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

  “Thank you for your service to your country. And do enjoy your stay at the Wild Rose Inn.”

  3

  Daisy lifted an apple, inspecting it on all sides before nodding and placing it in her bag. She paid the vendor and continued to walk along the tables of the marketplace, selecting food for the family and their guests after carefully studying the quality and the pricing. Their father had been quite clear that the money needed to be stretched tightly over the next few months, though why, Daisy had no idea. Of course, when questioned about it, he had no response beyond a grunt so they dropped it, though Daisy would have liked to have known more.

  If only she had been his son and not his daughter, she thought with a sigh. Then, perhaps, he would treat her with more respect.

  “Daisy!”

  She turned to see her friend, Millie, running toward her, her blonde curls already falling out of her bonnet.

  “Millie,” Daisy exclaimed, reaching out a hand toward her. “How are you?”

  “Very well,” Millie said with a smile as she swung what seemed to be an empty basket on her arm. “I’m running late, as usual, but I must hurry to find enough to prepare dinner for Father tonight. He’s been quite busy.”

  Daisy nodded. Millie’s father was the town’s blacksmith. It was only the two of them within their family, which left Millie to look after the household and help with the shop. Perhaps that was what had always drawn Daisy and Millie together — their need to take responsibility.

  “It looks like you’ve been busy.”

  “Yes, well, in addition to the Johnsons, we have a new boarder arriving soon. Father told us last week to expect him ‘soon,’ though he was rather loose on any details, so it’s best to be prepared.”

  Millie laughed at that, though she sobered somewhat at the initial news. “How long do you think the Johnsons will stay?”

  “I’m not sure,” Daisy said with a shrug. “Their house and barn burned a couple of months ago now, though the new buildings should be near finished, what with all the help they’ve received. I know we’ve been allowing them to stay for next to nothing, however, so it would be good for both them to have a new home to return to as well as for us to be able to rent the rooms to higher paying customers.”

  “In due time,” said Millie, placing a hand on Daisy’s arm in support. “I’m off for a quick stop to pick up some fish. I shall see you soon, Daisy — farewell!”

  Daisy smiled as she watched Millie continue to where the young man with whom she was smitten was selling his wares. Daisy waved a hand goodbye as she continued on her way to The Wild Rose Inn, which her mother had named, of course.

  Ah, her mother and her fascination with all things floral. She loved her mother, truly she did, but she would never fully understand her, that was certain. The two of them were as different as… well, a tulip and an oak tree, she thought with a laugh.

  Daisy was still smiling to herself as she used her shoulder to push open the door of the inn, taking the shortest way through the front, for there should be no one about at this hour, the Johnsons at their farm, leaving only her family about.

  She turned to enter the foyer, but as she did, she crashed into an immovable object, which was very hard, very strong, and completely unrelenting.

  Her two baskets went flying from her hands, and as Daisy fell to the ground on her bottom, for a moment it was as though it was raining fruits, vegetables, loaves of bread, and blocks of cheese all around her.

  Daisy was stunned for a moment until she looked up to see just what had caused her to fall.

  A man stood staring down at her — a stranger, which wasn’t usual in these parts. He looked like a giant from here, though Daisy wasn’t sure if that was only because of her current vantage point. He might have been handsome, his sandy brown hair worn too long, curling about his ears, his nose slender but slightly crooked, as though it had been broken. But what caught her the most was the solemn expression he wore, one that looked down upon her as though he was far her better.

  As she studied him, she waited for him to apologize and to hold out a hand to help her to her feet. But he did nothing except stand there.

  She surged up as she began to try to salvage the food that was littered around her, looking up at him time and again as she scooped up the food.

  “Do you speak English?” she finally burst out, and he nodded, narrowing his eyes at her.

  “Of course.”

  “Ah, so you are choosing to say nothing,” she said, angry now at what should have been a simple apology on his part. “Did you not see me as I came through the door? Could you not have taken a step back? Or, perhaps, apologized?”

  He leaned back against the door now, crossing his arms.

  “I believe we ran into one another. You were at fault as much as I was.”

  “Pardon me?” she exclaimed. “My arms were full! And on that note, perhaps you could help me here?”

  “I apologize, but I cannot.”

  “You cannot or you will not?” she huffed, though she gave him no time to respond. “I am not sure who you are, but you are certainly no gentleman.”

  “That is much to surmise when we have hardly met.”

  “I know enough,” she said as she finished gathering the food, much of which was now bruised and dirty. She would do her best to wash it off, but she had a feeling her father would somehow blame her for this. Not directly, no, but in his sigh, in his tone, and in the look in his eyes, she would know his disappointment.

  “Did you find what you were looking for inside?”

  “I did not,” he said dryly. “It seems The Wild Rose Inn is currently unoccupied.”

  “It is not,” she retorted. “My mother and sister should be about.”

  “Ah, so you are one of the daughters,” he said, recognition coming into his eyes.

  “I am,” she said with a nod. “And just who would you be?”

  “Ah, you’ve met!”

  Daisy turned toward her father’s voice through the open door as he strode up the walk behind her. Much to her surprise, he greeted the man in front of her with a warm and hearty handshake. This was strange.

  “Unfortunately, we have not yet had the pleasure of an introduction,” she said, and her father’s attention finally turned back toward her.

  “Well then, this is my daughter Daisy,” her father said, waving an arm in her direction, though he kept his attention on the newcomer. “Daisy, this gentleman is Mr. Nathanial Hawke, our new boarder.”

  * * *

  Nathaniel might only newly be a duke himself, but he had been the grandson of a duke, the member of a noble family, for his entire life. Never before had a woman so far below his own standing treated him with such arrogance, such impropriety. Though she did not know him to be a duke — a fact which must certainly remain in secrecy, following the general’s warnings, hence his assumed surname — he was a guest in her home, and he expected to be treated as such.

  Upon learning his identity, she simply nodded and brushed by him, continuing on her way.

  In truth, he actually would have lent a hand toward her, both in helping her off the ground and collecting the food, but if he bent down upon his leg, he didn’t think he could get back up. Perhaps if he had his cane he could have, but he was quite determined to get along without it, if for no other reason than to prove everyone wrong about his condition.

  He followed Elias Tavner into the inn. He had a hard time picturing him as a contemporary of the general, but then, Tavner had clearly settled into his role as a family man and innkeeper, whereas the general would forever be part of the fight.

  Nathaniel had actually just arrived at the inn when the daughter had pushed open the door and caught him in the back. He had turned in time to see her go flying backward, the food falling about her disastrously, her face clearly displaying the fact that she blamed him for her current position.

  He had been about to apologize, but he wasn’t quite sure how to explain that he couldn’t
help her due to his injury. He didn’t want to use that as an excuse and yet… Then she had begun to speak, and he could hardly get a word in, nor did he know what to say in response to her anger as he felt his defenses go up.

  So he had simply ignored her. It seemed the easier thing to do.

  Nathaniel slowly followed Tavner through the inn. The foyer was small, leading into a larger sitting room area for the guests. It was true to the name of the inn, both the walls and the furniture patterned in all manner of floral designs, though not necessarily roses. A door on one side led to what Tavner told him was the kitchen, while he informed him that a back door was the entrance to the family quarters.

  It wasn’t a lot of space to entertain oneself in, Nathaniel thought as his family’s London home and country estate came to mind.

  “Now, as for your bedroom… I’m not entirely sure, actually, which will be yours,” Tavner said, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Let me find Daisy.”

  Daisy? Not this girl again. Did no one else in this house do anything? Soon she appeared, a line creased between her dark brows as he studied him.

  “This way,” was all she said, curtly, and Nathaniel held himself back from retorting anything toward her. He looked down at his lone travel bag, then back up at Tavner.

  “Do you not have a man for the bags?”

  Daisy slowly turned to look at him, incredulity written on her face.

  “Are you unable to lift that small bag yourself, Mr. Hawke?”

  “Actually,” he said, no longer concerned about the excuse of his leg, for he would far prefer enjoying the fact that he could prove her wrong, in order to take the haughty look off her face. “I cannot.”

  He began to limp forward to follow her, and her eyes widened as she realized that he was injured.

  “What happened to you?” she asked forwardly, and he shrugged and responded with a simple, “battle wound.”

  He thought perhaps the fact he was a soldier might impress her, as it did most other women, but she didn’t seem to overly care as she doubled back, hefted his bag into her arms, and then strode down the hall. He certainly hadn't meant for her to carry his things, but he wasn't sure what he could say now.

  “Can you climb a set of stairs?” she asked over her shoulder, and Nathaniel looked around for her father, but the man seemed to have disappeared.

  “I can.”

  “Good. Otherwise, you would have to sleep on the chesterfield.”

  While her point was valid, somehow her tone made it sound like a threat of some sort, which Nathaniel wasn’t completely thrilled about, though he began to slowly climb the stairs after her, testing the rail to ensure it would hold his body weight. It was only in moments such as these that the thought crept in that perhaps he was being slightly too stubborn, too proud to forgo the cane, but then he saw himself with it in his hand and he renounced it once again.

  She waited for him at the top of the stairs, still holding his bag, which made him feel slightly as less of a man that a woman had to carry his belongings for him. Why didn’t this blasted inn have a man to carry it instead? Did that mean most guests carried their own belongings?

  Of course, he’d had to do much for himself while in the army, but even there he was treated with deference for his position.

  Finally, they stood at the doorway of a room, and she practically threw the bag inside before turning to face him, jumping when she found that he was but inches behind her. He smiled. Good. At least he could manage to disconcert her in one way.

  “There you are. I hope it is to your liking.”

  She stepped back, away from the door and behind him, which allowed him to take a better look into the room, finding that the most he could say for it was that it looked clean. The lone bed was covered in a blanket and a couple of pillows, all which looked rather worn. A carpet lay beneath it, while a small washstand and privacy screen stood in the other corner of the small room, taking up whatever space remained.

  Nathaniel began to ask if they might have anything more spacious, but when he turned back around to question her, she was gone.

  4

  “Who is this man, the new boarder?” Daisy asked her father that night as she and her sisters set the family’s supper down upon the table.

  “He is recently returned from battle,” he responded. “He is staying here on the request of an old friend of mine.”

  “Why here?” she demanded. “Why can he not go home?”

  “He has… extenuating circumstances,” her father said. “That is all that I know.”

  “Very mysterious,” Iris said, her eyes shining. “I finally saw him tonight at dinner. He is quite handsome.”

  “And very conceited,” Daisy added, with a stern look to her sister when she rolled her eyes at her in response. “He seems to think we are his servants. When we served food to him and the Johnsons this evening, he kept waiting, as though we were to pour his wine, cut his food, and what, feed it to him on a fork?”

  “Perhaps he is from a family where they had servants to do all of that for him,” Marigold said, and Daisy shook her head gently at her tender-hearted sister.

  “Even so, he is staying at an inn,” she said. “What does he expect?”

  Besides the six of them, they had but one maid, who worked where she was needed — most often in the scullery, or at times helping with the cleaning of a chamber upon the departure of a guest. They used to have more staff, a footman as well as a cook, but Daisy’s father determined that with four adult women living in his home, they could each do their part and take on some of the responsibility of keeping the inn. Another villager looked after the stables next door, to where any visitors with horses would pay a separate fee.

  They all looked up, surprised when they heard a knock on the door of the family quarters, and Violet rose to answer it. She had to look down, for standing there was little Davy Johnson, one of the children of the family currently staying at the inn.

  “Hi there, Miss Violet,” he said, smiling to show the gap where he had currently lost one of his teeth. “I was sent by Mr. Hawke. He asked where the bell pull was.”

  “We have no bell pulls,” responded Daisy’s sister matter-of-factly, and the boy nodded. “That’s what I told him. So he told me to come find someone, as he is wanting a bath.”

  “Oh, for the love of—”

  Daisy’s father quelled her outburst with a warning glance.

  “Davy, please tell Mr. Hawke that we will fill his bath momentarily,” he said. “Now, which of you ladies is closest to finishing your dinner?”

  Daisy attempted to cover her plate as Davy nodded and left. Typically Daisy was assigned to such matters, but she had no wish to see the man again this evening. She might have a hard time holding her tongue around him.

  “Daisy, you and Marigold will go. Have Maria begin to boil the water and she can help you carry it once finished.”

  “But—”

  “No arguments, please.”

  Daisy sighed and went to find their maid, Maria, whose eyes widened at the request — especially at this time of night! — but she began the work anyway. After returning to the table and quickly finishing her own meal, Daisy rose to begin hauling the water, with Marigold in her wake.

  “He certainly seems interesting,” Marigold said as they climbed the stairs, her voice only slightly above a whisper. “What do you suppose happened to his leg?”

  “I was told a battle wound,” Daisy said dryly. “Which could mean anything, I suppose.”

  “Where did he fight?”

  “I have no idea,” responded Daisy. “Though I assume if we ask, we will be met only by a haughty stare with which we are apparently supposed to be impressed.”

  “Do you really think he’s that bad?” Marigold asked hesitantly, her blue eyes wide.

  Daisy looked down at her sister, who was of average height, though she was lean, which made her look taller than she was.

  “I’m not sure,” she said with a sigh.
“But so far upon my dealings with him, he has been quite demanding and does not seem to have any wish to treat us as anything but servants, which we, most decidedly, are not.”

  “Though he is a guest in our inn,” Marigold pointed out, and Daisy stopped responding. Marigold was right — he was a guest — but even guests should have more manners than this man, should they not? Why did no one else realize that he was a nuisance? She was sure they would, in time, for she doubted he would become any easier to deal with.

  When they knocked on his chamber door, they heard no response, and they eased the door open to find the room empty. The two of them found the bathtub, heaved it into the room with much unladylike grunting, and then returned to the kitchens to begin to carry the water for his bath.

  The man certainly had excellent timing, for they had just completed filling the copper tub when he appeared in the entry of the room.

  “There you are,” Daisy said. “I was wondering if perhaps I might have to enjoy this bath myself.”

  Marigold gasped at her forwardness, but Mr. Hawke only raised an eyebrow, apparently unaffected by her words.

  “Have you a wish to join me then?”

  Warmth seeped into her cheeks despite the fact that she was very aware he said such a thing only to goad her, and she refused to give in.

  “Of course not,” she said, holding her nose in the air to show him just what she thought of his words. “We will leave you be.”

  “A towel?” he asked curtly, and Daisy nodded.

  “I will return with it shortly.”

  “Very good — please make that two,” he said, and the moment she and Marigold were out of the room with the door shut firmly behind them, she turned to her sister. “Do you see what I mean?”

  Marigold shrugged, apparently unconcerned.

  “One would assume that he needs a towel.”

  “Two towels, apparently.”

  Marigold laughed.

  “What is it about this man that has you so upset?”