AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Hold on,’ he said. ‘If living with a pack of women has taught me anything it’s that there’s a surefire remedy for this kind of situation.’ He walked, with the catlike grace that made him such a hypnotic stage performer, to the fridge and, opening the freezer door, extracted a pint of ice cream. ‘Here you go, Daisy girl,’ he said, setting it down in front of her and handing her a spoon. ‘Dig in.’
He didn’t say anything for a while. Just sat there as Daisy scooped the creamy cold chocolatey goodness out of the carton, allowing it to melt on her tongue. She couldn’t manage more than a couple of mouthfuls, the gesture of far more comfort than the actual ice cream.
‘I take it this wasn’t planned?’ His voice was calm, completely non-judgemental.
Daisy shook her head. ‘No.’
‘How long have you known?’
She could feel the colour creeping over her cheeks, couldn’t meet her father’s eye. ‘A month. I told Seb three weeks ago.’
‘This is why you’re getting married?’
Daisy nodded. ‘It’s because of Hawksley, and the title. If the baby isn’t legitimate...’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Crazy Brits.’ Her dad sat back. ‘Do you love him, Daisy girl?’
Did she what? She liked him—sometimes. Desired him for sure. The way his hair fell over his forehead, a little too long and messy for fashion. The clear green of his eyes, the way they darkened with emotion. The lean strength of him, unexpected in an academic. The way he listened to her, asked her questions, respected her, made her feel that maybe she had something to contribute—until today.
She understood him, knew why he strived so hard to excel in everything he did, tried to keep himself aloof, the fear of being judged.
Her father’s gaze intensified. ‘It’s not that hard a question, Daisy girl. When you know, you know.’
‘Yes.’ The knowledge hit her hard, almost winding her. ‘Yes, I do. But he doesn’t love me and that’s why I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I can marry him. If I can say those words to someone who doesn’t want to hear them, for him to say them to me and not mean them.’ That was it, she realised with a sharp clarity. She had been prepared to lie to everyone but she couldn’t bear for him to lie to her. To make promises he didn’t mean.
‘Love means that much to you?’ Her father’s eyes were kind, knowing.
Daisy put her hand down to cradle her still-flat stomach. She wanted the baby; she already loved it. Which love meant more? Pulled at her more? What was worse? Depriving her baby of its heritage or bringing it up in an unequal, unhappy household?
‘With your example before me? Of course it does. I want a husband who looks at me the way you look at Mum. That’s what I’ve always wanted. But it’s not just about me, not any more. Oh, Dad, what am I going to do?’
Her father put an arm around her and she sank into his embrace wishing for one moment that she were a little girl again and that there was nothing her dad couldn’t fix. ‘That’s up to you, Daisy girl. Only you can decide. But we’re all here for you, whatever happens. Remember that, darling. I know how independent you are but we’re here. You’re not alone.’
* * *
Loneliness had been such a constant friend for so many years he had barely noticed it leave.
Yet now it had returned it felt heavier than ever.
The primroses carpeted the woodland floor, their pale beauty a vivid reminder of the colour overtaking his home. Sherry liked a theme and had incorporated the yellow-and-white colour scheme into everything from the guest towels to the bunting already hung in the marquee. It was like living in a giant egg.
Apart from the rooms Daisy had been working on. She had kept her mother out of those, keeping them private, personal.
Creating a family space.
His throat closed tight. Their family space.
Normally Seb loved this time of year, watching the world bud, shaking off the sleepy austerity of winter. It wasn’t as obvious in Oxford as it was here at Hawksley where every day signalled something new.
Oxford. It had been his focus for so long, his sole goal. To excel in his field. He had almost made it.
But suddenly it didn’t seem that important, more like a remembered dream than a passion. His research? Yes. Digging into the past, feeling it come alive, transcribing it for a modern audience, that he missed. But college politics, hungover undergraduates, teaching, tourist-filled streets, the buzz of the city?
Seb breathed in the revelation. He didn’t miss it at all.
He was home. This was where he belonged.
But not alone. He had been alone long enough.
