Page 58 of Love and the Shameless Lady

Chapter 9

Daisy fled into her bedchamber and shut the door. Her heart drummed and danced in her breast. Stupid heart! It should not be dancing. Fear tangled with desire, and she willed the fear to win. She could not afford to be swept away again. The inevitable disappointment would kill her.

No, that was a pitiful way of thinking. She wasn’t so weak as to fall to pieces because of a man. She summoned the strength built of anger which she’d counted on over the past several years. It had served her well, had bolstered her in loneliness and given her courage to live amongst the common people. To enjoy living amongst them, except for the one drawback—that she couldn’t marry and have children. She wasn’t suited to be the wife of a common man, and no one of her own class wanted her.

Such a sweet, tender, gentle kiss, and yet it made every fiber of her being stand to attention.

What was it about desire that took hold of one’s mind and body both? She knew better than to believe its beguilements. She wrenched her mind back to her habitual anger, but she was too tired . . .

But not too tired to imagine more tender kisses, then bolder kisses and caresses. Her eyelids drooped with sleepiness as she removed her gown, but her nipples hardened eagerly. Her body was limp with fatigue, and yet her core ached with longing.

For what? More degradation and misery. She must be out of her mind. Tomorrow she would not be tired. She would be strong and fierce. She would avoid Sir Julian as much as humanly possible.

She slipped her nightdress over her head, climbed into bed, blew out the candle, and willed herself to sleep.

By morning, commonsense had reasserted itself. That kiss, she realized, had taken place because Sir Julian had heard Miles and Melinda coming. He’d done it on purpose to lend veracity to their charade. He didn’t really have tender feelings for her, but nor was he a ravenous seducer. It was just a kiss for effect.

A pity it had had such a powerful effect on her, but Julian couldn’t have known. Now that she was rested, she could shrug those feelings away.

It wasn’t until she was seated at the dressing table that she noticed a book sitting innocently beneath her brush and comb. Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded, a truly ridiculous story, but Daisy recognized the dog-eared pages and a tear in the spine. It was the very volume she and Gloriana had used to pass secret messages, years and years ago.

She opened the book, her heart beating hopefully, and slipped her finger into the spine. Sure enough, a small folded piece of foolscap awaited her.

I’m sorry I was hateful, but I had no choice. Please, please agree to speak with me privately when I come to Garrison House tomorrow. Your ever-loving cousin, G.

Daisy sat back, taking it in. Gloriana must have sneaked into her bedchamber the previous evening and left the book for her to find. Relief filled her, but she did her best to tamp it down. This message did not automatically restore their friendship. Why would Gloriana have no choice but to be hateful? Because of her hopes of marrying Lord Hythwick?

That seemed likely, but Daisy was not inclined to forgive both unkindness and hypocrisy.

She considered consulting Julian, but decided to wait. She was supposed to be distancing herself from him, not asking his advice. At breakfast, she avoided anything but the merest pleasantries with him, and asked Melinda again about watching the cook make rock buns.

This resulted in a delightful morning in the kitchen. Mrs. Wallace was a placid woman who welcomed Daisy into her domain. When Daisy promised to give her credit for the recipe in the cookery book, she blushed and demurred, but with a delighted smile. What with discussing everything from the consistency of the butter to the degree of moisture in the flour and mixing and baking the cakes, the morning passed quickly.

Julian wandered in after a few hours. She could have done without his disturbing presence, but he was cheerful and friendly, with no amorous gleam in his eye.

“So this is where you are. I’m ready to borrow another book.”

Right. There was no amorous gleam because he didn’t feel amorous. “I’ll get it as soon as I’m finished with this dough.”

“I can do that, Miss Daisy,” Mrs. Wallace said. “You needn’t stay here if your good gentleman needs you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of interrupting Miss Daisy while she’s baking,” Julian said. “It’s a form of art, Mrs. Wallace, as I’m sure you understand.”

Mrs. Wallace laughed, served him coffee, and made much of him, which made it easier for Daisy to ignore him.

Heavens, he understood about cookery. He didn’t object to a lady’s soiling her fingers with work. Of course, he wouldn’t feel the same about his wife.

Oh, God, why must her unruly thoughts run this way?

She had just removed the pan from the oven—the rock buns looked superb—when a footman came into the kitchen. “Miss Gloriana wishes a word with you, Miss Daisy, if you would be so kind. In the small drawing room.”

Daisy sighed. She’d been enjoying herself.

“I’ll take care of the rest, Miss Daisy,” Mrs. Wallace said.

“Shall I come with you?” Julian asked.

“No,” Daisy said, adding belatedly, “Thank you, but I’m sure she wants to speak with me alone.”