The Summer Bride (A Chance Sisters Romance) by Anne Gracie

Author:Anne Gracie [Gracie, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2016-07-04T21:00:00+00:00

* * *

Featherby preceded him down the stairs, stiff-legged as an offended cat. Flynn took no notice. He was still thinking about what he’d almost blurted out. An offer of marriage.

He swallowed, thinking about it. She was right—it hadn’t turned into a scandal—luckily only Jane and Featherby had been at the door. But if it had been someone else, Lady Beatrice, or one of Daisy’s customers . . .

He would have done the honorable thing and married the girl. Of course he would. A scandal could ruin Daisy’s reputation—and her business. He was a man of honor, and Daisy was his friend. He wouldn’t do that to her.

Luckily he wouldn’t have to.

At the bottom of the stairs Featherby turned. “I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Flynn. You’ve been an honored guest in this house. Lady Beatrice trusted you.”

“Nothing happened.” It came out as a growl.

The butler fixed him with a gimlet look. “Miss Jane in her innocence might not have understood the significance of those sounds, but I certainly did. I blame myself for trusting you in the first place. I should never have given you the opportunity.”

“It won’t happen again,” Flynn told him curtly. It wouldn’t either. He’d let things get out of control. He’d only meant to kiss her. To apologize, make up for hurting her feelings.

Some apology. He’d almost ruined the girl. In her own home.

“It most certainly won’t.” Featherby passed Flynn his coat. “There will be no more private fittings or conversations with Miss Daisy in her workroom. I’ll send a maid to sit with her at all times you are in the house. Better still, you can talk to her in Lady Beatrice’s presence, in the drawing room.”

Flynn gritted his teeth as he shrugged himself into his coat. The implication that he couldn’t be trusted with Daisy, that he had to be watched, was infuriating. And for a butler of all people to be raking him over the coals was, dammit, it was . . .

Entirely justified, dammit.

“Good day, Mr. Flynn.” Featherby handed Flynn his hat.

Flynn crammed it on his head and without a word strode off.

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