Page 26 of Love and the Shameless Lady

“But she went with him willingly. Lady Bilchester has taken a few lovers since her husband’s death, so the heroine’s wanton behavior makes people think The Lady’s Ruin is actually a dramatic version of Lady Bilchester’s past.”

“Which it isn’t,” he said.

“No, I’d never even heard of her until the day before yesterday, and I would never, ever write about a real person.”

“And how does this relate to The Lady’s Revenge?”

“It’s about the heroine’s daughter, Dianthus, who sets out to destroy the villain of The Lady’s Ruin. Unfortunately, her name is somewhat similar to Miss Bilchester’s Christian name, Diana. As far as I can tell, Lady Bilchester and her daughter feared that the heroine of The Lady’s Revenge would be as wanton as her mother, thus ruining Diana’s reputation.”

“Only a pack of fools would believe that.” He paused. “Which describes far too many of the haut ton.”

“But the story isn’t like that at all. Dianthus is as intrepid as her mother, but she is a virgin when she marries the hero. Granted, the names Dianthus and Diana are somewhat similar, but even if people are so stupid as to believe I’m writing about Diana, the book shows her to be a virtuous woman, so there is actually no harm done.”

“You suspect that Lady Bilchester or her daughter hoped to prevent publication,” Sir Julian said.

“Who else?”

“And learned your identity, sent a death threat, and then hired someone to kill you when the book came out after all? It’s hard to believe.”

“I know, but what else am I to think?”

“I can believe Lady Bilchester might dispatch her current lover to question your publisher. I can almost bring myself to imagine that, in a rash moment, she might send a death threat, but it’s highly unlikely. As for hiring a murderer? Impossible. She has no contact with such people, and I cannot imagine her or her current lover taking such a risk. She is simply not that sort of person.”

“You are acquainted with her?”

“Yes, very well.”

“But you can’t say for sure.”

Julian closed his eyes and longed for patience. Why couldn’t Daisy just believe him? Why couldn’t she be more fearful and compliant, like most women, and let him manage things?

“Do you have a better explanation?” she demanded.

Not one that he could give her. The image of the marquis engrossed in The Lady’s Ruin filled his mind. Coupled with the knowledge that Antoine was reading The Lady’s Revenge, and the suspicions the two had aroused, he couldn’t help but assume that something more sinister was at play. What it might be, he had no idea. There was no obvious connection between romantic novels and French spies. If he suggested this to Daisy, she would scoff, just as he had at her. In any event, secrecy about his occupation forbade it, and he couldn’t swear to Daisy’s innocence, either. In what way might she be involved? Popular as these novels were, they weren’t universal enough to be used as the key for a cipher, and that wouldn’t require reading the novel itself, as the marquis had done.

He remembered those sheets of paper written in a crude shorthand, one of which remained hidden in his pocket. He would have a good look at the first opportunity.

“There is no other explanation,” she said after a while. “Therefore I am correct, and the danger will soon be over. Lady Bilchester will read The Lady’s Revenge and realize that it in no way ruins her daughter. She will write recalling the murderer, and I shall be safe once more.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy to recall an assassin.”

She turned to him with knit brows. “Why not? Surely he doesn’t want to risk being hanged! He’s doing it because he needs the money.”

“Precisely, and if he’s recalled, he won’t get paid.”

“Oh,” she said. “And if he doesn’t get paid, he might get upset and revenge himself on Lady Bilchester. That’s what would happen in a novel.”

Assuming he even exists. Which he probably didn’t. At least, not an assassin hired by Lady Bilchester. However, if this train of thought would make Daisy more reasonable, Julian should encourage it. “Or he might go ahead and kill you and demand his payment regardless.” He paused. “One cannot even be sure he has left an address where one may contact him.”

“In one of my books, he would,” she said firmly.

“And the hero and heroine would live happily ever after. This isn’t a romance, Miss Warren.”

“You know nothing about romance!” she flashed. “I write about women who face adversity. Who take their lives into their own hands. Who do not give in to the dictates of society.”

“And the heroes? Do they play a genuine role, or are they merely puppets, invoked to satisfy the heroines’ carnal desires?”

Oh, hell. He shouldn’t have said that.