Page 10 of The Duke I Wished For (A Maypole in Mayfair #5)

I f May Day had been a sunny delight, the following two days were absolutely dismal. Daffodil could hear the rain pattering against the window panes as a fire crackled beside her in the school’s drawing room.

She supposed it was fitting weather for her least favorite task. Daffodil frowned down at the embroidery in her hands.

Jane hovered by the windows, peering out as if this incessant rain might miraculously stop if she stared hard enough. With a sigh, she said, “Riding lessons will be canceled again, I suppose.”

Jocelyn half turned in the settee to glance over at Jane. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re pining for this riding instructor of yours.”

Jane gave an unladylike snort. “You would never say such a thing if you’d ever seen my instructor.” She arched her brows as she added, “Or met his wife and their six grown children.”

Delilah giggled beside Daffodil, but Daffodil couldn’t even summon a smile. Truthfully, she hadn’t been able to smile at all since being dragged away from Hathshire—no, Blake.

I think you should call me Blake. I insist.

She bit her lip to hold back a sigh as the now-familiar swarm of butterflies took flight in her belly.

Had that really happened? It all still felt like a dream.

Except for the part where she’d stammered like a ninny about embroidering, and then let her mother sweep her away like she was some spineless nitwit.

There’d still been so much to say. She hadn’t explained herself well at all. The man she truly cared for had offered marriage and she’d made a mess of it.

The bright blue and green embroidered pattern in her lap blurred as her eyes filled with tears.

“Daff?” Delilah said gently. “Are you all right?”

Daffodil sniffed. She wanted to say, I’m fine , but all that escaped was an odd, unpleasant, squeaking sort of sound.

Delilah’s eyes widened in dismay. “Daff, what is it?”

Daffodil tried to swallow back a sob. For nearly two days now she’d been avoiding questions about her time alone with Blake, and she still wasn’t sure what to say.

But now everyone had realized there was a problem and she was swarmed by well-meaning friends who were hugging her and patting her knee.

Isabelle and Jane crouched at her feet while Jocelyn and Delilah crushed her from either side on the settee.

Delilah squeezed her hand so hard it hurt, but Daffodil was so grateful for the comfort she didn’t complain.

“What happened, dear?” Jocelyn’s tone was gentle.

Daffodil swallowed hard. “It’s…it’s the duke.”

“Hathshire?” Isabelle said.

Daffodil nodded.

“Did something transpire between you two at the May Day celebration? Was he inappropriate?” Jane’s brows knitted together. “If so, tell me and I’ll?—”

“No, no,” Daffodil said quickly. “It’s nothing like that.”

Though she’d be interested to know what Jane thought she could do if he had been. While she might love riding and adventure, the girl was a petite little thing.

Daffodil tried to imagine little Jane confronting the big, formidable duke, and the thought was enough to make her lips quiver and the sound that escaped was as much a laugh as it was a sob.

Delilah nudged her gently. “Tell us what’s wrong, Daff.”

All four of her friends waited expectantly, their expressions filled with such gentle understanding, she nearly wept all over again. But with a shaky exhale, she finally told her friends about the duke’s proposition.

When she was done there was a moment of silence, which was quickly broken by a litany of questions.

“The duke proposed?” Jocleyn’s wide eyes met hers.

“What did you say?” Isabelle asked.

Delilah was still gaping at her. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

“Do your parents know?” Jane added.

Daffodil shook her head, answering the last question first. “I probably should have told them but…”

Delilah winced in sympathy. “Once Mother finds out, there’ll be no question of whether or not you accept.”

Daffodil nodded, her chest tightening painfully. That was it exactly. Her mother wouldn’t care at all about her feelings in the matter, only what the family could gain. And a duchess for a daughter would be the coup of a lifetime for the countess.

“So I take it you don’t wish to marry him then,” Isabelle said softly.

Daffodil’s lips parted and she stared at her kind friend with a stricken look. “No, it’s not…it’s not that I don’t want to…”

Jocelyn pursed her lips. “You might not have much of a choice if his mind’s made up. I don’t claim to know the man, but dukes, from my understanding, have a way of getting what they want. And this one clearly wants you.”

Daffodil’s chest constricted with hope…and fear. “But…but…how do you know?”

Her friends exchanged looks, before Isabelle hesitantly offered, “Er, because he proposed marriage?”

Jane nodded enthusiastically. “I don’t know much about men or marriage, but a proposal seems like a good indication that he wants to be with you.”

“Did you say yes?” Delilah asked, her soft voice cutting to the heart of the matter.

Daffodil shook her head, pressing her lips together to hold back another sob as she replayed that horrifyingly awkward moment after he’d proposed when shock had rendered her utterly senseless.

Jocelyn was eyeing her oddly. “Did you say no ?”

Daffodil shook her head.

“Then…” Jane looked to each of the girls in turn before facing Daffodil. “What did you say?”

Daffodil’s head was tipped down and she found herself staring at the needle and thread in her lap. Lips quivering, she gave in to the next sob and her words came out on a wail. “I spoke of embroidery !”

Delilah wrapped an arm around her and squeezed. “I…I don’t understand.”

“Embroidery? As in…” Jane nodded to the fabric in Daffodil’s lap.

Daffodil nodded.

Isabelle patted her knee, clearly at a loss for words.

Jocelyn studied Daffodil like she was a particularly perplexing puzzle. “What precisely did you say about embroidery?”

“I just…I don’t know, I was so surprised,” Daffodil said.

“Of course you were.” Delilah gave her hand another squeeze.

“And I know , you know?” Daffodil babbled as her friends stared at her in concern. “I know he values those skills. Music, and social graces, and…and…embroidery!” At Jocelyn’s confused stare, Daffodil pointed out, “You said so yourself.”

“I see,” Jocelyn said slowly. Her tone was one Daffodil suspected nurses used with patients at Bedlam. “And that’s why you did not say yes to his proposal. Because…” Jocelyn cast a sidelong look at the others. “Because your embroidery skills are only adequate.”

Daffodil stared at her as the others waited patiently in silence for her response. “It’s not just that…”

“Daff, do you like the man?” Delilah asked.

Daffodil didn’t hesitate to nod. “I do. Yes.” Her mind called up that warm smile that softened his features, the way he took such great pains to make sure his daughter was happy, the way his gaze darkened every time he looked at her, as if…

As if he was really seeing her. As if he truly cared about her thoughts and her feelings.

Her breath caught in her chest as her heart swelled and her pulse quickened.

“He’s a good man,” she said softly. “He seems so stern, but he’s kind and warm underneath his hard exterior, and such a good father and he deserves the best sort of wife.

And what’s more, he deserves an excellent mother for Clarissa and I…

” Her voice broke and she gave her head a shake, unable to go on.

Delilah leaned into her, giving her hand a squeeze. “And you…what, Daff?”

“I don’t know that I would be a good mother,” she whispered, tears trailing down her cheeks. “I’d like to be. I want to be. But…” She looked to Delilah, the one person here who could truly understand. “But what if I can’t?”

Delilah stared at her wide-eyed. “You cannot mean that.”

Daffodil shrugged helplessly. Now that she’d acknowledged the true reason behind her hesitation, she couldn’t ignore it. “Everyone always says how alike we are…” She cast her gaze at Delilah, begging her sister to understand.

“You and your mother,” Isabelle clarified.

“You’re nothing at all alike!” Jane shouted, her tone obstinate.

“But we are. Everyone says so, even Father.”

“No, Daff,” Delilah said. “Father often mentions how much you resemble Mother in appearance. That’s hardly the same thing.”

“But…but…”

“Is that what kept you from saying yes?” Jocelyn asked, her tone so surprised, Daffodil felt a little ridiculous as she nodded.

“Clarissa is sweet and innocent and so very vulnerable,” Daffodil explained. “She deserves an excellent mother.”

“And that’s you!” Delilah said, rising to her feet.

Daff shook her head in frustration, ready to protest. Couldn’t they see? “I don’t know the first thing about being a good mother. My only example of maternal love was…” She cast Delilah a meaningful look. “Well, you know.”

Delilah was frowning at her, her eyes filled with such strength of emotion, Daffodil was taken aback.

“Daff, I cannot let you go on thinking that you wouldn’t make the very best mother,” Delilah started.

“Oh, Lila, I know you want to cheer me, but?—”

“No!” Delilah interrupted.

Daffodil saw Jocelyn, Jane, and Isabelle staring at Delilah with the same shock she felt. Delilah was always so soft-spoken. Timid, really. To hear her raise her voice was rather alarming.

“Delilah—”

“No, you listen to me, Daff,” Delilah said, straightening beside her. “I know without a doubt that you’d make an excellent mother, because you’ve always been like a mother to me.”

“Don’t be silly,” Daffodil started.

“It’s true,” Jocelyn cut in. “You take care of Delilah as if she were much younger than you and not less than a year apart in age.”

“You take care of all of us like that,” Isabelle added.

“Daff,” Delilah continued, holding both her hands tightly. “When we were young, who comforted me when there was a storm? And who coddled me when I was sick? Who read to me at night and let me cry on her shoulder when I wept?”

Daffodil stared at her shy little sister in surprise. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard Delilah speak so much.

“I think what Delilah’s saying is that you’ve already proven that you’re nothing like your mother,” Isabelle said.

“And you never will be,” Jocelyn added.

“Thank heavens for that,” Jane muttered.

For a long moment, Daffodil stared at her friends as she let her sister’s words and their meaning settle over her. There was truth there…

But she couldn’t quite shake this fear. This worry that Blake would get to know her better and be disappointed. That she’d fail in her efforts to be a great mother to Clarissa.

There was fear still…

But mostly, there was hope.

For the first time, Daffodil started to see the future as something bright and filled with possibility rather than a dead end she’d been forced to enter.

“He could change his mind,” she said. “He could get to know me and…”

She trailed off. That was fear at work, and she didn’t want to act out of fear. For once, she wanted to be brave.

“The same could be said for you,” Jocelyn pointed out. “What if you change your mind about him? There’s always a risk when it comes to love.”

Love . The word rattled her, but it also quelled the last of her fears and had her smiling for the first time in days. “Then I suppose…” She squeezed her sister's hands as she sniffed back the last of her tears. “I suppose it’s about time I took a leap of faith.”