“We don’t usually. I hate it.”
Daisy grabbed Amelia’s arm. “You hate it?”
Amelia nodded. “I can’t eat it without thinking of little ducklings. Sam does not eat it when I’m present. But tonight, I will make an exception for him. We have so much to celebrate.”
“Is there any food he hates?” Daisy asked as they started to walk again.
“Gelatin,” Amelia said. “Anything encased in gelatin. He loathes the way it wiggles.”
Daisy smiled at that. “No gelatin then.”
They stepped lightly down the main stairs together, and as the doors to the dining room appeared, candlelight filled the entry, and both her brother and Sam could be heard talking.
Her heart climbed up her throat as they entered.
Sam was... magnificent. He wore fine evening attire and his hair was styled, the boyish curls tamed to something suave and enticing. She wanted to dig her fingers into his hair and ruffle it. The black of his coat and the sapphire waistcoat made his light blue eyes shockingly bright. Her mouth dried as both men turned to them, but Sam’s gaze was only on her.
Daisy looked away. She was not dressed for an elegant dinner. She wore a plain dove-gray gown. Daisy wanted to dash upstairs and change, but truly, she had nothing in her wardrobe, here or at home, that would make her suitable to stand next to such a dazzling creature as Samuel Clark, Earl of Alston.
“At last,” Sam said, his gaze wandering over her until her brother cleared his throat and Sam smirked guiltily.
He knew. Her brotherknew. Her stomach shriveled into a ball. She would not be able to eat a thing.
Amelia led her to the chair at Sam’s right and then took her place at Sam’s left between her brother and Graham.
Daisy tried to remember what words were used for as she sat. She was supposed to use them to communicate.
“Did you have a pleasant afternoon?” Sam asked.
Daisy nodded pitifully, her cheeks flaming. Her mouth had never felt so dry. She had no glass of water, but she did have wine. She reached for the glass, her clumsy fingers flicking the crystal stem away from her instead of grasping it, and the glass toppled over, red wine blooming like a grotesque flower on the snow-white cloth.
“I’m so sorry,” she cried and stood, blotting at the mess with her white napkin, staining it and her hands red. Sam put his hand on hers.
“It’s fine,” he said.
“It’s not! I ruined it!”
The room went silent, Amelia and her brother watching her with concerned frowns that only made her feel worse. She couldn’t speak or pick up a glass, and she’d ruined the pristine white tablecloth. She was nothing more than a child dressed like a woman—a plainly dressed woman—and yet this glorious man claimed to love her, and Daisy didn’t understand why.
If Cliffton didn’t want her, why would Sam? Soon he’d figure it out. He’d get out of this house and back to his real life. A life Daisy had no place in. She was an imposter. Tears flooded her eyes, and before she could stop herself, she was sobbing into her stained, wet napkin.
“Daisy,” Sam’s voice filled her head. Hands gripped her shoulders and drew her up from her chair. Good, she should eat in the nursery like a child. Firm hands gripped her wrists and pulled her hands away from her face.
Sam looked down at her tenderly.
“I’m sorry,” Daisy whispered.
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”
“I can’t marry you. I can’t ruin both you and my family.”
“Ruin? Who’s ruined?” Sam cupped her face. “Where is this coming from?”
“It’s true,” Daisy said. “Look at me.”
“I am. It’s my favorite pastime. I know what I see when I look at you, but tell me what you see.”
“I’m... I’m...” Daisy said. All her reasons seemed to echo at once in her brain in Lady Claystone’s acidic voice. “I’m too dull. I’m shy. I—I’m nothing like you.”
