Love and the Shameless Lady (Scandalous Kisses Book 3) Read online

  She blew her nose again and handed him the crumpled handkerchief. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

  “Not particularly.” He folded the used handkerchief and stuffed it into his pocket. “You bring out the chivalry in me.”

  Because she was so pathetic, she supposed. She’d almost burst into tears again when he’d said he liked her as she was. It was frightfully noble of him, because she wasn’t likeable in the least.

  And preferred it that way, she reminded herself. She stood, pulling herself together.

  Soon Reams led them upstairs and along a passageway. “The west wing is the family’s side of Garrison House,” he said. “Lord and Lady Garrison’s rooms are in this corridor as well.” He threw open the door of the Rose Room, a pretty bedchamber with rose-embroidered curtains and hangings. “This is yours, Miss Daisy. You will find your belongings already bestowed. Please take as long as you need to refresh yourself, and ring if you need assistance. Dinner is sometime between six and seven.”

  He bowed and led Sir Julian away. Daisy watched them go, feeling bereft. She wished Sir Julian wouldn’t be so far from her at night. Not that she truly felt endangered here, but she would feel safer if he were nearby.

  She shook away that thought. She was accustomed to taking care of herself. She understood that they had to be housed far apart for propriety’s sake, but it seemed rather unfair, since people would assume Sir Julian had already bedded her.

  He glanced behind, as if he felt her eyes on him. He raised a hand in brief farewell, and turned away again.

  She went into her bedchamber and shut the door. Alone at last, she heaved an exhausted sigh, allowed a few more tears to fall, and then firmly dried them. She kicked off her shoes, splashed her face in the warm water some efficient maid had provided, and burrowed under the coverlet on the bed. In less than a minute, she was sound asleep.

  Julian washed and changed, pondering this strange woman with whom he’d become entangled. He didn’t consider himself a particularly chivalrous man, but she aroused every protective instinct he possessed.

  As well as his libido, which had responded with alarming alacrity even while he held her sobbing. He would have to control that. Any attempt to bed her would be appallingly disrespectful and probably estrange her from him for good.

  Which reminded him of her reaction to being touched. He didn’t think she found him repulsive, and yet that flinch seemed to say so. Perhaps it wasn’t him, but previous experience that had caused that reaction. What had that smuggler done to her?

  Then there was her insistence this afternoon that young women should be better informed about physical desires. What could her mother have said that would have made a difference to her? Would she have remained a virgin if she’d been properly informed?

  He could speculate all he liked, but it would get him nowhere, and meanwhile his goal was to protect her. Not an easy job when she was at the opposite end of the house. He left his room, returned to the family wing, and knocked softly on her door. No answer. He tapped again. Nothing. Had she already left? He glanced up and down the passageway, but no stray servants were about. He opened Daisy’s door.

  She was curled up on the bed, fast asleep.

  Softly, he shut the door again and went downstairs. An exploration of the grounds seemed in order. No one was about, so he let himself out the front door and went for a walk.

  Garrison House was a red brick Jacobean structure with the requisite turrets at each end and a very pretty parterre, unusual nowadays, as such gardens had gone out of fashion ages ago. He wandered along the garden paths, which led, at the side of the house, into a magnificent rose garden. He strolled on, savoring the aroma of the flowers, and emerged into a more natural-looking landscape, but he suspected it was the result of design. The practices of Capability Brown had spread far and wide in the previous century.

  The glint of water led him to a small lake, with a summerhouse in the classical style on a little knoll above it. He followed a path to the summerhouse, pushed the door open, and went inside. Benches lined the walls and a sketchbook lay on a small table between them. A plaited rug covered the floorboards in the middle of the room, an easel and a chair atop it. Perhaps Lady Garrison came here to sketch and paint the peaceful, pastoral view.

  He was alone and with time to waste, so he pulled out the sheet of foolscap which he’d stolen from Daisy’s desk early that morning. In the dim light of dawn, he hadn’t noticed the smudge of butter on one edge of the paper. Judging by that and the perfectly legible ingredient list, she’d written it in the kitchen. Why, then, was the rest of the writing in a kind of shorthand? The obvious explanation: so no one else could read it.

  Julian sat on the chair and set to work. Something about a fair-haired stranger . . . gentleman lounging at his ease . . . his sharp gaze missing nothing.

  This might be part of one of her stories, he supposed. Definitely nothing to do with espionage.

  Their eyes met across the coffee room. Was she describing a scene at the inn? Something about lightning . . . Ah. Desire shot through her like a bolt of lightning. Her fingers curled into claws . . . longed to rake them down his bare back in a moment of passion. His broad chest with a dusting of fair hair, his powerful thighs, and his member rising virile and ready for her.

  Good Lord. Julian’s own cock responded shamelessly.

  He raised his hand, the ruby on his finger sparkling in the candle’s glow, and called for a tankard of ale.

  Julian glanced down at his left hand and the ruby ring he always wore. Daisy had been describing . . . him?

  Did she truly desire him in that delightfully wanton way? If so, she’d shown no sign of it. Quite the contrary. But she must have strong sensual urges, or she wouldn’t have bedded that smuggler, wouldn’t write books about love and passion.

  Julian folded the foolscap and put it back in his waistcoat pocket. He would have to find a way to return it without Daisy’s knowledge.

  Or keep it for himself. Or confront her with it? He found himself smiling. Would she ever forgive him if he did?

  Chapter 7

  As he left the summerhouse, Julian took note of another brick edifice in the near distance, perhaps the Dower House of which Daisy had spoken. He imagined the furious Gloriana at a window with a spyglass, keeping an eye on things from afar. He raised his hand and waved, just in case.

  Hoof beats some distance away roused him from this foolishness. This must be Lord Garrison returning. Julian hastened toward the house, but raised voices as he approached the stables gave him pause. Gloriana hadn’t returned to the Dower House. Instead, she’d awaited her brother’s return.

  Julian wasn’t the only one watching the scene unfold. The servants would have plenty to gossip about tonight. A little girl with reddish-gold hair, six or seven years old, clung to Lord Garrison’s hand. She must be his daughter. A small black and white terrier sat next to them, gazing adoringly at his lordship. A groom led Lord Garrison’s horse slowly away, while two stable boys and a kitchen maid hovered nearby. Gloriana ignored them with the indifference of a medieval queen to her minions.

  Snatches of her tirade reached Julian as he drew nearer. “Marched into the place . . . Forced poor Melinda . . . Drove the Hendersons away.”

  Lord Garrison smoothed his daughter’s hair and said nothing. The terrier tried unsuccessfully to get his nose under that caressing hand.

  “Honor of the House of Garrison . . . Despoiling our good name . . .”

  Lord Garrison remained silent. A taciturn sort of man, Julian recalled.

  “Horrify our guests . . . Ruin all my hopes . . . Ultimate mortification . . . You must send her about her business!”

  “No, I will not,” Lord Garrison said. The terrier began to sniff about and noticed Julian. He growled and gave a swift, sharp bark. “Hush,” his lordshi
p said. “Stay.”

  “Miles, you know whom I’ve invited,” Gloriana pleaded. “You know what this means to me.”

  “Yes, I do know, but I cannot turn Daisy away.” He favored Julian with the briefest of nods. Gloriana followed her brother’s gaze. The little dog growled long and low, only his lordship’s stern presence deterring him from launching himself at the newcomer.

  “There you see a once-honorable man bewitched by an abandoned woman,” Gloriana pronounced with an expressive sweep of the arm. “Daisy has gone completely to the devil! One look at her and you will see what I mean.”

  The little girl’s eyes grew wide, and Lord Garrison’s narrowed. His caressing hand stilled. “Enough!” His lordship spied the kitchen maid just as she tried to melt into the shadows. “Jeannie, take Miss Rebecca to her nurse. Off you go, love. Take Virtuoso with you. We mustn’t let him attack our guest.” He ruffled the little girl’s hair.

  She scooped up the dog and staggered away with it, refusing the maid’s offer to carry it. The maid seemed relieved.

  “The rest of you be about your business,” Lord Garrison said. The boys disappeared, no doubt to hover just inside the stable doors. “Gloriana, go home and compose yourself whilst I greet Sir Julian. If you can mind your manners, you are of course welcome to return and dine with us.”

  Gloriana made a strangled sound and stormed away, fists clenched.

  Lord Garrison was a stern-looking man, decidedly cool in manner. “Sir Julian. We’ve met before, I believe.” He put out a hand and clasped Julian’s briefly.

  “Some few years ago at Tattersall’s. We were both pondering an irritable bay hunter.”

  “My apologies for my sister’s behavior. She tells me you arrived a few hours ago with my cousin, Daisy.”

  “I did,” Julian said. “Her brother being out of the country, I thought it best to bring her to you.”

  “I see.” Garrison slapped his gloves against his palm. “She also tells me you and Daisy are betrothed.”

  “Indeed we are,” Julian said. “I need a word with you. If we might have some private speech . . .?”

  Lord Garrison’s brows rose, then, with a flick of the chin, he indicated that Julian should follow him into the house. They entered by a side door, and his lordship asked a footman to have sherry brought to the library. Silently, he led Julian into an airy room with rows of books, globes, writing tables, and sofas. Busts and vases, some whose provenance was clearly ancient, adorned niches in the walls. An ivory chess set, probably Spanish in origin, occupied a table by the wall. Seemingly, Lord Garrison was quite a collector.

  He motioned to Julian to sit, took a seat across from him, and folded his arms. “Needless to say, I’m surprised at the news of your betrothal.” Not only that, he didn’t seem pleased. Why the devil not? Julian’s birth and reputation were both acceptable, and ruined women didn’t often find such respectable husbands.

  “I don’t know why you should be. She’s a beautiful, intelligent woman, far more interesting than most. We met through a friend of mine who lives not far from the inn where Daisy resides.”

  Lord Garrison made a non-committal sound.

  “Under ordinary circumstances, I wouldn’t have brought her here,” Julian said. “She was most reluctant, but I insisted, because her life has been threatened.”

  Garrison sat up at that. “What in Hades?”

  “I’d better start at the beginning.” Julian hated having to reveal Daisy’s dark secret, but there was no help for it. “I don’t suppose you’re aware that she is the anonymous authoress of romantic novels.”

  His lordship grimaced. “Her brother Colin mentioned that she receives payments from a publisher, but I thought they had to do with a cookery book.”

  “She is writing one of those as well, but the romantic novels are the cause for concern. She received a letter several days ago, threatening her life if she allowed her most recent novel, The Lady’s Revenge, to be published.”

  Garrison’s brows rose. “That’s the book my wife stayed up all night reading! Claptrap, if you ask me, but she says it’s brilliant, and I expect she knows.”

  “She does indeed. Daisy is extremely talented.”

  A smile flickered across Garrison’s face. “Melinda will be in alt to know the authoress is her cousin.”

  “As to that,” Julian said, “Daisy wishes to keep it a secret.”

  “I doubt she’ll be able to keep it secret from Melinda. I gather she disdained giving in to the threat?”

  Julian allowed himself a brief smile as well. “I daresay she would have, but the book had already been published by the time she received the letter.”

  “And how did you become concerned in this business? Was this before or after you became betrothed?”

  Julian explained how he’d met her first at the Diving Duck, where he was immediately smitten by her charms, and subsequently in Liverpool. “She looked as if she might faint, so naturally I offered my help.”

  “Naturally,” Garrison said, a hint of unpleasantness in his voice.

  “Just as naturally,” Julian said, “she resisted, as she does any man who—”

  “Have you bedded her?” Garrison snapped.

  “God, no! Of course not.”

  “There’s no ‘of course not’ about it.” A soft tap sounded at the door. “Come in!”

  Glad of the respite, Julian controlled his growing ire. Reams entered with the requested sherry, set it gently down before his master, and retreated.

  The instant the door shut behind him, Julian said, “I’m a gentleman, my lord, and the last thing I would do is take advantage of a lady in distress.”

  “There are many who would say Daisy is no longer a lady. Fair game, in fact.”

  “I’m not one of them,” Julian said, “and if you would refrain from making insulting assumptions at least until I’ve finished, I would appreciate it.”

  Lord Garrison nodded and offered him a glass of wine. “If I jump to unwarranted conclusions, it’s because I don’t want to see her hurt.”

  “Nor do I, Garrison. That’s what I’m doing my best to avoid.”

  “Is that so? And yet I seem to recall that your estate is encumbered with debt.”

  Julian blinked at this non sequitur. “It’s true that my father left me in quite a financial pickle, but I fail to see how it concerns you.”

  “It will concern Daisy’s brother. He will not want to give her to a man who only wants her for her dowry.”

  Damn. Julian hadn’t considered that Daisy might have a dowry, but Garrison wouldn’t believe him. Fortunately, the Home Office had provided a convenient fiction to explain his relative affluence. “It is none of your business, Garrison, but a legacy from a distant relative considerably improved my circumstances. If you would kindly wait until I have finished my explanation—”

  “Very well, get on with it,” Lord Garrison growled.

  Julian took a sip of the excellent sherry. He had long ago learned rigorous self-control, as in his restrained, proper family, emotional outbursts were anathema. Even laughing loudly was somewhat beyond the pale. The members of the Warren family he had met so far reinvoked his long-suppressed temper with astonishing ease.

  “The following day, she was exercising that restive stallion of hers when someone took a shot at her from a nearby wood.”

  Lord Garrison let out an oath.

  “Fortunately, she was in the act of putting her hat back on, and the shot went through the hat instead of her head. Her mount made away with her, but she’s an excellent horsewoman. Got him under control and drew her pistol when she heard my approach.”

  “That sounds like Daisy.” Again, Garrison gave a twitch of a smile.

  “She’s a courageous woman,” Julian said, “but stubborn
and suspicious. When she saw the hole in her hat, she blurted that someone had tried to kill her. Then she denied that that was what she meant, merely that the shot had almost killed her. She pooh-poohed the whole incident and tried to blame it on a poacher.”

  “Unlikely. There are far safer ways to poach game.”

  “My thoughts precisely, but there was no point arguing, so I accompanied her to the Diving Duck and continued to my friend Bennett’s house. That same night, the murderer tried again.”

  Lord Garrison blew out a breath, then downed his wine and poured more.

  “Daisy heard someone attempting to get into her bedchamber. She keeps a knife and a gun handy, but inexplicably, both were gone. Her only remaining weapon was a penknife, so she climbed out the window and onto the roof. Fortunately, I couldn’t sleep. I had decided to offer for her and was composing my proposal. I went for a moonlight stroll and saw her up there.”

  Garrison shook his head. “Hell and damnation, how can Colin leave her in that godforsaken inn? If she is obliged to keep a gun and a knife by her bed . . .”

  “I don’t believe she is usually in danger. She seems to get on well with everyone there—a case of mutual respect, by what I’ve observed—and in any event they’re too wary of her brother to take advantage of her.”

  “Perhaps, but Colin is in Ireland just now,” Lord Garrison said.

  “He will return in due course, and they know it,” Julian said. “Nevertheless, whoever it was must have gone to her bedchamber earlier that evening and removed the gun and knife, and he had also replaced them while I was helping Daisy off the roof.”

  “Maybe she didn’t notice them in her hysteria.”

  “Daisy’s not the hysterical sort,” Julian retorted. “Danger doesn’t discompose her easily.” Kindness does.