Discussing Daisy

S eated in a chair beside her father's bed, Willow was reading aloud to him. They both enjoyed sharing the humor in Swift's satirical Gulliver's Travels .

She almost dropped the book when Rowan suddenly hurried into the bedchamber, his face as red as a winter beetroot. "What a day I've had, Papa," he exclaimed.

Ash and Thorne followed, but said nothing. Their puzzled frowns seemed to indicate they were as mystified by their stolid brother's uncharacteristic outburst as she was.

She looked to the open door, willing Niven to appear, but he evidently wasn't to be a party to this discussion. She bookmarked the page, closed the book and waited.

"First of all, Papa," Rowan began, gripping the frame at the foot of the bed. "I apologize for ducking my responsibilities for so many years. It was remiss of me."

Their father narrowed his eyes. "You went off to the Peninsula to fight for Wellington, but go on."

"Mr. King gave us a tour of several ships," Rowan explained.

Willow noted a surprising hint of respect in his voice.

"I hadn't realized the Scot doesn't actually work for you…er…for us. He seems to know all there is to know about Withenshawe Shipping."

"He does."

"Whereas I admit to knowing nothing, except what I learned today. But I am henceforth determined to remedy that."

His father chuckled. "You enjoyed being aboard a ship."

When a broad smile split Rowan's face, Willow was startled by the realization her brother was actually a handsome man. "I did," he replied. "Niven has planned a short jaunt downriver tomorrow morning. I can't wait."

A lump lodged in Willow's throat when tears welled in her father's eyes. She knew he'd given up hope of his sons taking over the company that meant so much to him. But what did Rowan's newfound enthusiastic commitment mean for Niven?

"I have more good news," her brother declared. "Tomorrow afternoon, I'll be calling on Lady Daisy Hawkins. Her brother has given permission."

"At last," their father exclaimed, looking haler than Willow had seen him for days on end. "A very suitable choice."

Ash and Thorne gaped at Rowan, but their surprise didn't compare to the gooseflesh marching up Willow's spine. Daisy Hawkins wasn't a friendly person. If she married her brother and eventually became Duchess of Withenshawe, Daisy would be mistress of Rochevaux Abbey. If Willow's brothers insisted on keeping their sister isolated, the lonely life of a spinster loomed large, and she'd be completely dependent on a woman she didn't like.

Obliged to return to the townhouse with the Three Trees, Niven had no excuse. It would seem odd if he didn't appear for the evening meal, particularly given Lord Rowan's new enthusiasm for learning as much as he could about shipping.

The smiling duke's presence at the dining table lightened Niven's heart. His heir's epiphany had perhaps given him a new lease on life.

Other parts of Niven's male body responded to seeing Lady Willow again. She bestowed her lovely smile on him and her father. Rowan merited only glares. Ash and Hawthorne were ignored.

The more Rowan talked, the deeper Willow's sulk. She evidently wasn't pleased by her brother's sudden interest in the business, though she nodded her approval when Niven provided what he considered excellent answers to Rowan's many questions.

The reason for her disquiet became clearer when her brother declared his intention to call on the Duke of Ramsay's sister after the morrow's short voyage. Thunder darkened her face as she gripped her napkin. "I didn't find Lady Daisy very friendly," she said.

"You should ask Niven about her," the duke replied, one eyebrow arched.

"What can I say?" he replied, wishing he could wipe the silly grin off Withenshawe's face. "She's my cousin."

"But the two of you were an item for a while, weren't you?"

Niven crossed his fingers beneath the table and hoped his answer was diplomatic enough. "Daisy is a fine lass, but we're cousins and neither of us was seriously interested in the other."

"Of course not," Rowan exclaimed. "A duke's daughter wouldn't be interested in a commoner."

Niven might have countered that Daisy was a moody and unpredictable woman who enjoyed toying with a man's affections no matter his rank, but that wouldn't erase the pain from Lady Willow's face. Instead, he dug the hole deeper. "For a while, Daisy had a thing about men in kilts."

Willow's emotions were all at sea. Now that her father needn't worry about the business remaining in the family, renewed hopes for his complete recovery brought joy. She should be pleased Rowan had at last taken an interest in a person of the opposite sex. It was his responsibility to provide future heirs for the title but she'd begun to wonder if he'd ever marry. However, did the woman he'd chosen have to be the haughty Daisy Hawkins?

She got the feeling Niven wanted to say more about Daisy, but the mention of kilts muddled her thoughts. "I've never seen you wear a kilt," she said in response to Niven's assertion. Immediately regretting the statement, she averted her eyes from her father's frown.

"A kilt's nay verra practical for workin' on the docks," Niven replied. "But I could wear my highland garb to dinner if 'twould please ye."

The suggestion was impossible to resist. "It would please me very much," she said.

Expecting a rebuke, she was astonished when her father said, "I understand you play the fiddle, young man. Perhaps you could favor us with a performance one evening after dinner."

Heat flooded Niven's face. "Aye, if ye wish, Yer Grace, though I normally just play for people dancin' reels and the like. I brought my fiddle and my bagpipes with me last time I came back from Scotland. I can play both for ye."

"Good grief," Rowan muttered.