Page 19 of Expecting the Earl's Baby

‘Of course we are. Hawksley, eh? I met your father once. Remember, Sherry? On Mustique. Now that was a man who liked to party. Talking of which, we’ve finished the champagne. Let’s go in and get some more and toast this thing properly. I might have some photos of that holiday, Seb.’

Her parents bore Seb off up the steps, both talking nineteen to the dozen. Daisy stood for a moment, watching. In nearly every way this was the image from her dreams: a handsome, eligible man, her parents’ approval.

A man she barely knew. A man who didn’t love her. A man who might have a comforting embrace and a mouth she melted against but who wanted a businesslike, emotion-free marriage.

‘You don’t have to rush into this. How long have you known him?’ Vi had also stayed behind. Her arms were folded as she waited for Daisy to answer.

‘Six weeks.’ This at least wasn’t a lie. ‘And I’m not rushing into anything. I want to do this, Vi. Be happy for me.’ She smiled coaxingly at her sister.

‘I want to be.’ Vi stared at her, worry in her eyes. ‘It’s just, I heard rumours. Daisy, Hawksley Castle is beautiful but it’s expensive and his parents spent a lot. More than a lot. Are you sure he’s not...?’ She paused.

‘Not what?’ But she knew. ‘After my fortune? I don’t have a fortune, Vi!’

‘No, but Daddy does and you know it drives him mad we won’t live off him. He’d do anything for you, Daise, even prop up a money pit like Hawksley.’

If Daisy knew anything about Seb it was this: she could hand on heart acquit him of any interest in her father’s money. The shock in his eyes when he’d found out who she was had been utterly genuine. But Vi was right to be suspicious; they were deceiving her.

And yet anger was simmering, slow, hot, intense. ‘Seb does not need my non-existent fortune or Daddy to bail him out. He’s working every waking hour to turn Hawksley around his way and he’ll do it too. So butt out, Vi. And no running to Rose either. Let her make her own mind up.’

Where had that come from?

Vi looked at her searchingly. ‘Okay, Daise, calm down. I won’t say anything. Let’s go in and I’ll get to know your Seb properly. My little sister’s marrying an earl. You always did like to show off.’

‘I didn’t know he was an earl when I met him!’ But Vi just laughed and pulled her up the steps and into the vast kitchen diner that dominated the back of the house.

‘There you are, darling. Three weeks! That’s no time at all to plan. We need to get started right now. How many people can you seat? There will be rooms at the castle for the family, I suppose? Colour scheme yellow and white, of course.’

‘Great!’ Violet scowled. ‘So I get lumbered with light purple and Rose gets almost any colour she wants.’

‘I could have called you Marigold, just think about that,’ her mother said. ‘We need to go shopping right away, Daisy. And discuss menus, and cakes and do you think Grandpa will come?’

‘The thing is, Mum...’ Daisy took a deep breath. ‘I don’t need any of those things. It’s going to be very small. Just us, and Rose, of course, if she can come. So no colour scheme needed. We could have cake though.’

‘No!’ Daisy jumped at the autocratic note in her mother’s voice. It wasn’t a note she heard often; her parents were indulgent to the point of spoiling their girls. Rose always said that was why they had sent them to such a strict boarding school, so that someone else would do the hard parts and they could just enjoy their daughters.

‘No, Daisy. Not this time.’

This time? Daisy stared at her mother in confusion. ‘I...’

She didn’t get a chance to continue. Sherry’s voice rose higher. ‘You wanted to leave home in your teens? Your father and I respected that. We were both working at eighteen after all. You won’t allow us to pay your rent or buy you a car or help you in any way? I don’t like it but I accept it. You visit once in a blue moon? I tell myself that at least you text us and I can follow you on Twitter.’

The heat burned high on Daisy’s cheeks. It hadn’t really occurred to her that her parents would interpret her need to go it alone as rejection. She held up a hand, whether in defence or supplication she didn’t know.

It made no difference; her mother had hit her stride. ‘You want to get married in less than a month? Fine. You want to get married away from home? No problem. But you will not have a tiny wedding. I know you, you’ve dreamt of a big, beautiful wedding since you were tiny and that, my girl, is exactly what you are going to have. You are going to let me pay for it and, young lady, nobody—’ the blue eyes flashed ‘—nobody is going to stop me organising it for you.’

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