The Summer Bride (A Chance Sisters Romance) Read Free Page A

intended to diminish you in any way. You—all of you girls—have the biggest hearts in the world.” He hesitated, then added in a voice that was slightly husky, “Lady Beatrice and your sisters are not the only ones who love you, you know. I never did have children . . .”
    Daisy blinked and a lump formed in her throat. Featherby was such a perfect butler that it was easy to forget he was a man with his own private thoughts and feelings. She opened her mouth to say something, but he cleared his throat and surged to his feet, and suddenly he was no longer the kindly friend who’d just deprived her of the power of speech, but a very dignified butler whose face never expressed emotion of any kind.
    He moved towards the door.
    “Mr. Featherby.”
    He stopped and glanced back at her, one brow raised.
    “Do you like bein’ a butler?” She’d never wondered that before, had taken it for granted. But now she was curious.
    For a second she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he said, “Remember the situation when we first joined Lady Beatrice, the mess she was in, the disarray, the dirt, the chaos and discomfort?”
    Daisy nodded. She did indeed.
    The place was a pigsty and Lady Beatrice bedridden and helpless.
    “Now, because of me, this household runs like the most perfect clockwork, seamlessly and invisibly.” Then Featherby grinned, positively grinned. “Do I
like
being a butler, Daisy?” He swept her a bow that combined grace, dignity and a fair degree of triumph. “I love it! I am to butlerdom what you are to dressmaking—simply the best there is. In fact—though I hesitate to boast—I am regularly offered large . . . shall we say,
inducements
—I shall not call them
bribes
—to enter the employment of other ladies and gentlemen.” He wrinkled his nose fastidiously.
    Daisy’s eyes widened. “What? You mean people are tryin’ to steal you from Lady Bea? You’re not tempted, are you?”
    Featherby drew himself up proudly. “Not for one instant. William and I will never leave Lady Beatrice. Never! Not while I have breath in my body.”
    Daisy nodded. She felt like that too about the old lady.
    “I’m glad we’ve reached an understanding, miss.”
    Daisy shrugged. She’d take her sewing with her to the lessons; she could sew as well as listen. “I ain’t going to dance, though,” she called after him just as the door was closing. “You won’t get me on any blood—er, bloomin’ dance floor!”



Chapter Two
    It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
    —JANE AUSTEN, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE
    P atrick Flynn leapt lightly from the hired hackney carriage, instructed the driver to wait, and rang the doorbell of Lady Beatrice’s home in Berkeley Square.
    “Mornin’, Featherby,” he greeted the butler familiarly. When Flynn had first arrived in London, knowing only Max, Flynn’s business partner and Lady Beatrice’s nephew, the old lady had invited him to stay. He’d spent his first few weeks living here and it had set him on exactly the path he wanted.
    “Miss Daisy ready, is she?” Flynn asked. It was still quite early in the morning, but he’d sent a note around the previous evening. They’d received word that one of his ships carrying a special cargo of silks was due to dock this morning. Since Daisy was making clothes for Max’s wife, Abby and her other two sisters, Max wanted him to give Daisy first pick.
    “Not quite, sir, but I’m sure she won’t be long. In the meantime, I’ll take your coat and hat, and if you would care to wait . . .”
    Flynn did not care to wait, but he had no choice. Women were invariably late.
    As the butler took Flynn’s overcoat, his expression becamemore than usually blank. Flynn smiled at Featherby’s pained, feigned obliviousness, and stroked his waistcoat.
    Featherby did not approve of Flynn’s colorful waistcoats. He wasn’t the only one. When Flynn took