Daisy turned away and hugged herself. Deep in her heart she’d thought the same thing many times. He didn’t want to marry her. Because... he didn’t find her good enough. Not as pretty and polished as the young ladies he was accustomed to. No matter how little she felt for him, it still hurt to not be wanted. But she never said these things aloud.
Now it seemed others had already done that for her.
“We’ve been betrothed since birth. Lady Claystone and my mother are as close as sisters. She wants me to marry her son. She chose me. In fact, the marriage contract was signed just before my parents left for their trip.” Though Daisy had to admit she’d been chosen for reasons she’d never fully understood, except perhaps for Lady Claystone’s affection for Daisy’s mother. Lady Claystone did not hold Daisy’s father in the same regard, however, and she’d never hidden that fact from Daisy. Daisy’s mother was the second daughter of a viscount,but Daisy’s father made his fortune through hard work, building his textiles business from nothing and then investing his gains wisely. Yet, he was still seen as lesser in Lady Claystone’s eyes and not worthy of her mother, though that had never stopped her mother from loving her father fiercely.
But it appeared Lady Claystone’s prejudiced beliefs extended to her friends, like Mrs. Miranda, for more than Daisy had thought. Daisy had suspected Mrs. Miranda only tolerated Daisy’s presence because of her connection to Lady Claystone. Now she had a clearer idea why.
“You didn’t read all the article,” Miss Miranda continued. “They’re saying Lady Amelia is with child and it is not your brother’s. Lady Claystone will not associate with the likes of Lady Amelia, and I fear...”
Daisy looked over her shoulder at Miss Miranda and the girl trailed off. They were friends. Sort of. More out of circumstance than desire. Miss Miranda was only seventeen and hadn’t come out yet, though to be fair, neither had Daisy. Lady Claystone had wanted to wait until Cliffton was back from the continent. Neither young woman had a great deal of experience of the world, yet the young Miss Miranda parroted her mother’s beliefs about how society worked with such certainty.
But what if she was right? What if Daisy’s betrothal ended? The thought surprised her. In fact, the idea almost made her giddy. As they’d gotten older, she and Cliffton had seen each other less and less. Daisy didn’t mind. They had little in common other than their betrothal. She used to hope that as they got older, romantic feelings would develop. But he seemed never to want to see her or write to her. Lady Claystone claimed it was because he was simply too busy performing his duties, so busy he hadn’t been there to sign the contract at all. Lady Claystone assured Daisy that everything was fine and Cliffton couldn’twaitto marry her.
Now at nineteen, Daisy was suddenly done waiting to be wanted. If she wasn’t betrothed then she could come out, have a season, and maybe not be so inclined to sit against a wall, waiting to marry a man who was too busy to woo his own bride. No one had everaskedDaisy if she wanted to marry him. What she wanted had never seemed to matter at all.
What if Lady Claystone took their newly signed marriage contract and ripped it to shreds? Daisy could picture it. Her enraged pale expression, her slender fingers clawing the parchment to shreds, and bits of it falling down around her like snow and Daisy would feel... elated.
“Why are you smiling?” Miss Miranda asked in alarm.
Daisy wiped her hand across her mouth. Had she been? Oh dear.
The maid cleared her throat. “I’m done, miss.” She bobbed a quick curtsy and left.
Miss Miranda folded her arms. “I’d thought you’d be more upset about this. After you leave here, my mother said we can no longer associate with you.”
Daisy frowned. “Do you agree with her? Do you think the behaviors of others somehow taint me?”
“That’s the way proper society works.”
“It’s stupid.”
Miss Miranda stepped closer to her, her eyes pooling with tears.
Maybe theywerefriends, Daisy thought, even if they’d never had much in common.
“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Miss Miranda said. “Maybe one day, when we’re both married—if you marry Lord Cliffton—we can be friends again.”
“But you think he won’t want to marry me now, isn’t that correct?”
Miss Miranda shrugged meekly. “Goodbye, Miss Blakewood.”
Daisy’s nose stung but she lifted her chin. “Goodbye, Miss Miranda. I thank you for your friendship and kindness while I’ve been traveling with you and your family.”
Miss Miranda nodded. She turned away and left Daisy there. Confused, now a little saddened, and frightened about what would happen now.
It was nearly lunchtime when the maid returned to summon her, and Daisy was led out of the house like a criminal. She climbed into the carriage, surprised to find Mrs. Miranda’s lady’s maid, Bailey, inside and not Mrs. Miranda.
“I’ll be your chaperone for the time being, miss,” Bailey said.
“Oh... thank you.” This might be a blessing.
The carriage lurched into motion. By the time they reached the closest posting inn, evening had set in. Daisy followed Bailey into the tavern, her stomach rumbling.
“Wait here,” Bailey instructed. Daisy slid into a chair at an open table. The room smelled sickly sweet like spilled ale, but there were also wafts of savory meat pies. A barmaid stopped by her table.
“Can I get ye something, miss?”
Daisy took out her pin money. “A meat pie and a cup of tea, please.” She was starving. She didn’t have enough to buy two pies, but she would share with Bailey if needed.
