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Chapter 1
Oxford 1820
The grounds of Christ Church, Oxford University, were one of Lady Daisy Lockhart’s favourite places to visit. It wasn’t just because the manicured lawns, well-maintained flowerbeds, and finely pruned trees invited a variety of colourful and beautiful bugs, butterflies, and other wildlife.
It was because she was able to sit upon the marble benches beneath the open windows of the classrooms and simply listen. Daisy loved to listen. She would close her eyes, breathe in the deep scent of flowers and pollen and listen to the rhythmic tone of the professors as they talked on mathematics, science, biology, language, and so much more.
It was there she sat, her face upturned to the sun with her eyes closed, imagining she wasn’t sitting on a bench below the window but instead in one of the seats inside the classroom, listening more intently than any of the male students who she could often hear nattering in hushed voices whenever there was a lull in the lecture.
Some of the time, it infuriated Daisy. Some of the time, she wanted to run in there and demand that the men be more respectful of their professor, more grateful that they were given such a magnificent opportunity to learn. It was an opportunity that Daisy might well have killed for.
At least today, the students seemed to be interested in the lecture, and Daisy didn’t have to strain to listen over their whispers and fidgeting. The professor was speaking clearly, and she was so intent on his chemistry lecture that she barely heard the sound of someone clearing their throat close by. At first, she believed it was one of the male students close to the window above her head.
“Daisy Elizabeth Lockhart!”
The sound of her name caused her to jump so violently that her eyes flashed open, and she whipped around to find her father standing with his arms crossed over his chest. At two-and-fifty years old, the Duke of Balfour was still quite a handsome man, though his dark hair had been shot through with streaks of white, and patches of his close-cropped facial hair were becoming silver.
He was a stern man with an almost constant scowl, though the moments he looked at his daughter, he smiled as though she was the only one who could make him do so.
“Father!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet and dropping into a low curtsey, all too aware of the two male students crossing the lawn close by, eyeing them both as if they were well aware of what was happening. Although she did not know their names, they, like many of the men at Oxford University, had caught her while being scolded by her father for being somewhat of a lurker on the grounds.
Cheeks burning red with embarrassment, Daisy forced herself to meet their gazes for a moment before she turned to smile at her father. “Papa, you startled me.”
“I am not surprised to hear so.” Her father sighed. “You were quite intent on today’s lecture.”
The heat in Daisy’s cheeks grew hotter still, and she felt it streaming down into her neck and chest. Though she was so often caught doing so, she was well aware of her father’s thoughts on the matter, not to mention every other member of the ton who was all too quick to look down on any woman who wished to have a proper education.
“Papa, I …” Daisy opened her mouth to protest, seeing the look of distaste upon his face. He quickly uncrossed his arms and lifted one hand to cut her off.
“I know, I know. You have learned all you can about being a lady and now wish to have a proper education,” he explained, speaking as though he had heard the words over and over before. “I am well aware of what you want, but I am sure you are also aware that it is simply not done. These are not the actions of a lady, Daisy.”
Yet another couple of students wandered past, and from how they looked over their shoulders with pursed lips and amusement in their gazes, Daisy knew they were judging her situation quite humorous. Perhaps if she had been a few years younger, she might have snapped at them to stop staring and mind their own business, maybe even stuck her tongue out at them or even shook a fist in their direction, but she was well aware of her father watching her.
That would be even more unladylike and undignified,she reminded herself, fighting the urge with her fists clenched in the folds of her skirt so that her father would not see.
“How did you even manage to sneak out this time?” her father demanded. “Which maid helped you?”
Daisy stared back at her father, both of them knowing that she wasn’t likely to tell him. Nor would she ever admit to him that she had managed to climb down the trellis outside her bedroom window. It was such a beautiful decoration on the house, and she couldn’t think of how awful it would be if he had it removed.
“None, Papa,” she said sweetly.
She opened her mouth again to speak, hoping that she might be able to persuade her father to let her stay just until the end of the lecture, but her father turned slightly and gestured down the pathway. It was a gesture that her father had made so often she need not even follow his hand to know he was pointing her towards his carriage parked at the very far end of the gravel driveway.
With a raised eyebrow, he watched her silently, his lips pursed as though he was fighting the urge to openly scold her with so many other eyes about to see them. Daisy bit back the urge to protest, and with her head hung in disappointment, she began to follow her father down the driveway.
“My Lady.” Her father’s usual driver greeted her with a tip of his black top hat and climbed down from his driver’s bench to open the carriage door for her. Daisy would have liked her father to have been in the open-top carriage on such a beautiful day.
Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so claustrophobic. It was not to be, and the driver helped her up the steps into the carriage, where she had to duck her head so as not to hit it on the roof. Though spacious, the carriage felt small and enclosing, and Daisy had to fight the urge to jump right back out and race back to her bench to listen to the end of the lecture.
Instead, she sat silently, staring out the carriage window at the manicured lawns as her father climbed in and sat on the bench opposite her. Neither of them spoke or made a sound until the driver clicked the door closed behind them and the carriage rocked to signal that he had climbed back onto the driver’s bench.
“Sweetheart, I thought we had agreed that you would give up this unseemly behaviour?” her father asked when the carriage began to move. Daisy closed her eyes for a moment, sucking in a deep breath and listening to the rhythmic sound of the horse’s hooves clicking on the ground in an attempt to calm herself before she responded.
“What is so unseemly about it, Papa?”
When she opened her eyes again, she saw that her father’s face had grown red with frustration. His lips had all but disappeared in his attempt to hold back from snapping at her.
“Daisy, what might happen if a member of the ton were to recognise you? What might happen if you were to be seen as a willful, rebellious young lady?” her father demanded. “You are the daughter of a duke. You cannot go sneaking out before dawn to frolic alone at the university to listen to lectures you have no business listening to! You are just lucky I was needed for a meeting here today; otherwise, your visit would look entirely suspicious!”
