Her Every Wish (12 page)

His heart lifted. His weariness fell away. “Daisy, what are you doing here?”

She met his eyes and slowly—not entirely gracefully—clambered to her feet. “Where have you been?”

“Looking for you.” He set his hand against the wall next to her. “Where have you been?”

“Waiting for you.” She gave him a smile. A bright one. A brilliant one, in fact, one that warmed him everywhere.

“No,” he said. “Never mind any of that. How are you, Daisy? That stage—what happened this morning has been much on my mind. I saw your face. I saw what they did to you.” He took a step toward her. “I wish I had a host of well-fed pigeons to release over their heads. How are you?”

“Truly?” She took a step toward him. “I feel bruised. Hurt. Angry. Sad.”

“Of course you do.” Then, because she stood mere inches from him, he reached out to her. He cupped her cheek with his fingers, stroking the soft warmth of her skin. “Of course you do.”

“I am also,” Daisy said, “determined, triumphant, and exuberant. They won't stop me.”

There was something in her eyes as she spoke. Something so strong and unbreakable that he wanted to squeeze her tight, just to prove that she was real. “Of course they won't.”

“They can't,” she said. “They handed me the largest pile of dung a horse has ever dropped on the street and pretended it was my due. That I deserved nothing better.” Her chin went up in defiance. “I held it. I
smelled
it. And I'm throwing it back at them.” Her eyes bored into his. “When you feel your velocipede slipping, there's only one thing to do.”

“Go faster,” he said softly.

“Don't stop. Go hard. Pedal. Don't flinch. Maybe you'll still fall, but maybe, just maybe, you'll make it through the other end.” Her smile glittered. “I've signed partnership papers. With Lady Ashworth—that's Judith.”

He grinned at her. “Have you now?”

“I have. And I was thinking. You told me a while back that you'd looked at a storefront that was too large by half.”

“Yes?”

“If you haven't committed to anything yet… Do you suppose we might take it together? We could divide the space in two.”

He broke out in a grin. “Yes, Daisy. I think we might. I rather think we might.” He paused. “You know, it wasn't just space for a business. There were living quarters above the shop.”

“Oh.” She looked over at him and a small smile touched her face. “Oh dear. We shall have to argue over who gets them. And I had so hoped that we were done with arguing.”

He folded his arms. Two could play at that game. “No arguing necessary. We shall simply divide them down the middle.”

“What a lovely solution,” Daisy said. “Be sure to tell me which half is yours so I can come visit. I've been told you have scones. And tea. And orgasms.”

“God, Daisy.” He found himself laughing. “I love you. Will you please stop teasing me and tell me you'll marry me and share everything?”

“I suppose if there are pastries…” She hesitated just a moment. “Then, yes. Yes. I might as well admit that I love you, too.”

Their hands clasped. She leaned toward him.

“Wait.” He stopped her. How he stopped her when she was on the verge of kissing him, when her lips were so close he could have touched them with his tongue, he didn't know. “Wait. I have some bad news about your mother.”

She gasped. “Oh, God. My mother. Is she… Has anything happened?”

He shook his head sadly at her. “You'll never beat her at whist again. My aunt has found her out. She cheats, and she'll teach your mother
everything.”

Daisy smiled. “Good. My mother could use a little cheating in her life.”

Ever so slowly, he wound his arms around her.

“So can I,” he said.

Her lips brushed his, and he pulled her to him.

T
here ought
to have been some sort of fanfare. Daisy would have settled for a single trumpet playing a few triumphant notes. After months of hard work, the world ought to have announced the alteration of Daisy's life with something more than the chiming of a church bell two streets away.

That was all she had, though. Daisy turned the iron key in the lock on a sunny spring morning and opened the door to her new emporium. The key didn't even give so much as a portentous squeak.

The door swung open onto the cobblestone street. The glass window showcasing Daisy's goods glittered in the sunlight.

It was just another day. Soon this would be prosaic. Daisy danced a little jig of excitement in place and retreated back inside.

Nothing to do now but wait for customers.

Daisy was too nervous to sit. She paced instead—from one end of the store to the other. The mahogany chairs in the sitting area for tea and biscuits gleamed with polish, but she wiped them down anyway. The brightly colored scarves didn't need to be rearranged, but she fussed with them regardless.

That all took precisely one minute.

She glanced out the window, and the bell on the door rang.

In came Mrs. Wilde. In the months since the competition, they'd conversed several times. Daisy had promised her that if she ever needed an assistant, she would ask her first.

The woman looked around and smiled.

“My dear, this is lovely. You've done an excellent job.”

Daisy smiled in pleasure.

“I'm here for my buttonhole,” Mrs. Wilde said. “Then I'll be out of your hair. I'm sure you'll be busy.”

Daisy hoped so. “Flowers. Excellent. We've three choices today. Violets, nasturtiums, and—”

The bell rang again, and Daisy looked up. She didn't recognize the woman who came in. She wore a light green gown with a gold sash, and she smiled and looked about with an air of satisfaction.

“Good day,” Daisy started.

But a man entered ten seconds behind her, and Daisy
did
recognize him. He was one of the judges from the competition. The last one, the one who had chosen Daisy to give her presentation. He had set her up for that painful embarrassment.

Daisy winced. She'd be gracious. She
would
. She prepared a smile, however false it was.

“You were right, Benjamin.” The woman turned to the man behind her. “She
has
done an excellent job.”

Daisy inhaled in surprise.

“Let me look at these hairpieces,” the woman said, and the couple walked across the room.

Daisy turned back to Mrs. Wilde. “And tulips,” she finished in a voice scarcely above a whisper.

Her mind had not yet recovered from the shock. The judge had thought she would do an excellent job?

She wasn't sure how to credit it.

But after Mrs. Wilde had left with a cluster of tulips, the woman in the green frock picked out a bangle, a set of hairpins with paste jewels on them, and a scarf. Her husband paid for them, counting exact change from a coin purse.

“Thank you,” Daisy said.

He met Daisy's eyes. “I voted for your proposal at the end.”

She blinked.

He shrugged. “Scant comfort, I imagine, to know the final tally was one against four. But if you want that comfort, there it is.”

The bell rang as Daisy stared in stunned confusion. “Thank you,” she managed. “And thank you for your patronage.”

She didn't have time to say more. The bell rang yet again, and soon her emporium was flooded with customers. The class on dressing hair as a single woman without assistance was filled by eleven; she added an additional day, and
that
was filled by noon. She had to replenish the bangles from the store she kept in the back twice, the scarves three times, and the hairpins… Lord, she'd need to order more of those the minute she had a chance.

If this kept up, she would need to hire a shop girl. She'd need two.

At ten minutes from closing, the shop was still full. She scarcely looked when the bell rang again.

She saw a man removing a dark hat, a flash of auburn hair. The man was holding a young girl's hand. The child smiled brightly at Daisy, her red hair a cloud of curls around her.

“Can I—” the girl started.

Daisy recognized her; she'd been sitting on her father's lap during the competition.

“Go ahead, pumpkin.” The man released her hand. He didn't look at Daisy.

But he accompanied his daughter to the register when she returned in five minutes. The little girl placed a bracelet of wooden beads on the counter.

“Two pence, please.”

Her father set two pennies down and looked directly at Daisy. “I wasn't sure about you then. But my daughter was at the competition, and she's been asking me to go to your store.” He trailed off, frowning. “I'm
still
not sure.”

“Enjoy the bracelet,” Daisy said to the young girl. “We'll have new ones in next week, so be sure to stop by.”

Her father let out a sigh.

“I will!” promised the child. “Papa, look at my wrist.”

“I see it, poppet. It's very pretty. Just like the rest of you.”

He was the last to leave, and as Daisy locked the door behind him and drew the curtains, she wanted to laugh triumphantly. She wanted to waltz around the room. And she would, right after she collapsed to the floor in a puddle of weariness.

Footsteps sounded behind her. Then a voice spoke in low tones.

“I believe I promised that you would have tea and pastries, madam.”

Daisy turned.

Crash stood behind her. He'd come in through the back door that joined their two shops. He had a tray, one stocked with sandwiches and some biscuits that he must have set aside earlier, because she'd been positive there was nothing but crumbs.

“I tried to bring you something at eleven,” he said, “but you were busy. So…” He set the tray down in her sitting area and waved her to a seat. “Sit.”

She did. “How was your day?” Crash had opened his velocipede store over a month ago.

He didn't sit beside her. He knelt in front of her on the floor and very gently removed a slipper. His fingers pressed into the ball of her foot, into sore flesh that had been abused all day. She let out a little moan.

He shrugged. “Delightful. The appointment system you came up with last week has cut down the worst of the arguments. Who knew that the velocipede would prove so popular? One would have to be a downright genius to foresee that.”

She took a sandwich and bit into it. She was hungry, and his fingers were pulling all the aches from her feet, her calves.

“
You
foresaw that,” she pointed out. “You did.”

He looked up at her with a glitter in his eyes. “Ah. So I did. In fact, I suppose my genius is matched only by that of someone who recognized the need for a store catering to working-class women.”

“Ah.” Daisy smiled. The shop needed to be swept, the shelves restocked, new goods ordered, and the books done… She would never sleep. “Yes. My genius is much overtaxed at the moment.”

If tomorrow was like today, she'd have to hire someone.

“I'm greatly pleased,” Crash said, moving his hands up stockinged feet, “that my wife is also a genius. There's wine upstairs and dinner.”

Daisy sighed. “After. I still have to—”

Crash shook his head. “When I saw how busy you were, I asked Cecilia Evans to come by in fifteen minutes. She'll clean and restock, and you can eat dinner.”

“Eat dinner.” Daisy smiled at him. “Is
that
what we're calling it these days? You didn't just promise me tea and pastries.”

“So I didn't. I know what else you need.”

Daisy waited.

“You'll need a good night's sleep.” His tone was pious. His look—and the touch of his hand against her knee—was utterly wicked.

“Hmm.” She considered him. “Do you know what helps me sleep?”

His smile broadened. “Yes,” he said. “Now that you mention it? Yes, I do.”

T
hank
you for reading
Her Every Wish
. I hope you enjoyed it.