Every time the cottage door opened, he looked up expectantly, hoping to see Daisy. He had only the vaguest recollection of her helping him to his bed after she’d found him outside, but her fear and concern for him had seemed very real. He had no doubt that she’d saved his life by finding him when she had. Who knew how long he would have lain there if she had not come along?
She’d obviously cared more about him than Violet, who hadn’t come down to the cottage to visit him even once though Heath had been in and out several times a day.
With a sigh, he stared up at the ancient oak beam above his head, still wondering why Violet had continued to write him long after she’d committed herself to his brother. Sometimes, he felt as though he should tell Heath about it, but what good would that do? Their marriage could not be undone, and it would only hurt his brother to know what a faithless little witch he’d forever yoked himself to.
Perhaps it had all been a game to her. A way to pass the time.
Still... the letters hadn’t seemed like the ramblings of a bored socialite. They’d been full of depth and honesty. She’d poured out her deepest feelings to him, waxed poetic about a variety of subjects he’d never expected Violet to have any knowledge of. She’d talked to him about botany, politics, history...
Forcing his mind off Violet, he allowed it to once more linger on Daisy. He knew he’d hurt her in the past, when he’d told her that he did not return her feelings, so it surprised him that she’d been so good to him since he returned. He wracked his brain trying to remember if he’d said something hurtful to her again when he’d been out of his mind with fever. He hoped he hadn’t. Since he’d returned, she’d been the only one to show him any affection. They’d been friends once, and he hoped he hadn’t ruined that.
Making up his mind to fix things if he could, he called for the maid to bring him something to write with.
Once the woman had brought him the requested items and helped him to sit up so that he could write, he found himself staring at the blank piece of paper, uncertain what to say. He didn’t want to sound needy or desperate.
Finally, he scratched out a simple request for Daisy’s company and had the maid arrange for a footman to deliver it. Then, with a sigh, he sank back into a troubled sleep.
* * *
DAISY KNOCKED LIGHTLYon the half-open door to Flynn’s bedchamber, pleased to see that he was sitting up in bed, reading the book she’d left for him the day she’d found him in the garden.
“Flynn? I received your note.” She still couldn’t believe he’d actually sent for her. When she’d first opened the message, she’d feared he’d somehow found out the truth, but as she’d walked over, she’d allowed herself to grow cautiously optimistic. Perhaps he truly just wanted to see her.
“Daisy,” he said with a smile, beckoning her to come in.
“You look much better.” She couldn’t keep the relief and concern from her voice. “I was so worried about you.”
“I feel good,” he said, waving her toward the chair beside his bed. “I understand I have you to thank for that.”
Heat burned her cheeks as she took the chair next to his bed. “I’m so glad I found you.”
He reached over and took her hand, squeezing gently. “Me, too.” He put the book he’d been reading on the nightstand. “I’m guessing you left this book for me as well?”
She nodded. “I remembered how much you liked Mr. Brown’s work. I know that you would have done your best to follow in his footsteps, if your father had allowed it.”
“Thank you,” he said with a sad shake of his head. “After everything that’s happened, I wish I’d stood up to him. I wish I’d followed my heart instead of doing what was expected of me.”
She stroked her thumb across the back of his hand, enjoying this small connection. In their letters, he’d told her how his father had pressured him into joining the army and how much he’d truly wanted to design gardens like the one at Darlington House. It felt even better though to have him tell her such things in person, to take her into his confidence the way she’d always wished.
“Did you have a chance to talk to Violet?” he asked, slowly drawing his hand away, a slightly guilty look in his eyes.
Violet.It always came back to Violet. His heart still obviously belonged to her sister, even though she’d given him not one whit of encouragement since he’d returned. She realized that some foolish part of her had hoped that he’d spend a few minutes talking to her and forget all about Violet, somehow realizing that Daisy was the one he truly loved.
She sighed and leaned back in her chair, feeling suddenly cold without his touch. “I’m sorry. When I saw her, I was so concerned about you I didn’t even think to ask.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie, either.
He nodded and looked away, obviously disappointed, which left her feeling even more guilty. She knew how badly he must want to know the truth, but this didn’t seem the right time to give it to him, not when his health was still so precarious.
I’ll do it next time. When he’s completely on the mend, I’ll tell him.
But for now, for today, she just wanted to bask in the warm glow of finally being in the same room with him after so many years apart, getting to talk about all the things they’d written to each other in person.
* * *
FLYNN FORCED HIMSELFto shake off his disappointment that Daisy hadn’t spoken to Violet and tried to focus on her sweet face and guileless brown eyes. He’d asked her to come here, and the least he could do was try to be good company. Other than his brother, she seemed to be the only one who gave a damn about him, and though he didn’t feel he’d done anything to deserve her regard, he didn’t want to lose it.
“Do you remember when we were young, how we used to go through the garden, discussing all the flowers and making plans for how we’d change it?” he managed, trying to divert himself from his dark thoughts.
She nodded, obviously grateful for the change in topic. “Those were the best days. I was so happy to have someone else who understood how happy working in the garden made me. My family thinks it’s just a hobby. I don’t think anyone but you has ever understood that it is my passion, the thing that brings me the most joy.”
