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If she wasn’t going to expose herself to her own merciless gaze then she needed to turn that gaze elsewhere. She needed to find a subject and lose herself in it.
Daisy stared mindlessly out of the windscreen. She had other cameras at her studio but returning there, right now, felt like a retreat. Worse, it felt like an admission of failure.
But she had failed, hadn’t she?
She’d tried to change the rules.
They hadn’t even managed the shotgun marriage part before she had started interfering. Demanding responses, pushing him, putting together PowerPoint presentations. Daisy leaned forward until her forehead knocked against the steering wheel.
She was a fool.
And yet...
Slowly Daisy straightened, her hands pressing tighter on the wheel. And yet she had felt more right than she had in a long, long time. As if she had finally burst out of her chrysalis.
She didn’t know if she could willingly shut herself back in. She’d enjoyed the research, enjoyed finding conclusions—she’d even enjoyed figuring out PowerPoint in the end after she had emerged victorious after the first few scuffles. She’d never put together any kind of business plan before, never pushed herself.
Never allowed herself to broaden her horizons, to think she might be capable of achieving more. Hidden behind her camera just as Seb hid behind his qualifications.
She’d wanted to help him. Had seen how much he was struggling, torn between his career and his home, the expectations of his past and the worries of the present.
But he didn’t want her help. Didn’t need her.
Without conscious thought, just following her instinct, Daisy began to drive, following the road signs on autopilot until she turned down the long lane that led to her childhood home. She pulled the small car to a stop and turned off the engine, relief seeping through her bones. This was where she needed to be, right now.
It had been a long time since she had run home with her problems.
It was only a short walk along the lane and through the gates that led to the hall but with each step Daisy’s burden lightened, just a little. Maybe asking for help wasn’t a sign of weakness.
Maybe it was maturity.
Huntingdon Hall glowed a soft gold in the late afternoon light. Daisy paused, taking in its graceful lines, the long rows of windows, the perfectly symmetrical wings, the well-maintained and prosperous air of the house. It wasn’t just smaller than Hawksley, newer than half of Hawksley—it was a family home. Loved, well cared for and welcoming.
But it wasn’t her home any more, hadn’t been for a long time. She shut her eyes for a moment, visualising the way the sun lit up the Norman keep, the thousand-year-old tower reflected in the water. When had Hawksley begun to feel like her home?
The kitchen doors stood ajar and she ran up the steps, inhaling gratefully the familiar scent of fresh flowers, beeswax and the spicy vanilla scent her mother favoured. Inside the kitchen was as immaculate as always, a huge open-plan cooking, eating and relaxing space, the back wall floor-to-ceiling glass doors bringing the outside inside no matter what the weather.
She’d walked away from all this comfort, luxury and love at eighteen so convinced she wouldn’t be able to find herself here, convinced she was the family joke, the family outcast. Tears burned the backs of her eyes as she looked at the vast array of photographs hung on the walls; not her father’s record covers or her mother’s most famous shoots but the girls from bald, red-faced babies, through gap-toothed childhood to now. Interspersed and lovingly framed were some of Daisy’s own photos including her degree shoot prints.
What must it have cost them to let her go? To allow her the freedom to make her own mistakes?
‘Hey, Daisy girl.’ Her father’s rich American drawl remained unchanged despite three decades living in the UK. ‘Is your mother with you?’ He looked round for his wife, hope and affection lighting up his face. What must it be like, Daisy wondered with a wistful envy, to love someone else so much that your first thought was always of them?
‘Nope, she’s still browbeating the caterers and obsessing over hairstyles.’ She leant gratefully into her father’s skinny frame as he pulled her into a cuddle. How long was it since she had allowed herself to be held like this? For too long she had stopped after a peck and a squeeze of the shoulders. ‘Hi, Dad.’
‘It’s good to see you, Daisy girl.’ He pulled back to look her over, a frown furrowing the famously craggy face. ‘You look exhausted. Your mother working you too hard?’
‘I think you and Mum had the right idea running away.’ Daisy tried not to wriggle away from his scrutiny.
‘It saved a lot of bother,’ he agreed, but the keen eyes were full of concern. ‘Drink?’
