Page 72 of Love and the Shameless Lady

“Then you should certainly keep it locked away,” Julian said.

“You’re right, I should, but I’ll miss it greatly when I leave, so I want to keep it at the Dower House as long as possible.”

“At least we needn’t worry that the mosaic will be stolen.” Daisy turned to Julian. “There’s a Roman mosaic under the summerhouse. A garden designer, one of Capability Brown’s imitators, would have dug up that whole area to improve the prospect, and the mosaic would have been destroyed. Grandpapa used to tell us how he prevented the man just in time. Would you like to see it?”

“I should love to,” he said, reveling even more in the eager interest on her face than in the prospect of a Roman mosaic.

“We’ll go there tomorrow.” Daisy gave a reminiscent grin. “Gloriana and I used to play there. We pretended we were vestal virgins being starved to death for, er, disobeying the rules.”

Everyone laughed except Gloriana, who scowled and raised an admonitory finger. “Hush! Here he comes.”

Sure enough, self-important footsteps sounded in the Great Hall. No doubt Lord Hythwick habitually ensured that lesser beings noticed his approach.

“We shan’t mention your family background unless absolutely necessary,” Gloriana told Daisy. “It will be best if you remain quiet and prim.”

Julian let out a crack of laughter, and across the room, the marquis grinned.

“I’ll try,” Daisy said.

In the event, Daisy felt she’d succeeded rather well. In part, this was due to the earl’s willingness to talk about himself.

And in part, because she’d been thrown into utter confusion by Julian’s offer of marriage.

It seemed a particularly cruel twist of fate. She’d managed to accept her status of persona non grata because although it meant exile from her own class, it also meant she needn’t risk the humiliation of bedding a man ever, ever again.

Marrying Julian would restore to her a degree of respectability. The highest sticklers might shun her, but some also shunned Miles, even since his marriage to a woman from a highly respectable family. She would return to the environment in which she’d grown up. No more serving ale and singing obscene ballads, but she would be able to cook and bake as she chose in her own household.

He sat next to her at dinner, combatting her common sense with his charming smiles, his warm glances, and the occasional touch. Something about his hands—their powerful, square-tipped fingers, their latent strength—stirred her desires. He smelled good, too, an elusive, masculine aroma that lured and enticed. Marry him, urged a voice inside her, a drugged, dreamy, stupid sort of voice.

If she married Sir Julian, she would have to bed him. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but worse than that, he would find her boring.

But by then, he would be stuck with her, and she would be stuck with him, and . . .

It was a fortunate thing, she reminded herself again, that she couldn’t possibly say yes.

But what if her yearning got the better of her? What if, in a moment of madness, she succumbed?

She must think of a way to get rid of him once and for all. Unfortunately, every solution that came to mind involved behaving outrageously, which would ruin Gloriana’s plans, not to mention angering Miles and Melinda.

Oh, and there was the other little matter—that someone wanted to kill her.

The meal finally came to an end, and the ladies retired to the drawing room.

“Gloriana dear, you really must see the exquisite lace that the marquis’s valet brought with him,” Melinda said. “Smuggled, of course, but that means the price is reasonable.”

Gloriana sniffed. “Monsieur de Bellechasse should not permit his valet to trade in lace.”

“Why not? Antoine seeks to better himself through trade. He has excellent taste. Even the starchiest ladies buy from him.”

“He is a servant. A servant’s purpose is to serve his master.”

“I believe the marquis encourages Antoine in his enterprise,” Daisy said.

“What else can one expect of a man with such plebian views? By the way, you did very well at dinner,” Gloriana said, her patronizing tone reminiscent of the earl’s. “You scarcely spoke a word.”

“It wasn’t difficult,” Daisy said. “Your earl jabbered enough for all of us.”

Gloriana opened her mouth to retort, then closed it again.