Page 4 of To Steal a Lyon’s Heart (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #85)

M iss Daisy Blakewood sat under the morning sun, enjoying the warmth on her freckled cheeks in a rare moment of solitude.

She sat on a stone bench tucked inside a small gazebo where she could open the letter from her brother in private.

She smiled at his steady, neat penmanship and read, her smile slowly fading.

He was married. By special license? There had been a scandal? Lord Alston had nearly died? Daisy’s hand dropped to her lap as she stared at the dew-covered roses on the bushes around the gazebo in shock. Her parents must be shocked if they had received the same letter. What should she do? Go home?

Daisy stood, looking around as if her chaperone, Mrs. Miranda, might suddenly appear with an answer. Daisy hurriedly slipped on her gloves and bonnet and headed back toward the breakfast parlor where the other guests of the house party remained, sipping tea and opening their correspondence.

When she entered the room, it went silent. Miss Chloe Miranda, her traveling companion as well as her chaperone’s daughter, would not meet her gaze. Mrs. Miranda approached with pinched lips and wide eyes.

“Come with me,” she hissed.

Daisy followed her from the room, feeling like she was about to be chastised. Her feet were heavy as they climbed the stairs to her small room, and Mrs. Miranda closed the door and turned to face her.

“I dare say you’ve heard from your brother?”

“I have.”

“This is dreadful business. I can’t say what the countess will do.”

“Countess?” Daisy asked in confusion.

“The Countess of Claystone. You’re future mother-in-law,” Mrs. Miranda replied, impatient with Daisy apparent slowness. “If word has reached us, it is certain she already knows.”

“Of my brother’s marriage?”

“Your brother’s scandalously hasty marriage by special license, of all things. That can only mean something distasteful has occurred.” She shook her head. “You must leave at once.”

Daisy kept her mouth shut. She didn’t know what to say.

Her brother was a saint compared to others.

Whatever he did he would not have done thoughtlessly or for any sordid reason.

But Mrs. Miranda was likely correct—Lady Claystone would not see it that way.

A person’s actions were a direct reflection of their character, and there was nothing more important to her than image and reputation.

She had long made it clear that she expected no less of Daisy, when Daisy would one day marry her son and become the next Countess of Claystone. Everything Daisy did must be perfect.

And having a brother entangled in scandal? Lady Claystone would never forgive this transgression, no matter how innocent Daisy was of it.

Mrs. Miranda clearly understood that as well.

If they wanted to send her home, so be it.

It wasn’t as though she was having a grand time being carted from house to house while her parents traveled.

Her father’s greatest passion, other than making money, was hunting, and her parents had been gone for months, visiting the best hunting grounds.

Come to think on it, they might not yet know what was happening.

The London residence was still closed up, and their family residence in Staffordshire too far away.

If she was to be sent away, where was Daisy supposed to go?

Mrs. Miranda marched to the door. “Until I’ve made preparations for travel, you will stay in here.”

“Yes, Mrs. Miranda.” Daisy said obediently. Mrs. Miranda closed the door, and Daisy heard the lock click. She laughed at the ridiculousness. Did they think she’d try to escape? As if she, Daisy Blakewood, wallflower and bluestocking, was some wicked girl who regularly flouted the rules.

No. Nor was her brother so reckless. If he had to marry quickly, it was for honorable reasons, Daisy was certain. Daisy sat on the end of her bed and waited. If they wanted her gone, she’d gladly go. She’d rather go to her brother and see what all the fuss was about than stay here.

She heard the lock turn again, and her door opened. This time Miss Miranda entered, followed by a maid who’d been acting as her lady’s maid for the duration of their stay. The maid began packing Daisy’s things while Miss Miranda approached with wide eyes.

“I can’t imagine what you may be feeling.” She sat on the end of the bed as well, but away, as if Daisy’s brother’s scandal could be catching.

“I’m surprised, but I don’t think my brother would do anything to warrant this kind of treatment. My brother is an exemplary gentleman.”

“That is why it is so shocking. Though, from what I read—”

“Read? What did you read?”

Miss Miranda pulled a folded page from under her skirts. “This is the newspaper.”

“The scandal sheet, you mean.” Daisy took it with a grimace.

“Hardly a source of factual information.” She opened it and scanned the lines of text with increasing horror.

The writer claimed that Lord Alston was dead and many other sordid lies.

She shook her head with disgust and crinkled up the paper and threw it on the floor.

“Lord Alston isn’t dead! How deplorable to use the fact that Lord Alston and his sister are orphans to color them as immoral scoundrels. My brother explained why he was there. A fall from a horse severely injured Lord Alston, and Lady Amelia, being alone, needed his support and guidance.”

“But they were unchaperoned, and clearly—”

“Clearly, the situation has been remedied. The circumstances were extreme. Allowances must be made. And,”—Daisy stood—“they are now married. Shouldn’t that absolve them of any wrongdoing?”

Miss Miranda stood and picked up the paper, spreading it out. “It says right here she has an aunt. That is who she should have turned to, but your brother—”

Daisy took a step toward her. “My brother what? What did he do? I know my brother much better than you or any scandal rag could claim.” Her heart pounded. Anger set fire to her blood and made her fearless in a way she’d never felt before.

Miss Miranda reared back in surprise. “Lady Claystone will not see it that way. She will not be so forgiving of such actions, married or not. She and my mother uphold a high standard for what is proper and how people of our status should behave. We’re not led astray by fashion and vice like so many others in high society.

” Miss Miranda stood and looked down her nose at Daisy.

“You might not understand that because you were not born a peer. Marrying Lord Cliffton was your one chance to elevate your bloodline, but now...”

Daisy shook her head. “I am not ashamed of my bloodline. Lady Claystone is my mother’s oldest friend. She will understand when she has had a proper explanation. Not gossip. She abhors gossip. Nothing will come of this.”

But she would be angry, and she would make Daisy face some sort of consequence for the scandal that would ensue from this.

But it would pass. Lady Claystone may dislike her father’s working-class origins and Graham by extension, since he would be continuing their father’s legacy as a working gentleman, but she’d never treated Daisy in such a manner nor her mother. Their friendship was genuine.

“Perhaps you’ve taken your betrothal for granted,” Miss Miranda said finally. “I didn’t want to tell you, but there have been whispers about you.”

“What whispers?”

“That the reason Cliffton hasn’t come back to marry you is because he doesn’t want you.”

Daisy turned away and hugged herself. Deep in her heart she’d thought the same thing many times.

He didn’t want to marry her. Because..

. he didn’t find her good enough. Not as pretty and polished as the young ladies he was accustomed to.

No matter how little she felt for him, it still hurt to not be wanted. But she never said these things aloud.

Now it seemed others had already done that for her.

“We’ve been betrothed since birth. Lady Claystone and my mother are as close as sisters.

She wants me to marry her son. She chose me.

In fact, the marriage contract was signed just before my parents left for their trip.

” Though Daisy had to admit she’d been chosen for reasons she’d never fully understood, except perhaps for Lady Claystone’s affection for Daisy’s mother.

Lady Claystone did not hold Daisy’s father in the same regard, however, and she’d never hidden that fact from Daisy.

Daisy’s mother was the second daughter of a viscount, but Daisy’s father made his fortune through hard work, building his textiles business from nothing and then investing his gains wisely.

Yet, he was still seen as lesser in Lady Claystone’s eyes and not worthy of her mother, though that had never stopped her mother from loving her father fiercely.

But it appeared Lady Claystone’s prejudiced beliefs extended to her friends, like Mrs. Miranda, for more than Daisy had thought. Daisy had suspected Mrs. Miranda only tolerated Daisy’s presence because of her connection to Lady Claystone. Now she had a clearer idea why.

“You didn’t read all the article,” Miss Miranda continued. “They’re saying Lady Amelia is with child and it is not your brother’s. Lady Claystone will not associate with the likes of Lady Amelia, and I fear...”

Daisy looked over her shoulder at Miss Miranda and the girl trailed off.

They were friends. Sort of. More out of circumstance than desire.

Miss Miranda was only seventeen and hadn’t come out yet, though to be fair, neither had Daisy.

Lady Claystone had wanted to wait until Cliffton was back from the continent.

Neither young woman had a great deal of experience of the world, yet the young Miss Miranda parroted her mother’s beliefs about how society worked with such certainty.