Page 33 of Love and the Shameless Lady

“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.”