the art of loving ; lord tewksbury

four

"Well, Tewksbury, you shouldn't be getting your hopes up too high. I don't share my secrets with just anyone."

Chapter Four

"Are you delusional?!" Daisy questioned as she pushed herself off her seat. "Are you sure you're in the correct headspace to think right now?"

  "Think about it," Tewksbury said, ignoring her questions. "If you fake your death, no one will come looking for you. To them, you'll be dead. They can't possibly force me into marriage with a corpse, can they?"

  "It's an absurd plan!" Daisy protested. "What am I supposed to do while I pretend to be dead? I can't just disappear off the face of the Earth!"

  "Actually, you can. You could run away to a place where no one would find you. Somewhere far from here, maybe even a different country," the boy suggested.

  "And what happens when someone recognises me? What am I supposed to do then?" Daisy asked. She tugged at the sleeves of her dress, crumpling them up in her hands as a wave of emotions flooded her system. It was a mix of panic, agitation, and shock. Her thoughts were swarming all over the place, mostly with worry, leaving a jumbled up mess in her mind which prevented her from thinking straight.

  "Running away isn't easy, but with a thoroughly formulated plan, it would work," Tewksbury told her.

  "How do you know so much about running away?" the girl asked.

  Tewksbury looked down at his fingers. A small smile played at his lips, as if a faraway memory had suddenly unlocked in his mind at Daisy's words.

  "I might have had some experience in that sector," he answered. "But that doesn't matter now. What matters is if you're on board with this plan."

  Daisy scoffed. "It's barely a plan."

  "Okay, a partial plan. But the only way we can begin concocting a scheme is when you're fully in on it. Are you?" Tewksbury replied.

  The doubtful girl fiddled with the hem of her dress and she sat back down in her chair, trying to compose her thoughts. If she faked her death and ran away, she would have to craft a whole new identity for herself. Though only a handful of people knew who she was, Daisy had an inkling things would change in the coming weeks. Marrying the Marquess of Basilwether wasn't something that would be kept on the down-low. Eventually, she would be introduced to the public eye. 

  If she faked her death, she would have to change her name, her appearance, maybe even her personality. But above it all, she would have to forget about her current life. She would have to forget about her family.

  Her family.

  "Grant," Daisy said. "What about Grant? I cannot leave him behind."

  "Then take him with you. But that's all the baggage you're allowed to carry. Any more and it might further complicate the plan," the Marquess said.

  "First of all, do not refer to my brother as baggage," Daisy told him. "And second, how are we supposed to stage our deaths?"

"That's something we'll have to think of," Tewksbury said. "Tell me, Daisy. Are you in, or are you out?"

Daisy chewed on her thumb, a nervous habit she could never get rid of. She was on the fence with her decision and she needed more time to really think it through. She turned to stare out the window which overlooked the spacious garden surrounding the perimeter of the estate.

  With a resigned sigh, she faced the waiting boy again.

"I need time to think about it. I'm asking for two days, that's all. I will let you know when I have reached a reasonable verdict," she spoke.

Tewksbury nodded, agreeing to her terms. Silence then washed over them like a tidal wave, and for a moment, the two teenagers remained quiet. The only sounds Daisy's ears picked up on were the tick-tock emitting from the Grandfather's clock in the corner of the room, as well as the faint snips of shears from the workers trimming the growing bushes outside.

Tewksbury was the first to break the silence.

"Now, you owe me a fact about yourself," he said, leaning back against the sofa. "Tell me one thing about yourself."

Daisy cleared her throat, the gears in her mind turning to think of a suitable answer. She wasn't keen on revealing too much about herself just yet, not wanting to seem vulnerable in front of a stranger. Staying at the surface is still a safe play, she thought.

"My favourite colour is blue," she stated.

Tewksbury arched an eyebrow at her. "Really? A favourite colour? I'd expected something a little deeper, to be honest."

"Well, Tewksbury, you shouldn't be getting your hopes up too high. I don't share my secrets with just anyone," Daisy said.

"Fair enough," Tewksbury answered. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his lap. "What kind of blue, though? Blue, like the sky? Or blue like the ocean?"

"Navy blue," Daisy said. "Now, your turn."

It didn't take long for Tewksbury to come up with an answer. "My father was murdered in a staged burglary set up by my own grandmother."

Daisy was taken aback by his response. She certainly had not expected him to reveal such personal information to her, and this one felt a little too personal. It left her speechless and she struggled to find the right words to come up with a reply.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she finally said. "Losing a family member isn't easy."

"I overheard my mother saying that you lost your own mother when you were very young," Tewksbury said softly. "Is that true?"

Daisy nodded, her heart stinging with pain at the mention of her mother. "She passed when I was only three years old."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the boy said. Daisy shook her head, not wanting to think about her late mother anymore. She didn't want to feel more sadness, not while she was still caught in the middle of an even bigger mess. So she quickly stood up, smoothening the creases on the skirt of her dress.

"I think it is time for me to head home," Daisy informed Tewksbury. "I have to start preparing dinner or my father will throw a fit."

The young Marquess stood and began to lead his companion back into the living room. Just as they were about to step out of the library, the tip of Daisy's shoe came in contact with the threshold of the library's entryway. Before she could catch her balance, her body was flung forward and she found herself plummeting to the polished floor. Daisy anticipated the collision of her cheek against the hard wood, yet it never came. Instead, she felt her body wrapped in a pair of strong arms, preventing her from stumbling further.

When she glanced up at her saviour, she felt heat rise up to her cheeks. Tewksbury stared back into her brown eyes, a light pink tint starting to spread across his face.

"You should watch where you're going," he told her.

  "Yeah, um," Daisy hurriedly detached her body from his grip. Tucking a strand of stray hair which had fallen out of her bun behind her ear, she mumbled a thank you to him.

  They both regained their composure, a cloud of awkwardness hovering above them as they headed back to the living area.