhaps you should excuse yourself,” she suggests.

“I’m not sure that would go down very well with Carl,” I murmur.

“But you’ve just recently come out of hospital. Mr Gunn would understand,” she says, frowning a little, her gaze drifting to Carl, who by all accounts is having a wonderful time charming his guests.

“That doesn’t matter to him.”

“Surely he realises that losing that amount of blood is an indication of?—”

“No!” I snap, her eyes widening as I shake my head at her.

“You were bleeding heavily,” she counters in a whisper, her face paling as my lips start to tremble. “I was certain that you…”

“Stop,” I whisper, trying and failing to prevent the tears from slipping from my eyes.

---