“I willaskmy father nothing,” Lord Dalton said in a growly voice. “I will inform him that we are to wed and he will be suitably delighted.”
“Oh dear,” Daisy said, “but then you will also have to live it down with your friends, I’m afraid. You did vow you would never—”
“What care I for those idiots,” Lord Dalton said. “I have been clever enough to win the real prize.”
There was a sudden loud whisper floating through the night air that was not their own.
“See? They are standing right there!”
The voice was unmistakably her lady’s maid’s. Daisy pulled herself away from the inside of Lord Dalton’s coat in time to see faces illuminated at the kitchen windows—Betsy, Mrs. Broadbent, Bellamy, and Mr. Flanagan peered out. Seeing they were spotted, Bellamy blew out the candle and the scene went dark.
“Scoundrels,” Lord Dalton said, pulling her close again. “We ought to go indoors. We can go to the cottage.”
Daisy was all too willing, but for propriety’s sake she said, “Only if you promise you will not ravage me.”
Lord Dalton laughed rather loud at this and said, “Not until you marry me and have taken to calling me Charles when we are alone. Then, I cannot say what I might do.”
Daisy nodded as if she were quite approving of this. In truth, she was not certain she would mind being ravaged at this moment. However, one of the things that had made her fall in love with Lord Dalton, orCharles, was that she was certain he would never do the wrong thing by her. He might be a plague to his friends and frighten many a hostess with his oft-grim visage, but he would not do wrong byher.
He took her hand and led her back to the cottage and they talked until the sun rose over the rooftops and she fell asleep in his lap. As Lord Dalton had promised, no clothing was removed during the long hours of night, though the various pieces of armor both parties had been accustomed to wear began to melt away like blocks of ice in the summer sun.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Charles wrote his father the following day and, just as he’d promised, he merely informed his father that he was to wed Miss Danworth. He couched it very matter of fact and would not give the old schemer his due in having had a hand in it.
He did, however, put off the banns being read until after Burke’s wedding. There was no getting round the idea that his friends would not only be shocked—they might well be mocking of any past statements he had made on the subject of marriage. Or worse, any actions he might have taken to uphold that particular opinion. They would all attend the nuptials, and he was determined to face them down in person and deliver the news himself.
He did not, however, spend much of his time thinking of it as so much else took up his attention. After Mrs. Jellops had been apprised of the engagement, she needed more than a little convincing that it was actually wanted. All along, she had taken Daisy at her word and never envisioned that her charge would marry. Or, at least not so soon. Or, at least not to Lord Dalton. Her incredulousness felt like a hint of things to come.
Still, through numerous conversations with Daisy, she was finally convinced and she was not unhappy. Mrs. Jellops was particularly not unhappy when Charles described to her the rooms she would be given in his various houses, her generous allowance, and that she might come and go as she pleased with the use of his own carriages. Once the lady was assured of her charge’s affection for the gentleman, Mrs. Jellops rather relished the idea of jaunting across England in a carriage emblazoned with the lord’s crest, visiting friends old and new, and spending that generous allowance on fripperies and gewgaws as she went.
The schedule of their days in Ramsgate was not so very different than they had been, with only a few changes made. Charles now dined in the house, to the initial irritation of the cat. Though, the cat being enterprising, she made it her business to overcome Mr. Flanagan and so was often lounging in the warmth of the kitchens and stealing whatever she fancied. Charles also suspected the cat had thrown him over for the sanctuary of one of the footmen’s beds, as she wandered off when the night grew too cold and Mrs. Broadbent was forever scolding Gerald for the telltale cat hairs on his coat.
Daisy had twice suggested that Charles move into the house entirely. The cat had done so and just as everyone predicted, the chimney in the cottage was useless. This, he thought a step too far and stayed where he was. It was horrendously uncomfortable as day by day the weather cooled, but it was not forever, so he bore it with good humor.
During the day, if Charles was not in the house with Daisy, Daisy was in the cottage with him. The servants went about looking very pleased with themselves, seeming convinced they’d personally arranged the engagement. Even Bellamy put a good face on it and appeared resigned to having Mrs. Broadbent hiding round every corner forevermore.
Daisy had thrown off the darkest of her mourning clothes and did not particularly care who said what about it. As Charles had pointed out, she would be a duchess someday and might run through the streets naked and society would pretend they had not noticed or deem her delightfully eccentric.
The month had passed by far more quickly than either Charles or Daisy had expected and suddenly it was time to make their way to Somerset for Lord Burke’s wedding. The servants, aside from Betsy and Tate, would stay behind. Mrs. Broadbent would supervise, though Bellamy remained under the illusion that he was at least nominally in charge. Charles thought they might battle it out at their leisure, as their only vital job was making certain the cat was fed.
Four days of travel passed by while Mrs. Jellops endlessly speculated on everything she viewed out the carriage window, asked the coachman to slow down so she might get a better look, insisted that nobody should eat in a carriage that was moving, and needed endless stops to stretch her legs. Finally, they delivered the lady to her friend Mrs. Phelps’ house.
Once arrived to her destination, Mrs. Jellops began to fret over the idea that Charles and Miss Danworth would be quite alone in their carriage, with only Betsy and Tate following in the second carriage. The as-yet unmarried couple would be unchaperoned for nearly twenty minutes! Perhaps twenty-five if they encountered a delay.
Mrs. Phelps did not help in that regard, as she was in the habit of heartily agreeing with her friend and took to murmuring, “You have gone straight to the point, my dear.”
Mrs. Jellops was both soothed and shocked when Charles assured her that the thing she worried about could not be done proper in only twenty minutes, or even twenty-five. This had left every lady in the vicinity blushing, the footmen red-faced, and the coachmen snorting, but it got them on their way.
Now, they drove through the gates of Burke’s estate.
Daisy squeezed his hand. “How shall you break the news?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” he said.
“Well,” Daisy said, laughing, “please do not give anybody a black eye if they find too much amusement in it.”
“I will try, Daisy,” Charles said. “I will try.”
