Love and the Shameless Lady (Scandalous Kisses Book 3) Page 9

  “Yes, Miss Daisy.” Ellie broke into a relieved grin, curtsied, and left. Daisy shut the door behind her and whirled to face Julian. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “As I said before, I am trying to protect you.” He kept on eating, as calm as ever.

  “Bollocks!” she retorted, but crude words didn’t faze him either. “Very well, tell the servants. Tell the squire and anyone else you choose. I won’t succumb to blackmail.”

  “Admirable of you,” he said, “but before you force me to take such steps, you might listen to the alternative.”

  She narrowed her eyes, twitching with fury. “And what, pray tell, is that?”

  “You may come with me.”

  Daisy’s mouth dropped open, but Julian knew she wouldn’t be speechless for long. He felt very little compunction about treating her unkindly. This wasn’t his usual difficulty of deciding whether or not a radical thinker merited imprisonment. Genuine danger threatened Daisy, and therefore he had no choice.

  What a relief to be faced with a clear problem, no soul-searching required.

  She gathered herself and said, “You are out of your mind. That would be far more scandalous than revealing I’ve written those novels.”

  “That depends on where we go. I’m not proposing an improper liaison or even the appearance of one. Lord Garrison’s estate is only fifteen or so miles away.”

  “No,” she snapped. “Impossible.”

  He knew an urge to shake her. “Why not? As your nearest male relative apart from your brother, he’s the obvious choice.”

  “I can’t possibly go there. Weren’t you there when . . . no, perhaps you didn’t hear Mr. Bonaventure say he’d been invited. They’re having a house party.”

  No, Julian hadn’t, and this meant a change in plans. He had thought to leave Daisy at Garrison House and return to Mr. Bennett’s, but not if the marquis would no longer be there. Why, he wondered, would a French spy visit Lord Garrison? His lordship wasn’t likely to know military or government secrets.

  Of course, a spy would vary his friends and acquaintances so as not to be too obvious. One might learn, by casual questioning, whom he had visited recently . . . whom he intended to visit in the near future . . .

  Or he might not be a spy at all.

  “I wouldn’t be welcome at the best of times, much less when they’re having guests,” Daisy said.

  Julian scarcely knew Lord Garrison, but perhaps he could trespass on his acquaintance with Lady Garrison, whom he’d known before her marriage.

  But he was getting ahead of himself here. “Do you mean to say that Lord Garrison would turn you away?”

  She shook her head. “No, probably not. He wouldn’t wish to offend Colin. But it wouldn’t be fair to his wife or to their guests.” Her lip trembled. “Even if they allowed me to stay, even if Lady Garrison tolerated me for Miles’s sake, I couldn’t expect anything but the cold shoulder from others.”

  His heart twisted at the misery in her face and voice.

  “Gloriana will freeze me out utterly, and people are likely to follow her lead.”

  “Gloriana? Good God.”

  “It’s from The Faerie Queene. Gloriana is the character representing Elizabeth I.”

  “I’m aware of that, but I’ve never known a woman with that name. Who is she?”

  “Miles’s sister. Gloriana takes her name to heart. In spite of the fact that our ancestors are a long line of libertines, cheats, and even a murderer, and that we are known for scandals in the present day as well, she is inordinately proud of the Warren heritage. I haven’t seen her since my disgrace, but Colin tells me she has become insufferably high in the instep, almost as if we are royalty and she is the queen.”

  “She sounds dreadful.”

  “When we were children, she was my friend, but now, if she really were a queen, she would gladly order my execution.” Daisy drooped. “Maybe her wish is about to be fulfilled.”

  “Not if I can help it. I do believe I’ve met her, a woman with auburn hair and a disdainful air. Does she attend philosophical discourses? The sort where the participants argue about the rights of the common people, that sort of thing?”

  “I shouldn’t be surprised,” Daisy said. “As a girl, she was enraptured by the concept of noblesse oblige. I imagine her father’s heedless life, which ended in a gaming hell brawl, made her all the more determined to prove that the ruling class can and should rule well.”

  “Yes, I remember her.” He attended that sort of meeting to ferret out seditionists. “She gets everyone’s hackles up. It wouldn’t surprise me if someone wanted to murder her.”

  Daisy sighed. “I suppose you mean well. Very well, I’ll stay here. Go ahead and tell the servants and the squire and anyone else you choose. I hate it here, but the servants treat me decently because of Colin, and I’m long past caring what the local gentry think.”

  She sounded utterly defeated.

  “I’d really rather not,” he said. “If you stay here, I shall have the devil of a time protecting you. I’ll have to stay at an inn and creep about the grounds at night, watching for intruders.”

  She blinked at him, her expression a mix of fatigue and disbelief. “I thought you intended to entrust me to the servants and the squire.”

  “I never said that. I merely intended to enlist their support. They will notice any strangers in the area far better than I.”

  “Then we are at a standstill, for I shan’t go to Garrison House.” Listlessly, she stirred her tea.

  He studied her, wondering how she might react to an abduction, admitting to himself that although it might be rather fun for him, it would upset her no end, and she would most likely never forgive him. For some reason, that mattered.

  What a pity, since taking her to Lord Garrison’s estate would kill two birds with one stone, as long as he could wangle an invitation to stay. He would protect her while at the same time continuing his investigation of the Marquis de Bellechasse.

  Daisy sniffled, almost pouting, her expression wistful. She would probably enjoy a house party, if only she could be respectable again.

  A brilliant notion came to him. An utterly insane notion which he was sure to regret, so he blurted it out before he could change his mind.

  “Yes, you will. You’ll come as my betrothed.”

  Daisy dropped her spoon with a clatter, and tea spilt onto the saucer. “What?”

  “It’s the perfect solution. I’m from a tediously respectable family, so by association you will become respectable, too.”

  She dabbed at the tea with her napkin. Damn, she was trembling. She concentrated hard on drying the saucer. When she knew she could control her voice, she said, “There’s just one small difficulty with your perfect solution, Sir Julian. We are not betrothed.”

  “That’s easily mended.” He stood, came around the table, went down on one knee, and took her free hand between his. “Darling Daisy, will you marry me?”

  The man was mad. Either that, or he was tormenting her on purpose. No one would ever marry her. She’d accepted that long ago.

  She snatched her hand away. “You don’t want to marry me.”

  “Nor do you wish to marry me. Come on now, say yes.”

  She’d calmed down enough to think clearly now. “To a false betrothal?”

  He resumed his seat and picked up his fork again. “As long as we put on a good act, no one need know the truth.”

  “Until such time as we sunder the engagement.”

  He scooped up a forkful of eggs. “They won’t know it wasn’t real.”

  “No, but I shall be blamed and become persona non grata again, with another blot on my reputation.”

  He grimaced ruefully. “I shall try to take the blame on myself, but I can’t guaran
tee the result. People will think I had a brief period of madness followed by a lucky escape.”

  That hurt—it always did when people assumed she was truly dreadful—but Daisy was used to that particular pain.

  More or less. It seemed worse than usual this time.

  He motioned to her plate. “If you’re not going to finish your eggs, give them to me.”

  She pushed the plate across the table, and he piled a slice of ham and some eggs on a piece of toast. He probably saw this whole situation as entertainment. People might think he was highly respectable, but to her mind it was nothing but a façade.

  Just like her tough exterior. Inside she was a tangled mass of unpleasant emotions—except when she was writing her novels.

  Which were the reason someone wanted her dead.

  One advantage, she realized, of being in danger of one’s life was that one saw the world with different eyes. Why not have some fun of her own? She rather liked the idea of a house party. Not so much because she would enjoy it, for she wouldn’t. Yes, betrothal to Sir Julian would make her marginally respectable, but that didn’t mean people would accept her with open arms. They were more likely to behave with frigid propriety.

  Well, she didn’t give tuppence for the acceptance of a bunch of hypocrites. She would, however, enjoy setting the ton abuzz with gossip about her betrothal to Sir Julian, and then thumbing her nose at them when she broke it. She would also enjoy the excellent food Miles would provide, and she didn’t think he would forbid her to see the children. There was a newish baby, as well as his young illegitimate daughter.

  Meanwhile, the aggravating man across the table was polishing off the last of the eggs as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  Very well, she would give him something to worry about. “There is one possibility you haven’t considered, Sir Julian.”

  He wiped his mouth. “What’s that?”

  “What if I decide I like being respectable again?”

  He took a swig of ale, blithely unconcerned.

  “Don’t you understand? What if I don’t free you from the engagement?”

  “Such I fix I’ll find myself in!” His eyes sparkled. “I’ll have to marry you, won’t I?”

  He made her want to smile, something she avoided with attractive men. She forced a glower. “You’ll be stuck with me, that’s what.”

  “True,” he said. “But you will also be stuck with me.”

  Julian didn’t think he would mind being stuck with Daisy. She was far more interesting than most of the women he knew, and courageous as well.

  Judging by the twitch of her lips, she was holding back a smile at the thought of trapping him. One of these days, she would give him a real, heartfelt grin. He couldn’t wait to see it.

  “Oh, you’re not so bad,” she said. “You’re well-bred, good-looking, and generally inoffensive.”

  “You also are well-bred and good-looking.” He grinned. “And I find your offensiveness quite charming.”

  “What nonsense.” She took a deep breath. Judging by the slight movement of her arms, her hands were clasped tightly on her lap. “Very well, I agree to this sham of a betrothal, but I cannot promise to be meek and compliant and everything else a lady supposedly should be. I am too accustomed to speaking my mind.”

  “Perfect,” he said. “May we borrow a carriage from your brother? We should have a groom take the gig back to Mr. Bennett.”

  She nodded vaguely and stood. “Yes, just let Bussey know. I’d best pack some clothing suitable to a house party.” She headed for the door.

  He followed. “While I wait, I should like to start reading The Lady’s Revenge. Or Ruin, whichever comes first.”

  “Ruin comes first, but why?”

  “Because they’re our only clue to why someone wants to kill you.”

  “We already know why. Because of Lady Bilchester and her daughter.”

  He blew out a long breath. “As I already explained, that’s impossible. There must be another reason. Obviously, something in the first book set up an expectation which the killer feared would be fulfilled in the second. Therefore, I must start by reading The Lady’s Ruin.”

  She swept through the door, shaking her head. “Heaven forbid that you should make such a sacrifice.”

  “They can’t be that bad, if both Bonaventure and his servant enjoy them.”

  She was back to her habitual glare. “And it’s irrelevant, of course, that hundreds of women devour them.”

  “I merely meant that they are written primarily for women, and are therefore unlikely to interest most men. I’ll start reading while you pack.”

  She sniffed. “You needn’t, for I shall go through it myself.”

  “A good notion, but since you are familiar with your stories and I am not, I too must read them.” He smiled. “Don’t scowl at me like that. Two heads are better than one, and I promise not to say anything disparaging about your writing.”

  “You may say anything you bloody well please.”

  Daisy ran up the stairs to her bedchamber, furious that he had read her so easily. She yanked the bell pull and paced back and forth.

  It couldn’t be more ghastly. He would read her books and scoff at her. Even if he said nothing, she would feel the disdain oozing from his very pores. Meanwhile, she was obliged to pretend she liked him well enough to marry him!

  But he was right, and if she weren’t so overset and worried and frightened, she would have seen it earlier. Something in the stories had made someone want to kill her, and if Lady Bilchester wasn’t the murderous sort, although he hadn’t convinced her of that, the books were the only way to find out who was.

  She took the first volume of The Lady’s Ruin from her valise. When Lucy, the upstairs maid, answered the summons, she passed it to her.

  “Give this book to Sir Julian Kerr. He’s about somewhere, perhaps in the stables. Then come back here. Sir Julian is escorting me to Lord Garrison’s estate. I’ll need you to help me pack.”

  Lucy curtsied and left, and Daisy began to sort through her clothing. She had nothing suitable for evening, but she always had gowns for riding and daytime wear which were more or less up to date. She wore old clothes at the Diving Duck, but she often rode or drove to the Hollow or to Preston or Liverpool, all places where she might encounter people of her own class. She couldn’t bear it if they spied her in the fashions from years ago, as if she were too poor to afford new clothes.

  Which she was, strictly speaking. She was gradually accumulating a nest egg, but without Colin’s generosity she would have been destitute.

  What a pity Gloriana loathed her, for they were much the same size, so she could have loaned her something. Daisy had never met the new Lady Garrison, but Colin spoke highly of her. Perhaps she would be willing to help out. Daisy didn’t want to embarrass Sir Julian by dressing like a dowd.

  No, why not? The odder her appearance and behavior, the easier the rupture of their engagement. He certainly knew that. She’d warned him that she might be outspoken, and he’d approved. Looking forward to regaining his freedom, no doubt.

  Oh, God. Sir Julian was even now reading one of her books!

  An hour later, they climbed into Colin’s travelling carriage for the drive to Garrison House. She should probably be all a-fever about her reception there, but all she could think about was Sir Julian’s probable disdain when he read her book. His hidden sneers. Or worse, his all-out mirth.

  Damned if she intended to ask his opinion, as if she cared.

  Because she didn’t.

  So why was her stomach twisting and turning? She crossed her hands over her belly and sat back against the squabs, fighting down her rising nausea.

  She did her best to keep her gaze firmly on the fields and hedgerows, but she couldn’t help
but notice when he took the book from his carrying case. He opened it and removed the bookmark. He’d already read a good deal.

  “Does your heroine never faint?”

  Shock broke through the nausea and dread. Daisy turned her head just enough to see him from the corner of her eye. “No, never.”

  “She doesn’t whine and moan, either. It’s most refreshing.”

  That was almost complimentary, but he was bound to say something horrid now.

  “Does she spout poetry? Because I can tell you now, that’s what made me give up on The Mysteries of Udolpho.”

  She choked on a laugh. “No, of course not!”

  “That’s better,” he said, grinning at her. “Cheer up. You’ll do fine at Lord Garrison’s. You have plenty of guts, and you have me and my staid reputation on your side.”

  He must think she was nervous about going to Miles’s house, which she probably was, since she’d never become used to being treated like excrement. But that was nothing to the agony of watching him read her book.

  Daisy shook herself. She was used to showing a brave front. She couldn’t let herself down now. “My guts and your reputation. A winning combination, you think?”

  “Definitely, but we’d better get our story straight. How did we meet and fall desperately in love?”

  “It will have to be good,” she said. “It’s absurd to think of you marrying me.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Don’t lie to me!”

  “It’s not a lie. Stop undervaluing yourself. Any man worth his salt would be privileged to marry you.”

  More and more ridiculous. “I suppose you think you’re making sense, but you’re not.”

  He took a deep breath. “Very well, look at it this way. Much of The Lady’s Ruin seems absurd, but it makes sense once one is immersed in it.”