“Because it’s a tale of high romance, the sort that women love to read.” She glowered. “Because it’s so different from real life.”
“It’s not as different as you think,” he said. “You’ve been unlucky, but—”
“Unlucky?” she cried. “I brought on my own ruin by making a stupid decision.”
“Unlucky,” he repeated, “and our betrothal is not absurd. You’re an attractive, sensual woman, far more appealing than any simpering London miss.”
Sensual. The word made her shudder, as did the fact that Sir Julian recognized it about her. In her thoughts, perhaps. In reality . . . She didn’t want to think about that.
“I suggest we keep it as close to the truth as possible,” he said. “I was visiting my friend Mr. Bennett, spied you in the Diving Duck, and fell immediately in love.”
“And will just as easily fall out of it, luckily for you.”
His mouth twisted ruefully.
“You’ll look a fool,” she said. “Don’t relish the idea, do you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
“It’s not right,” she said, suddenly appalled with their plan. “You shouldn’t have to suffer for my sake. Let’s forget the betrothal. I’ll throw myself on Miles’s mercy. He’ll shut me up in a remote bedchamber with a couple of footmen to guard me. I’ll be fine.”
“Absolutely not,” Julian retorted. “We made a plan and we’ll go through with it.”
“Not if I don’t want to,” she said. “Not if I refuse.”
Good God, were those tears in her eyes?
“Come now,” he said, and without thinking, he reached and gently wiped a tear from her cheek. She sucked in a breath and turned away.
“You’re far too courageous to give up so easily, Daisy. Don’t worry about me.”
He’d had a little time to think about it. What if she decided to hold him to the betrothal? He didn’t think it likely; she was too principled for that. Nevertheless, he rather liked the idea . . . until he realized he would have to tell her about his lowly occupation, and she might well turn away in revulsion.
The alternative would be to not tell her, which his employers would doubtless prefer. Soon enough, the war would be over, he wouldn’t be a spy anymore, and she would never know.
He wasn’t entirely comfortable with this alternative either, but why was he wasting his time thinking about it? The whole affair was a sham.
“How about this? I’ll behave like a tyrannical brute and people will think you’re well rid of me.”
She gave an unhappy little laugh. “That’s ridiculous.” She straightened, taking visible hold of herself, and wiped a tear from her other cheek. “Well, perhaps not. You have been odious at times.”
“That’s my Daisy.” He turned the book in his hands. It was, unexpectedly, an entertaining story. “Do you mind if I read while we travel? The sooner, the better.”
“Not at all.” She returned her gaze to the passing countryside.
“My only fear is that I’ll get absorbed in the story and forget to search for clues.”
“Then you’ll just have to read it again,” she said with a wisp of a smile.
At last. It wasn’t much of a smile, but it was a start.
For a long while they were silent. He had no idea why she cared what he thought of her novel. He wasn’t her usual sort of reader, and she’d seen other fellows read it . . . but their motives may not have been enjoyment . . .
No, that didn’t make sense, because someone had read The Lady’s Ruin for pleasure before realizing it endangered him or her somehow. Antoine, perhaps . . . if, that is, the Frenchmen were to blame for the threat. So far, Julian had seen nothing alarming in the novel. There were French smugglers, true, but also English, Irish, and Dutch, even a stray Italian.
“Do any of the local smugglers read your books?”
“Most of them are illiterate,” she said. “But no, not that I’m aware amongst those who can read. I haven’t revealed any of their tricks and secrets, if that’s what you’re insinuating. There’s nothing in my stories with which the revenuers aren’t already familiar. If the smugglers I write about were real, they would all have been caught by now.” She paused. “And besides that, the locals don’t know it was I who wrote those books.”
“Perhaps someone learned by happenstance,” he said. “Perhaps someone thought to steal something from your room and found your work in progress.”
“No.” She crossed her arms firmly against this notion. “Anyone who would steal from me at the inn, not that I can think of anyone, would most likely be an illiterate.”
“Do any of the smugglers in the novels resemble men you know personally?”
“Only superficially, except for Reggie, and his ghost isn’t coming back to kill me. There must be hundreds of dark-haired smugglers.”
“True, but not many of them are educated.”
“The leaders often are. Mr. Bennett used to run a whole gang of them. One of my brother’s boyhood friends is a smuggler, too, but neither he nor Mr. Bennett would harm me. Not only that, most of the smugglers I write about are portrayed as decent people, scrabbling to make a living however they can, and the hero is more of a privateer, an entirely legal profession.”
Julian turned the first volume of The Lady’s Ruin over and over in his hand, wondering how much to tell Lord Garrison. He had no qualms about his lordship’s loyalty to England, but Julian’s work for the Home Office must remain a secret. Not only that, if his lordship and the marquis were friends, he didn’t wish to destroy that rapport if the Frenchman proved to be innocent.
“You know Lord Garrison better than I do,” he said. “We shall have to tell him about your novels and the death threat, so he can have his people watch for strangers. Should we tell him the truth about our engagement, too?”
“Definitely not,” Daisy said without hesitation. “He won’t approve. He has a particular dislike of deception.”
“Even if he is privy to it?”
She shook her head. “He may even refuse to go along with it. I think the news that I write novels will be difficult enough for him to swallow.”
“I shall tell him that I heartily approve.”
She gave him a withering look. “You needn’t take pretense quite that far.”
“It’s not pretense. You have great storytelling talent. What a shame if you were to waste it.”
Her expression lightened to mere suspicion. “I’m not sure I believe you, but you are correct. I feel obliged to write. I cannot bear not to.”
“Then you must continue to do so. Are you working on a new novel now?”
“Of course,” she said with a scornful hint of a smile.
He is a kindhearted man, Daisy thought. He’d given her compliments that, even if not meant wholeheartedly, definitely made her feel better.
He might not be so kind if he learned he was the model for the hero of the new book. Well, it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t recognize himself. There were plenty of tall, good-looking, fair-haired men in England, and Sir Julian had entirely the wrong sort of personality for a spy.
All too soon they drew up before the front door of Garrison House. The nausea which had gradually subsided during the drive made itself known once again.
Sir Julian took her hand in his. She flinched, uneasy at the warmth of his touch. It aroused a disturbing mixture of emotions—anxiety, longing, desire . . .
“Yes, it will be a bit of an ordeal, but you’re not alone. We’re going over this particular hurdle together.” He squeezed her hand gently.
How did he know? He actually seemed to understand.
That’s ridiculous, she told herself. It was just superficial sympathy, not true understanding, and she shouldn’t like it.
&
nbsp; But she did enjoy the simple comfort of being touched. She didn’t get much of it lately, with Colin and his family away in Ireland.
“Think of it as a story,” he said. “We’re madly in love and ecstatic about our upcoming marriage. We don’t give a tinker’s damn what your family or mine think about it, but we anticipate that Lord Garrison will be supportive, as will his wife. I knew Melinda Garrison in London, before her marriage. She’s a pleasant lady.”
Daisy imagined being in love and shuddered, removing her hand from his. A story and real life were entirely different. “The one and only time I fell in love, my life was ruined.” Curse it, she wished she hadn’t said that. It revealed too much. “Ecstasy is a bit beyond me, I’m afraid.”
“Contentment will do. I’ll be the ecstatic one.”
That she could manage. She liked Sir Julian and could be content in his company, as long as she didn’t allow herself to lust after him. As long as marriage wasn’t actually involved.
A footman came out to open the carriage door and let down the steps. Daisy didn’t recognize him. No surprise, as she hadn’t visited Garrison House in years. Then Reams the butler appeared in the doorway. His jaw dropped as she descended from the coach. Good to know she hadn’t changed too much to be recognizable.
She steeled herself, laid her arm firmly on Sir Julian’s, and trod firmly up the steps.
“Miss . . . Miss Daisy!” Reams didn’t bother to hide his perturbation.
“A pleasure to see you, too, Reams,” she snapped. “Sir Julian Kerr and I are here to see Lord Garrison.” She marched through the door before he could block their way.
“His lordship is not at home, miss,” Reams said.
Daisy narrowed her eyes, ready for battle. She would not allow a mere servant to deny her entrance to the family seat.
“When will he return?” Sir Julian asked mildly.
The butler turned to him with evident relief. “This evening, sir. His lordship is visiting tenants on the far side of the estate.”
“Very well,” Julian said in a calm, pleasant, authoritative voice. “We’ll see Lady Garrison now, and meet his lordship when he returns.”
“Er . . .” the butler dithered.
“You’re not going to tell me she’s away from home too, are you?” Daisy demanded, and immediately regretted her tone of voice. She shouldn’t take her fury out on poor Reams.
“No, she’s here, Miss Daisy, but I fear that—”
“Capital!” Julian said, the picture of a hearty, confident English gentleman. “I look forward to renewing my acquaintance with her.”
“Who is it, Reams?” A pretty redhead tripped into the Great Hall. “Heavens, if it’s not Sir Julian Kerr!” She held out her hand to him. “What a charming surprise. It’s been ages. And . . .” She smiled at Daisy.
“Miss Desdemona Warren,” Julian said. “My betrothed.”
“Desdemona . . .” Lady Garrison repeated, frowning now. “You’re Daisy? Of whom I’ve heard so much!”
Daisy tightened her grip on Julian’s arm and said coolly, “Yes, I imagine you’ve heard a great deal.”
Lady Garrison blushed. “Oh dear, that probably sounded like an insult, but it wasn’t meant that way. I’m so pleased to meet you at last. And you’re to marry Sir Julian! I couldn’t be happier for you. Come join us, we’re about to have tea.” She beckoned them to follow her.
Reams coughed. “Er, my lady, I don’t think—”
“Whatever is the matter, Reams?” her ladyship asked. “His lordship will be delighted, I assure you.”
“Aye, my lady, but—” His gaze darted to the room from which she had just emerged.
Lady Garrison’s brows drew together. “Yes, I daresay, but regardless of the opinions of others, I shall begin as I intend to go on. Assume that there will be two more for tea.”
She motioned to Daisy and Julian to follow her into the drawing room. “I have the most stupendous news,” she proclaimed. “Our dear cousin Daisy and my old friend Sir Julian Kerr are betrothed.”
Chapter 6
“Impossible!” an imperious female voice cried. “I know of Sir Julian. His family is eminently respectable. He would never stoop to marry a scandalous woman.”
Julian strolled into the drawing room with Daisy clinging stiffly to his arm. There were three ladies in the room, all of whom rose in a hurry.
“It must be an imposter,” the same woman was saying. He had no trouble recognizing his accuser, the same auburn-haired lady he’d seen at a few meetings of a London philosophical society. A stricken look widened her eyes, and she covered her mouth with her hands. The other two, clearly a mother and daughter, bounced embarrassed glances about the room—at him, at Daisy, at each other, at their hostess, at Daisy again.
Daisy’s hand trembled on his arm. “The one who spoke is Gloriana,” she said unnecessarily.
Gloriana took a deep breath, visibly composing herself. She pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes, and glowered down her nose at them.
“I assure you, ma’am, that I am indeed Julian Kerr,” he drawled.
“Yes, of course he is,” Lady Garrison said. “I’ve known him for years.”
Gloriana unpursed her lips long enough to say, “You should be ashamed of yourself, sir.”
“And you, Miss Warren, should properly acquaint yourself with the circumstances before passing judgment,” Julian retorted.
Gloriana’s eyes flashed. “I am well aware of the circumstances. Daisy does not deserve to be rescued, and so you will learn to your everlasting regret.”
Daisy’s fingers dug into his sleeve. “He didn’t rescue me.”
“On the contrary, she rescued me from the tedious life of a bachelor,” Julian said.
“You fell in love with one another, and it’s wonderful,” Melinda Garrison interposed. “Love always is.” With commendable aplomb, she proceeded to introduce the other two ladies as the wife and daughter of the local squire. Mrs. Henderson curtsied stiffly and gazed at a spot past Julian’s shoulder, while Miss Henderson tried unsuccessfully not to stare at Daisy.
Julian had the feeling Daisy would remain stock still if he didn’t prompt her, so he guided her to a sofa with a hand at the small of her back. She was quivering. He sat next to her and took her hand. She flinched, as she’d done earlier in the coach. Did she have an aversion to touch? He hesitated, unsure whether to let go, but didn’t. Gradually the quivering subsided.
Good.
“It’s so delightfully romantic,” Melinda said with a brilliant smile, “that my dear cousin and one of my oldest friends are to marry.”
“Romantic indeed,” Julian said, smiling gratefully in return. He’d liked Melinda very much when she was Miss Starling and a popular young lady on the marriage market. She came from a starched-up family ruled by an old harridan of a dowager, but she’d always been friendly and kindhearted. Marriage didn’t seem to have changed her. “I’m ecstatic that I’ve finally found a woman I adore.”
Daisy withdrew her hand from his. A mulish crease appeared between her brows. If she would only remain calm and quiet, he would take care of everything.
“Tell us all about it,” Melinda said. “How did you meet?”
“Entirely by chance.” Best to say as little as possible. “At an inn.”
“The Diving Duck,” Daisy said, a belligerent note in her voice. She cast a scornful glance at Gloriana. “I live there.”
Damn the woman. Why must she stir things up?
“You reside at an inn, Miss Warren?” Mrs. Henderson demanded.
“I do indeed. It’s more of a tavern, actually, frequented by smugglers.”
Oh, hell.
Gloriana paled, Mrs. Henderson reddened, and her daughter’s mouth popped open.
Daisy had warned that she might not be meek and submissive, but this was deliberate provocation. Julian controlled his annoyance and eyed Daisy, who frowned meaningfully back. Did she think she was paving his way to escape the marital net?
Impossible woman, undermining the plan when they’d scarcely begun. He smiled at her—adoringly, he hoped—and summoned the air of a rapturous lover. “I was visiting a scholarly friend, Mr. Bennett, who took me to the Diving Duck for a tankard or two of their excellent ale.” He clapped a hand to his breast. “One look at Daisy, and I was lost!”
Miss Henderson giggled. Her mother’s flush had faded, but Gloriana looked as if she might throw up.
“How charming. Love at first sight.” Melinda heaved a sigh. “I always hoped that would happen to me, but I didn’t fall in love with Lord Garrison until after I married him. I loved his voice the first time I heard it, though.” She smiled at Daisy again. “And you, Daisy? Did you swoon over Sir Julian at first glance?”
“No!” Daisy made a face. “I scowled at him, for he was staring at me in the most odious fashion.”
“How was she to know it was love?” Julian spread his hands. “I was far too astonished to behave in a civilized manner, and she quite rightly gave me the cold shoulder. But I am a persistent man.”
“How did he convince you to love him too, Daisy?” Melinda asked.
What a ghastly situation. Daisy hadn’t expected this prying sort of question, but Lady Garrison was so obviously trying to make the best of things that she bit back a sarcastic retort and tried to content herself with having horrified Gloriana.
It didn’t feel as satisfying as it should. Too late, she remembered the short, heart-wrenching correspondence with Gloriana that had followed her ruin. Gloriana’s scathing letter, blotched with tears, had made Daisy weep in turn, for two scandals in less than a year, first Miles’s and then Daisy’s, had seriously affected Gloriana’s marital prospects. But apologies were useless. Daisy had been far too proud to show she cared what Gloriana thought of her, so she’d waited until the tears dried before writing a short note telling her not to fear, for they would never meet again.
Love and the Shameless Lady (Scandalous Kisses Book 3) Page 10
