I got swept up again—classic Daisy, head in the clouds. Always fucking do.
Can’t even behave in achurch. Practically melting because Edward Cavendish said some nice things about my “joy”.
But I’m not a fool this time.
Sure, Edward had lovely things to say about me—when no one else was around to hear them. And maybe he even meant them. He’s not cruel like that. But at the end of the day, he’s still Edward bloody Cavendish. He might enjoy my chaos in private,might even find it charming, but he’s not going to choose me. Not really. Not when it matters.
The lump in my throat is impossible to swallow.
I don’t know why I’m so affected after a five-minute rough and tumble.
My voice comes out clipped and sharp. “I’ve got to go.”
I step outside and dig my trainers out of my bag. The heels come off and get shoved unceremoniously into the depths of my bag. The trainers go on with a satisfyingtugof the laces.
Behind me, there’s the unmistakable crunch of footsteps on gravel. The kind of stride that radiates purpose.
Only one man walks like that.
Great. Here comes the inevitable “let’s keep our prayer alcove shenanigans our dirty little secret” speech. I cannot wait to hear how he spins this.
“Daisy. Can I have a moment?”
I stop mid-stride, sigh, and turn to face him. “Yes?”
And there he is, standing all broody and tortured, his perfectly tailored suit now slightly rumpled, his hair a mess from all the hand-running.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his brow furrowing like he’s about to deliver bad news.
Here we fucking go.
“Are you?” I fold my arms tight across my chest. “Why’s that?”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
The guilt express, right-on schedule.
I keep my face blank, channeling every ounce of chill I don’t feel. “No need to apologize. We’re both adults. I thoroughly enjoyed our little church rendezvous. Very . . . spiritual.”
The corner of his mouth twitches.
“As you could see,” he says quietly, “so did I.” His gaze darkens, voice dipping lower. “A littletoomuch.”
I wave him off, pretending the tiny knife twisting between my ribs isn’t cutting as deep as it is. “It’s fine. No need to dwell. I’ve got a train to catch, and you’ve got a doctor to get back to.”
Oops—bit more venom than planned. Slipped out like a burp there.
His jaw tightens. He steps closer, awkward and deliberate, as if he’s out of his element. “Wait. Look, I had something to ask—”
“It’s fine, Edward,” I cut in, steamrolling whatever’s coming before it guts me. “I’m not planning to tell anyone. Your secret descent into debauchery with the shopping channel girl is safe with me. I’ll be taking what happened to my grave. And Bernard’s grave. Though, knowing Bernard, he’s probably already regaling the angels with the sordid details.”
He huffs, dragging a hand through his hair again, looking less than thrilled with my quip. “Right. That’s not what I was going to ask.”
“Well?” I raise a brow. “Idohave a train to catch, so . . . ?”
He shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders tensing. “Would you like to see me sometime?”
The words spill out, like they’ve beendraggedout against their will.
