Daisy shifted on his lap to face him. His eyes were hooded.
“What did she ask you to do?”
“Nothing yet. But the contract is voided. The bride herself refused to force me.”
Daisy gasped. Her heart shot off like a cannonball, the pounding so fierce she felt like she was vibrating. “Who—” Did she want to know? Who she was, what she looked like? If she was pretty?
He swallowed as his hand moved up her back. “You’ve met her. You know her as Miss Smith, though that is an alias.”
Her heart stopped. The nurse. The pretty woman with the sad eyes who had spent much of her time alone with Sam before Daisy arrived. She shivered and acid rose up her throat.
“She . . . did she know who you were?”
“She did. She needed reassurance—that’s why she was here under a fake name.”
“Reassurance for what?” Daisy’s jealousy tasted bitter on her tongue.
“She needs to marry to be protected from her family. Her previous fiancé abused her, but they were going to force the marriage anyway. She needed to know if I was a good man, someone safe who wouldn’t hurt her.”
Daisy closed her eyes. How awful. “What is her name?”
“Miss Felicity Brandon.”
Daisy bit her lip, trying to bury her jealousy and insecurity. Sam cupped her cheek, and Daisy opened her eyes to meet his gaze. “She refused me. She’ll stay under the widow’s protection. I did offer to help her in any way I can, but I told her I won’t marry her. I won’t marry anyone but you.”
Daisy nodded, her eyes burning. “But you have to do something else?”
“Yes, but it won’t involve marriage. You are my betrothed. You will be my wife.”
His words calmed her pounding heart, her nausea easing as he held her stare, the certainty in his words undeniable. She almost told him about the message. Almost. But she didn’t want to ruin this moment. There was always tomorrow and every day after.
All she had to do was break her engagement with Cliffton. Her mind spun anew with thoughts about how she might do that. None of them remotely confident.
“Come. Let’s get you to bed.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“Ican hearthat mind of yours working like a squeaky wheel,” Sam said. They climbed the stairs in the dark with his arm around her waist.
“No, you can’t,” Daisy said, though he was right—her mind was working. She was reviewing her every interaction with Miss Smith—she couldn’t help but still think of the nurse as Miss Smith—over the past week and overanalyzing her closeness with Sam. Did she like him? If Daisy were not here, would she have wanted to marry him? Would Sam have agreed to marry her?
Jealousy and guilt did not sit comfortably in her stomach. Jealousy, because Miss Smith had been here before Daisy was, and guilt, because Daisy had stolen the young woman’s chance to escape her family permanently. Sam would be the perfect husband for her.
But she couldn’t have him, Daisy swore. Sam was hers now. Whatever she had to do, whatever rule, contract, or social mores she had to shatter, she’d do it. She could not lose him.
So, what could she do? How could she make their marriage inevitable? How could she make Cliffton and his awful motherwantto end it?
A scandal.
She froze right outside her door. Sam paused, looking down at her face.
“Daisy?”
She bit her lip, her thoughts shooting off like fireworks. Just the suspicion of Amelia’s pregnancy and the reasons for her hasty marriage circulating about town were enough to get Daisy banished from Mrs. Miranda’s traveling party. Despite that, Lady Claystone still thought she could save Daisy’s reputation. But... if she were no longer a virgin, Daisy was sure Lady Claystone would reject her. If Daisy presented herself as sullied, possibly carrying another man’s child—
Sam shook her shoulders. He stood in front of her now. She’d been so lost in her epiphany that she hadn’t seen him at all.
He cupped her face. “You’re worrying me.”
