reality. – What reality, father? – Daisy asked. – That you were not made for the British aristocracy. I obtained a low rate of return on my investment in your search for a husband. Do you know what that means, Daisy? – That I am a bad investment? – Daisy tried to guess. No one would guess that Daisy was a 22-year-old girl. Small, slender, and dark-haired, she still had the agility and exuberance of a child, while other women had already become sensible matrons. Sitting with her legs draped over the seat, she looked like a porcelain doll abandoned in the corner of the sofa. It irritated Bowman to see his daughter holding a book in her lap, one finger marking the page. She obviously couldn't wait for him to finish speaking so she could resume reading. "Put that down," he ordered. "Yes, Father." Surreptitiously, Daisy opened the book to see the page number and put it aside. The small gesture irritated Bowman. Books... The mere sight of a book had come to represent his daughter's shameful failure on the marriage market. Drawing on a large cigar, Bowman sat in an upholstered chair in the hotel suite they had occupied for more than two years. His wife, Mercedes, was perched in a high-backed wicker chair. Bowman was a large man, as intimidating in his physical size as in his manner. Although he was bald, he had a thick mustache, as if all the energy needed to grow hair had been channeled into his upper lip. At the time of their marriage, Mercedes had been extraordinarily thin. Over the years she had become even thinner, like a bar of soap being whittled down to a thin strip. Her straight black hair was always tied back. The sleeves of her dresses were tightly fitted to tiny cuffs that were so thin they could have been snapped like birch twigs. Even when she sat still, she exuded a nervous energy. Bowman had never regretted choosing Mercedes as his wife. Her iron ambition matched his perfectly. She was a tough, shrewd woman, always seeking a place for the Bowmans in high society. It was Mercedes who had insisted on taking her daughters to England.
strong-willed, but three of his children were too placid and accepting of things as they were. They assumed that everything would fall into their hands, like ripe fruit from a tree trunk. Lillian was the only one who seemed to have inherited some of the Bowmans' feisty spirit, but she was a woman. And then there was Daisy. Of all his children, she had always been the one Thomas Bowman understood least. Even as a child, Daisy had never drawn the right conclusions from the stories he told her, asking only questions that never seemed relevant.
When he had explained to her why investors seeking low risk and moderate returns should put their money in government bonds, Daisy had interrupted him by asking, "Father, wouldn't it be wonderful if the hummingbirds got together for tea and we were small enough to be invited?" Over the years, Bowman's efforts to change Daisy had met with valiant resistance. His daughter liked the way she was. Trying to change her was like herding a flock of butterflies. Simply impossible. Since Bowman had been half-mad about his daughter's unpredictable nature, he was not at all surprised by the lack of men willing to take her on for life. What kind of mother would she be, babbling about fairies coming down rainbows instead of instilling sensible rules in her children's heads? Mercedes chimed in with a dismayed voice: "Mr. Bowman, the season is far from over. And Daisy has made excellent progress so far." Lord Westcliff introduced her to several promising gentlemen, all of whom were very interested in the prospect of becoming the earl's brothers-in-law. "It is obvious that each of these 'promising gentlemen' is interested in becoming Westcliff's brother-in-law rather than Daisy's husband," Bowman said darkly. "Does any of these men intend to propose to her?" "She cannot know," Mercedes argued. "Women always know these things. Tell me, Daisy, is there any chance of you marrying one of these gentlemen?" The young woman hesitated, her dark eyes revealing concern. "No, Father," she admitted frankly. "As I thought." Folding his thick fingers over his belly, Bowman looked authoritatively at the two silent women. "Your failure has become inconvenient, child. I am concerned about the unnecessary expense of dresses and trinkets-the tedium of chauffeuring you from one unproductive ball to another. More than that, I am concerned that this adventure has kept me in England when I am needed in New York. That is why I have decided to choose a husband for you." Daisy stared at him, confused. "Who do you have in mind, Father?" "Matthew Swift." Mercedes looked at her husband as if he had gone mad. "That makes no sense! This marriage would do us no good. Mr. Swift is not an aristocrat and does not have significant wealth..." "He is one of the Swifts of Boston," Bowman countered. "Hardly any family would turn their nose up at that. He has a good name and a good lineage. And most importantly, Swift is devoted to me. He is one of the most business-savvy people I have ever met. I want him as my son-in-law. I want him to inherit my company when the time comes." "You have three legitimate sons who will inherit it," Mercedes countered indignantly. "None of them give a damn about the company. They have no interest in it." Thinking of Matthew Swift, who had flourished under his tutelage for almost ten years, Bowman felt his pride blossom. The young man was more like him than his own sons. "None of them have Swift's ambition and coldness." I will make him the father of my heirs." "You're mad!" Mercedes exclaimed irritably. Daisy spoke in a calm tone, completely different from her father's. "I must stress that my cooperation is necessary, especially now that we're talking about heirs. And I assure you that no power on earth will force me to bear children by a man I don't like." "I thought you wanted to be useful to someone," Bowman roared. It had always been in his nature to fight rebellion with overwhelming force. "I thought you wanted a husband and a home instead of continuing to live like a parasite." Daisy flinched as if he'd slapped her. "I'm not a parasite." "No? Then explain to me how the world has benefited from your presence. What have you ever done for anyone?" Faced with the task of justifying her existence, Daisy glared at him coldly and remained silent. "That is my ultimatum," Bowman said. "Find me a suitable husband by the end of May or I will marry you to Swift." "I shouldn't tell you this," Daisy grumbled, pacing the Marsden drawing room later that evening. "In your condition, you shouldn't worry. But I'll burst if I keep it to myself, which would probably worry you infinitely more." Her older sister lifted her head from where it was resting on Lord Westcliff's shoulder. "Tell me," Lillian said, fighting back another wave of nausea. "I only worry when people keep things from me." She was reclining on the long sofa as Westcliff spooned lemon sorbet into her mouth. Lillian closed her eyes as she swallowed, her dark lashes striking a pale contrast to her cheeks. "Better?" Westcliff asked gently, wiping a drop from the corner of his wife's lips. Lillian nodded, her face alarmingly pale. "Yes, I think it's helping. Ugh. You better pray for a boy, Westcliff, because this is your only chance of having an heir." I'll never go through that again..." "Open your mouth," he said, and fed her more ice cream. Normally Daisy would have been touched by this glimpse into the Westcliffs' private lives. It was rare to see Lillian so vulnerable or Marcus so kind and concerned. But Daisy was so distracted by her own problems that she barely noticed their interaction as she spoke impulsively, "Father gave me an ultimatum. Tonight he-" "Wait," Westcliff said quietly, adjusting his wife's position. As he settled her on her side, Lillian leaned more heavily against him and rested one of her slender white hands on her belly. He murmured something indecipherable into her tousled ebony hair, and she nodded with a sigh. Anyone who had witnessed Westcliff's tenderness toward his young wife could not fail to notice the changes in the earl, who had always been known as a cold man. He had become much more approachable, he smiled more, and his standards of behavior had become far less rigid. Which was a good thing for a man who had Lillian as his wife and Daisy as his sister-in-law. Westcliff frowned and focused on Daisy. Though the earl said nothing, Daisy saw in his eyes the desire to protect Lillian from anything that might disturb her peace. Daisy suddenly felt ashamed of having gone to her sister to tell her about the injustices her father had committed. Instead of keeping her troubles to herself, she had run to her older sister like a chattering child. But then Lillian's brown eyes opened, warm and smiling, and a thousand childhood memories floated through the air like happy fireflies. The sisters' closeness was something that even
Chapter 1 As I thought
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Chapter 2 You could never
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Chapter 3 her own children
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Chapter 4 she forgot someone
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Chapter 5 What idea
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Chapter 6 in the future
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Chapter 7 her sister's eyes
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Chapter 8 realities of the world
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Chapter 9 I'm afraid not
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Chapter 10 I think most people
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Chapter 11 Philosophical questions
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Chapter 12 murmured
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Chapter 13 don't be fooled
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Chapter 14 I'm not short
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Chapter 15 Lord Llandrindon
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Chapter 16 Miss Bowman
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Chapter 17 lists of numbers
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Chapter 18 said with a smile
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Chapter 19 In hand
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Chapter 20 should have fought
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Chapter 21 little devil
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Chapter 22 extreme desperation
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Chapter 23 I promise
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Chapter 24 never be that cruel
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Chapter 25 Go back to the doctor
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Chapter 26 I just want
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Chapter 27 you back to New York
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Chapter 28 friend considered
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Chapter 29 the motivation
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Chapter 30 reluctant smile
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Chapter 31 sensual and tender
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Chapter 32 he remembered
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Chapter 33 The bed isn't that high
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Chapter 34 What is it
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Chapter 35 like your kisses
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Chapter 36 her sister to object
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Chapter 37 I just wanted
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Chapter 38 Do you remember
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Chapter 39 I've missed you
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Chapter 40 have no reason to lie
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