Page 73 of Love and the Shameless Lady

“I hesitate to raise the subject again, but are you quite sure you want to marry him?” Melinda asked. “He’ll drive you mad within a week.”

“Not only that, have you seriously considered the fact that you will have to bed him?” Daisy asked.

Gloriana turned strawberry red. “Daisy, how can you be so indelicate? I could have strangled you for mentioning that vestal virgin game.”

“I didn’t do it in front of the earl, so why should you care?” Daisy said. “Miles and Julian don’t matter, and you don’t give a hoot what the marquis thinks.”

“Insufferable man,” Gloriana muttered.

“It sounded to me like a fabulous game,” Melinda said. “I’ll bet Daisy invented some handsome Romans with whom you broke the rules.”

Daisy grinned. “They were many and varied. Gladiators, soldiers, senators, poets . . .”

“The poet was the worst,” Gloriana said. “He wanted to recite his poems rather than get on with despoiling us.” An almost wistful expression flickered across her face and was gone. “Enough nonsense. We were foolish children then.”

“Foolish children may become foolish adults,” Melinda said sternly. “You don’t love him. I bet you don’t even like him.”

Gloriana’s expression turned mulish.

“Intimacy with him will be bearable at best,” Melinda said.

Daisy had no problem believing that. Intimacy was horrid anyway, but would doubtless be far worse if one disliked the man.

“Then I will bear it,” Gloriana said. “It only takes once to produce a child. We need have no more than two. Boys, needless to say.”

Melinda stared. “Surely you’re not that innocent. Not only does it often take a while for a couple to conceive a child, which may or may not prove to be a son, but Lord Hythwick wants to marry you to satisfy his lust. I, for one, have noticed the eagerness with which he gazes upon you.”

“During the occasional pauses in his monologues about himself,” Daisy said.

Melinda snickered. “He will expect to bed you frequently. Bear that in mind when you make your decision.”

Gloriana’s mulish expression deepened. “I’ve already decided.”

“Not only that, if you wed a man you find physically repugnant, you will be deprived of a most enjoyable aspect of marriage. Sensual activity can be truly delightful, a means of expressing love between husband and wife.”

Sally had said much the same about her betrothed. Daisy had found it hard to believe then and still did, but she refrained from saying so. Well, maybe not all sensual activity was horrid. She liked kissing very much. And some kinds of touching . . .

“But if there is no love, no real attraction . . .” Melinda shook her head.

“It’s none of your business,” Gloriana snapped. “Leave me be.”

Melinda shrugged. “Very well. I did my best, and that will have to suffice.” She made a rueful face at Daisy. “I’m so glad you’re marrying a man you care for.”

I wish I were. Daisy managed to smile and picked up the embroidery Melinda had found for her. She set a few messy stitches, all the while going over Melinda’s words. Truly delightful, she’d said. A means of expressing love.

Sir Julian had said he loved her. Could she love him in return?

Stop it, she ordered herself. He doesn’t really love you. He’s merely being honorable, and that’s all there is to it.

Which meant she needn’t fret about marital intimacy. Ever.

Reams came in with the tea tray, followed by Antoine. While Melinda poured for the other ladies, the valet spread various samples of lace on the table, and draped silks over a couple of chairs. Even Gloriana allowed herself to show interest.

Then the gentlemen arrived. Hastily, she drew back and sipped her tea with a supercilious air. Antoine scowled. He was not as adept as most servants at concealing his emotions. Understandably so, as he was a son of the Revolution and believed himself equal or better than any aristocrat. Daisy rolled her eyes sympathetically, and Antoine winked in return.

Needless to say, the earl was prosing on as they entered. “Ah yes, such a loss,” he said with a windy sigh. “As a matter of fact, Garrison, your father and I bought items at the same auction, at the time of the revolution in France. The items were plundered from several chateaus and smuggled to England by a fellow of the name of Breton. A rough sort of man, stank to high heaven, but he delivered the goods. I bought that Greek figurine, and your father purchased . . . a silver reliquary, perhaps?”

“Not that I am aware.” Miles sounded bored.