A Duke for Daisy: The Blooming Brides Book 1 Read online

  A Duke for Daisy

  The Blooming Brides Book 1

  Ellie St. Clair

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Ellie St. Clair

  THE DUKE SHE WISHED FOR

  Chapter 1

  ♥ Copyright 2019 by Ellie St Clair - All rights reserved.

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  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

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  Cover by AJF Designs

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  Also By Ellie St. Clair

  Standalone

  Unmasking a Duke

  Christmastide with His Countess

  Happily Ever After

  The Duke She Wished For

  Someday Her Duke Will Come

  Once Upon a Duke’s Dream

  He’s a Duke, But I Love Him

  Loved by the Viscount

  Because the Earl Loved Me

  Searching Hearts

  Duke of Christmas

  Quest of Honor

  Clue of Affection

  Hearts of Trust

  Hope of Romance

  Promise of Redemption

  The Unconventional Ladies

  Lady of Mystery

  Lady of Fortune

  Blooming Brides

  A Duke for Daisy

  1

  1813

  “Oh, but Daisy, you must!”

  “Who says I must?”

  “Mother, Father, you say so, do you not?”

  Their father sighed as he broke a roll of bread in half, slowly buttering it as though the process of eating would prevent the necessity of responding to their bickering. But, of course, it only stalled it.

  “By all means we would like to see Daisy marry,” he said, then stuffed the bread inside his heavily jowled cheeks.

  Iris grinned triumphantly, but Daisy chose to ignore her.

  “However,” he continued between mouthfuls. “We certainly will not force her to do so. If Daisy chooses to remain home, working at the inn, then so be it.”

  Iris bristled, shaking her deep chestnut curls behind her back.

  “You are saying that only because you need Daisy’s help with the inn,” she pouted, and Daisy looked up at her, hoping Iris could read the warning in her eyes. The last thing they needed right now was for their mother to go into one of her fits. Iris pursed her lips but understood Daisy’s unspoken admonishment.

  “I am jesting, Mother, Father, surely you must know that?” she asked, her practiced smile curling on her red lips, those that made most men stumble at her feet. Their father didn’t seem to overly care about her words — he didn’t about most things, they found — but it was too late to stop their mother’s hysterics.

  “Oh, Iris, surely you cannot mean such a thing?” their mother asked, her voice rising with every word. Wisps of her hair, once brown but now graying, escaped the cap on her head. “Surely you know that your father and I want nothing more than for Daisy to be happy? When Lord Mansel shoved her off, you know how distraught we were!”

  Alice Tavner certainly had been distraught when the local baron’s son had tossed her eldest daughter over for another. As for Daisy? It wasn’t as though her heart had been broken, but the dismissal had left anger simmering within her, that she could be so callously abandoned without much thought whatsoever. She had assumed Stephen was courting her because he was interested in marrying her, but no, she had just turned out to be a village woman with whom to pass the time as he waited for the woman he would truly marry.

  From the seat next to her, Marigold spoke up. “Daisy never much liked him anyway.”

  Daisy could almost roll her eyes. Were her sisters purposely attempting to send their mother into apoplexy?

  “Not like him?” Alice repeated, breathing heavily. “Not like him? Every unmarried woman within the vicinity liked him! Daisy was fortunate enough to capture his attention for a moment or two, but then that hussy came into town and with a few blinks of her eyelashes, it was as though Daisy never existed!”

  “While I thank you all for reliving this experience,” Daisy said dryly, “could we move on to another topic of conversation?”

  “I think this is important,” Iris said stubbornly. “For you must find someone else, Daisy, or how are the rest of us supposed to marry? I have to wait for you and for Marigold to wed before I will have the opportunity, and I have been more than ready for some time.”

  “While I question your readiness, you are speaking nonsense,” Daisy said practically. “There is no rule that says you must wait for your elder sisters to marry. I’m sure Mother and Father would be fine if you found someone for yourself, is that not so?”

  She looked to her parents, who didn’t answer her question directly, though her mother let out a theatrical sigh, as though all had been lost for her daughters after Lord Mansel had forgotten Daisy.

  “You see?” Daisy said with a smile, lifting a hand. “What I think is truly holding you back, Iris, is that you have far too many men who are interested in you, and you in them.”

  “That is not true!” her sister exclaimed, her deep blue eyes widening.

  Daisy wished her own looked something like her sister’s. In fact, she often wished she looked much more like her sister in all ways. While she considered all three of her younger siblings to be beautiful, Iris stood out, perhaps, in part, due to her vivaciousness. Daisy’s own eyes were a blue-green that were hardly ever noticed, and she was too tall, too broad, too strong. It helped when it came to tasks around their parents’ inn, but certainly not when it came to catching the attention of a man.

  Stephen Carter, at the time the son of Lord Mansel, had noticed her one day only because he had nearly accidentally trampled her with his horse. After his apology, they had shared a laugh and a polite conversation. She had been shocked when he had continued her acquaintance at a dance at his father’s house, furthering it by calling upon her more and more frequently, most often to go walking. But the moment of his father’s passing, when he had become Baron himself, it was as though nothing between them had ever existed. Instead, he was suddenly impossibly interested in Lady Almira Darlington, apparently a close family friend, who had come to visit following the mourning period.

  Daisy could admit to herself now that her interest in Stephen had been starting to wear thin, but she hadn’t felt it was appropriate to say anything while he was in mourning, his father having so recently passed. Apparently, the dissolution of their relationship hadn’t bothered him in the least.

  “What does it matter what I think?” Daisy asked with a sigh. “If I ever marry, I’m sure I will be the last of us to do so. Besides, now that I h
ave thought further about it, it only makes sense that I find a man who would be interested in taking this inn over himself. We have no brothers, so who else will help Mother and Father?”

  Her words somewhat calmed her mother, who now looked more contemplative. Yes, Daisy had chosen the correct tactic to maintain the peace. Thank goodness. Her youngest sister, Violet, looked to her with a grateful smile. The girl hated conflict more than any of them. If it ever escalated too quickly, she would run to her room and hide.

  Her sisters — Violet, as well as Marigold — were the one reason Daisy typically chose not to allow Iris to cause too much discord with the entire family about. Daisy would wait until they were alone to tell Iris exactly what she thought.

  “Oh, that reminds me,” their father said, lifting a finger from his place at the head of the table. “We have a new boarder. He will be arriving this week.”

  “How long a stay will he be here for?” Daisy asked as she began to think of which room he should be lodged in and what they would need to have prepared for him. “And when exactly does he arrive?”

  Her father looked thoughtful for a moment, as though he had completely forgotten. Daisy sighed inwardly. She did wish he would write these things down. “Perhaps in a week, perhaps two. I cannot say I completely remember.”

  Daisy attempted to smile and set aside her concerns at her father’s memory, as well as the extra work it would create for her, being unaware of this man’s arrival date. They would simply have to be ready, that was all.

  The Wild Rose Inn would not suffer any loss to its reputation, of that Daisy would make sure.

  2

  Major-General Nathaniel Huntingwell began his slow hobble toward the makeshift office down what seemed to be a never-ending corridor.

  Finally, his leg had healed enough for him to rise from his bed with the assistance of a cane. It was time to return to the action, to defeat Bonaparte and his annoyingly stubborn armies.

  Nathaniel was aware that with the risk he had taken, he was lucky to be alive. But that was no matter. The reward had been far greater than any had ever imagined.

  While Nathaniel’s fight had ended with a bayonet slicing halfway through his calf and a head injury, the origin of which he was entirely unaware, his army had won the battle, and that was all that had mattered to him.

  Nathaniel had awoken in a temporary field hospital not far from the battle site. His head should be fine, he was told, but his leg would likely never be the same again.

  Never the matter. He might not be able to ever run again, but he could ride, he could plan, he could lead. He was more fortunate than most in that they hadn’t immediately amputated the leg, and it had healed well enough for him to put some weight on it. It was time to return to the strategy table, and he welcomed the news that the general had arrived — likely to send him back into battle, he thought, the need to return to the front nearly overwhelming him when he finally made it to the door at the end of the hall.

  He lifted his hand to knock but was startled when a voice from inside spoke first.

  “Come in.”

  Nathaniel turned the knob and pushed the door open, the surprise clearly evident on his face.

  “I could hear you coming for the last five minutes,” General Collins said, a slight smile on the face that was about twenty years Nathaniel’s senior. “You certainly wouldn’t find yourself surprising any enemy with that leg of yours.”

  “Perhaps not,” Nathaniel responded, though he bristled at Collins’ words. “Give me a week and you will hear nothing.”

  “I would be impressed if it were so,” the general said, then went straight to the reason for his visit. “I have heard that you have been recovering very well. However, I have also been told by the doctors that you will never have full use of your leg again and will require a cane for the rest of your life.”

  Nathaniel’s urge to defend himself surged within him, and had he been speaking to anyone but another officer who outranked him, he certainly would have done so.

  “I beg to disagree,” he said instead, and the general simply sighed, frowning beneath his large mustache.

  “I commend you for your fight, Major-General Huntingwell,” he said, “However you have other orders now.”

  Nathaniel nodded, eager to hear them, wondering where he would next be sent.

  “It begins with some news,” the general began, reading from a piece of paper beside him. “Your uncle, the Duke of Greenwich, has died.”

  “Oh,” Nathaniel sat back, taking in the general’s revelation. His uncle had always been a commanding figure, the type of man one thought would live forever. “How?”

  “It was an illness,” the general explained. “The doctors are not entirely sure what it was, but apparently it included high fever and swept rapidly through the village of his country home. Many survived, many did not.”

  He paused.

  “His son was also so unfortunate.”

  “Charles?” Grief filled him now at the thought of two of his relatives gone, in a matter of moments — at least, that was how it felt to him. “Surely, no others in the family?”

  His aunt had passed some time ago now, but Charles had sisters, and he pictured their sweet, innocent faces.

  “The girls remain well,” the general said. “I believe they managed to pull through.”

  Nathaniel nodded grimly. Charles had been married but last year, and he knew there were hopes for children. He wondered if any had been born. Charles’ poor wife.

  “However, as Charles and his wife were yet to bear any children—” That answered his question, “—you are aware of what that means?”

  Nathaniel attempted to control the emotions roiling within him. What was the general going on about? What did this have to do with him? But— of course. Goodness.

  “I am now the Duke,” he said, his voice raw, filled with both grief and shock. His entire life was changing in a matter of moments. Could the general not have prepared him a bit better?

  But no. The man had much more to be concerned about than Nathaniel’s emotions. Of which, he should attempt to get under control himself.

  “You are the new Duke of Greenwich,” the general confirmed with a nod. “Congratulations.”

  Nathaniel ran a hand over his face as he attempted to process all of the information.

  “What do you mean by my new orders?”

  “You will assume the role of duke in due fashion,” the general said. “But it will be some time before you do.”

  “Because…” Nathaniel began warily, unsure if he wanted to hear any more.

  “Because of the important documents you were able to recover from Bonaparte’s belongings during your last battle. Your bravery in infiltrating the enemy’s camp did not go unnoticed. The documents — his plans — were found upon your person once you were taken to the hospital.”

  Nathaniel nodded. It had been one of the key components of the battle, for him to achieve the impossible and gain access to the plans. It had been an intricate strategy, one in which he had to assume the identity of a French soldier. The fact that he spoke the language fluently had helped him to earn the role, as did his nature to take whatever risk was necessary in order to protect his country.

  “However, our sources tell us that the French army is aware of your theft. They also know that you went down in battle, though fortunately you were recovered by our own soldiers before the French realized who you were and what you had on your person. What they don’t know is your fate. They hope that you are buried in a mass grave, the documents along with you. We do not want them to know that we retrieved them. As you are aware, they have as many spies within England as we do within France. Therefore, you will return to England for a time, and hide until, at least, we can use the information you accessed and surprise Boney and his men where they next plan to attack.”

  “Hide?” Nathaniel said, hearing his voice rise but unable to stop it. “How can I hide? I must be part of this attack. Fo
r God’s sake, man, if it wasn’t for me, you would have no idea where to even begin! I should be alongside you, helping to strategize and then follow through. I have been waiting for this — it is the reason I have recovered so quickly, in order to return to the battlefield.”

  “I understand that,” the general said, his voice calm, though the years were showing in the concerned creases of his forehead as Nathaniel spoke. “Unfortunately, it is not to be, at least not at the moment.”

  “But—”

  “I have a friend,” the general continued, as though Nathaniel hadn’t said anything at all. “I served with him years ago, when we first began fighting the French. He is married now, has a family — four daughters, if you can believe that. He and his wife run an inn in Southwold. The man has gambled away much of his money and needs some additional income. Which is fortunate for us, as he has agreed to take in soldiers who need a quiet place to stay for a time.”

  Nathaniel ran through all of this in his mind as he sat back in the chair, a hand upon his head.

  “So I am to go and hide — doing nothing — in a seaside village while you attack Napoleon in the location I helped determine?”

  “Yes, I suppose that is the way of it.”

  Despair filled Nathaniel at the thought of such inaction.

  “I don’t know if I have it within me.”

  “Those are your orders, Major-General. I expect you to follow them. Now. Your grace.”

  Nathaniel started at the formal address, as he had forgotten for a moment the general’s initial news.