“Mrs Boswell said—” She stopped herself. “Forgive me, ma’am. My tongue runs away with me, and I’ve no wish to speak out of turn.”
“You may speak freely here.” The house held too many secrets. And the girl was trembling, poor thing. “Forgive me. I don’t know your name.”
“Daisy, ma’am. After the flower, not my father’s heifer.”
Olivia smiled. “A pretty name. I’ll be sure to remember it.”
Daisy relaxed a little, then prattled on about household matters, even mentioning Cook’s tendency for tantrums. “He’s taken to locking himself in the pantry more often of late. But we all know it’s best to leave him there.”
“He’ll be too busy to hide in the pantry. We plan to spend more time here.”
For a moment, she let herself imagine it. Gabriel at her side, the house alive with laughter, the staff settled, the ghosts of the past laid to rest. Perhaps when all this was over, life might truly begin.
Daisy’s eyes widened. “Oh, we’ll all be glad of it, ma’am. Mrs Boswell always said things would work out in the end. Said some things are just meant to be. Better than if he’d married the countess.”
Olivia frowned. The poor girl was at sixes and sevens. Weren’t they all? Everyone’s thoughts were muddled these days.
“The countess? If you’re referring to Lady Berridge, she’s married to Aaron Chance.”
“Before that, ma’am, when she was facing the noose, and his lordship knew marrying her was the only way to save her neck.”
The words landed like a brick in a well.
Gabriel had offered to marry the countess?
To save her from the threat of death?
To ease the pain of the past, no doubt.
Surely he would have told her. Not let her discover it from a maid.
Daisy must have noticed the colour draining from Olivia’s cheeks. “A marriage of friendship, that’s all he offered. On account of him acting in her brother’s stead. To protect her, ma’am. Nothing more. He said they could live in separate houses.”
Gabriel’s proposal surged into her mind.
A relationship based on friendship and mutual respect will suffice.
The truth struck like a bolt from the heavens.
He hadn’t been so enamoured he’d say anything to marry her.
She wasn’t the first.
She wasn’t special at all.
“Would you—” She tried to speak, but her mouth was dry,her throat closing. “Would you ask Mrs Boswell to come to my chamber?”
Daisy paled. “I’m sorry, my lady. Have I spoken out of turn? I was just about to say his lordship is different around you. We’ve never seen him?—”
“It’s fine, Daisy.” She was seconds from crying, the words like splinters in her throat. “If you could just do as I ask.”
The moment the door clicked shut behind her, the tears came. Hot. Unstoppable. They streamed down her face, dripping from her nose and chin. She pressed her palms to her eyes, but it was too late to stop the ache inside.
What a fool she’d been.
What a stupid fool.
To believe what existed between them was anything more than lust. Their rampant coupling in the theatre was proof enough—this was want, not something profound.
