Page 16 of Love and the Shameless Lady

He couldn’t have heard that correctly. “I beg your pardon?” After a pause, he said, “Why would someone want to kill you?”

Her bosom heaved. Her dark hair flew about face. She looked wild, beautiful, and understandably distressed. Visibly, she took hold of herself. “Did I say that?” Her voice shook. “That was shock speaking. It’s not what I meant. I meant that shot almost killed me.”

That made sense, more or less. She had every reason to be overset and yet, what a strange thing to say.

“It must have been a poacher,” she said doubtfully.

“A very stupid poacher, but you may be right.” Julian said. “I don’t think it was an attempt at robbery.”

“The only highwayman hereabouts knows me,” said Daisy. “He wouldn’t harm me.”

“Who owns the land here? We should let his gamekeeper know.”

“Mr. Linden. You can call on him if you like. They won’t open the door to me.”

“Then to hell with them,” he said.

“Oh, Mr. Linden isn’t so bad, but he lives under the cat’s paw.” She blinked at the hat. “It’s lucky I’d leaned down to put it on again. It wasn’t quite on my head, but I suppose he didn’t realize that.”

“You think the shooter was aiming at you?”

“What? No, no of course not.” Absently, she pushed her hair back. “Why would a poacher shoot at me?”

“Why indeed?”

“Maybe he mistook my hat for a grouse.” Which was ridiculous, but he wasn’t about to question it.

“He ruined my perfectly good bonnet,” she grumped.

“Perhaps Sally could mend it for you.”

“I can mend it myself, thank you very much. She’s not my maid.” She took a deep breath and said in a tone of dismissal, “The driveway to Mr. Linden’s estate is about half a mile behind us. You’ll recognize it by the wrought-iron gates.”

He wasn’t sure whether or not she truly felt endangered, but he didn’t intend to leave her on her own. “That can wait. I’m expected back at Mr. Bennett’s, so I’ll accompany you home.”

Did she sigh a little with relief? Who, damn it, would want to kill her? Mrs. Linden, who doubtless knew her husband didn’t dislike Daisy? Someone more sinister? Julian was on the lookout for spies, so his mind naturally moved in that direction.

Or maybe no one wanted to kill her, and she was just the hysterical sort.

He didn’t quite believe that either.

She crammed the bonnet willy-nilly over her hair, tied the ribbons, and headed her stallion toward the Diving Duck. “Were you also out for exercise, Sir Julian, or did you have business to attend to?”

“An urgent letter regarding my estate. I rode into Preston to put it on the mail coach.” This was untrue. He’d certainly intended to write to the Home Office, via an innocuous address, for all available information about the Marquis de Bellechasse, but he’d been unable to bring himself to do so. The marquis would be forever under suspicion if formal inquiries were initiated, and Julian wouldn’t risk doing that to a friend. Instead, he would wait and see.

“Where is your estate?” she asked.

Not that Daisy cared a button about Sir Julian’s estate, but she needed to carry on a meaningless conversation with the man. She had to stop her imagination from running wild.

Which was ironic, because usually she wanted to leave her imagination free to race wherever it led. How else was she to write exciting stories?

“In Somerset,” he said, “on the coast, but not terribly far from Bath. That’s where I first became interested in Roman ruins.”

What had just happened wasn’t a story, but she could make use of the experience of almost being shot and controlling a runaway horse. She’d had to control Snappish before, but never in such circumstances.

Sir Julian was speaking again in a gentle voice that made it clear he thought her a hysterical female in need of soothing, and small blame to him, after she’d blurted that someone wanted to kill her. She wasn’t hysterical, but still she appreciated his escort.

“You really must try it sometime, Miss Warren. It’s quite different from a lake or river.”