Page 7 of The Duke I Wished For (A Maypole in Mayfair #5)

M ay Day dawned bright and sunny, excitement pulsing through Daffodil. She slipped from her bed as everyone still lay asleep and quickly dressed, making her way outside.

The grass still held the morning dew, her slippers growing wet as she tiptoed across the square, standing below the maypole.

In a few short hours, the entire square would be abuzz with activity. They’d dance about the pole, of course, a stage having been erected for the small orchestra. People would bring picnic lunches, and the local tavern had even rolled in several barrels of fine ale to serve.

But now, in the quiet morning, it was empty. Only the gentlest breeze flapped at the ribbons and she reached out a hand, plucking one of them between her fingers, a frown marking her brow. She still didn’t have a wish. Not like Isabelle’s library or Jane’s desire for horses.

And yet, a wish had begun to form. A hope so deep, she could hardly bring it forward.

She wished…she wished to be worthy of a man like the duke.

She winced at the thought, knowing it was silly.

He’d never choose her. She didn’t have the skills or the dowry to be considered for the position of the duchess.

But wishes didn’t have to be grounded in reality… did they?

She slipped back inside, to her room, and carefully dressed her hair as she waited for the rest of the school to wake.

Once she was done, she sat at her windowsill and watched the Mayfair square slowly fill until it was abuzz with preparation.

Families would attend along with the daughters of Madame Bellafonte’s school, but not even the prospect of her mother could dim Daffodil’s enthusiasm today.

Something about making that wish had lightened her insides, and excitement and the prospect of all the fun made her leg bounce with anticipation.

“Can you believe it?” Jocelyn burst into her room without even knocking. “It’s finally here. May Day.”

Daffodil rose from her window seat, laughing at her friend. “I know. I’m near bursting with excitement.”

“Me too.” Jocelyn gave her a wide grin.

Daffodil’s brows hitched up as she assessed her friend.

Jocelyn was always cheerful, but of all the ladies at Madame Bellafonte’s school, Jocelyn was by far the most refined.

The oldest of the lot, and having already made her debut, Jocelyn tended to have a flirtatious, worldly air about her when they were in society, and even here at the school she didn’t typically exude such childlike wonder.

Daffodil cocked her head to the side.“Tell me, what has you atwitter for today’s festivities?”

Jocelyn’s gaze slid away. “I love spring, that’s all. It’s filled with so much hope and promise, it seems any problem is manageable this time of year. Does it not?”

Daffodil had to agree. She thought back to her wish she’d made a few hours ago and her pulse thrummed in her ears.

Three days had passed since she’d had the tea party with Clarissa and Hathshire.

And in that time, they’d both filled her thoughts and her dreams. Was there a path forward that did not involve Mr. Benson and an unpleasant marriage?

Did she dare to hope her wish might come true?

“I have to confess that I agree.” Her fingers twisted together as she turned to look at the maypole once again. Did wishes ever come true?

Jocelyn plopped on the bed just as the door opened again, Isabelle entering. She also wore a wide smile, her eyes dancing with excitement. “What are we agreeing about?” she asked as she took a seat next to Jocelyn.

“Daff is filled with hope,” Jocelyn answered. “As am I.”

Isabelle looked between the two of them, eyes shining. “I don’t know what’s filled you with optimism, Jocelyn, but I know what’s brought Daffodil’s mood up to dizzying heights.”

Daffodil sank back down on her window seat, eyeing her friend. “You do not.” Had she been that obvious the other day at the duke’s home? Had he noticed? Suddenly, she felt likea silly fool.

Isabelle only gave a gentle laugh and, rising, crossed to put a hand on Daffodil’s shoulder. “Don’t fret.”

Clearly, her friends could easily read her emotions. Gads, she must be an open book. Biting at her lip, she attempted to explain. “It’s just that he’s so handsome…and a duke…and…”

“Wait,” Jocelyn interrupted, rising as well. “You are interested in the duke?”

“Who’s interested in the duke?” Jane asked, coming into the room, her red hair plaited and twisted in the most adorable upsweep.

“Daffodil is,” Isabelle answered. “And he’s interested in her too.”

The words made her pulse jump again and her hands fluttered uselessly at her sides. Was there a chance those words were true?

“Is he?” Jocelyn gave a little clap. And then she patted Daffodil’s other shoulder. “And why wouldn’t he be? You’re so lovely and warm.”

“Thank you,” she said, truly grateful. As much as she’d been dreaming about the man, she’d also had some niggling fears that sent butterflies flapping about her belly.

She knew how she felt about him, but what were the odds he’d be interested in her? He was so wonderful and she…

Jocelyn’s next words had Daffodil wincing all over again. “And besides, it’s well known he’s actively looking for a wife.”

Should that make her feel better? It didn’t. She’d already known that fact, just as she knew he’d made a list.

Isabelle leaned forward. “I heard he’s created a detailed list of requirements.”

Daffodil squeaked, her stomach dropping clear to her toes. “How could you know that?”

Isabelle shrugged. “All the debutantes want an opportunity to meet him and they make it their business to know the details. He hasn’t been subtle about his requirements, either. I believe the two words that Posey Williams used to describe her conversation with him was an interrogation .”

She’d not known the duke or his list before their first meeting. Nor when she’d happened upon his tea party. The very fact that she’d not had a clue about who he was or what he wanted made her ill-suited to be his bride. No other eligible woman would have made such silly mistakes.

Daffodil was not the sort of debutante who managed to marry a duke.

“He wants a woman of decorum,” Jocelyn added. “Grace. She’ll be a musician, accomplished at embroidery.”

His questions, the ones he’d asked that first night, pinged around her skull, creating an ache she could hardly manage. He did want all those things, she knew it to be true, and what was more, she’d told him herself she was no good at them.

Her stomach rolled.

“And most importantly…” Isabelle leaned forward, her voice dropping to whisper. “He’ll want a woman who can be a good mother to his daughter.”

Her heart ceased beating in her chest.

A good mother? What did Daffodil know on the topic of mothering? Her own hadn’t set much example. Not only did she browbeat both her daughters regularly, she now saw them as nothing but tools to right the family’s finances.

It didn’t seem to bother the countess one bit that the suitors she’d chosen for Daffodil had been offensive and disgusting.

She closed her eyes, the truth settling over her like cold on a winter day. Everyone always told her how much she resembled her mother. What if she became her?

Was that her lot in life?

Her hand settled over her heart as she drew in a ragged breath. Daffodil wasn’t certain she met one criteria on the duke’s list. She didn’t even meet her own.

“I’ve never met the duke myself,” Jocelyn was saying, “but I’ve heard every eligible lady in society has set her cap for him.”

“Including you?” Isabelle asked, laughter in her voice.

Jocelyn made a pshh sound. “I am in no hurry to marry, and you well know it.”

Jane laughed and said what they were likely all thinking. “It must be pleasant to have such freedom to wait and to choose.”

“Oh it is,” Jocelyn said. “But what a coup for Daffodil if the duke chooses her out of all the eligible ladies in the ton.”

The others were quick to agree, but Daffodil only squeezed her eyes shut tighter. When Jocelyn put it like that…

Why would Hathshire ever choose the likes of her when he could have anyone?

What a fool she’d been to let herself hope…

“Daff?”

Her eyes snapped back open at the sound of her sister Delilah’s voice. Her sister was hovering in the doorway, a look of worry marring her delicate features.

“What is it, Delilah?”

“Mother and Father are here.” Her sister crossed the room as well, reaching out a hand to Daffodil. “Please don’t leave me with Mother today. I’m not certain…” Delilah shuddered. “She said something about me stepping up for the family and I…”

Daffodil rose, wrapping her arms about her sister. “Don’t you worry. I’ll stay with you all day.”

Jocelyn tapped her shoulder. “What if the duke comes? You ought to be available for his attention.”

She shook her head. The duke had been a fanciful dream, she could see that now. Her sister was very real and she needed her.

But before Daffodil could say as much, Isabelle joined in their hug. “I’ll stay with you as well. My father surely won’t mind and it will keep your mother on her best behavior.”

Delilah let out a long breath. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Daffodil started. “I’m sure I’ll stay with our family.” She did not add that she expected the duke not to attend and if he did…

He surely would not wish to spend time with her.

But she found herself remaining quiet as the group made their way downstairs, greeting the family who’d assembled in the foyer and the front entry.

One look at her mother confirmed just how foolish her early morning wish had been. Her mother’s gaze slid down Daffodil. “I knew I should have sent you a note on which dress you ought to wear. That shade of pink is meant for candlelight. Not sunshine.”

Daffodil winced, glancing down at the muslin frock she’d chosen, her hands smoothing the fabric.