Page 47 of Love and the Shameless Lady

It didn’t matter. Lady Garrison had just given her an opening of which she should take advantage. “A friend of mine in London writes to me regularly about the follies of society. In fact, I received a letter the other day. That book we were discussing earlier, The Lady’s Revenge . . .?”

“What about it? Rebecca, don’t pull the ribbon out of your hair.”

“It has a stain,” the girl said. “Miss Jenks said a dirty child is a child of the devil. I must never be dirty.”

“Miss Jenks told you a great many lies. Everyone gets dirty from time to time. However, I agree that you shouldn’t wear a stained ribbon. Go up to the nursery and ask Mrs. Rawley to brush your hair and tie it up with a clean one. Off you go, but be very, very quiet so as not to wake the baby.”

The little girl ran off, the terrier in her wake, and Lady Garrison closed the door. “It’s well over a year since Miles got rid of that horrid Miss Jenks, but the stupid notions she planted in Rebecca’s mind still linger. And now what must Gloriana do but add to the confusion!”

Daisy didn’t want to talk about Gloriana. “Shall I see the baby soon?”

“Anytime you like. He stays in the nursery during the day, but at night he sleeps in my bedchamber, so I can nurse him without inconvenience to either myself or the maid.”

A faint anxiety pricked at Daisy, a thought as yet unformed.

“Now that Rebecca’s gone, we can speak freely,” Lady Garrison said. “As she would put it, ‘grownup talk’.”

Oh, drat. What secrets would Lady Garrison try to pry out now? Just because she was warmhearted, it didn’t mean one should confide in her.

“Don’t let Gloriana’s behavior upset you, by the way. I never do.”

“I shan’t,” Daisy said. “I don’t care what she thinks of me.” This wasn’t entirely true, but it was the Gloriana of years before whose opinion she valued, not the present-day one. She stopped brushing and faced her hostess. “Once again, Lady Garrison, please accept my apologies for my own impolite behavior. I should have controlled myself rather than drive your guests away, and I shall endeavor to hold my tongue in future.”

“Thank you, but you needn’t bother when it comes to Gloriana. I expect Miles will require civility whilst she is in Garrison House, but one cannot be certain how she will respond.”

“She wasn’t as obsessed with propriety when we were children,” Daisy said. “She was proud of our lineage, but mischievous and fun and . . .” She stopped just in time to avoid choking up. She took a deep breath which she hoped Melinda would take for a sigh. “Then came Miles’s scandal just before her first season. She wrote to me, saying that we Warren women were obliged to prove the nobility of the family, since our menfolk couldn’t be counted upon to do so. Then that horrid smuggler turned my head, and I proved to be a sad disappointment.”

“Gloriana should address her own character flaws,” Melinda said irritably. “Miles is a wonderful man, and so is Colin.”

Daisy agreed, but if she said so, her voice would wobble. She couldn’t afford wobbles or trembles or anything of the sort. “I’m glad you’re so happy with Miles,” she managed. “And Colin’s wife, Bridget, is perfect for him.”

“I’m sure Sir Julian will be perfect for you, too,” her ladyship said.

Daisy had no answer for that. If she were genuinely engaged to him, if she really intended to marry him . . . How stupid to even consider such an outcome! It was impossible in too many ways.

“He’ll probably be fun in bed,” Lady Garrison said. “But perhaps you already know that.”

Daisy felt the color wash into her face and away again. Red from embarrassment and yes, because she desired Sir Julian. That dream had definitely confirmed it. White because the notion of succumbing to such desire made her ill. As for marriage . . . No. Never.

“Not because he’s good-looking,” her ladyship went on blithely. “I don’t think appearance has much to do with it, although naturally one wishes to find one’s spouse attractive. Love is what truly counts, and clearly he loves you, but apart from that, he’s a kind, gentle sort of man.”

Daisy nodded. Were gentleness and kindness what one hoped for in bed sport? Reggie had been neither of those, but kindness didn’t hold much appeal, for it would imply pity, which she loathed. As for gentleness, it wouldn’t make up for her own inadequacy. She was boring in bed, and that was that.

Personal matters aside, though, this conversation had spawned interesting thoughts to put into the minds of her characters. She should see it as useful rather than dispiriting.

“Are you happy with this bedchamber?” Lady Garrison asked. “There’s a very pretty view of the gardens.”

“Yes, thank you so much,” Daisy said. “As a child, I always loved the Rose Room, and it’s most kind of you to put me in the family corridor.” Again, anxiety pricked at her . . . but why? She didn’t feel she deserved to be included, but that wasn’t it.

There was a silence, whilst she twisted her hair into a knot and pinned it out of the way, then began to undo the buttons at the bodice of her riding habit. Perhaps she could encourage Lady Garrison to leave before the conversation became even more disconcerting, for her ladyship seemed a complete stranger to embarrassment. “I must change for dinner, Lady Garrison. May I ring for a maid to help?”

“Please do call me Melinda. Shall I help you? Why bother with a maid when we’re having such a comfortable chat?” Without waiting for an answer, she helped Daisy off with her gown.

Comfortable? No, but Melinda seemed determined to stay, and Daisy couldn’t afford to offend her. Didn’t want to, either. Melinda exuded such goodwill . . .

Drat. She was in danger of becoming maudlin yet again. Very well then, back to business. “As I was saying earlier, about The Lady’s Revenge.”

“Ah, yes. Fabulous story.”