Daisy smiled. Relief, a little trepidation, and determination steeled her nerves. Could she do this? Ruin her own reputation?
“Come into my room, please.”
He was hardly more than a shadow staring down at her, his expression unreadable.
“Why?” he asked suspiciously.
“I need to tell you something. It can’t wait until tomorrow.”
The tension in his silence killed her.
“Very well.” His hands dropped from her face, and he turned, opening her door, the light of her glowing hearth revealing his less than pleased expression. He held the door open for her and Daisy entered.
“Close the door,” Daisy said, her voice barely above a whisper. She took Lady Claystone’s note from her pocket.
He watched her with suspicion as he closed the door. Daisy’s heart was pounding again, and this time she thought she might faint. She’d never been so bold. She’d never demanded something so... so wicked. But she’d never been this desperately in love.
“Lock it,” she said.
His eyes darkened with something like desire but also anger. Or dread? She couldn’t tell. But he turned the key, though he didn’t move toward her. He folded his arms.
“Won’t you sit?”
“No.”
Daisy wrung her hands. “Are you angry with me?”
“I haven’t settled on one emotion just yet. It all depends on what you need to tell me.”
She held up the note. “It’s from Lady Claystone.”
He cautiously strode forward and took the note. He opened it, Daisy holding her breath as she watched his eyes move over the words, the dim hearth light just enough to read by. He crumpled it in his fist.
“You don’t have to go,” he said. He tossed the message into the hearth and Daisy watched the flames greedily consume the paper. “Do you hear me, Daisy?” He stepped closer and took her by the arms. “You don’t have to answer her summons. You don’t have to marry him.”
“But...” How could joy and fear mix so devastatingly well?
“But what?”
Her bravery wavered. “Please hold me,” she said weakly.
His face softened and he lifted her into his arms and took her to the bed where he gently sat with her perched on his lap.
“You’re scaring me,” he said.
“I’m scared, too,” Daisy admitted.
He adjusted her, running a hand over her hair. “You won’t face them alone. There isn’t anything she can do to you—”
“It isn’t that. I’m prepared to face the consequences of breaking my engagement if I have you. But I don’t know how, unless...”
“Unless what?”
Daisy bit her lip and held his stare.
“What is it? You can tell me.”
The tension in her body might break her resolve, but she took a breath, the words fumbling in her mind. How did one ask for this?
