She’d been afraid—for her reputation? The realization only deepened his determination to solve this puzzle.
She released his arm then and, chatting about recipes and tea, steered Mrs. Farley out of the kitchen and out the front door. Only after they’d disappeared did Alastair turn to Gilbert, who was looking more than a little entertained by the entire exchange.
“We’re brothers then, eh?” Alastair cocked a brow.
“Maybe.” Gilbert proved quite loyal to his sister, clamping his mouth shut and backing out of the room.
Leaving Alastair to wait for Daisy.
Who was, apparently, his long-lost wife.
TALL TALES
Daisy’s heart raced as she all but shoved Mrs. Farley out the door and onto the street. Not in a hundred years would she have imagined that her unexpected houseguest would stroll into the kitchen wearing nothing but her father’s old nightshirt.
Goodness.
She hadn’t even realized he could stand.
And yet, there he had been—towering, bare-legged, looking impossibly dignified for a man in such indecent attire.
But she couldn’t spend time marveling at that now. Because before they’d been interrupted, he’d announced his intentions to leave the safety of her home… to leave her care.
This morning wasn’t going at all as she’d envisioned. Not even close.
It was her fault, really. She should have anticipated that Mrs. Farley might drop by, especially after Gil had mentioned that their neighbor had been asking about her.
But the timing? Rather inconvenient. Catastrophic, really.
Now she was stuck with the colossal lie she’d spun in desperation.
Hopefully, Mrs. Farley had believed her.
Otherwise… there might be a problem.
Closing the shop door behind her nosy, meddling neighbor, Daisy locked it this time, then pressed her back against the wood, exhaling slowly.
She had long since made peace with the fact that she would never marry, nor would she ever rely on a man. She did just fine on her own.
But where her business was concerned?
Reputation was everything.
She sold her soaps to the snobbiest set in all of London—the Mayfair elite. With just a single whisper of impropriety, her clientele would vanish like mist.
Whatever Mrs. Farley believed, the woman had undoubtedly already begun spreading the tale to half the street.
Daisy’s heart dropped, and she pressed her palms to her cheeks.
It wasn’t that Daisy required a spotless reputation in the way other young women did. But her business did.
Her brother did.
If even a handful of her customers took their business elsewhere over something so ridiculous as this, she wouldn’t be able to pay his tuition. More than a handful, and she’d go under completely.
Selling specialty items to people who figuratively—sometimes literally—lived and died by the rules of propriety was, ultimately, a delicate business.
Which was why she’d told such an outrageous lie.
