She arches a brow, her arms lowering slightly. “No, in the church hall,” she says slowly, giving me awhat is wrong with youlook. “See what?”
Oh, thank god.
“Nothing,” I say, diving into a Forward Bend so aggressively that I nearly headbutt my own knees.
“Daisy Wilson, is there something you’re not telling me?” There’s a pause. “You know, I’ve always thought he had a soft spot for you.”
I scoff, snapping back up.
She plants her hands on her hips. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I sigh, realizing there’s no escaping this. Might as well give her the PG version. “He . . . might have tried to ask me out.”
Her whole face lights up. “Really? Oh, Daisy!”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Can you believe it?”
“Well, that’s wonderful!”
“As if, Mum. I’m not about to be another Cavendish plaything. He spent half the funeral glued to that gorgeous woman from the hospital. You saw her, right?”
Mum hums, her enthusiasm dimming slightly. “I did see her. I thought . . . well, I thought they might be together.”
“Exactly.”
She frowns. “Edward is a good man, Daisy. I hope you didn’t cut him off too harshly. You can be quite blunt sometimes.”
I wave her off. “He’ll survive. Besides, I’ve learned my lesson from Charlie. Fool me once, and all that bollocks.”
Her expression softens, but there’s something sharp in her eyes now.
“Listen to me—Edward is nothing like Charlie. He’s twice the man his brother will ever be. If he asked you out, he meant it.”
“Come on, Mum.”
“I’m serious.” She straightens, steel creeping into her voice. “I won’t hear you speak ill of that man.”
“Whatever.”
Hands on hips. Uh-oh. Full Mum Mode activated. “Daisy, you listen to me andbehave, please. Be nice to that man.”
“I am!”
“I mean it. Look . . . I wasn’t totally honest with you before.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I mentioned Edward being generous with the staff.” She pauses, as if choosing her words. “It’s more than that. The truth is . . . Edward might very well have saved my life.”
I freeze.
“What?” My heart stalls. “How?”
Mum exhales. “How d’you think I managed to skip the NHS queue and get all those private treatments?”
“I thought it was your health insurance . . . or the family pulled strings.”
She laughs, but it’s not her usual warm one. “Thefamily? Please. No, love, it was allEdward. And he didn’t just pull strings—he paid for the whole lot.”
