Page 11 of To Steal a Lyon’s Heart (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #85)

L ady Amelia linked elbows with Daisy as they strolled around a lovely duckpond in a small, secluded park by Alston House.

Weeping willows dotted the edge, their tendrils tickling the water’s surface.

Daisy lifted her face to the sun, enjoying the warmth and fresh air after spending two whole days in bed.

She hadn’t enjoyed such idle quiet in so long.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Lady Amelia said. “The more I think about it, I realize we all needed a pleasant distraction.”

Daisy nodded. She certainly knew she needed all the distraction she could get. That morning she’d received a response from Lady Claystone, a remarkably clipped reply that left Daisy with a foreboding sense of doom.

Miss Blakewood,

This is an unfortunate turn of events. I am not in London to handle this matter to my satisfaction. I will return as soon as possible. Have a care for your reputation, as it reflects on Cliffton, and do not go out in public. Await my return.

Octavia Claystone

Daisy resisted the urge to shiver as she thought of the message. She was breaking a rule by ignoring Lady Claystone’s order to refrain from going out. It was something her previous self would have balked at, but right now all she felt was relief.

“Thank you,” Daisy said. “I’m starting to see my banishment more as a gift than a consequence. I am glad I could escape Mrs. Miranda and get to know you better.”

“I remember meeting on only one occasion,” Lady Amelia said. “That dinner party with your family two years ago.”

Daisy smiled. “I remember. Graham glowered at you the whole time.”

Lady Amelia smiled. “Yes, he hated how I charmed your mother and father so easily.”

Daisy laughed. “I have to admit I would have never predicted that the two of you would end up married, and so suddenly.”

Lady Amelia looked away from her, but Daisy could see her cheeks pinken.

“You and I are not so different, you know. I’m only a few years older than you.

So I won’t pretend I’m knowledgeable about love.

I could never have predicted that I would one day fall in love with your brother.

I loathed him. I admit it freely, and he would say the same.

We had no qualms about voicing our dislike for each other.

Alston knew it too, but then Alston got hurt.

” She paused and swallowed. They stopped at a bench and sat.

“It was Alston’s idea that Graham should marry me.

I refused immediately. My aunt always intended that when the time was right, I would marry Nelson, our cousin, regardless of how I felt about it.

Because of that, I had vowed never to marry, though I still knew if the right man came along, someone I could love, I’d happily change my mind.

Who would have guessed that man would be Graham? ”

Daisy frowned. “Marry your cousin? That’s reprehensible. I know it’s done, but still.” She thought of her own cousin and almost gagged. She had one male cousin, and he was two and forty.

“We married swiftly because Alston’s death seemed imminent.

Our attraction had turned to something much deeper long before that.

Love is quiet. It seeps in through your cracks, filling you until you’re overflowing with it and cannot contain it any longer.

We fell in love, and there was no use waiting or holding back.

We married at Alston’s bedside because we needed him to be there.

You’ve spent so much time apart from your brother, but I think you can understand why it was so important.

By the way he talks about you, I know you two are close. ”

“We are, but I imagine as twins it is different for you.”

Lady Amelia nodded. “Tell me what Graham was like as a brother, before I met him.”

“He has always been much like you describe but gentler. Probably because I never gave him trouble.”

Lady Amelia scoffed. “I give him good trouble.”

Daisy giggled again. “I didn’t know there was such a thing as good trouble.”

“There is, if you know where to find it,” Lady Amelia sent her a knowing smile.

But Daisy didn’t know. She’d never made trouble for anyone nor did she know how to find it.

Her family had never given her sufficient reason to resist the choices they’d made for her because she trusted them.

And Lady Claystone abhorred disobedience.

It had served Daisy to be silent and compliant rather than contrary if only to save herself.

Better to be small and invisible than at the sharpened end of Lady Claystone’s blade-like tongue.

Her parents had always bragged about how good Daisy was, how obedient and demure.

Daisy used to love those compliments. They had made her feel special.

But she could see now that being the good girl hadn’t brought her any joy.

What was the point of being the perfect little puppet when it made her miserable?

“Where is good trouble found?” Daisy asked after a moment.

“Usually in unlikely places.”

“Like?”

Lady Amelia shrugged. “You’ll know it.”

Daisy wanted to roll her eyes. She was sure she wouldn’t. “How will I know it? Are there obvious signs? Helpful trumpets and banners?”

Lady Amelia laughed. “When you know you’re doing something a sour-faced matron wouldn’t want you to be doing, that is good trouble.

Mischief. Innocent tomfoolery. For example, if I slipped off my shoes and danced around the springy grass.

Is that wrong? Would I hurt anyone? But if a woman like Mrs. Miranda saw me, I expect she’d clutch her pearls and faint. ”

Daisy laughed. “I can picture her exact expression.”

“See? Good trouble. In fact...” Lady Amelia gave Daisy an impish smile.

“What?” Daisy asked.

“Take off your boots.”

Daisy’s mouth dropped open. “You want me to take off my boots here? In public?”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “This is hardly public. We’re out of view of the street, and the only other person is that nanny walking with a small child. Besides, what is it we’re doing that is so terrible?”

Daisy bit her lip. It was inappropriate.

She knew that inherently after years of rigid study under her governess and Lady Claystone’s tutelage.

Feet were not for public viewing. She’d have to remove her stockings, which would mean lifting her skirts.

The idea alone made sweat prickle on the back of her neck. “I can’t.”

Amelia reached for her hem of her dress.

“Lady Amelia!” Daisy whispered. She fervently glanced around the park. “But our stockings! Won’t they be ruined? Graham says to always consider the work we make for others,” Daisy said.

Lady Amelia snickered. “I would prefer you call me Amelia. We are now sisters, after all. Now, about the stockings. I’m not wearing any.”

Daisy turned pink. “How could you not be wearing stockings?”

Amelia shrugged. “Because I knew I wanted to be barefoot on the grass this morning.”

Daisy couldn’t think. Her mind would not make sense of Amelia’s actions. Amelia kicked off her boots and stood. She lifted her hem to expose her toes and flexed them in the grass.

“It tickles, but I never feel more grounded—like I’m present, a part of this world—than when my bare feet are touching the earth. No fripperies, no pretenses. I’m just human.”

Daisy looked at Amelia’s wiggling toes and then at her own boots. “But... my stockings.”

“Take them off.”

“I can’t do that,” Daisy hissed.

“Come with me under the willow.” She tugged Daisy under the wispy leaves. Amelia kneeled on the carpet of dried leaves and bent to reach under Daisy’s skirts.

Daisy went rigid. “I cannot believe you are doing this. I can’t believe I’m letting you do this.”

“Your brother is going to have a fit when I tell him!” Amelia said, laughing as she efficiently tugged Daisy’s sturdy stocking to the top of her boot.

“You cannot tell him,” Daisy begged. “Swear it to me right now. On your brother’s life.”

Amelia raised her twinkling gaze to Daisy’s. “Alston would love that we’re doing this. He loves good trouble. Now, put your hand on my shoulder, and I’ll slip off your boots.”

Daisy did. She was not brave enough to resist, and frankly, part of her needed to know what would happen next.

What did good trouble feel like? Her heart raced like the sky would collapse if she broke a cardinal rule of proper decorum.

Even a minor infraction, like picking up the wrong fork in front of Lady Claystone, earned her a fierce glare.

And sometimes Lady Claystone would even take Daisy aside, have her remove her gloves, place her hand on a table or balustrade, whatever was near, and rap her knuckles with her fan.

Daisy had hidden many bruised knuckles under her gloves.

Sometimes her knuckles would swell, and she wouldn’t be able to write or hold objects in that hand for a couple days.

Daisy closed her eyes as panic mixed with the exhilaration that she was doing something wrong and Lady Claystone wasn’t here to see it.

Amelia slipped off her boots and set them aside. Daisy winced as she set her foot down on the dried leaves, anticipating sharp jabs on the bottoms of her sensitive feet. The texture was rough but not painful, and the crunching of the leaves under her bare feet was a startling new sensation.

“Oh my,” she whispered, looking down at her toes.

Amelia stood. “These stockings are terrible. How can you bear to wear such an itchy fabric and not silk?”

“Silk is for ladies of ill repute.” Daisy parroted Lady Claystone’s words.

Amelia’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I don’t have any silk stockings. I have a nicer pair of cotton, and wool for colder months, but—”

“We will be remedying that today,” Amelia declared. “Abhorrent. I’d bet my fortune your mother wears silk stockings.”

“Yes, well, I’m not sure. But she is a married woman in any case.”

Amelia just shook her head. “Where did you hear such things? Your mother?”

“Well, no. We have a family friend whom I spend a great deal of time with. The Countess of Claystone. She’s like a mentor to me.” Daisy bit her lip.

Amelia shrugged. “It’s hard enough to be a woman. We don’t need to subject ourselves to torture by undergarment.”

Daisy couldn’t respond to that. Amelia set Daisy’s boots down and balled up her stockings, leaving them in the leaves.

“We won’t be returning with those. Some bird will use them to build a sturdy nest.”

Amelia tugged her out from under the tree, and the bright sunlight blinded Daisy until she blinked away the spots, and there she stood, on grass.

Barefoot. Memories of running barefoot on the lawn as a child at home in Summer Creek came flooding back.

She would scream and giggle until she couldn’t breathe while Blakewood and his hound, Buckle, chased her.

Daisy smiled as Amelia danced away from her, twirling.

Daisy dug her toes into the grass. “I’ll race you,” she said abruptly. Her heart pounded. What was she doing? She’d never run in public—it was not ladylike—not unless her life depended on it. But for fun? She couldn’t...

Amelia stopped spinning. “What?”

Daisy ignored her racing thoughts. “I’ll race you to that hedge.”

Amelia’s grin widened. “Challenge accepted.”

They lined up using the tree as a marker, and Amelia counted.

“One, two, three!” She shot off, and Daisy burst into movement.

Her lungs could not keep up as she huffed after Amelia, whose longer stride swiftly carried her ahead.

But Daisy couldn’t stop smiling as she collapsed against the hedge beside Amelia.

All those panicked thoughts had quieted as she’d run, as if they couldn’t keep up with her.

“See?” Amelia panted. “Good trouble. Wasn’t that fun? Frankly, I’m surprised you suggested it.”

Daisy nodded. “As am I, but I remembered I used to play on the lawn barefoot at home in Summer Creek all the time.”

“Your country home?”

“Yes. It’s my parents’ main residence. Since Blakewood moved away and I’m hardly there, they’ve chosen to travel.

But I miss it so much.” Daisy leaned back into the hedge, the vibrant green leaves cradling her, their fresh scent surrounding her.

Summer Creek was her favorite place in the world, the only place that she truly felt at home.

“We should plan a trip when Alston is better.” Amelia said.

“We will,” Daisy said with certainty.

Back in her room, Daisy changed her dress and readied to go to the shops with Amelia.

“Will you be gone long?” Merry asked.

“I’m not certain. Lady Amelia is going to educate me about proper stockings.”

Merry blinked. “Is there a lot to know about stockings?”

“Apparently so. Mine are dreadful.”

Merry nodded. “Should I ask why you did not return with them?”

Daisy blushed. “I’d prefer not to answer that.”

Merry knowingly smiled. “I suspect it has something to do with Lady Amelia and being barefoot on grass.”

Daisy gasped. “How did you guess?”

“I’ve worked here long enough.”