Page 25 of Love and the Shameless Lady

Could she trust him to keep his mouth shut? Maybe not, but the more people that knew her secret, the less it seemed to matter, especially since she might end up dead.

It didn’t occur to ask why he wanted her to bring the books until he’d gone. After a moment’s annoyance at being ordered about, she decided she had no reason not to comply. Hurriedly, she packed some clothing, the books, and the contents of her desk. Most of her better clothes were at Warren Hollow. She didn’t need them here.

She dressed and lugged her cases downstairs. Sally was waking the hungover revelers and sending them home so Alice could mop the coffee room floor.

“I’m going to my brother’s house for a few days,” Daisy said. “Sir Julian offered to escort me.”

“Aye, so he told me.” Sally’s brow creased. “You don’t usually want an escort. Summat amiss?”

“Not at all,” Daisy lied. “I’m needed at the Hollow to take care of some business, and I’d rather get it over with. I’ll be back soon to read the rest of The Lady’s Revenge.”

“We’ll be dyin’ for more.” Sally jabbed one of the smugglers in the ribs. “Rouse yourself, you great lummox. Get on home, or I’ll have Ned put your head under the pump.”

Daisy left her cases by the door and went into the kitchen. There was coffee in the pot from the night before. She warmed it over the fire and ate a rock bun and a slice of cheese.

Sir Julian wandered in as tidily dressed as ever. He had even found time to shave. “Do I smell coffee?”

“It’s last night’s.” She poured him a cup, all that was left, and offered him a rock bun. It was the strangest experience, almost as if they had now become friends. Or colleagues of some sort. She didn’t quite know how to behave.

She let him help her into the gig. How strange to be driving with a gentleman early on a summer’s morning, birds merry in the trees, a mist in the copses and hollows, the sky pale, and the breeze soft and sweet . . . as if she were young again and courted by an eligible man.

The moment they drove away, he asked, “Did you bring the books with you?”

So much for foolish imaginings of being courted, but they’d almost made her forget about murder. “Yes, but why did you ask me to?” she demanded.

“I might like to take a look at them.”

Not bloody likely, she thought crudely. “That’s not necessary.”

“I disagree. Who knows you wrote those books?”

“Almost no one,” she said. “Until recently, that is. My publisher, Mr. Doughty, and perhaps his assistant. He swore to keep it a secret, but he must have told someone else. I sent an irate letter demanding to know whom.”

“You have no idea who it might be?”

“Oh, yes.” She recalled her grievance against him. “You didn’t read quite all my correspondence, or you would know.”

“The letters from someone called Andrea? I glanced at a few, but they seemed to be gossip and nothing else. Not my idea of good reading material.”

“As pointless as romantic novels, I suppose.”

“Much worse, as gossip maligns real people,” he said.

“That’s why I carry on a correspondence with Andrea. The Beaumonts move in the best circles, and she sends me all the news.”

“Andrea Beaumont? She’s one of the most frightful gossips in London. How do you come to be her friend?”

“We went to school together. She’s very useful to me. She delights in writing to me about everything I’ve missed by ruining myself. It’s the only way I know of to make sure nothing I put in my novels will accidentally ruin someone else.”

He chuckled at that. “Which of her letters should I have read?”

“You shouldn’t have read any of them,” Daisy reminded him.

“True, but I felt I had no choice,” he said, and she couldn’t decide whether his expression was rueful, or whether she merely wished it were.

Odious man. “According to her latest letter, the events in The Lady’s Ruin reminded people of an old scandal in Lady Bilchester’s life. It was some twenty years ago, so I knew nothing about it. She was abducted by a smuggler. I don’t know whether the smuggler ravished her before setting her free, but if so it was hushed up, for she soon married Lord Bilchester. Everyone had forgotten about it until now. The heroine of the book is also abducted by a smuggler, but . . .”

Drat, she didn’t want to discuss this with Sir Julian, of all obnoxious people. Oh, to Hades with him. She refused to be embarrassed when discussing unladylike matters.