Page 11 of Miss Ellis Unleashed

This was how she’d thought she’d wanted her life. Autonomy, and the freedom to do as she pleased. And yet she missed the way things had been before her friend had married…and before the guardianship had ended, too, for that matter.

When she had not been so alone.

Sometimes, she suspected her friendship with Gabby wouldn’t outlast the season. Their interests were diverging, and there was not a thing to do to prevent it. The duke had many concerns that occupied his time, and they were now Gabby’s, too. If Daisy were to marry someone the Mambles didn’t care for, she might never see her friend again.

But, as things stood now, she was a wallflower again, and someone who might need to seek additional friendships. When she looked around, there were no friendly faces or invitations to join anyone’s circle—not even Mr. Ferris remained in the room to pester her.

There was only the unsmiling and miserable Justine, watching proceedings from across the room once more, just like she was.

At the beginning of the season, Daisy had met Gabby and Justine by accident and forged strong bonds with them both, or so it seemed. Now, so far into the season, it felt awkward to seek an introduction to anyone else and expect more.

She pushed her anxiety down and headed for a chair among chaperones, where she could rest her aching feet. It was just her anxiety rearing its ugly head tonight. She belonged here within the ton. Even Throsby had said so. Only why did society feel so empty now?

Daisy had been seated for only a few minutes when Gabby rushed over and pulled her out of her chair, full of excitement for an invitation she’d just received. Daisy tried to feel the same level of enthusiasm. But it was a struggle when it became apparent that she would not be invited along with her friend.

So after supper, Daisy made up the excuse of a headache to leave the ball early and headed off alone in the duke’s borrowed carriage.

Of all things, the expensive and vast comfort of the ducal carriage made her long for Throsby’s cramped, simpler carriage…and even miss her surly former guardian’s comforting silence at the end of a long evening.

Chapter Four

“Now that was a good bottle,” Max enthused, regretfully setting his empty wine glass aside. He was at home in Hanover Square, where he could drink all night and sleep all day if he wanted to. And he had. Back in the old family pile, where he’d spent most of his life—both with his parents, and then without them for many years.

“There was another bottle left beside my chair earlier in the day,” Lord Abelton murmured, stretching around his arms wide and searching in all directions beneath him, but finding nothing.

“I drank it after you were gone off to that ball,” Max said, sorrowful for that fact. “The problem with drinking at all is that the bottles eventually run out.”

“True. True,” Abelton agreed, then he sat up swiftly and belched. “Can’t believe you drank that bottle without me, though. It was my favorite.”

“My apologies,” Max said, although he wasn’t really. The hours tended to blur together as the wine flowed freely. He had been celebrating his freedom for some time. Marking his return to bachelorhood in his previous drunken style with friends. It had been years since Max had slept on the lower floor of his town house beside an empty bottle, simply because he lacked the coordination to crawl his way upstairs to bed.

Max had been orphaned at a precocious twelve years of age, when his father had died suddenly in his sleep. He’d demanded to take care of himself, fighting distant relatives who had attempted to drag him off to the countryside, where they could tell him what to do while scheming to spend his money on stupid things.

Max had run away from them so often, they’d given up trying to bring him to heel—and left him and his fortune alone, too, claiming he’d beg them to take him back when he’d made a pauper of himself.

Those had been heady days, his absolute freedom as a youth alone in the city of London, and as he’d grown, he’d taken up drinking in earnest and gambling the nights away. Fortunately for him, he had an uncanny knack for winning more often than not. He’d grown his wealth steadily over the years, unlike his contemporaries, whose fortunes seemed always on the decline.

Over time, gambling had lost its appeal, and he’d turned his mind to the more complicated world of investment. He was older and wiser now. There was little he hadn’t done in his life, and nothing much excited him anymore.

And he was well aware that he’d been going through the motions these last weeks, pretending to throw himself into his old life with abandon so that no one ever suspected his heart wasn’t in the return to complete disorderly conduct so common in bachelors his age.

It was an adjustment, not having so many responsibilities and demands on his time. Much worse than he’d imagined. He was struggling to fill the hours when sober, so he drank excessively to pass the time.

Abelton bounced to his feet. “I danced with your girl tonight. Exquisite creature, as always.”

“Not my girl,” Max growled, correcting Abelton’s assumption yet again. Ever since the guardianship had begun, Abelton had referred to Daisy Ellis as Max’s girl. That couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“I thought she looked a little forlorn, though. I saw that Ferris fellow drooling over her again, and her without a chaperone in sight. I swear I saw her flinch at something Ferris whispered to her.”

Max locked his jaw around an oath and made himself shrug as if he didn’t care. Daisy Ellis was none of his business. Not anymore. The only surprise was not hearing of the minx’s ruin or a forced marriage already. He glanced at his timepiece. “Four o’clock. No, wait.” He put the pocket watch up to his ear and listened. “I must have forgotten to wind it yesterday, and it’s stopped again.”

That hadn’t happened in a long time.

“Never mind the time. It’s still dark out, so we should do something,” Abelton suggested with a grin. “I’m hungry.”

“I could eat, too,” Max decided, setting his hands under him and rising unsteadily. Food lessened the effect of all the wine he wasn’t yet used to consuming.

Abelton could now drink him under the table. Once, he would not have stood a chance, but after years of good living on his part, Max was more concerned than impressed with Abelton’s newfound tolerance. He’d hate to see the man drink himself to death. “I’ll send for a servant to bring us something to eat.”