Daisy raised a brow at his tone. He glared at the cards as he shuffled them.
“Let’s not talk about that,” Amelia said. “Graham, we must visit Lady Cecily this afternoon. Daisy, would you like to come?”
“I—”
“Who will stay with me?” Alston asked. “You abandon me so soon?”
“I’ll stay with you, if I may,” Daisy offered. “I’ve done enough visiting and chatting for the next year.”
“It’s my house, and I say you may,” Alston said.
Blakewood looked between them. “If you wish.” He set his heavy stare on Alston. “Watch what you say in front of her.”
Chapter Sixteen
Sam had Daisyall to himself. He dismissed Petrov for the afternoon, the purple bags under his eyes tattling on Petrov’s lack of rest. The man needed a long nap. Miss Smith had disappeared to who knows where, but Sam didn’t care. Daisy sat in a padded armchair beside his bed and held an embroidery hoop in her lap. She smiled up at him with twin dimples that frankly made his prick jerk. She was explaining her special technique for making flower petals smooth, and he couldn’t recall a single word or summon the faintest interest, but he hoped his expression conveyed none of that.
She bit her lip and looked down. “I’m boring you, aren’t I?”
Bollocks.
“I’m afraid the instructions are too complex. My simple male brain cannot comprehend.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you teasing me?”
“No, I’m insulting myself.” At least he hoped that was clear.
“Oh.”
He wanted to erase that frown with his thumb. “Why would I ever have anything but compliments to shower upon you?”
She cocked her head to the side. “My brother says I’m perceptive, but sometimes conversation seems to allude tothings I don’t understand or convey meanings that are the opposite of what their words mean.”
He scratched his chin. “I know what you mean. Ballrooms and drawing rooms can be battlegrounds of subterfuge and innuendo. It’s similar to card games. You cannot take a person’s words or expression at face value unless you know and trust them.”
“Oh, good. Then it’s not just my lack of experience.”
Sam stopped shuffling his cards and studied her. “What do you mean by lack of experience?” She’d been touring with friends. Seeing places, meeting people, dancing, playing lawn games. Doing things gently bred young women did to ready them for society.
“Well,” she swallowed, “I haven’t been given the opportunity to socialize as much as I should have, I think. My social circle is too small.”
“Why didn’t you come out?” he asked. “Or was I just not invited? Though I’m sure Blakewood would have mentioned it. I’m certain I would have received an invitation and danced with you.” He’d remember that. If he’d danced with her, her sudden change wouldn’t have been such a shock. What would she have looked like? Her ruby hair sparking under the glow of the chandeliers, her dress floating around her ankles as she spun on the dance floor.
She blushed. She was always blushing in his presence, and he wasn’t even flirting. Could she really be this shy?
“I have not come out, yet.”
“But you’re nineteen.” Most girls had debuted by nineteen unless they didn’t have the funds, support of a well-respected family name, or some other unknown debilitation. And none of that applied to Daisy Blakewood. He looked her over. She was a ripe peach. She should be on the marriage mart.
“Yes, but it hasn’t been discussed much.”
Sam sat up and set his cards aside, moving his lap desk away. Was there something he was missing? “Daisy, are you afraid to debut? I know it can be overwhelming. Even Amelia had moments of panic.”
She rolled her eyes prettily. “I can’t imagine that.”
“It’s rare, but it happens.”
Daisy shrugged. “It hasn’t felt right. I don’t know. I don’t know how to speak to people. I’ll make a fool of myself.”
