Page 12 of The Duke I Wished For
“You,” she echoed, her voice sounding far less certain than his.
The girl who’d been watching them with a worried expression made a fretting sound.
The sound had Daffodil blinking, coming to her senses well enough to smile at the sweet little thing who had dolls perched on either side of her. “And you,” Daffodil said, softening her shocked tone. “Hello, you.”
She was rewarded with a shy smile in turn.
“What are you doing here?” the man snapped.
The girl’s smile morphed to one of fear at the man’s harsh tone. The man who was…
Daffodil blinked, her mind moving slowly like her thoughts were wading through molasses. “You…you’re her father…”
“Of course I’m her father. This is my home.”
And there it was. The last piece of the puzzle. This was his home, which meant he was…he was…
“You’re not a tradesman,” she said stupidly.
His brows knit together. “No. And you are not a servant in my home. So I cannot imagine what you are doing here.”
Daffodil drew in several deep breaths as she tried to find her composure, which she seemed to have misplaced back in the washroom. “Er, I’m…that is…my friend…”
The duke glowered.
Because of course he did. Was he incapable of any other expression? It would seem so.
He crossed his arms and thinned his lips. The very picture of disapproval. Which would have been quite intimidating…if she hadn’t just walked in on him sitting in the world’s tiniest chair, taking tea with a child and her dolls.
Daffodil’s lips quivered. Her belly spasmed. And then her whole body began to shake as she tried and failed to squelch her laughter.
It burst from her with a loud laugh that made the little girl’s face light up with glee, and her father…
Well, her father did not look amused. His eyes rolled upward as if he was begging the Lord for patience. He returned his gaze to hers with a sigh. “Let’s start over, shall we? I am The Duke of Hathshire. And this…” He gestured to the girl. “This is my daughter, Clarissa.”
Daffodil curtsied to the little girl. “How do you do, my lady.”
The little girl’s giggle split the air like a tinkling bell, making Daffodil’s smile grow. The duke turned to his daughter in surprise. Then he turned back to Daffodil, not even attempting to hide his exasperation when he asked, “And you are Lady Daffodil Underhill, I presume.”
“Oh!” She felt heat flood her cheeks at the mention of her name. Had she really gone all this time without the barest of introductions? “Er, yes, I am, but…how did you know?”
His expression was almost pained, as if he wasn’t sure if he was amused or horrified by the question. “Unlike you, your father had the decency to introduce himself.”
“Ah.” Daffodil nodded. That was right, her father had joined them, hadn’t he? Just before he’d sent her off to her doom.
Not to be too melodramatic.
A silence fell, and Daffodil felt the stares of both father and daughter, realizing a moment too late that she had yet to offer any explanation for her sudden appearance in the midst of their…
Her lips quivered again.
In the midst of their tea party.
Oh drat, she truly had to get a hold of herself. Clearing her throat, she forced her gaze to meet the duke’s. “I’m here as a companion to my friend, Lady Isabelle Carrington.”
She watched understanding dawn in the duke’s eyes. “The library,” he said.
“Indeed.” She began to edge backward toward the door, the full extent of her impropriety beginning to register. “I’ll just, er…”
