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Page 10 of Sweet Duke of Mine

TALL TALES

D aisy’s heart raced as she all but shoved Mrs. Farley out the door and onto the street. Not in a hundred years would she have imagined that her unexpected houseguest would stroll into the kitchen wearing nothing but her father’s old nightshirt.

Goodness.

She hadn’t even realized he could stand.

And yet, there he had been—towering, bare-legged, looking impossibly dignified for a man in such indecent attire.

But she couldn’t spend time marveling at that now. Because before they’d been interrupted, he’d announced his intentions to leave the safety of her home… to leave her care.

This morning wasn’t going at all as she’d envisioned. Not even close.

It was her fault, really. She should have anticipated that Mrs. Farley might drop by, especially after Gil had mentioned that their neighbor had been asking about her.

But the timing? Rather inconvenient. Catastrophic, really.

Now she was stuck with the colossal lie she’d spun in desperation .

Hopefully, Mrs. Farley had believed her.

Otherwise… there might be a problem.

Closing the shop door behind her nosy, meddling neighbor, Daisy locked it this time, then pressed her back against the wood, exhaling slowly.

She had long since made peace with the fact that she would never marry, nor would she ever rely on a man. She did just fine on her own.

But where her business was concerned?

Reputation was everything.

She sold her soaps to the snobbiest set in all of London—the Mayfair elite. With just a single whisper of impropriety, her clientele would vanish like mist.

Whatever Mrs. Farley believed, the woman had undoubtedly already begun spreading the tale to half the street.

Daisy’s heart dropped, and she pressed her palms to her cheeks.

It wasn’t that Daisy required a spotless reputation in the way other young women did. But her business did.

Her brother did.

If even a handful of her customers took their business elsewhere over something so ridiculous as this, she wouldn’t be able to pay his tuition. More than a handful, and she’d go under completely.

Selling specialty items to people who figuratively— sometimes literally —lived and died by the rules of propriety was, ultimately, a delicate business.

Which was why she’d told such an outrageous lie.

Declaring her patient to be her long-lost husband had been the only viable way to explain his presence in her home.

Practically naked.

But calling him Alastair? What was her reasoning behind that?

Just a coincidence, foolishness, or wishful thinking ?

She pushed off the door and made her way toward her kitchen. Oh, but how simple her life had been before she’d decided to help this unsettling stranger.

Before facing him again, Daisy brushed her hands down her skirt. What must he think of her now?

She would learn soon enough, because when she stepped into her kitchen, he was the only one waiting for her.

Wincing, she met his gaze.

“I imagine you’re wondering what that was about?” She couldn’t quite keep the shaking out of her voice.

Alastair—or whatever his name truly was—watched her closely, his frown deepening.

“I suppose you could say that.” His tone was mild, but his eyes sharpened, searching hers. “I had intended to take my leave today. Tomorrow at the latest.” He tilted his head slightly. “But why would I do that,” he asked slowly, “if you are my wife?”

Daisy stilled.

So Gilbert hadn’t told him anything.

“You don’t remember anything, then?” she asked carefully.

He exhaled heavily, his hands flexing at his sides. “I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried.” His jaw clenched. “It’s like staring into the dark, knowing there’s something there but not being able to make it out.” He shook his head. “And yet… you feel familiar to me.”

Daisy’s stomach dipped, but she ignored it.

“You can’t leave.” Her voice was firmer now. More insistent. “Your body needs more time to heal. You nearly…” Her voice dried up.

“And I appreciate everything you’ve done.” Then his gaze darkened. “But I refuse to be more of a burden than I’ve already been.”

“You’re not a burden,” she said quickly.

His lips pressed together, like he didn’t quite believe her .

“Although…” he continued, still watching her intently, “being married to you would explain a few things.”

Daisy’s heart lurched.

“What things?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Alastair cleared his throat, rubbing a hand down his face.

“The feeling I have when I look at you…” His voice had softened. “The fact that you took me in.” He held her gaze. “That you cared for me—so thoroughly.”

Daisy’s pulse thumped violently in her throat.

The air between them thickened, the weight of the things he was alluding to.

Because, yes, she had cared for him. She had washed him. She had seen every inch of him.

And why?

Because it was the right thing to do?

She swallowed hard. She should say something. Anything.

But all she could do was stare—because she wasn’t entirely certain of the answer herself.

“Wouldn’t any decent person care for someone in need?”

“No.” His answer came quickly. “Not in my experience.”

Did that mean… “You have some memories, then?”

“Yes. No.” He frowned. “Nothing helpful.”

He seemed to shake the thought off, then focused on her again, his gaze sharp with meaning.

“But you haven’t answered my question. Are you my… wife ? You knew me before I was attacked?”

This man had never been her husband—nor had Alastair.

And yet… seeing him standing there, listening to the cadence of his voice, sent a chill down her spine.

It felt familiar. Right.

Like the last drop of oil to round out a scent.

“No,” she answered… regretfully ?

Certainly not.

He was a stranger to her, nothing more. Nothing less. Then, anticipating the question she knew would follow, she added, “But Mrs. Farley is a horrible gossip, and it was the only explanation I could think of for how you came to be standing in my kitchen…” Daisy closed her eyes, exhaling. “Practically naked. I do wish you’d stayed in the pantry…”

“So none of it was true, then? It was just to protect your reputation…” Did he look… disappointed?

Of course he did. This meant he was back at square one.

He didn’t even know his own name, for heaven’s sake.

“Being ruined presents different repercussions for a woman like me. My clients… My blends of oils and soap are special—too expensive for common people to buy. It’s taken a good deal of work to build up my customer base, and I rely on them—for everything.” She sighed. “And these customers. They are… proper.”

He nodded, his expression pensive, and then his eyes met hers.

Nobody had looked at her like this in a very long time—looked at her as though he not only wanted to see her, but also hear her and understand her. As though he wanted to know all the things she wasn’t saying.

The same way Alastair had.

She resisted the urge to squirm.

“Then I must leave,” he finally said, his tone resolute. “I’m too much of a burden, and I could become a liability. Tell your nosy neighbor that your wandering husband refuses to settle down.”

Daisy shot out a hand, stopping just short of grabbing his arm. “You can’t leave. You might feel well enough to stand now, but your fever only just broke. If you don’t give yourself time to fully recover, you could fall ill again, and then everything I’ve done will have been for nothing.”

He gave her a sheepish sort of grin, and for the briefest instant, it swept her back to ten years before—to a time before she carried all the burdens that came with the harsh realities of life. But just as quickly as the feeling surfaced, it was gone.

“I assure you, I will take care,” he said. Then he cleared his throat, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “But… did you keep my clothing, before…?”

“I did. But…” She hesitated, gripping the edge of the worktable. “You cannot go.”

Something in her voice made him pause.

Deep down, a niggling voice taunted her. Why are you so reluctant to let him go?

But no. This was about his health, his safety . And the fact that if he stepped out that door, he could very well collapse in the street or, worse, be found by the very men who had left him for dead.

“The men who were beating you,” she continued carefully. “They’re still out there.”

This reminder, more than anything, had him hesitating. “Did you get a look at them?”

“Barely,” she admitted. “I was outside in my garden when I overheard them through the fence. But the attack—it wasn’t random.” She frowned, searching her memory for exactly what she’d heard. “They needed to report to someone. ‘ His Lordship ’, they called him. Whoever wanted you dead is a lord. And they took a ring from you—to bring to him as proof.”

He glanced down at his hands and flexed them. The pale ring around his pinky finger was faint, but still visible.

She watched as he absorbed the information, his jaw tightening.

“I initially thought they might be taking a wedding ring. But it’s?—”

“The wrong finger.” He frowned.

“They were going to use it as proof, which means it could be a family ring? Something that would have revealed your identity. ”

He stared at his hand again, looking incredibly thoughtful. Was he remembering something? She kept silent for nearly an entire minute, not wanting to interrupt him in case some of his memories were returning.

But then he shook his head and exhaled. “I don’t know,” he finally said.

“Which is precisely why you need to keep out of sight for now.” Daisy swallowed and, sensing his resolve weakening, she pressed her point. “If you walk out that door now, you might not make it twenty steps. You are too vulnerable. It was two bobbies who left you there. They would easily recognize you. You wouldn’t know who your enemies are if they stood right in front of you.”

“Possibly.” His brows furrowed. “What could I have done to make someone want me dead?”

“It might have more to do with who you are. But until you remember, you can’t go gallivanting through the streets showing your face.”

He kept right on watching her. “But none of this is your problem. You have your soaps to make and your brother to care for.” His eyes searched hers. For what? “You are not keeping more from me, are you? Because you do seem familiar to me. More familiar than anything else.”

His admission sent a tremor through her.

Daisy swallowed hard. “You remind me of someone. But you cannot be him. I think I’m familiar to you because my face was the one you saw when you were wracked with fever. At times, you would open your eyes, but you were somewhere else.” She twisted her mouth into a small smile. “I am not keeping anything from you.”

She would not go into more detail than that. She didn’t discuss Alastair with anyone, and now that her parents had passed, no one remembered that she’d once been in love with the son of a duke .

To imagine that someone like her had been so foolish was a little embarrassing.

“I see,” he said.

“But I cannot allow you to put yourself in danger. A few days ago, I thought you were going to die. Give yourself some time before seeking out whoever was trying to kill you. At the very least, wait until you’ve fully regained your strength.”

“You’re too generous.”

“And you’re looking too tired. I’ll be terribly angry if after all my trouble, you die on me anyway.” It was a morbid thing to say, but she truly didn’t want him to push himself too hard. “Mrs. Farley will already have told half the street that I’ve a newly-returned husband, so your presence is already explained. When the time comes for you to leave, then I shall complain of your inconsistency—that you are a man unwilling to settle down and have returned to your wandering ways.”

She laughed and was surprised that it sounded a little sad. Because, although his eyes looked tired, even dressed in nothing but an old dressing gown, there was something about this man. He was so very handsome, but he also carried himself with a confidence she was unaccustomed to seeing. He was unafraid.

And what had he said?

The feeling I have when I’m with you…

He’d not seemed displeased when he’d thought she might be his wife. No, he’d seemed almost relieved… And if she was going to be perfectly truthful, the fantasy was not a distasteful one to her either.

Even with Gilbert, her soaps, and her business to keep her occupied, there were moments—quiet, lingering moments—when she wished for something more. Someone to hold her at night, to share the burdens and the triumphs, to laugh with over tea…

Maybe, just maybe, she was a little bit lonely .

She stomped down the thought. Loneliness was a foolish thing to dwell on. Dangerous, even. She had everything she needed. And she would not let a man—especially one who could disappear just as easily as he had appeared—make her yearn for something that could never be.

“Very well,” he said, nodding. “I’ll rest today, but as soon as I feel well enough, I need to look into all of this. And until then, I refuse to be a burden. If I’m to remain, I will do all that I can to be useful.” He let out a short laugh. “I suppose Alastair is as good a name as any. At least you didn’t call me Cornelius, Obadiah, or some other god-awful name.”

But Daisy didn’t laugh.

“You wish for me to call you… Alastair?”

“It’s what you told Mrs. Farley, so I think I am stuck with it,” he said.

She winced. “True.”

What had she been thinking when she’d used that name? Had she been thinking at all? Her mouth had simply run ahead of her mind, latching onto the first thing that had felt right—even if it wasn’t. Now, he was right. They were both stuck with it.

Having to call him Alastair was going to be… painful. The wound of her past had long since scarred over, but this man—this stranger with no name—was pressing against it.

“And your brother? Will this be a problem for him?”

Daisy shook her head. “Gilbert knows the truth, but he also knows the dangers of gossip and will understand the reasons for the deception. He’s not quite ten, but is unusually mature for his age.”

Too mature.

She and Gilbert had been lucky—lucky to have a home, lucky to have food on the table, lucky to have each other. But luck wasn’t something Daisy trusted.

No matter how carefully she planned, no matter how hard she worked, the fear of losing it all never left her. She knew what it was to lose everything. And she would do anything to keep her little brother from ever knowing that kind of devastation.

Which was why she couldn’t afford to let a single whisper of scandal taint her reputation.

Why she had to do whatever it took to keep her customers.

Protecting Gilbert, providing for him… It was her greatest purpose.

And nothing—not even a nameless man with green eyes and a too-familiar face—would get in the way of that.

“Now,” Daisy said briskly and brushed her hands together, “It’s time for you to rest.” But when she walked across the room, intent upon steering him back into the pantry, he didn’t move.

When she grasped his arm, he simply stared down at her. “You’re terribly bossy, you know.”

Was he teasing her?

Feeling his arm, warm and firm beneath her hand, awareness thrummed through her.

She liked touching him.

She liked him . She didn’t even know his real name, but she liked him—not just as a friend, but in the way a woman likes an attractive man.

Was keeping him here a mistake?

“Just efficient,” she finally answered. “And I’ll take it as a compliment.”

He laughed. “I’m sure I can come up with a better compliment than that.”

His gaze skimmed over her face, and she felt a warm blush on her cheeks as she looked away.

It was almost as though they were flirting.

But that was ridiculous.