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At that very moment, he saw movement from the corner of his eye. Discreetly, he glanced sideways, almost certain that he saw the twitching of the drapes in the parlour window. His heart hammered as he sensed the presence of Lady Daisy herself, certain he could feel her watching him, feel her pleading gaze upon him as if she were some fairytale princess trapped in a tower by a fire-breathing dragon.
“Yes, sir, it is true,” the footman announced, and Philip’s heart sank so deeply into his gut that he thought it might never ascend again.
Gritting his teeth, he forced a smile and said, “Thank you for your honestly. Please tell Lady Daisy that I wish her all the best, and I shall hope to see her again soon when next she is available.”
Though it hurt to act so nonchalantly, he was sure he could still feel her eyes on him and knew she was watching.
Whatever is going on,he vowed firmly to himself as he spun on his heels and descended the porch steps,I shall get to the bottom of it.
Chapter 27
Two days after she had stood in the parlour window, peering from behind the net curtain to watch Mr Radcliffe on the townhouse steps, Daisy was abed unable to stop herself from thinking of him.
Even after all this time, having heard nothing from him, his presence on the doorstep had unsettled her. Even more unsettling was that when he had knocked upon the door, he had not been there to ask for an audience with her father, he had been there to see her.
Perhaps he was here to tell me all of the reasons why he did not come to ask for my hand,she thought bitterly, not for the first time.Perhaps he came merely to rub salt in the wound.
Yet Daisy had resigned herself to her fate. With Lady Balfour buzzing around like a busy little bee preparing for her wedding to Lord Bessington, Daisy was forced to grit her teeth and bear it. She could not handle Mr Radcliffe’s betrayal on top of it all, so she had watched in silence from behind the curtain as he descended the porch steps and left her life for what might have been forever.
Yet as she lay there, she quickly realised that she could hear something strange, a clinking sound that seemed to be coming from outside. When she sat up, she suddenly realised that she recognised the sound. Small stones were being thrown at her bedroom window. The sound was all too familiar, and it caused her heart to break.
It cannot be him,she told herself firmly as she clambered from her bed, wrapped her robe around herself, and slipped her feet into her slippers. It had to be a bird throwing pebbles or even seeds around, or maybe even a moth trying to break through the windowpane to get through the glass to the flickering candle on the table beside the window. At least that was what she told herself because it couldn’t possibly be Philip.
Delicately so as not to startle whatever might be on the other side, she pulled back the drapes and peered out into the darkness. Seeing nothing, she paused for a moment and waited for the clinking to come again.
When it didn’t, she debated closing the drapes and returning to bed. But then she decided that she had to be absolutely sure, and so she unlatched the window and gently began to pull it up, careful not to allow it to squeak too loudly as she did.
Looking down at the small front garden and the street beyond the brick wall and wrought iron boundary, she called gently, “Is somebody there?”
As if her words had summoned him, a large and dark figure appeared from the shadows of the wall, and Daisy held her breath as the man lowered the hood of his cloak to turn his handsome face up to her.
“Lady Daisy, I must speak with you.” Philip’s voice caused Daisy’s heart to flutter out of control, and her stomach immediately filled with butterflies. Her throat constricted, and her feet itched to run down to join him at the back gate where she had once snuck out to meet him in the meadows to look for Jupiter and gaze at the stars through his father’s telescope.
Yet instead, she found herself shaking her head.
“Mr Radcliffe, you are not welcome here,” she told him firmly though her throat threatened to constrict entirely and make it impossible for her to finish, “you should leave before I call for my father and he sends for the staff to have you escorted away. It is wrong for you to be lurking about here, sir.”
Trying her absolute hardest to ignore the pain-filled expression on Philip’s face, she slammed the window shut a little harder than she ought to have done. It was perhaps the hardest thing that Daisy had ever had to do.
However, remembering how he had abandoned her and how her stepmother had reminded her of her duty to her family and her ability to stop any kind of scandal sticking to them, she quickly drew the drapes before she could change her mind.
Returning to her bed, tears streaming down her face, she snuggled up beneath the bedclothes and tried to forget that she had ever met Mr Philip Radcliffe.
The next morning, just before breakfast, Daisy was surprised by a knocking on her bedroom door. Prepared for her stepmother to have come expecting her to be ready to leave for some dress fitting or even a meeting at the local florist, she sucked in a deep breath and readied herself for whatever was to come.
“Come in!” she called, sitting up a little straighter on her vanity table stool where she had been patiently waiting for her maid to finish putting up her hair.
She was surprised when the door opened to reveal Bertha, slipping into the room and closing the door quickly behind her as though she were sneaking about. Both Daisy and her maid glanced at each other with raised eyebrows before Daisy turned and asked Bertha, “Whatever are you doing?”
Bertha remained where she was with her back to Daisy for several moments, her hand gripping the door handle as if she were trying to stop somebody else from opening it. She also appeared to be holding her breath, and Daisy instantly guessed that whatever was wrong, it had something or everything to do with Bertha’s mother, Lady Balfour.
“What is it?” Daisy whispered when Bertha finally turned around to look at her. She couldn’t help feeling that whatever Bertha had come to talk about, she didn’t want to be overheard. She was even more certain of it when Bertha glanced at her maid. Addressing the young woman, Daisy suggested, “I believe my hair is satisfactory. Will you please go and let the other servants know that we shall be down for breakfast shortly?”
“Of course, My Lady.” The maid smiled, offering her and Bertha a curtsey before she left the room. Bertha only seemed to half relax when the door finally clicked closed behind her again.
“Bertha, you are acting as if there are hounds chasing you,” Daisy said scoldingly, “would you stop frightening me and tell me what is going on.”
Bertha crossed the room then and grabbed Daisy by the hands, pulling her to her feet. Being a few inches taller than her, Daisy had to look down slightly to look her in the eye, but when she did, she saw a concerned expression on her face.
