Sam swallowed back a curse. Chase was right. “She will be alone?” He didn’t know what he’d do if she arrived with a strange woman in tow. Her brides were kept secret, the arrangements made behind closed doors.
Mr. Chase smirked. “Yes. Getting impatient?”
Sam refused to answer that. “Miss Smith, will you ring for Petrov?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I’ll wait for her downstairs while you prepare for the meeting.” He studied Sam in the chair for the moment before leaving.
“You seem worried,” Daisy said.
“Its... complicated. She helped save my life, but in exchange she’s exerting her influence over me. As you can see, she wants to flex that influence and show me that she is in control. As a man, as a member of the peerage, I don’t like it, but neither can I refuse her. I cannot risk insulting her.”
“That is how I feel about Lady Claystone. She holds so much power over me. I don’t know how to break free.”
Sam wanted to hold her again. “We’ll find a way. I promise you that.”
Petrov arrived while Sam and Daisy ate a slice of cake. He was already aware of Sam’s impending company and helped Sam put on his dressing gown and slippers. Petrov combed and styled his hair, and all the while Sam stewed in his anger. He dreaded Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s arrival. If he was getting better, he was closer to a marriage he didn’t want, the life altering choice he hadn’t been allowed to make for himself. As proud as he was of his improvement, he still had to hide it and pretend to be an invalid.
Bile burned in the back of his throat. These last few days he’d had Daisy to distract him. He hadn’t let himself dwell on these torments.
He caught Daisy taking peeks at him and those telltale blushes soothed his ire somewhat and tantalized him more than they ought to. What was she thinking that made her blush just from looking at him? Amelia and Blakewood soon joined them,and they sat at the table by the large window in his room. It wasn’t long before the widow arrived.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mrs. Dove-Lyon entered,and the room seemed to still as she approached the table where Amelia poured her a cup of tea. There were only four chairs, so Blakewood stood behind Amelia, putting Mrs. Dove-Lyon across from Sam, with Daisy on his left and Amelia on his right. The heavy curtains were closed for the evening and more candles had been brought in to light the room.
She sipped carefully without wetting the heavy black lace covering most of her face. Daisy, for her part, regulated her expression well and didn’t reveal the shock he expected. Mrs. Dove-Lyon, dressed in her signature black garb, was a startling sight. Once Sam gained membership at her club, he’d quickly earned a reputation as an astute card player and then as an undefeatable opponent. She’d approached him on more than one occasion to thank him for providing suitably desperate men ready to make a deal or commit to one of her matches, but her appearance never ceased to be striking.
Blakewood caught his gaze and took the lead. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon, a pleasure to see you again. This is my sister, Miss Daisy Blakewood.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon tipped her head slightly. “How do you do, Miss Blakewood?”
“Very well, thank you, madam.”
Just having the widow’s attention on Daisy made Sam sweat. Really, it wasn’t as if the woman would kidnap her. She was just a woman. Her power could only extend so far. He had to calm down, but panic raced under his skin. She might hold Sam in her grip, but not Daisy. Never Daisy.
“Are you visiting for long?” the widow asked Daisy.
“Only until my parents return home from their travels,” Daisy answered.
“How bored you must be, cooped up in this gloomy house.”
Daisy smiled sweetly. “I’m enjoying the respite.”
“You’re not out?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked in an intrigued tone. “Shouldn’t you be taking the ballrooms by storm? You are lovely, my dear.”
Daisy blushed, and Sam knew it wasn’t a ruse or a practiced act. Daisy was as pure and genuine as they came. If only for that reason, she shouldn’t be here at all, spending hours alone with him, but Sam was loath to let her go. Not until he was better and out of the dungeon his room had become. She was the only medicine that made him feel better and he wouldn’t give her up without a fight.
“No, madam. Not yet. The timing wasn’t right for this season. I want to thank you for your assistance in Lord Alston’s recovery. I understand we would not have him here without your help.”
“A most sincere expression of gratitude. What a breath of fresh air you are, Miss Blakewood.” Mrs. Dove Lyon turned her attention to Sam. “You look better, Lord Alston, I must say.”
“I’m recovering well, thank you.”
She lifted her cup and took a sip. “Mr. Chase has informed me you are slowly regaining your strength.”
“As swiftly as I can,” he said, which was true. “It has not been without struggle. It will take time,” he added. He’d given so littlethought to the contract this last week. How swiftly would the widow expect him to marry once he was healed?
