She hadn’t seen him for months.
He had come back, wild as ever, smiling, with that damned velocipede and his damned plan. He hadn’t been hurt at all. But every time she saw him, she still bled.
He was right. His words had only been harsh and painful because they’d been true. She was, as these things were reckoned, a complete waste of a woman. No money. No family. Nothing to give to a marriage but a beauty that would fade in a matter of years.
Crash reminded her of the truth. Of course it hurt to look at him.
And what had she done to deserve his cutting words? She’d forgiven him.
For taking wagers.
For that.
You forgive me for being a bastard, I suppose.
She stopped, coming back to herself from her reverie. She was in the shop where she worked. The day was winding down, slowly, surely. She had only a handful of flowers left, sitting forlornly in empty buckets.
You know I do, she had told him.
You surely forgive me for having the stones to believe I’m worth something.
Yes, she hadn’t delivered her sentiments properly. Who could choose the perfect words at a time like that? But Crash was invulnerable. She’d heard him laugh at constables when they’d shoved him against a wall.
He was arrogant, full of himself, confident, audacious…
And she could see him as he had been yesterday glaring at her.
I am good at going fast, he had said. So good that sometimes all everyone sees is a blur.
He was right. She had known that. She’d known beneath that brash exterior that he was kind. Devoted to his aunt. Boastful, yes, and ambitious, but he’d caught her up in his ambitions, making her feel she could do anything.
Yes, she’d heard him laugh off far worse insults. He’d always laughed the hardest at the cruelest ones. His laughter, like his wickedness, was a persona he put on. He never let anyone know how he really felt.
Anyone, that was, except her.
All this time, she’d felt her own hurt. It had been so all-encompassing that she hadn’t heard his.
She had forgiven him for existing, and when he’d complained, she told him he couldn’t be hurt by it. How must that have felt? To have had Daisy shrug off his pain as inconsequential simply because he was good at hiding it?
All she’d seen was the blur of speed. The illusion of him that he cast. She’d thought that his laughter made him invulnerable. She hadn’t seen him, not really, not even in the moments when he’d stood still for her.
Daisy exhaled and felt the world around her coming into sharp relief. For the first time since Crash had walked away from her, she understood why.
Chapter Six
Crash stood at the narrow window of his aunt’s flat. Aunt Ree was bundled up in her seat, her feet warmed by bricks, her eyes narrowed on the street in front of them.
“Did that man just hug a goat?”
Crash found the person she was speaking about, a tall, thin man. “Ah, that’s George Mirring. And no, I suspect it wasn’t a hug, not knowing his habits. It was likely more of a glancing embrace. He tends to be private with his affections.”
“Hmm.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re making this up.”
He didn’t let so much as a smile touch his lips. “That goat saved his life once.”
She turned to look at him. “Did it?” Her words conveyed the utmost disbelief.
“Here’s a little known fact. Goats are excellent watch-creatures. Better even than dogs.”
“Crash,” Ree said with a shake of her head, “are you capable of speaking without making up a story?”
“I wasn’t!” Crash smiled at her. “This is the truth. Mirring got the goat because its nan rejected it. Everyone had given up on getting it to eat, and he raised it from a bottle and a rag. After that, the goat followed him around everywhere. They were nearly inseparable. One day, a man tried to cosh him over the head. The goat grabbed hold of his would-be assailant’s coat and held him back.”
“And did you see this?”
“No,” Crash admitted, “and the goat ate the coat, so there isn’t any evidence. But—”
A knock sounded on her door, and they both turned to look in its direction.
“You have a visitor,” Crash said slowly.
“How exciting.” A glimmer of a smile showed on Ree’s face. “Maybe it will be a goat. My very own personal watch-goat. Since they are so very much in vogue these days.”
Crash went to the door and opened it. There on the other side stood Daisy.
She looked weary. She looked beautiful. Her eyes were wide, her hair slipping out from under her bonnet. She must have been awake since the early hours of the morning.
She looked up as the door opened, and when she saw it was him, she gave him her shop girl smile—the one that occupied her lips, but not her heart, the one that was all faked politeness. It was the smile she’d give a man who was dallying in her shop at the end of the day.
It was an act. She’d always fooled him with the way she looked: so carefree, with that smile that said she was up to mischief. He’d let that lead him astray. He’d let himself make no such mistakes any longer.
“Ah.” He met her eyes. “How appropriate. We were just speaking of goats.”
He really shouldn’t goad Daisy. He knew he oughtn’t. He knew it was unkind, unfair—every un he should avoid. But he’d waited and waited for her. He’d expected that telegram in France every day for months.
I’m sorry. I need you. I love you.
He’d come back to discover that in his absence, she’d found another sweetheart.
So yes, he was annoyed with Daisy Whitlaw. Annoyed, frustrated, and…
Her chin squared. There was no mischief dancing in her eyes now. Just a fierce determination. She cradled a brown paper package in her two hands.
“Here,” she said. “I hope you’ll excuse my calling on you without a prior appointment, but Mr. Lotting said that you were here with your aunt. This is for her.”
His eyebrows rose.
She pushed the package into his hands. “You were right,” she said simply. “I feel terrible. I was angry about everything you said to me. I never thought through what I said to you. I…” She paused, then the false smile fell from her face. Her tone lowered. “I told you that I would forgive you for who you were, for what you did. That was unfair. It wasn’t even true. I didn’t forgive you. I was still sniping at you about those other things, even last week, which I oughtn’t have done if I had actually forgiven you.” She frowned and looked down. “I thought nothing could hurt you. I didn’t realize that I could.”
Crash could not have been more stunned.
Her cheeks were pink with emotion; she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I think I am discovering that I’m something of a horrid person who lies to herself. You were right about that, too.”
“Daisy.”
“No, don’t stop me. I can’t stop, or I’ll fall.” Her words came out in a rapid stream. “I lie to myself. I lie to myself all the time. I would apologize, but I don’t know how to stop. Women like me don’t get wishes granted. Instead we just keep making them and making them and making them, and what else I am to do…” She trailed off. “So.” She shook her head. “In any event, there. I’m sorry.”
His fingers closed around the package as she unceremoniously dumped it in his hand.
“Good-bye.” She turned to go.
He reached out and took hold of her elbow. “Wait. Daisy. That’s all. Really?”
“Really.” Her cheeks turned an even brighter red. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go…” She pointed out the door.
“You’re going to go where?” He felt somewhat stupid.
“Out there,” she said. “Just because you were right doesn’t mean I want to spend time with you. I may be a waste, but I’m my waste, thank you. Good-bye.” She said that last in a tone that brooked no denial. “I’ll see you for our appointment tomorrow, still, becau
se I haven’t stopped lying to myself. I can’t appear to give up on anything.”
He let go of her, and she turned and marched down the stairs.
He stared after her, his mind whirling. Of all the things he’d ever expected to happen, having Daisy apologize to him…
“What on earth was that?” Ree asked behind him.
Crash sighed and let the door close. “That was…a woman.”
“A woman.” His aunt said the words with care. “And does this woman have a name?”
“Daisy,” he muttered. “Daisy Whitlaw.”
“Ah. That woman. The one you said I should meet.”
“I…possibly, I….” He looked over at his aunt, who was watching him with her head tilted.
“It’s like this,” he said. “I was smitten with Daisy for a while.” He still felt stunned. “She is clever and kind and funny, and she never made me feel that I was beneath her. Not until…” He looked upward. “In any event, I thought we were of like mind. We were taken with each other. Then the inevitable happened, and after that, she found out about some of the things I’d done in the past, and she…”