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“Well, your husband thinks that child—Belle, isn’t she? Devin thinks that Belle is yours, which just goes to show what idiots men are. To particularize that observation: his lordship is an idiot.”
“How did you realize she is not mine?” Daisy asked. “My mother would never have betrayed that information.”
“I established it on the grounds of mathematics, economics, and perception. Mathematically, you’ve had no time to carry a child for nine months, give birth to it, and gallop back to the ballroom to debut. Devin and I spent sufficient time with you last year to see an expanding waistline, had there been one to see. Turning to economics, your mother has plenty of money. She would never put a soiled dove on the marriage market; she would have bought you a husband.”
“I see,” Daisy said. “Perception?”
“You’re innocent,” Frederick said. “Any man who’s paying close attention to you would know that. You have a spark of humor that can be mistaken for experience, but not for long.”
“Miles never paid close attention,” Daisy said, aching to the marrow of her bones. “It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t want to pay close attention. He wasn’t even courting me. Regina burst into the room, and I instinctively claimed Belle as mine. After that, things happened so quickly that there wasn’t time for objective reasoning.”
“Au contraire, darling, there’s been plenty of time. If your Miles wanted to face the truth about Belle’s parentage, he had all last night to do it. But he never cottoned on to reality—which suggests he didn’t allow himself to think about reality. He took the excuse to marry you and ran with it. Frankly, I would have done the same.”
Daisy gave him a watery smile. “Thank you.”
“I suppose Belle is your half-sister?” His voice was very kind.
She nodded. “My father has refused to take responsibility for her. I’ve decided to move to Brussels and live with your brother and Livie. My disastrous marriage can be annulled in my absence. I’ll pretend that I’m widowed, and that Belle is my only child.”
“You’d prefer a false widowhood to marrying me?” Frederick asked, not looking very hopeful.
She shook her head. “I couldn’t.”
“You really fell in love with him, didn’t you?” His voice was curiously flat.
She shrugged. “I thought I did. It’s astonishing how fast infatuation withers when a husband is chastising you for being a liar.” Daisy’s eyes filled with tears. “He says I trapped him in marriage because I fancied myself in love, and oh, Frederick, I think he’s right. And he said I was stupid to run to him for help, and I suppose I was.”
Frederick growled low in his chest. “He said you were stupid?”
“He said the idea of going to his house was stupid, but it’s the same, isn’t it? If you’re wondering, the marriage isn’t consummated, so it doesn’t really matter. Those vows we spoke this morning can evaporate as quickly as they were spoken. He never meant them, anyway.”
Frederick got up, walked across the room, and came back with two goblets of golden liqueur. “Not whiskey. A very ladylike Spanish wine that seems appropriate to celebration disunion.”
Daisy took an unladylike swig and started coughing. “It’s so sweet.”
“I hate it, so it doesn’t tempt me to drink over much,” Frederick said. “Oates-Plagitt bought a case, hoping to prevent me from putting any further holes in my liver.”
“I should have come to you instead of Miles,” Daisy said miserably. She leaned sideways until she slumped against his shoulder.
Frederick wrapped an arm around her. “You know that our esteemed butler, Oates-Plagitt, is able to solve almost any problem, don’t you?”
“Not this one: Miles hates me.”
“He probably didn’t like being lied to,” Frederick said gently. “People don’t.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” Daisy cried, straightening up. “My father and mother lied to me for years, about everything: about why Livie was living with us, about where my father was living, about the existence of my many half-brothers and sisters!”
“Many?” Frederick repeated, obviously startled.
“I hadn’t even gotten around to telling Miles that I wanted to adopt the other children,” Daisy said, wiping tears from her cheeks. “He was busy shouting at me about my appalling lies.”
Frederick was silent for a moment, and then he nudged her shoulder with his. “They were appalling, Daisy. You do see that, don’t you? Miles married you thinking that he was saving you from a fate worse than death, but it turns out that you had simply decided to raise a child who wasn’t your own and used him to get your way.”
A sob tore its way out of Daisy’s throat. “It sounds so awful, put like that.”
“I know you didn’t mean it as such.” She felt something on her head, as if he dropped a kiss on her hair.
“I thought that I could never find another man who would contemplate marrying me and raising Belle as his own. Would you really have done that, Frederick?”
