Rowans Letter

D aisy and her sister-in-law were having afternoon tea with Willow. They still called it afternoon tea, though all three preferred to drink coffee, thanks to Cat persuading them of its superiority to tea. When sounds of a messenger arriving echoed from the foyer, Daisy's heart fluttered. She was already in a state of high excitement after the news Rowan's sister brought about her brother's journey to Wales. According to Niven, the Marquess of Anglesey had talked sternly to Rowan about getting on with his life, and provided information about the mechanical leg. He'd bluntly told Rowan he was a fool for letting Daisy go. His influence seemed to have had an effect given Niven's complaint that the taciturn Rowan had chatted on and on all the way from Wales to London.

The inventor had apparently arrived this very day to take measurements for Rowan to be fitted with his own artificial leg. His valet had bruited it about that Rowan had offered to pay double the price if the leg could be manufactured in half the usual time. This could only mean one thing—he was anxious to have the leg fitted before he called on her. Willow shared this opinion.

Best of all, Rowan had been made aware it was Daisy who'd arranged for the invitations. He must therefore fully appreciate that she did still love him. Things were perhaps working out better than she could have hoped.

She stopped breathing when Harrison entered the drawing room with the missive perched on a silver salver. "For you, my lady," he intoned as he bowed.

She took hold of the envelope with clumsy fingers and stared at Rowan's seal. So much was riding on this letter, she didn't know if she had the courage to open it. Perhaps he resented her interference. Its contents might be the final nail in the coffin, or offer hope for the future.

"Are ye nay goin' to open it?" Cat asked.

Willow nodded, her eyes bright with encouragement.

Trembling, Daisy slit the seal and stared at the brief missive.

My darling Daisy,

Forgive me.

With fondest love, Rowan.

Tears welled. The letter said nothing about the future, yet it said everything.

Willow didn't have to be told the contents of her brother's letter. Daisy's tears of happiness were proof of what she needed to know. Rowan had come to his senses and made the first move toward mending what he'd broken. She regretted the doubts she'd harbored about Daisy when they first met. Rowan was extremely lucky to have found a woman who still loved him despite his continued rejection. Daisy had understood his torment and persevered. She'd even brought censure down on her own head by jilting another member of the nobility at the altar.

No one would do for Daisy except Rowan, just as there was no one for Willow but Niven. It seemed that two of the late Duchess of Withenshawe's "trees" were destined to find partners who loved them. She had no doubt Niven loved her deeply, and few daughters of dukes could boast of being passionately in love with their mates as she and Daisy could.

As for Ash and Thorne—no one knew when Thorne might resurface from his wanderings and Ash spent most of his time carousing and womanizing. Their father had threatened to cut off his allowance if he continued to drink it away. However, it was Rowan's happiness that mattered now. He'd suffered a terrible ordeal and deserved to be happy. Seeing the heir to his dukedom settled and content would take a heavy load off their father's mind.

"Good news, I hope," she asked Daisy, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Oh, yes, Sister dear," Daisy replied.

Daisy had no sister. She and her brother's wife had grown closer since the birth of Daisy's two nephews, but Kenneth was always Cat's first priority. As she and Willow parted with petits baisers and giggles, Daisy hoped she had at last found a friend as well as a sister-in-law—if she and Rowan ever married. Sworn to secrecy about their meeting, Willow departed for the townhouse, obviously relishing her role as co-conspirator.

Holding Rowan's letter to her heart, Daisy returned to the drawing room just as Kenneth entered. She longed for the day when Rowan would greet her with the same ardor that Kenneth bestowed on his wife as they kissed.

"What do you have there, Sister mine?" he asked.

"'Tis a letter from Rowan Halstead," Cat replied.

Kenneth narrowed his eyes. "That explains the grin, I suppose. What does he have to say for himself?"

Daisy loved her brother, but the contents of the letter were precious and private.

"You don't have to tell me," Kenneth said, obviously taking note of her reluctant frown. "But should I be preparing for the expense of another wedding?"

Daisy hesitated. Was it too soon to say yes?