Page 7 of Love and the Shameless Lady

Chapter 2

From behind the stable door, Sir Julian Kerr watched.

Daisy Warren read the letter she’d just opened and gave a little gasp. The paper fluttered to the ground. She went utterly white, and swayed.

Julian leapt into the yard and put out his hands to catch her, but she didn’t fall.

“Are you unwell, Miss Warren?” He bent to retrieve the letter.

She squeaked and snatched it from him. “I’m—I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” She wasn’t. Her voice trembled, and so did her hand as she clutched the letter to her breast.

“I beg your pardon, but you seem unwell.” He wished he’d had a chance to glance at the contents of the letter. It was none of his business, but he couldn’t ignore her chalk-white face and wide, frightened eyes. “Perhaps you should sit. Give yourself time to recover from the shock.”

She gaped at him, eyes even wider. “Wh-What shock?”

“The bad news, I assume. In that letter.”

She hugged it closer to her breast. “I received no bad news.”

Not a convincing lie. “I’m relieved to hear that. Nevertheless, you seem unwell. Allow me to help you to that bench by the stable wall.”

“Thank you, but no.” Her voice still quivered. “I’m perfectly all right.” She took another deep breath, struggling to calm herself.

“I’ll escort you home, as I’m headed that way.”

She glared, more herself now. It was almost a relief to see that familiar scowl. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary.”

“I would consider it a privilege, Miss Warren.”

“I’m not going home just yet. I must go to the bakery.”

This wasn’t true. She’d just called for her horse, and the only nearby bakery was quite a way down the street, past the bank from which she’d emerged and not on the way home. She would have gone there first, before coming to the stable, if she’d really intended it.

She stuffed the letter into her reticule. Her hands no longer shook, much. “Good day, Sir Julian.” She set off toward the bakery.

“I’ll accompany you,” Julian insisted, matching her firm stride step for step.

She hesitated, then suddenly gave in. “Oh, very well. If you must.”

Thank God for that. He’d been watching her for some time now. Foolish of him, but he quite simply enjoyed looking at her. He’d first noticed her from across the street as she walked from a milliner’s shop to the receiving office. He wasn’t entirely comfortable about a gentlewoman walking alone, but she’d seemed confident enough, going directly from receiving office to bank to stable, although once or twice she hesitated and glanced about her, making him wonder if she’d noticed him.

Evidently not. She would certainly have accused him outright.

He offered her his arm. She eyed it for a long moment and then, wonder of wonders, she laid her hand delicately upon it.

A hint of nostalgia wafted over Daisy. She hadn’t strolled with a gentleman for . . . how long? About six years.

Since she was such a pariah, Sir Julian must have an ulterior motive.

Which would get him absolutely nowhere, but he was strong and male and relatively safe. She would far rather be accosted by a lecherous man than dead.

Oh, Lord! She’d received a death threat. So absurd as to be unbelievable, and yet there it was in ink on paper. So incredible that she wanted to read it again, over and over, trying to make it mean something else. Why would anyone threaten her? It made no sense at all.

She hoped Sir Julian hadn’t seen those words as he picked the letter up. She thought not. He’d merely assumed it was bad news. A shock.

Indeed.

He was saying something. She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to listen. Who would want to kill her because of a silly book?