terribly. You don’t mind my saying so?”
“Of course not. I think it’s very flattering.” Daisy felt her heart go out to this decent, amiable young man. Her mind raced on. It would be a comfortable marriage. Their love would grow in a sort of Darby and Joan way. No tremblings of passion, no tears, no hurt.
“Pater was in
tea
,” he said. “But tea’s not zactly
trade
, is it.”
Daisy shook her head. She had been long enough in her new world to hear people being damned as “being in trade” or “smelling of the shop.” But tea and beer were considered respectable.
“Mater, of course, says I shouldn’t mention tea because we’ve got simply pots of money and it’s not as if I need to
work
, or anything like that.”
Daisy experienced a slight qualm which she resolutely put down. All these young men seemed to drift from club to country house like the butterflies in summer. There always seemed to be a “mater” or aunt or uncle in the background to ensure that these lilies of the field should not have to earn an honest penny.
“We’ve got an awfully pretty place down at Henley. Love you to see it one day. I say, you don’t think I’m being
bold
or anything like that?”
Daisy smiled and shook her head. What a very correct and lovable young man!
He drew his chair closer to hers until their knees were almost touching. “Well… you see… gosh, this is difficult. Y’see, Miss Chatterton, I’m sort of bowled over in a sort of way. And… and… I’ve got this spanking new motor and thought perhaps we might take a toddle down to Henley on Saturday. The Mater would be frightfully bucked. Lonely, you know. Yes, yes. Lonely, that’s it Very solitary. Lonely, yes. Very lonely. All by herself. On her own, you know. Just herself… lonely…”
Whether from a desire to put an end to the “lonelys” or because she suddenly became aware that the Duke of Oxenden had just walked into the supper room, she was never to know, but Daisy gave an enthusiastic “yes.”
“I say,” gabbled the delighted Freddie. “Thanks most awfully.”
Daisy became aware of the Duke at her elbow and affected the introductions with pretty grace.
The Duke’s long fingers reached for her little dance card. “Dear me, Daisy, every single dance taken.”
“I’ve booked the next dance, the one right after supper, Duke. You can have mine if you like,” said Freddie generously. “Going to be seeing lots of Miss Chatterton, in any case.”
“You are indeed fortunate,” said the Duke, looking down at the young pair with an enigmatic stare. “Come, Daisy, the music is starting.”
Well aware of many jealous and speculative glances, Daisy moved onto the ballroom floor and into the Duke’s arms. He held her very closely and something seemed to happen to her breath, but Daisy decided it was because Amy had been overly zealous in tightening her stays.
“You are not
already
engaged to be married?” Daisy heard him ask.
She shook her head and stared at his waistcoat.
“Then what about that young man who is going to be seeing lots of you?”
Daisy raised her head. “Mr. Bryce-Cuddestone has asked me to go to Henley with him this Saturday to meet his mother,” she said proudly.
“What a fast mover for such a shy specimen of English manhood. Don’t tell me I am to lose my bet over Freddie Bryce-Cuddestone?”
“And why not?” flashed Daisy. “He is so—so comfortable and
safe
and—and—he doesn’t make any remarks to make me feel awkward.”
“Is that your recipe for true love?”
“I don’t know!” said Daisy, exasperated. “So I’m going to find out. So there!”
But the infuriating man only held her closer. His Grace, the Duke of Oxenden, was not what Daisy would call a comfortable man.
The dance seemed to finish very quickly, however, and Daisy was put into the arms of her next partner, who whirled her around and around with such energy that she felt positively dizzy. When she finally came to
“Of course not. I think it’s very flattering.” Daisy felt her heart go out to this decent, amiable young man. Her mind raced on. It would be a comfortable marriage. Their love would grow in a sort of Darby and Joan way. No tremblings of passion, no tears, no hurt.
“Pater was in
tea
,” he said. “But tea’s not zactly
trade
, is it.”
Daisy shook her head. She had been long enough in her new world to hear people being damned as “being in trade” or “smelling of the shop.” But tea and beer were considered respectable.
“Mater, of course, says I shouldn’t mention tea because we’ve got simply pots of money and it’s not as if I need to
work
, or anything like that.”
Daisy experienced a slight qualm which she resolutely put down. All these young men seemed to drift from club to country house like the butterflies in summer. There always seemed to be a “mater” or aunt or uncle in the background to ensure that these lilies of the field should not have to earn an honest penny.
“We’ve got an awfully pretty place down at Henley. Love you to see it one day. I say, you don’t think I’m being
bold
or anything like that?”
Daisy smiled and shook her head. What a very correct and lovable young man!
He drew his chair closer to hers until their knees were almost touching. “Well… you see… gosh, this is difficult. Y’see, Miss Chatterton, I’m sort of bowled over in a sort of way. And… and… I’ve got this spanking new motor and thought perhaps we might take a toddle down to Henley on Saturday. The Mater would be frightfully bucked. Lonely, you know. Yes, yes. Lonely, that’s it Very solitary. Lonely, yes. Very lonely. All by herself. On her own, you know. Just herself… lonely…”
Whether from a desire to put an end to the “lonelys” or because she suddenly became aware that the Duke of Oxenden had just walked into the supper room, she was never to know, but Daisy gave an enthusiastic “yes.”
“I say,” gabbled the delighted Freddie. “Thanks most awfully.”
Daisy became aware of the Duke at her elbow and affected the introductions with pretty grace.
The Duke’s long fingers reached for her little dance card. “Dear me, Daisy, every single dance taken.”
“I’ve booked the next dance, the one right after supper, Duke. You can have mine if you like,” said Freddie generously. “Going to be seeing lots of Miss Chatterton, in any case.”
“You are indeed fortunate,” said the Duke, looking down at the young pair with an enigmatic stare. “Come, Daisy, the music is starting.”
Well aware of many jealous and speculative glances, Daisy moved onto the ballroom floor and into the Duke’s arms. He held her very closely and something seemed to happen to her breath, but Daisy decided it was because Amy had been overly zealous in tightening her stays.
“You are not
already
engaged to be married?” Daisy heard him ask.
She shook her head and stared at his waistcoat.
“Then what about that young man who is going to be seeing lots of you?”
Daisy raised her head. “Mr. Bryce-Cuddestone has asked me to go to Henley with him this Saturday to meet his mother,” she said proudly.
“What a fast mover for such a shy specimen of English manhood. Don’t tell me I am to lose my bet over Freddie Bryce-Cuddestone?”
“And why not?” flashed Daisy. “He is so—so comfortable and
safe
and—and—he doesn’t make any remarks to make me feel awkward.”
“Is that your recipe for true love?”
“I don’t know!” said Daisy, exasperated. “So I’m going to find out. So there!”
But the infuriating man only held her closer. His Grace, the Duke of Oxenden, was not what Daisy would call a comfortable man.
The dance seemed to finish very quickly, however, and Daisy was put into the arms of her next partner, who whirled her around and around with such energy that she felt positively dizzy. When she finally came to
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