🐝˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ CHAPTER TWO:
THE RUNAWAY.

     Swallowing the lump in her throat, Daisy stared at the Queen. The Queen. Not her kind uncle's aunt who played chess with her last summer in the palace gardens and nor the aunt that allowed Daisy to pick the name of her newly gifted Zebra only a few weeks ago. Maybe, Daisy thought with her feet frozen in place, Dotty was not the most suitable name for a striped mammal.

"Walk," Ginny instructed, her voice strained with her large and pleasing smile. All eyes were on them and most importantly, the Queen was watching. "Daisy, walk!" She spoke through gritted teeth, her cheeks beginning to ache.

"I cannot," Daisy muttered. She willed her feet to move but they did not budge. It was as if someone had poured glue on the floor. She'd need to grab her calves and tug them free if she wished to approach the Queen.

It was like a terrible carriage accident one could not turn their gaze from. Mamas, with their scrutinising stares, whispered to their husbands and the least desperate of suitors who came to evaluate the debutantes of the season's marriage market before the first ball, made snarking comments.

"The girl is fortunate to have such beauty".

Eloise Bridgerton turned her nose up. It was no surprise to her that a woman, visibly overtaken by nerves, was simplified to nothing more than her appearance. Fortunately for her elder brothers' toes, the Dowager Viscountess's sons did not jest at Daisy's expense. The same could not be said for Lord Fife. It was a mere accident that Eloise had stomped on his foot.

The Duke of Edinburgh, forgettably standing beside the man who spoke ill of his niece, cleared his throat loudly. Mr Robertson's head snapped toward the Prince with such speed it made his blonde hair flop over his forehead. The third son of Lord Robertson felt his mouth go dry, he swept his hair back with the palm of his hand and failed to form a cohesive sentence.

Growing disappointed and being crushed by her corset, the Queen slumped back in her throne. Her eyes, however, did not leave Daisy and with a wave of her hand, she beckoned the girl to her.

Daisy's eyes widened. Her chest felt incredibly tight and her face paled. Ginny pressed her hand against Daisy's back, hoping it would encourage her niece to walk. It had an opposing effect, one that Ginny had not foreseen. Miss Daisy Allan Dare, in front of the entire, well most, of the Ton, gathered her dress in her hands while forcing back the tears that dampened the corners of her eyes, spun on the heel of her shoes and bolted out of the great hall before the Duchess could grasp her arm.

Gasps and murmurs echoed between the grand walls. The Queen, rendered speechless, stood with haste and Ginny's face reddened with humiliation.

Daisy had made an impression. Not one the Queen had desired but an impression nonetheless.

The Duke, with his nephews in tow, hurried after his niece, leaving the Duchess steaming with fury. It appeared that three years was in fact not long enough to prepare her niece.

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

     She'd be the talk of the Ton no doubt. The girl that ran from court. How humiliating.

Daisy stared at the bush below the window, undecided if it would be more humiliating to tumble to her death than face society again. At least it was not a rose bush.

She assessed the drop and the width of the ledge. The palace walls, made of brick, had limited grip. Daisy considered going out of the window backwards, she could hold the ledge and have her feet closer to the bush she'd undeniably land on. She was noticeably taller than her aunt and elder sister by a few inches which, for a brief moment as voices carried down the hallway outside the library, she believed would aid her getaway.

Daisy hoisted her dress skirt up, exposing her lower leg and with a deep breath to calm her nerves, she lifted her leg, positioning her foot on the window ledge. If the fall didn't kill her, the Duchess surely would.

The soft click of the door handle pricked Daisy's ears and her head snapped suddenly to the door behind her as it was pushed open. Her body became a statue, still and eyes piercing. Self preservation should have encouraged her to hide behind one of the many bookshelves but with one foot on a window ledge, Daisy suspected she did not have an ounce of it left.

She held her breath, preparing to be chastised by her aunt. She could already hear Ginny's voice, each angry word booming in the back of her head making it ache.

A man, his hair thick and dark atop his head stared at Daisy with wide eyes. Daisy released a breath causing her corset, which was far too tight, to dig into her ribs. She did not know the man but he was a welcomed sight.

He took in her stance, leg exposed and foot propped up on the window ledge. He dragged his green, soft eyes up to her face, closing the door to the library behind him. Daisy lowered her foot to the floor and adjusted her dress. The last thing she needed was for her aunt to burst in while her skin was on show to a man. The Duchess would drag them both by their ear to St James' Chapel before the first ball.

The man kept his distance. "You were going to jump," He said, almost like a question.

"Dangle would be the correct term," Daisy allowed her eyes to study him. He was tall, almost as tall as her brothers with broad shoulders and arms that were definitely strong enough to lower her out of the window. "What is your name, sir?" Daisy asked.

The man crossed his arms over his chest. His family name was almost as prominent as the Allan Dare name, he'd assumed Daisy knew his name as he knew hers. He cocked his head to the side, a smile curling the corners of his lips.

"You do not know who I am?" He asked.

"Learning the names of every eligible man in England was not a concern of mine," Daisy stated. He raised a brow, his smile only growing. "Your name?" Daisy asked.

"Benedict," Daisy nodded. He looked like a Benedict. It was a good name. "Benedict Bridgerton".

His family name uncovered a memory that Daisy had buried. "Your elder brother danced with my sister during her marriage season," Benedict nodded, "Adele was quite smitten by the Viscount".

"As he was with your sister," Benedict said.

A question about the suddenly ended courtship was on the tip of Daisy's tongue and if they weren't alone in a library with a furious aunt stalking the palace halls in search of her niece, she would have sought an answer.

Daisy straightened her shoulders, "I request your assistance," She said.

"My assistance?" Mr Benedict Bridgerton asked and Daisy nodded, "In your escape, I assume?" He asked.

"You assume correctly," Daisy turned back to the window to assess the ground again as if it had changed. "If you lower me, the chance of injury will be slight".

Daisy did not look at Benedict as she beckoned him with a wave of her hand. She began lifting her dress, allowing herself room to raise her foot back to the window ledge but stopped when the man did not move toward her.

She released her grasp on her dress and turned to face him. "You will not help me?" Daisy asked.

"Help you fall to your death?" Daisy planted her hands on her hips. Did he not hear her when she said 'the chance of injury will be slight'? "I'm afraid not," Benedict said.

"You will not help a lady in distress?" Daisy asked.

"Not when the lady wants me to assist in her death".

Daisy cocked her head, "You are rather theatrical, did you know?" Daisy asked. Benedict's smile grew. Daisy, unusually impatient, pierced him with a stare. "If you do not wish to help, you may leave".

"And return home not knowing if you made your getaway or lay unconscious beyond that very window?" Benedict uncrossed his arms to point at the window.

"There is a bush," Daisy stated.

"A bush?" Benedict repeated.

Daisy with a nod of her head said, "To break my fall. It is not thorny".

Benedict chuckled then, amused by the young woman in front of him. Daisy dropped her fisted hands to her sides. Whatever was so amusing? Daisy did not find their situation amusing at all.

His laughter died on his tongue and Benedict hid his smile with his hand. "I apologise, Miss Daisy," Benedict lowered his hand to his side, his face although straight, held a certain softness. He understood the need to escape an overbearing mama and the Duchess seemed to be rather pompous.

"For laughing or for refusing to assist?" Daisy asked.

Benedict shifted on the balls of his feet. "What is your plan?" Benedict asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

With a furrow of her dark brows, Daisy asked, "My plan?".

"If I assist you, what will you do? Where will you go?" Benedict queried.

"I will go home," Daisy answered, truthfully. "I only wish to avoid my aunt's wrath a little while longer. The walk will clear my head".

Unlike when Benedict opened the door, Daisy's voice drowned out the click of the door handle. The door, pushed open a third time since Daisy's public runout on the Queen, almost hit the second eldest Bridgerton. He stepped aside before it could and hid his body behind it.

"There you are," Benedict didn't recognise the voice of the younger man that entered the room. He suspected it to be one of Daisy's brother's as they seemed rather pleased to have located the runaway debutante. "Are you alright, Dais?".

Daisy forced a smile onto her lips, pulling her eyes away from Benedict's hiding spot behind the door. Henry stepped toward her and began closing the door behind himself, slowly exposing the man that Daisy had been alone with.

A strange, strangled sound, almost a gasp escaped Daisy's throat at the thought of her brother finding Benedict. Henry's brows furrowed, Benedict held his breath and Daisy terribly disguised it with a fit of coughs — She simply choked on a fictitious fly. Their aunt had suffered the same incident once, only that fly was very real.

Henry's face paled and his eyes widened slightly. He did not close the door, fearing that his sister may collapse. Daisy shook her head, realisation dawning on her.

When she had grown sick the last time, it started with a simple cough and a fever that snuck up on her. Peter was only fifteen when he stumbled upon his sister, cold to the touch yet drenched in sweat in their conservatory. The thought of finding his sister like that frightened Henry three years on.

Daisy hurried across the library to grasp his hands, "I am well. Do not fear, brother. It is spring," Henry nodded as his eyes roamed his sister's face. "The air is good for me," Daisy reminded him.

Henry's face softened as he nodded a second time and Daisy pushed herself up onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. If he wasn't so tall she'd have kissed his forehead as their mother often did when they were younger.

Henry turned to stand beside her and looped his arm in hers, "Time to face the music," Daisy muttered.

"Uncle George managed to get Aunt Ginny in the carriage. I say, you'll have to face her deathly glare before you are met with her predictable outrage".

Daisy groaned, leaning her head against the side of her brother's shoulder as he led her out of the library, "Will you push me from the carriage?" Daisy asked.

"And be subjected to Aunt Ginny's fury?" Henry looked down at his sister. A smile, a true one that matched her brother's pulled at her lips. "Only if you pull me with you," Henry said.

Benedict stayed hidden until their footsteps descended down the hallway. Bewitched by Daisy and her determination to escape, Benedict had forgotten why he had come to search the library... Gregory Bridgerton had snatched his younger sister's ribbon and disappeared into the dispersing crowd. Benedict and Colin had been sent to retrieve him and the stolen blue silk.

He pulled at his cravat, loosening it slightly. Benedict Bridgerton hadn't considered himself eligible, sure he was of marriage age and his mother often tried to marry him off to the daughters of her close friends but until Daisy had forced a laugh from his throat, with little effort, Benedict planned on evading every debutante this marriage season.