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

  “Leave her be.” Daisy raised her hands in a placating gesture. “I promise not to mention bedding smugglers or bathing naked when your precious earl is here. I’ll be so meek and retiring that no one will even notice me. I’ll even ask Melinda to lend me some stitchery to work on.”

  Gloriana muffled another giggle. “Poor Daisy.”

  “Do you dislike it so very much?” Julian asked.

  “I’m an abominable needlewoman,” she said. “What a pity cookery isn’t considered a gentlewoman’s accomplishment.”

  “In our home, it shall be.” Julian took her hand, squeezed it gently, then raised it to his lips. Daisy blushed.

  “How very mawkish,” Gloriana said. “It’s the book Melinda was raving about yesterday, isn’t it? Not to my taste at all, and scandalous as well, judging by what Melinda described, but I’m not surprised. It reminded me of the stories you wrote when we were children. They were quite good, apart from the romantic bits.”

  “You liked the romantic bits!” Daisy said.

  “I was a child,” Gloriana snapped. “I didn’t know any better.”

  With difficulty, Julian bit back a caustic remark. How strange. His habit, due to family custom, was to suppress such comments almost before they occurred to him.

  Gloriana stood. “This book of yours is likely to cause another ghastly scandal.”

  Julian rose as well and answered before Daisy had a chance. “I doubt it. We don’t know who has the information, but if he is trying to kill Daisy because of something in the book, causing a scandal doesn’t make sense. Most likely he wishes to conceal something, not reveal it.”

  Gloriana ignored him. “I understand why you wish to remain here, Daisy, although I’m not convinced it’s necessary. Sir Julian could protect you equally well elsewhere. However, I know better than to argue with Miles, and Sir Julian is so love-bitten as to be useless. I see that I must handle this disastrous situation myself.”

  “How?” Daisy stood too, sounding uneasy. “What do you mean to do?”

  “All I need is a few days without scandal, so he has no opportunity to change his mind . . .” Her voice trailed away, and a feverish light appeared in her eyes. “I have an idea.”

  On that cryptic utterance, she left.

  “Oh, dear,” Daisy said. “I wish I could just leave.”

  “You are perfectly correct. Neither Lord Garrison nor I will allow you to do so.”

  “You were eavesdropping!” she said. “You should be ashamed.”

  “Only for a few moments. After that it became intolerable. Her behavior is childish and unforgivable.”

  “It seems that way, but mostly she’s just . . .” Devious. I should have remembered that earlier. But what could possibly be devious about marrying Lord Hythwick? “Stubborn.”

  “To the point of folly.”

  “Sometimes. You don’t know her, so I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “Good, because I’m not the least bit interested in doing so. She and Hythwick can make each other miserable, and good riddance.”

  Daisy shook her head, trying to imagine Gloriana going through with such a foolish marriage, and failing. But her pigheaded cousin seemed to have made up her mind.

  Well, there was no point dwelling upon it, Daisy decided. She had enough problems of her own. “I suppose you think you could stop me from leaving.”

  “Not without physically restraining you, but between us, Lord Garrison and I could make enough noise and bother to reach the entire county. Then there really would be a scandal.”

  “Odious,” was all she said, because she truly didn’t mind his eavesdropping, nor the fact that she was more or less powerless to do as she chose. Perhaps it was because she didn’t really wish to leave. Perhaps it was that she knew Sir Julian meant well.

  She wished she didn’t like him so much. Wished she could forget last night’s kiss. Wished the little things he did—wiping off the flour and kissing her cheek, kissing her hand as well—didn’t feel so intimate. So very right.

  “As it is, you are betrothed to me, and that will have to be good enough for Gloriana and her pompous earl.”

  Daisy sighed. “I wonder what she is going to do about my presence here. I don’t trust her to just let it be.”

  The bustling sounds of an arrival reached them.

  “It seems her guest is already here, so she has no time to make an alternative plan,” Julian said.

  But no, a glance out the window showed that the arrival was none other than . . . She stared. The new arrival descended from his carriage, resplendent in glossy boots, yellow pantaloons, and a coat of superfine, and was followed by a familiar French valet, who twitched his master’s coat into place and proffered his beaver hat. “It’s Mr. Bonaventure!”

  “Ah,” Julian said. “I meant to warn you, but it slipped my mind. Mr. Bonaventure is actually the Marquis de Bellechasse. While traveling amongst the common people, he uses the pseudonym to conceal his aristocratic background.”

  Her brows drew together. “I knew he was an educated man, but I assumed he was merely a scholarly, somewhat impoverished member of an émigré family.”

  “You will find that his personality has undergone a complete transformation when you meet him today.”

  “His clothing certainly has,” she said.

  “He is every inch the aristocrat when amongst the ton, although he maintains his revolutionary views regardless of his role. Please do not mention his alias. He wishes to keep it a secret.”

  She frowned in earnest. “I never thought of him as a hypocrite.”

  “He is not a rich man,” Julian said. “If he is to marry well, he must keep up appearances. How shall we play this? As if you are previously acquainted with him, or not?”

  Now she grinned. “We shall see the astonishment on his face and then decide.”

  Julian’s heart turned over. She glowed when she smiled. And the mischief in her eyes! This was the real Daisy, the woman who hid behind the sharp tongue and frigid demeanor.

  She tucked her hand in Julian’s arm without being prompted—was she becoming comfortable with him at last?—and they headed for the front door.

  What, indeed, would be the reaction of Philippe de Bellechasse?

  Beside the carriage, the marquis bowed over Gloriana’s hand. Behind him, Antoine, the valet, superintended the unpacking of the coach.

  “A pleasure to see you again, my dear Miss Warren,” the marquis drawled.

  Gloriana snatched her hand away and said in a sulky voice, “Melinda could not have chosen a worse time to invite you. Lord Hythwick is the guest of honor.”

  “But no, that is precisely why she asked me. When we chanced to meet in York, she begged me to come and relieve the inevitable boredom of his lordship’s company. I couldn’t help but take pity on her.”

  Gloriana’s pale features turned a dull red. “Fortunately, Lord Hythwick can have no true objection to you. Despite your appalling opinions, you are an aristocrat.”

  “A mere accident of birth, as are intelligence and wit. But if you are willing to settle for a bore, who am I to object?”

  The man Antoine noticed Daisy first. He stumbled, almost dropping the dressing case he carried. The marquis turned, glanced up, and spied Julian and Daisy at the top of the steps. “Mon Dieu!” Shock, perhaps dismay, was written all over his face.

  Again, it wasn’t proof, but Julian now knew that if either master or servant was involved in the threats to Daisy, both were. Damn.

  “You couldn’t even remove that disgusting apron, Daisy?” Gloriana moaned.

  The marquis recovered from his surprise and came forward, hands outstretched. “Miss Daisy Warren is delightful whatever her attire.”

  Daisy and Julian descended the stairs
. “Bonjour, Monsieur le Marquis,” she said, her nose in the air. Had she too read that expression as dismay?

  “Forgive my astonishment, my dear Miss Daisy. You told me you would not be able to attend this delightful party. How glad I am to see you! How happy to further our acquaintance!” The marquis took both her hands and kissed them with a flourish. Gloriana glanced from one to the other, perplexity on her sullen countenance.

  “As am I,” Daisy said. “And here is my friend Antoine, as well.” She nodded at the valet, who gave her an insolent grin. Julian muffled a laugh at Gloriana’s outraged face. No true aristocrat, in Gloriana’s opinion, would consider a mere servant her friend, much less say so out loud. She certainly wouldn’t put up with a servant who dared to grin.

  Daisy was perfect for him in so many ways.

  “Sally told me you had been called to your brother’s estate on urgent business,” the marquis said. “What a delightful surprise to find you here instead, and my friend Sir Julian as well.”

  Julian took Daisy’s hand in his. “We are betrothed.”

  The marquis’s brows shot up. “You and Miss Daisy?”

  Antoine, too, halted in the midst of unearthing valises to stare.

  “Yes, indeed,” Julian. “I count myself the luckiest of men.”

  “But how superb,” the marquis said. “My felicitations to you both.”

  Lord and Lady Garrison appeared in the doorway to welcome the new arrivals.

  “My dear Philippe, how lovely of you to come,” Melinda said. “And I am most glad to see Antoine again. I bought some exquisite lace from him in London last winter.” She smiled at the valet. “I hope you have brought more today?”

  Antoine bowed, the insolence utterly concealed. “But yes, my lady.”

  “Excellent. Perhaps you could come to the drawing room after dinner, before the gentlemen join the ladies.”

  “I should be most happy to do so, my lady.”

  “And in the meantime, I shall write to a few other ladies who live nearby. My neighbor, Mrs. Henderson, wishes you to show your wares to her maid, and I believe the vicar’s wife would appreciate a visit as well.”

  “You are most kind, my lady,” the valet said.

  Gloriana marched over to Daisy, wearing her habitual frown. “How do you come to know the marquis?”

  “Why shouldn’t I know him?” Daisy said. “We have met before.”

  “It sounded to me as if you are very well acquainted.”

  “And that sounds to me like an insult,” Julian retorted.

  “Almost everything Gloriana says is insulting,” Daisy said. “Pay no attention.”

  “It would be unkind to do so. If she doesn’t stop scowling, her face will be permanently marred by unpleasant lines.” The words were out before he could stop them, not that he wanted to. It must be the influence of the Warrens. It was rather fun to say exactly what crossed his mind.

  Gloriana ignored him and rounded on Daisy. “How do you come to know him?”

  Julian answered for her. “He and I share a friend in the village where Daisy lives. It was through him that we became acquainted with your cousin.”

  “Humph.” Gloriana stalked away.

  The marquis chuckled. “Miss Gloriana would like to rid the world of me and everyone like me. We disagree at every turn.” He made a dismissive movement. “But that is a tedious subject. On to happier matters. From now on, you must call me Philippe.”

  “Indeed I shall.” Daisy lowered her voice. “I saw how concerned you were when you realized I was here, but I shan’t reveal your alias.”

  She’d misread the dismay, Julian thought, for she didn’t know of any other reason for it. Or maybe he had misread it. No, for both master and servant had reacted. But why? Daisy’s books never mentioned smuggled silks and lace such as Antoine bought and sold.

  “Thank you,” Philippe said. “I am seriously thinking of renouncing my title and becoming Mr. Bonaventure in truth.” His gaze settled on Gloriana as she marched up the steps. “Perhaps I shall announce it in the presence of Miss Warren. An enticing notion, non?”

  Julian snorted. “If you enjoy baiting her, certainly.”

  “Poor Gloriana,” Daisy said. “She wasn’t always like this, you know. She used to be fun.”

  Philippe raised a cynical brow, and they all trooped indoors.

  “Why do you dislike him?” Daisy murmured to Gloriana, as Reams whisked the marquis away to the bedchamber which had been prepared for him.

  “He’s a detestable man,” Gloriana said.

  “I disagree,” Daisy said. “He is honest and forward-thinking, and he didn’t treat me like a pariah when he learned I was a ruined woman.”

  “Is that so,” Gloriana said sarcastically. “How frightfully noble of him.”

  “Just because I deserve to be shunned, it doesn’t mean I enjoy it,” Daisy retorted. If Gloriana’s disdain was a pose, it was a far too convincing one. It hurt.

  “You do not deserve to be shunned, or mistreated in any way,” Julian said. “Stop demeaning yourself, Daisy.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Gloriana muttered, a flash of contrition in her eyes, but immediately she resumed her act, demanding again that Daisy get rid of that filthy apron, which was hardly soiled. She then announced that she intended to remain near the front doors, waiting for the earl to arrive.

  “Let me be the one to greet Lord Hythwick first,” she asked of her brother. “He is my special guest.”

  “Do as you like,” Miles said. “I’m sure I can’t manage anything obsequious enough for your taste.”

  “I don’t ask that you be obsequious,” Gloriana said. “He’s only one rank higher than you, and therefore respect is all that’s required.”

  “Respect that pompous bore? Ha!” Miles walked off.

  Melinda, bless her, promised to be warm and welcoming. “Are you sure you wish to wait here? If you stay comfortably in the drawing room, Reams will call you when the earl arrives.”

  “Lord Hythwick is the perfect aristocrat and well worth waiting for.” Gloriana resumed her pacing, this time before the front door. As a child, she had always paced when thinking, especially when dreaming up some mischief—the sort that invariably got them into trouble.

  “I need The Lady’s Revenge now,” Julian said, steering Daisy toward the stairs. “I want to have a look at it, although I’m not sure whether I’ll have to read it.”

  Because The Lady’s Ruin was such a bore. Or utterly stupid. Or . . .

  “Because, as I told you earlier, the clue we need must be in the first book,” he said. “The murderer didn’t know exactly what he would find in the second book. Something in the first story frightened him enough that he was desperate to suppress the second one.”

  “But there’s nothing real in the first book, or the second for that matter. It’s all imaginary.”

  “Yes, but it’s based on reality. It happens in England in the present day, and somehow your imagination has hit upon a present-day secret. It may be a scandal which would cause someone’s ruin—we’ve already considered that possibility—or something to do with smuggling or espionage or another crime. Something that, if uncovered, would be disastrous for this particular individual. If he reads the second book and finds that his fears were groundless, he may not try to kill you after all. Why take the risk?”

  “So we have to wait and see if there are more attempts? I don’t find that particularly comforting.”

  “No, I think it’s wisest to assume the worst.”

  Glumly, she nodded. “Horrid but safer.”

  “We know from the last few lines of the first book that the heroine’s daughter intends not only to revenge her mother’s ruin, but to gather all the missing charms and restore them to her mother’s
bracelet.”

  “So . . . you think our villain is afraid someone will be inspired by the book to kill him?” She shook her head. “That doesn’t seem likely. Maybe gathering the charms is in some way similar to an activity the killer is involved in.”

  “Perhaps. Most likely he’s gathering something else,” Julian said. “There must be a similarity, something we can’t see but that might be strikingly obvious to someone else, perhaps to any number of people. I intend to make a list of the charms, where they were lost, and where Dianthus finds them, unless you wish to do that, since you know both stories far better than I.”

  “Very well,” she said dubiously. “It can’t do any harm, I suppose.”

  “Where did you get the idea for a bracelet with valuable charms?”

  She pondered for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Come now. You remembered where you got the inspiration for the charm in the shape of a queen.”

  She shook her head. “Yes, because it was right in front of me, reminding me, but I haven’t the faintest notion where the idea for the bracelet itself came from. What sparks an idea for a story and what it becomes in the end are usually vastly different.”

  “You’d better try to remember. Work it backwards in your mind, perhaps. Either it’s an extraordinary coincidence, or you saw or overheard something you shouldn’t have. It became something different in your story, but not different enough, since the murderer recognized it.”

  “Very well,” she said again, “I’ll try.” It was an impossible task. “I may be able to remember the inspiration for each charm. I’m certain I didn’t get the idea from a real bracelet. I would remember that.”

  “You’ll recall where it came from if you work at it,” he said.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  He smiled. “Because I have great confidence in you.”