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

  “But mightn’t Lady Bilchester go to any lengths to save her daughter’s chances?”

  “Not those lengths! Even if she knew how to hire an assassin, it would never occur to her to do so. She knows very well that this on dit will soon be replaced by another, and all will be well.”

  Daisy suspected she must have looked dubious, for Melinda added, “If you doubt me, ask Sir Julian. He’s a distant cousin to the Bilchesters, but knows them very well.”

  How strange that Julian had not told her this.

  “Would you like to see the baby now?” Melinda asked. “We could creep into the room and watch him sleeping. Or you can come to my bedchamber this evening and keep me company while I nurse him.”

  With sudden full force, the reason for her anxiety became clear. “Oh, no.”

  “What?”

  “I mustn’t stay here, not in this wing. Oh, Lady Garrison, would you please allow me to move to the opposite end of the house?”

  “It’s Melinda, and if that’s what you wish, I quite understand. Naturally you prefer to be near Sir Julian. Once you’ve bedded a man you love, it’s very hard not to sleep with him.”

  Horrified, Daisy blurted, “No, no, that’s not it! I haven’t bedded him. I don’t intend to.” Ever.

  “Until you’re married? Yes, that would be preferable. But in that case, why move to a different bedchamber? It will cause talk, not that there won’t be plenty of that already, as I’m sure you know.”

  Daisy nodded. “Yes, but talk is the least of my problems just now.” She let out a long, unhappy breath and came to a decision. “I lied to you. Andrea Beaumont wrote to me about Lady Bilchester and her daughter, but she didn’t tell me Lady Bilchester had sworn vengeance. I made that part up, but I thought it was true.”

  Melinda’s brows drew together. “I don’t understand.”

  Daisy bit her lip. She took a deep breath. “I’m the one who wrote those books.”

  An astonished smile broke across Melinda’s face. “You wrote The Lady’s Ruin?”

  Daisy nodded.

  “And The Lady’s Revenge? And some other books, too!”

  “Yes.”

  “How marvelous!” Melinda threw her arms around Daisy. “How incredibly clever of you.” She hugged hard before letting Daisy go. “Oh, won’t Miles be surprised. You mustn’t be offended if he tells you your books are nonsensical. He says that of every romantic novel I read.”

  “I shan’t mind. I have far worse to deal with.” Daisy paused. “You see, someone really is trying to kill me.”

  Melinda’s mouth fell open. “But-But why?”

  “I don’t know! I received a letter, warning me on pain of death not to publish The Lady’s Revenge. It was too late to do anything about that, not that I would have given in to such a threat, but shortly after that, someone shot at me, and that very evening he tried to break into my room at the Diving Duck. Sir Julian brought me to Garrison House for safety.”

  “Good heavens, how horrid. Whoever he is, he must be mad, and you did perfectly right to come here! Don’t worry, I’ll tell Miles, and he’ll take care of everything.”

  “Sir Julian intends to explain it all to Miles, but don’t you see? What if the murderer finds his way into the house, into this wing, and tries to kill me, with you and the baby so close by? You and he could be in danger, so I must stay as far away from you as I possibly can.”

  Julian left Lord Garrison and stalked to his bedchamber to change for dinner. The bloody cheek of the man, to accuse him of fortune hunting!

  He washed, donned a fresh shirt, and was almost ready to seek out Daisy when a soft tap sounded on the door. He didn’t need any help dressing—did without a valet most of the time due to his travels—but his boots could use polishing. “Come in.”

  The door opened and Daisy entered. “Oh!” She blushed, eyes wide and, he thought, appreciative.

  “Oops.” It was absurd that a man in shirtsleeves was considered improper, but so were many maxims of society. “I thought you were one of the manservants.”

  “I’m so sorry. I should leave.” She didn’t move.

  He managed not to grin. “You’ll have to excuse my state of undress for a few short moments.” He chose a cravat and turned away from her to face the mirror.

  “I shouldn’t have come to your room,” she said, and he watched her watching his reflection. “But I need to talk to you. I don’t know what to do.”

  “About what?” He gave the cravat two swift turns and began to tie a simple knot.

  “About where I am to sleep. I can’t stay in the family wing.” He raised his brows, and hurriedly she continued. “Because of Melinda and the baby.”

  So Lady Garrison was Melinda to her now. Good.

  “Melinda has the baby with her at night. What if the murderer comes for me and finds their room instead? Or what if Melinda just happens to be in his way?”

  “I expect Lord Garrison can defend them ably enough.”

  “I don’t want him to be hurt, either,” she said.

  How fascinating. His brash, angry Daisy was turning out to be exceptionally softhearted. “If you move to this wing, there will be a great deal of talk. The guests, even the servants . . .”

  “Everyone will assume I’m spending my nights with you.” She eyed him. “You’re frowning.”

  “You’re not the only one whose reputation is at stake. Garrison just accused me of fortune hunting. He may think I’m trying to get you with child so you can’t change your mind.”

  She flushed a fiery red. “He will be proven wrong.” She scowled back at him. “It wasn’t so bad being shunned for something I had done. It will be far worse when I’ve done nothing at all.”

  “That’s easily remedied,” he quipped.

  The blush faded to ghastly pale. She wrapped her arms around herself and turned away, shivering.

  “Good God, girl, it was merely a jest! I didn’t mean it. You know that.” He scrutinized her pale face. “Daisy, what upsets you so much about the mention of bed sport?”

  Chapter 8

  “Nothing.” Daisy turned away again, unable to bear his searching gaze.

  “I don’t believe you. What did that smuggler do to you?”

  “Nothing,” she repeated. “It doesn’t matter. Just forget it, will you?” She had to get away. She headed for the door.

  He followed. “Look at me, sweetheart. Talk to me.”

  Oh God, why must he call her by that loving name? It made her want to melt into his embrace, just as she’d done earlier in the drawing room. He made her feel so safe, so cared for, so loved.

  What an absurdity. She shook her head. “Sir Julian, please. Truly, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about.” He donned his coat. “It’s just that most people enjoy jesting about bed sport, whether or not they intend to indulge in it. I hate to think that whatever he did has frightened you instead.”

  “I’m not frightened,” she snapped.

  “If you say so.” He cocked his head to one side. “What happened? Did he beat you with a riding crop or tie you to the bed, something of that sort?”

  She halted, her hand almost at the door. “I beg your pardon?”

  His lips quirked up. Why must his gaze be so knowing? “Not that, then. Clearly you’ve never heard of such practices.”

  She wished she were a better actress. She knew how to be cold and angry, but she couldn’t seem to maintain even that façade with him. She thought she’d heard of everything, what with all those vulgar songs, but these particular forms of sexual activity had never been mentioned.

  “It’s none of your business.” She hastened to change the subject. “Why would Miles think you are fortune hunting? Aren’t you well off?”
r />   “Yes and no. I inherited a heavily encumbered estate. Most of its income goes to paying off the debts, but I have other sources for my day to day expenses.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know about your dowry, but Garrison wouldn’t have believed me if I’d told him so. He can think what he chooses of me, but I don’t wish to expose you to even more opprobrium than before.”

  “Better than Melinda or the baby coming to harm. If there’s plenty of talk, horrid as it is, the murderer may learn where I’m sleeping and avoid the family wing.”

  “Assuming he will somehow find a way to gossip with the servants,” Sir Julian said. “Assuming he is willing to risk coming upon me as well.”

  “I don’t want you to be hurt either, Sir Julian.”

  He laughed. “I’ll be fine. Let’s go down to dinner.” He opened the door, then said in a soft voice, “By the way, if Lord Garrison asks, I showed my interest in you from the day we met, but I offered for you this morning after helping you down from the roof. I hope you didn’t tell Melinda something different?”

  “No, but she knows about the books and the death threat, everything but the fact that our betrothal is false.”

  “You must leave off my title and just call me Julian, at least during family dinners. It will give credence to our betrothal.”

  Yes, but it felt far too intimate. She couldn’t afford to feel intimate with this inquisitive, perceptive, attractive man.

  But nor could she think of an excuse, so she agreed. “Very well. Julian, it is.”

  They left his bedchamber and proceeded downstairs. Their feet made no sound on the thick runner, which was perhaps why Miles and Melinda didn’t hear them from the drawing room.

  “She hardly knows the fellow,” Miles growled. “Colin would never forgive me if I let her marry him out of desperation.”

  Daisy came to an abrupt halt, huffing. Julian stopped as well.

  “How dare he think I would do anything so stupid?” she hissed. “Or that he could stop me!”

  “He doesn’t know you,” Julian said softly. “Not really.”

  Which seemed to imply that Julian did. It was frightening how clearly he saw her. Understood her.

  “I can think of no other reason she would agree to marry someone she met only a week or two ago,” Miles went on.

  What did how long she’d known him have to do with it? If she liked a man enough, if she felt at ease with him . . .

  “He’s an attractive man,” Melinda said, “and his behavior is always gentlemanlike. I met him at countless balls and parties, and never once saw him drunk, rude, boastful, or anything of the sort.”

  “A true paragon,” Miles retorted in a grouchy voice.

  Julian grimaced. “This will never do. I shall have to cultivate a sin or two.”

  Daisy smothered a laugh. He grinned down at her. Oh, damnation. She mustn’t grow to like him so very much. “Melinda is right,” she said stiffly. “You are extraordinarily well-behaved.”

  “Tsk,” said Julian. “It’s a bad habit. I blame my tedious upbringing.”

  “Well, I’m not convinced,” Miles said. “He’s under a cloud financially. I can find someone much more suitable if she truly wishes to marry.”

  Melinda made a scornful noise. “Just like my brother would have found for me, if I hadn’t decided to marry you? No, thank you. At least she likes Sir Julian.”

  Miles grunted.

  “Don’t let it worry you, dearest,” Melinda said, her voice coming closer. “She will be able to make a more informed decision once this threat is no longer hanging over her head.”

  Daisy slipped her hand into Julian’s arm and continued down the stairs just as Melinda appeared in the drawing room doorway.

  Dinner was awkward. At first they spoke of politics and the weather, waiting by tacit consent until they could discuss the murder attempts in privacy. Miles asked a number of nosy questions about Sir Julian’s encumbered estate in Somerset, which she recognized as his way of warning her that her betrothed might be a fortune hunter. Julian answered civilly enough, but she could see it annoyed him to be grilled.

  She countered by asking Julian to tell them about his travels. “Tell me about Hadrian’s Wall.”

  Julian described hiking along the remnants of the wall with his fellow scholar, Mr. Hunt. “It stirs the imagination. One can’t help but picture oneself as a Roman soldier on patrol, keeping a wary eye out for attackers from the north.”

  “I’m sure it would stir mine,” Daisy said wistfully, “although I would more likely see myself as a barbarian plotting to drive the invaders away.”

  “I’ll take you there,” Julian said, his smile eager, his eyes alight. “We’ll walk above and below, and imagine a wild romance of ancient times.”

  She knew he didn’t mean it—this was part of the charade—but he sounded as if he did. He was an accomplished actor, far better than she, for all she could manage was a murmured, “That would be marvelous,” and a sigh which she hoped didn’t sound as sad as she felt.

  “We’ll spend a couple of nights with my friend Hunt,” Julian said. “He’ll delight in showing you his collection of antiquities, particularly the cage cup.”

  Could it get any worse? “A Roman cage cup?”

  “Yes, indeed,” he said. “A beautiful one of colored glass.”

  “What is a cage cup?” asked Melinda.

  “A glass cup in which the top layer was ground away to produce a design, looking rather like a cage around the cup,” Julian said.

  “Oh, I should love to see it,” Daisy said.

  “And so you shall,” he said, which made her want to weep. It sounded so wonderful, and yet it would never happen.

  “Where else have you traveled lately?” Melinda asked.

  “Before visiting Northumberland, I spent a fortnight at Scarborough, as a friend is stationed at the garrison there. Then, after walking the wall with Mr. Hunt, I turned south once again to York, where there are remnants of both Romans and Vikings.”

  “I had no idea,” Melinda said. “All I do in York is shop and visit friends, such as the Fields. Mr. Field was a friend of Miles’s father, and has a collection of artwork, both painting and sculpture, of which he is very proud.”

  “If you mean Horace Field, I am acquainted with him,” Julian said. “Judging by the objects in the library and elsewhere here at Garrison House, the previous Lord Garrison was a great collector as well.”

  Daisy’s mind wandered. The vision of walking with Julian along the Roman wall had taken hold, making her burn with longing. She couldn’t bear to pretend to be in love, pretend to be filled with hope for the future. She didn’t understand how Julian did it so very well. Perhaps because he was content with his life and not subject to yearnings such as hers, so he could easily play a role and later shuck it without a pang.

  She must remind herself, again and again, that she and Julian were only allies, united against an unknown enemy. Once the threat was over, they would go their separate ways.

  Thank heavens Gloriana hadn’t come to dine. Evidently, she’d stayed at the Dower House out of pique. Which was fine, as the situation was none of her business and would remain that way. Daisy had begged Melinda to tell no one that she’d written those novels. She hoped Melinda could keep a secret, then reminded herself that it might not be a secret for much longer. If any of the guests had already learned it from another source . . .

  Ah, a topic of conversation! “Tell me, who have you invited to your house party?”

  Miles’s mouth twitched. Melinda groaned.

  Julian chuckled. “That bad, is it?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Melinda said. “The guest of honor is the Earl of Hythwick.”

  “Good Lord.” Julian turned to Daisy. “He is a pompous fool, so puffed up
in his own esteem that one is tempted to prick him with a pin and see if he deflates.”

  Melinda nodded her agreement. “I don’t understand how Gloriana can bear the thought of marrying him. He boasts constantly of his estates, his horses, his prowess on the hunting field . . .”

  “She’s engaged to him?” Daisy asked. No wonder, then, at her reaction to the arrival of her notorious cousin.

  “Not yet. He has conceived a violent passion for her but balks at the prospect of a close connection with the Warrens. Gloriana wants to prove to him that we are a truly noble family.”

  “Completely reformed, our escutcheon wiped clean of every last blot.” Miles cast his eyes heavenward.

  “I couldn’t have come at a worse moment,” Daisy said. “Julian, I believe we must leave.”

  “No, you shan’t,” Melinda said.

  “But—”

  “On the contrary, it’s the ideal moment for your arrival,” Miles said. “I don’t want the connection any more than he does, but I don’t have a valid reason to object. If your presence deters him, I shall rejoice.”

  “But if Gloriana loves him—”

  “She loves his title and his stuffy respectability,” Miles said.

  “She wants to wash the dust of the Warrens from her feet and become a member of a family of which she can truly be proud,” Melinda said.

  Julian’s jaw dropped. “She told you that?”

  “Those were her very words,” Melinda said. “She really is the outside of enough. Fortunately, I don’t offend easily, but I was obliged to put a severe rein on my temper.”

  “Until you recounted it to me.” Miles grinned.

  “I love our family, blotted escutcheon and all,” Daisy said, “but if that’s what she wants, I’d really rather not get in her way.” She glanced at Julian, not sure why. She shouldn’t need his approval. Or opinion. And in any event, Miles and Melinda would do as they pleased. So . . . what did she want from him?