Page 34 of Love and the Shameless Lady

She choked on a laugh. “No, of course not!”

“That’s better,” he said, grinning at her. “Cheer up. You’ll do fine at Lord Garrison’s. You have plenty of guts, and you have me and my staid reputation on your side.”

He must think she was nervous about going to Miles’s house, which she probably was, since she’d never become used to being treated like excrement. But that was nothing to the agony of watching him read her book.

Daisy shook herself. She was used to showing a brave front. She couldn’t let herself down now. “My guts and your reputation. A winning combination, you think?”

“Definitely, but we’d better get our story straight. How did we meet and fall desperately in love?”

“It will have to be good,” she said. “It’s absurd to think of you marrying me.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“It’s not a lie. Stop undervaluing yourself. Any man worth his salt would be privileged to marry you.”

More and more ridiculous. “I suppose you think you’re making sense, but you’re not.”

He took a deep breath. “Very well, look at it this way. Much of The Lady’s Ruin seems absurd, but it makes sense once one is immersed in it.”

“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.