42
" An uneasy truce had come to exist between Lillian and St. Vincent after a great deal of past conflict. Although she would never truly like him, Lillian had prosaically decided that St. Vincent would have to be tolerated, since he had been friends with Westcliff for years.
Lillian knew if she asked her husband to end the friendship he would do so for her sake, but she loved him too much to make such a demand. And St. Vincent was good for Marcus. With his wit and perceptiveness, he helped to bring a measure of balance to Marcus's overburdened life. Marcus, as one of the most powerful men in England, was in dire need of people who didn't take him too seriously.
The other point in St. Vincent's favor was that he appeared to be a good husband to Evie. He seemed to worship her, actually. One would never have thought of putting them together- Evie the shy wallflower, St. Vincent the heartless rake- and yet they have developed a singular attachment to each other.
St. Vincent was self-assured and sophisticated, possessing a male beauty so dazzling that people sometimes caught their breath when they glanced at him. But all it took was one word from Evie to make him come running. Even though their relationship was quieter, less outwardly demonstrative than those of the Hunts or Westcliffs, a mysterious and passionate intensity existed between the two.
And as long as Evie was happy, Lillian would be cordial to St. Vincent. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers, #4)
47
" Between the sisters' joined hands, the pressure of their pulses mingled in steady throbs. Daisy was not certain if she was giving comfort to her sister or receiving it. Lillian's time was here, and Daisy was afraid for her, of the pain and possible complications, and the fact that life would never be the same afterward.
She glanced at Evie, who flashed her a smile, and Annabelle, whose face was reassuringly calm. They would help each other through all the challenges and joys and fears of their lives, Daisy thought, and she was suddenly overwhelmed with love for all of them. "I will never live away from you," she said. "I want the four of us to be together always. I could never bear to lose any of you."
She felt Annabelle's slippered toe nudge her leg affectionately. "Daisy... you can never lose a true friend. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers, #4)
48
" They took Daisy to the orangery, where warm autumn light glittered through the windows, and the scents of citrus and bay hung thick in the air. Removing Daisy's heavy orange-blossom wreath and veil, Lillian set them aside on a chair.
There was a silver tray on a nearby table, laden with a bottle of chilled champagne and four tall crystal glasses.
"This is a special toast for you, dear," Lillian said, while Annabelle poured the sparkling liquid and handed the glasses out. "To your happy ending. Since you've had to wait for it longer than the rest of us, I'd say you deserve the entire bottle." She grinned. "But we're going to share it with you anyway."
Daisy curved her fingers around the crystal stem. "It should be a toast for all of us," she said. "After all, three years ago we had the worst marriage prospects imaginable. We couldn't even get an invitation to dance. And look how well things turned out."
"All it t-took was some devious behavior and a few scandals here and there," Evie said with a smile.
"And friendship," Annabelle added.
"To friendship," Lillian said, her voice suddenly husky.
And their four glasses clicked in one perfect moment. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers, #4)
49
" As the four young women proceeded to a hallway leading toward the morning room, they encountered Lord St. Vincent, who was strolling in the opposite direction. Elegant and dazzling in his normal clothes, he paused and regarded Evie with a caressing smile.
"You appear to be escaping from something," he remarked.
"We are," Evie told her husband.
St. Vincent slid his arm around Evie's waist and asked in a conspiratorial whisper, "Where are you going?"
Evie thought for a moment. 'Somewhere to powder Daisy's nose."
The viscount gave Daisy a dubious glance. "It takes all four of you? But it's such a little nose."
"We'll only be a few minutes, my lord," Evie said. "Will you make excuses for us?"
St. Vincent laughed gently. "I have an endless supply, my love," he assured her. Before he let go of his wife, he turned her to face him and kissed her forehead. For the briefest of moments, his graceful hand touched low on her midriff. The subtle gesture went unnoticed by the others.
But Daisy saw, and she knew at once what it meant. 'Evie has a secret,' she thought, and smiled. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers, #4)
51
" A shopgirl dressed in finery, speaking in cockney... it's like fingernails on slate."
"Yes," Llandrindon said with a laugh. "Or like seeing a common daisy stuck in a bouquet of roses."
The comment was unthinking, of course. There was a sudden silence as Llandrindon realized he had just inadvertently insulted Bowman's daughter, or rather the name of his daughter.
"A versatile flower, the daisy," Matthew commented, breaking the silence. "Lovely in its freshness and simplicity. I've always thought it went well with any kind of arrangement."
The entire group rumbled in immediate agreement- "Indeed," and "Quite so. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers, #4)
52
" They came to a tall juniper hedge beyond which extended a flagstoned walkway that bordered the side of the manor. As they made their way to an opening of the hedge, they heard a pair of masculine voices engaged in conversation. The voices were not loud. In fact, the strictly moderated volume of the conversation betrayed that something secret— and therefore intriguing— was being discussed. Pausing behind the hedge, Daisy motioned for Evie to be still and quiet.
“… doesn’t promise to be much of a breeder…” one of them was saying.
The comment was met with a low but indignant objection. “Timid? Holy hell, the woman has enough spirit to climb Mont-Blanc with a pen-knife and a ball of twine. Her children will be perfect hellions.”
Daisy and Evie stared at each other with mutual astonishment. Both voices were easily recognizable as those belonging to Lord Llandrindon and Matthew Swift.
“Really,” Llandrindon said skeptically. “My impression is that she is a literary-minded girl. Rather a bluestocking.”
“Yes, she loves books. She also happens to love adventure. She has a remarkable imagination accompanied by a passionate enthusiasm for life and an iron constitution. You’re not going to find a girl her equal on your side of the Atlantic or mine.”
“I had no intention of looking on your side,” Llandrindon said dryly. “English girls possess all the traits I would desire in a wife.”
They were talking about her, Daisy realized, her mouth dropping open. She was torn between delight at Matthew Swift’s description of her, and indignation that he was trying to sell her to Llandrindon as if she were a bottle of patent medicine from a street vendor’s cart.
“I require a wife who is poised,” Llandrindon continued, “sheltered, restful…”
“Restful? What about natural and intelligent? What about a girl with the confidence to be herself rather than trying to imitate some pallid ideal of subservient womanhood?”
“I have a question,” Llandrindon said.
“Yes?”
“If she’s so bloody remarkable, why don’t you marry her?”
Daisy held her breath, straining to hear Swift’s reply. To her supreme frustration his voice was muffled by the filter of the hedges. “Drat,” she muttered and made to follow them.
Evie yanked her back behind the hedge. “No,” she whispered sharply. “Don’t test our luck, Daisy. It was a miracle they didn’t realize we were here.”
“But I wanted to hear the rest of it!”
“So did I.” They stared at each other with round eyes. “Daisy…” Evie said in wonder, “… I think Matthew Swift is in love with you. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers, #4)
53
" The days that followed were what Matthew would remember for the rest of his life as a week of unholy torture.
He had been to hell and back at a much earlier time in his life, having known physical pain, deprivation, near-starvation, and bone-chilling fear. But none of those discomforts came close to the agony of standing by and watching Daisy Bowman being courted by Lord Llandrindon.
It seemed the seeds he had sown in Llandrindon’s mind about Daisy’s charms had successfully taken root. Llandrindon was at Daisy’s side constantly, chatting, flirting, letting his gaze travel over her with offensive familiarity. And Daisy was similarly absorbed, hanging on his every word, dropping whatever she happened to be doing as soon as Llandrindon appeared.
On Monday they went out for a private picnic.
On Tuesday they went for a carriage drive.
On Wednesday they went to pick bluebells.
On Thursday they fished at the lake, returning with damp clothes and sun-glazed complexions, laughing together at a joke they didn’t share with anyone else.
On Friday they danced together at an impromptu musical evening, looking so well matched that one of the guests remarked it was a pleasure to watch them.
On Saturday Matthew woke up wanting to murder someone. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers, #4)
55
" This week has had a strange effect on me,” Llandrindon ruminated aloud. “I feel… different.”
“Are you ill?” Daisy asked in concern, closing the sketchbook. “I’m sorry, I’ve made you sit out in the sun too long.”
“No, not that kind of different. What I meant to say is that I feel… wonderful.” Llandrindon was staring at her in that odd way again. “Better than I ever have before.”
“It’s the country air, I expect.” Daisy stood and brushed her skirts off, and went to him. “It’s quite invigorating.”
“It’s not the country air I find invigorating,” Llandrindon said in a low voice. “It’s you, Miss Bowman.”
Daisy’s mouth fell open. “Me?”
“You.” He stood and took her shoulders in his hands.
Daisy could only stutter in surprise. “I— I— my lord—”
“These past few days in your company have given me cause for deep reflection.”
Daisy twisted to glance at their surroundings, taking in the neatly trimmed hedges covered with bursts of pink climbing roses. “Is Mr. Swift nearby?” she whispered. “Is that why you’re talking this way?”
“No, I’m speaking for myself.” Ardently Llandrindon pulled her closer, until the sketchbook was nearly crushed between them. “You’ve opened my eyes, Miss Bowman. You’ve made me see everything a different way. I want to find shapes in clouds, and do something worth writing a poem about. I want to read novels. I want to make life an adventure—”
“How nice,” Daisy said, wriggling in his tightening grasp.
“— with you.”
Oh no.
“You’re joking,” she said weakly.
“I’m besotted,” he declared.
“I’m unavailable.”
“I’m determined.”
“I’m… surprised.”
“You dear little thing,” he exclaimed. “You’re everything he said you were. Magic. Thunderstorms wrapped up with rainbows. Clever and lovely and desirable—”
“Wait.” Daisy stared at him in astonishment. “Matth— that is, Mr. Swift said that?”
“Yes, yes, yes…” And before she could move, speak or breathe, Llandrindon lowered his head and kissed her. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers, #4)
59
" We must send Daisy to London as soon as possible,” Lillian fretted. “It’s the height of the season, and she’s buried in Hampshire away from all the balls and soirées—”
“It was her choice to come here,” Marcus reminded her, reaching for her other foot. “She would never forgive herself if she missed the baby’s birth.”
“Oh, bother that. I would rather Daisy miss the birth and meet eligible men instead of having to wait here with me until her time runs out and she has to marry Matthew Swift and move with him to New York and then I’ll never see her again—”
“I’ve already thought of that,” Marcus said. “Which is why I undertook to invite a number of eligible men to Stony Cross Park for the stag-and-hind hunt.”
“You did?” Her head lifted from the pillow.
“St. Vincent and I came up with a list and debated the merits of each candidate at length. We settled on an even dozen. Any one of them would do for your sister.”
“Oh, Marcus, you are the most clever, most wonderful—”
He waved away the praise and shook his head with a grin, remembering the lively arguments. “St. Vincent is damned finicky, let me tell you. If he were a woman, no man would be good enough for him.”
“They never are,” Lillian told him impudently. “Which is why we women have a saying…‘Aim high, then settle.’”
He snorted. “Is that what you did?”
A smile curved her lips. “No, my lord. I aimed high and got far more than I’d bargained for.”
And she giggled as he crawled over her prone body and kissed her soundly. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers, #4)
60
" Children.” Westcliff’s sardonic voice caused them both to look at him blankly. He was standing from his chair and stretching underused muscles. “I’m afraid this has gone on long enough for me. You are welcome to continue playing, but I beg to take leave.”
“But who will arbitrate?” Daisy protested.
“Since no one has been keeping score for at least a half hour,” the earl said dryly, “there is no further need for my judgement.”
“Yes we have,” Daisy argued, and turned to Swift. “What is the score?”
“I don’t know.”
As their gazes held, Daisy could hardly restrain a snicker of sudden embarrassment.
Amusement glittered in Swift’s eyes. “I think you won,” he said.
“Oh, don’t condescend to me,” Daisy said. “You’re ahead. I can take a loss. It’s part of the game.”
“I’m not being condescending. It’s been point-for-point for at least…” Swift fumbled in the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a watch. “…two hours.”
“Which means that in all likelihood you preserved your early lead.”
“But you chipped away at it after the third round—”
“Oh, hell’s bells!” came Lillian’s voice from the sidelines. She sounded thoroughly aggravated, having gone into the manor for a nap and come out to find them still at the bowling green. “You’ve quarreled all afternoon like a pair of ferrets, and now you’re fighting over who won. If someone doesn’t put a stop to it, you’ll be squabbling out here ’til midnight. Daisy, you’re covered with dust and your hair is a bird’s nest. Come inside and put yourself to rights. Now.”
“There’s no need to shout,” Daisy replied mildly, following her sister’s retreating figure. She glanced over her shoulder at Matthew Swift…a friendlier glance than she had ever given him before, then turned and quickened her pace.
Swift began to pick up the wooden bowls.
“Leave them,” Westcliff said. “The servants will put things in order. Your time is better spent preparing yourself for supper, which will commence in approximately one hour.”
Obligingly Matthew dropped the bowls and went toward the house with Westcliff. He watched Daisy’s small, sylphlike form until she disappeared from sight.
Westcliff did not miss Matthew’s fascinated gaze.
“You have a unique approach to courtship,” he commented. “I wouldn’t have thought beating Daisy at lawn games would catch her interest, but it seems to have done the trick.”
Matthew contemplated the ground before his feet, schooling his tone into calm unconcern. “I’m not courting Miss Bowman.”
“Then it seems I misinterpreted your apparent passion for bowls.”
Matthew shot him a defensive glance. “I’ll admit, I find her entertaining. But that doesn’t mean I want to marry her.”
“The Bowman sisters are rather dangerous that way. When one of them first attracts your interest, all you know is she’s the most provoking creature you’ve ever encountered. But then you discover that as maddening as she is, you can scarcely wait until the next time you see her. Like the progression of an incurable disease, it spreads from one organ to the next. The craving begins. All other women begin to seem colorless and dull in comparison. You want her until you think you’ll go mad from it. You can’t stop thinking—”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Matthew interrupted, turning pale.
He was not about to succumb to an incurable disease. A man had choices in life. And no matter what Westcliff believed, this was nothing more than a physical urge. An unholy powerful, gut-wrenching, insanity-producing physical urge…but it could be conquered by sheer force of will.
“If you say so,” Westcliff said, sounding unconvinced. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers, #4)
