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

  Lord Garrison eyed him. “If you say so.”

  “There was a large crowd in the inn that evening, so it might have been almost anyone. In any event, I blurted out a proposal and she accepted me.”

  His lordship’s expression was understandably skeptical.

  “As her betrothed and therefore responsible for her, I insisted on remaining in her bedchamber for the rest of the night,” Julian went on. “And no, I didn’t bed her.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “I don’t care what you believe. I kept watch and then snooped through her desk at first light.”

  His lordship frowned. “I’ll wager she objected to that.”

  “She was enraged, but since by then I’d found and read the threatening letter, she could no longer deny that someone was trying to kill her.” He explained Daisy’s conclusion, based on a gossipy letter from her London friend, that Lady Bilchester had hired a murderer.

  Lord Garrison scoffed. “That’s absurd.”

  “That’s what I told her. To make a long story short, I brought her to Colin’s house, thinking I could investigate the matter whilst she remained in safety. She didn’t tell me he was out of the country.”

  “No, she wouldn’t. Damned independent fool of a woman.”

  “I couldn’t leave her in that rambling place in the care of a few servants. She would be less protected there than at the Diving Duck. But nor could I remain without causing talk, and the last thing she needs is more of that. I had no choice but to bring her here. She said she didn’t want to spoil your house party . . . but I think she was also afraid of being turned away.”

  “She should know we would never do that.”

  “She hadn’t yet met your wife,” Julian said. “I told her I’d known Lady Garrison in London and that she is a kindly lady, but Daisy is used to being shunned by her own class. I thought, given your own experience with scandal, that you would understand how she feels.”

  Lord Garrison grimaced. “Oh, yes, I understand that. It’s this betrothal I’m not sure about. I want her to know you better before she makes up her mind.”

  “Perfectly understandable, and I want to keep her safe so she can do so.”

  Which led back to the dilemma he’d pondered earlier. What if, as he was beginning to hope, the false engagement became a real one? If she did choose to marry him, must he tell her that he was a spy?

  Daisy was enveloped in a warm, comforting hug. She couldn’t see who held her, but it must be Sir Julian. No other hug felt like this.

  But no, this was more than comfort. It was heat and desire, so pleasurable that she wallowed in it. There was a good reason she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t bring it to mind, not when it felt so perfectly right.

  She woke abruptly to the sound of tapping on her door. Daisy longed to remain within the dream, but now that she was awake, she knew why she must not. She couldn’t control her dreams, but she must certainly avoid lustful thoughts while awake, at least until she got rid of Sir Julian Kerr.

  She pushed the coverlet away and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Who is it?” She must have dropped off the instant her head touched the pillow.

  The door opened. “May we come in? Rebecca wants to meet you.” Lady Garrison stepped through the doorway, holding the hand of a young girl with red-gold curls. A black and white terrier dashed past them into the room and barked once.

  “Virtuoso, behave yourself or I shall put you out,” Lady Garrison said. “Daisy, this is Rebecca. Dearest, this is your cousin Daisy.”

  Daisy swung her legs off the side of the bed, running her fingers through her hair, trying to gather her thoughts. Neither her mind nor her body wanted to shed the remnants of that dream. To postpone having to speak, she put out her hand to the little dog. Lady Garrison sucked in a breath, but the dog merely sniffed Daisy and trotted away to explore the room.

  “Thank heavens for that,” Lady Garrison said. “He doesn’t usually dislike females, but one never knows.”

  The little girl curtsied solemnly. “Good afternoon, Cousin Daisy.” She gazed up at her, a crease between her brows. “You are rather untidy, but you don’t look as if you have gone to the devil.”

  “Rebecca!” her stepmother protested.

  “But she is untidy, Mama! Her gown is crumpled, and she needs to comb her hair.”

  “Because she just woke up. Have you been speaking to Aunt Gloriana again?”

  “No, but I heard her talking to Papa.”

  “I see. You really must stop repeating everything Aunt Gloriana says.”

  “Very well, Mama, but I can’t help hearing her. Cousin Daisy is not the only one she says has gone to the devil.”

  “Who else?”

  “Sir Ronald Henderson, because his eyes are red and he smells horrid.”

  Lady Garrison grimaced. “Because he drinks a great deal and washes far too seldom.”

  Daisy chuckled. By now she had recovered her common sense and remembered how she felt about men, particularly attractive ones.

  “You met his wife and daughter today, Daisy,” Lady Garrison said.

  “And if it’s James the footman, it’s when he is caught kissing one of the maids,” Rebecca went on.

  “Tsk,” Lady Garrison said. “That’s the problem with handsome footmen, always leading the maids astray. I should ask Miles to hire some uglier ones.”

  Rebecca scowled. “I like James.”

  “I’m sure you do,” her stepmother said cynically.

  Daisy stood and pulled all the pins out of her hair. Her brush and comb had already been laid out on the dressing table by the maid who had unpacked her clothing. She set to with vigorous strokes of the brush. “Ugly or handsome, men are all the same at heart.”

  “Even Sir Julian?” asked Lady Garrison.

  Oh, dear. She should really try to remember to play her part. “Perhaps not,” Daisy admitted, almost believing it. “I haven’t known him long.” Pause. “And he did ask me to marry him.” Which was true, even if he hadn’t meant it.

  “I’m sure he will make you happy,” Lady Garrison said.

  “Did you know him well in London?”

  “I danced and conversed with him several times over the course of a few seasons. He has a sense of humor, an attribute too many people lack. They’re so deadly serious about themselves, their clothing, their status, and so on. Sir Julian is quietly amused by it all.”

  Yes, Daisy had already witnessed that sense of humor, although she had the feeling some of it was directed at her.

  It didn’t matter. Lady Garrison had just given her an opening of which she should take advantage. “A friend of mine in London writes to me regularly about the follies of society. In fact, I received a letter the other day. That book we were discussing earlier, The Lady’s Revenge . . .?”

  “What about it? Rebecca, don’t pull the ribbon out of your hair.”

  “It has a stain,” the girl said. “Miss Jenks said a dirty child is a child of the devil. I must never be dirty.”

  “Miss Jenks told you a great many lies. Everyone gets dirty from time to time. However, I agree that you shouldn’t wear a stained ribbon. Go up to the nursery and ask Mrs. Rawley to brush your hair and tie it up with a clean one. Off you go, but be very, very quiet so as not to wake the baby.”

  The little girl ran off, the terrier in her wake, and Lady Garrison closed the door. “It’s well over a year since Miles got rid of that horrid Miss Jenks, but the stupid notions she planted in Rebecca’s mind still linger. And now what must Gloriana do but add to the confusion!”

  Daisy didn’t want to talk about Gloriana. “Shall I see the baby soon?”

  “Anytime you like. He stays in the nursery during the day, but at night he sleeps in my bedchamber,
so I can nurse him without inconvenience to either myself or the maid.”

  A faint anxiety pricked at Daisy, a thought as yet unformed.

  “Now that Rebecca’s gone, we can speak freely,” Lady Garrison said. “As she would put it, ‘grownup talk’.”

  Oh, drat. What secrets would Lady Garrison try to pry out now? Just because she was warmhearted, it didn’t mean one should confide in her.

  “Don’t let Gloriana’s behavior upset you, by the way. I never do.”

  “I shan’t,” Daisy said. “I don’t care what she thinks of me.” This wasn’t entirely true, but it was the Gloriana of years before whose opinion she valued, not the present-day one. She stopped brushing and faced her hostess. “Once again, Lady Garrison, please accept my apologies for my own impolite behavior. I should have controlled myself rather than drive your guests away, and I shall endeavor to hold my tongue in future.”

  “Thank you, but you needn’t bother when it comes to Gloriana. I expect Miles will require civility whilst she is in Garrison House, but one cannot be certain how she will respond.”

  “She wasn’t as obsessed with propriety when we were children,” Daisy said. “She was proud of our lineage, but mischievous and fun and . . .” She stopped just in time to avoid choking up. She took a deep breath which she hoped Melinda would take for a sigh. “Then came Miles’s scandal just before her first season. She wrote to me, saying that we Warren women were obliged to prove the nobility of the family, since our menfolk couldn’t be counted upon to do so. Then that horrid smuggler turned my head, and I proved to be a sad disappointment.”

  “Gloriana should address her own character flaws,” Melinda said irritably. “Miles is a wonderful man, and so is Colin.”

  Daisy agreed, but if she said so, her voice would wobble. She couldn’t afford wobbles or trembles or anything of the sort. “I’m glad you’re so happy with Miles,” she managed. “And Colin’s wife, Bridget, is perfect for him.”

  “I’m sure Sir Julian will be perfect for you, too,” her ladyship said.

  Daisy had no answer for that. If she were genuinely engaged to him, if she really intended to marry him . . . How stupid to even consider such an outcome! It was impossible in too many ways.

  “He’ll probably be fun in bed,” Lady Garrison said. “But perhaps you already know that.”

  Daisy felt the color wash into her face and away again. Red from embarrassment and yes, because she desired Sir Julian. That dream had definitely confirmed it. White because the notion of succumbing to such desire made her ill. As for marriage . . . No. Never.

  “Not because he’s good-looking,” her ladyship went on blithely. “I don’t think appearance has much to do with it, although naturally one wishes to find one’s spouse attractive. Love is what truly counts, and clearly he loves you, but apart from that, he’s a kind, gentle sort of man.”

  Daisy nodded. Were gentleness and kindness what one hoped for in bed sport? Reggie had been neither of those, but kindness didn’t hold much appeal, for it would imply pity, which she loathed. As for gentleness, it wouldn’t make up for her own inadequacy. She was boring in bed, and that was that.

  Personal matters aside, though, this conversation had spawned interesting thoughts to put into the minds of her characters. She should see it as useful rather than dispiriting.

  “Are you happy with this bedchamber?” Lady Garrison asked. “There’s a very pretty view of the gardens.”

  “Yes, thank you so much,” Daisy said. “As a child, I always loved the Rose Room, and it’s most kind of you to put me in the family corridor.” Again, anxiety pricked at her . . . but why? She didn’t feel she deserved to be included, but that wasn’t it.

  There was a silence, whilst she twisted her hair into a knot and pinned it out of the way, then began to undo the buttons at the bodice of her riding habit. Perhaps she could encourage Lady Garrison to leave before the conversation became even more disconcerting, for her ladyship seemed a complete stranger to embarrassment. “I must change for dinner, Lady Garrison. May I ring for a maid to help?”

  “Please do call me Melinda. Shall I help you? Why bother with a maid when we’re having such a comfortable chat?” Without waiting for an answer, she helped Daisy off with her gown.

  Comfortable? No, but Melinda seemed determined to stay, and Daisy couldn’t afford to offend her. Didn’t want to, either. Melinda exuded such goodwill . . .

  Drat. She was in danger of becoming maudlin yet again. Very well then, back to business. “As I was saying earlier, about The Lady’s Revenge.”

  “Ah, yes. Fabulous story.”

  Which was lovely to hear, again, but disconcerting. She wasn’t begging for compliments.

  “Come choose a gown,” Melinda said.

  A maid had already unpacked the gowns Daisy was most likely to wear for a family dinner, which meant they were not expecting guests, a huge relief. She selected a comfortable morning gown. “Are you acquainted with Lady Bilchester and her daughter, Diana?”

  “Hold your arms up.” Melinda flung the gown over Daisy’s head. “Yes, are they friends of yours?”

  “Not at all. I’ve never met them. My school friend, Andrea Beaumont, wrote to me about them.” Her head emerged from the bodice in time to see the grimace on Melinda’s face. She couldn’t help but laugh. “I see you know Andrea, too.” She wriggled to help settle the gown in place.

  “I’m sorry if she’s your friend,” Melinda said, “but she’s a frightful snob, and a relentless gossip as well.”

  “Yes, that’s why I—” Oh, hell. She’d almost blurted out her secret. “She keeps me up to date with all the on dits, and her comments are much more revealing than the newssheets. I think she continues our correspondence in spite of my disgrace because she delights in telling me all about what I’m missing.”

  “Oh! How horrid of her, but typical, I’m sorry to say.”

  Daisy shrugged. “I get the impression I’m not missing much, just a bunch of fools vying with one another.”

  “To some extent, that’s exactly right. But I do enjoy some of London’s amusements, such as the theater and the opera, and there are wonderful shops, and sometimes the balls are fun. When you come to London with Sir Julian, I’ll do my best to see that people accept you.”

  To someone who was used to saying exactly what she thought and to hell with the consequences, reticence was proving painful, and yet she must keep up the pretense. “That’s most kind of you,” she managed.

  “Nonsense, it will be fun. Why were you asking about Lady Bilchester and Diana?”

  “Because according to the latest gossip, The Lady’s Ruin and The Lady’s Revenge are about them.”

  Melinda did up the hooks at the back of Daisy’s gown. “In what possible way?”

  “Apparently, Lady Bilchester was abducted by a smuggler before she married.”

  “Really? How fascinating. I had no idea.”

  “Very few people knew. It was twenty years ago and was all hushed up, and there’s no reason to assume the smuggler despoiled her, for she married Lord Bilchester, and all was well. But since the heroine of The Lady’s Ruin is not only bedded by a smuggler, but very expressive of her wanton thoughts—”

  Melinda giggled. “Yes, I love those bits.” She came around, straightened the gown a little here and there, and stepped back. “That blue becomes you very well. Sir Julian will feast his eyes on you and fall even deeper in love.”

  Oh, God. This talk of love was going to drive her mad! Back to business again. “And since Lady Bilchester is known to take lovers . . .”

  “True, she doesn’t make a secret of it. And she’s a widow, so it’s not particularly scandalous, and I believe she’s faithful to whomever is her current beau. Not that I understand at all. I can’t imagine wanting to make love to anyone
but my darling Miles.” Melinda sighed.

  Daisy couldn’t imagine making love to anyone at all. Oh, she could imagine wanting to, but she wouldn’t actually go through with it. Never again.

  What a pity Sir Julian was such an attractive man.

  Once again, she wrenched her thoughts back to the matter at hand. “People are suggesting that if The Lady’s Ruin is about Lady Bilchester, then The Lady’s Revenge must be about her daughter.”

  Melinda went into a peal of laughter. “About Diana?” she gasped. “Oh, my dear, you have no idea how absurd! Diana Bilchester is a shy, rather ordinary girl without the least bit of spirit, not at all like the heroine of The Lady’s Revenge.”

  “Nevertheless,” Daisy said, “the suggestion has been made, and people now wonder if Miss Bilchester is as pure and proper as she appears to be.”

  “For heaven’s sake, what nonsense. Poor Diana.” She frowned. “Actually, the heroine of The Lady’s Revenge is quite proper compared to her mother. Her thoughts may be impure, but she doesn’t give in to them.”

  “Yes, but no one knew that before the book was published, only that the daughter would revenge her mother’s ruin. Like mother, like daughter, they said, and now the gossip is endangering her chance of getting a good offer of marriage.”

  Melinda huffed. “No man of sense would believe that hogwash.”

  “Perhaps, but her mother doesn’t think so. There is—” She paused, realizing she would have to invent some of Andrea’s gossip, but how else was she to corroborate Sir Julian’s opinion? “Rumor has it that Lady Bilchester has sworn vengeance on the authoress, and has even hired an assassin to kill her.”

  Melinda gaped. “No! I don’t believe it!”

  “You don’t think she is capable of such infamy?”

  “Heavens, no. She is very good-natured. Andrea Beaumont is more of a fool than I thought, if she’s spouting that sort of bilge, for it will certainly come back to bite her. Everyone likes Lady Bilchester, while many people actively dislike Andrea.”