Page 77 of Love and the Shameless Lady

Daisy sank onto the sofa. “I suppose that will do . . . but I hate the thought of any collector losing precious items because of me.” She paused. “Although I must say I thought the marquis was correct, not only about abolishing slavery, which is obviously necessary, but about not benefiting from the misfortunes of the French aristocrats. That’s despicable!”

“True,” he said, seating himself next to her. “It is.” He’d never thought of the marquis as a hypocrite, but he still wasn’t sure what he believed.

“There must be some way of alerting the authorities without involving me,” she said.

Julian preferred an alternate solution: stopping the thief.

“I knew nothing of the thief’s plans,” Daisy said, “so how could I have written about them in my book?”

“You might have overheard something.” Such as a conversation in the Diving Duck, which, because it hadn’t made any sense or seemed in any way important, she had forgotten.

“If I had overheard someone planning to break into people’s homes, I would remember!”

“One would think so,” he said, wanting to suggest that perhaps she’d half-understood something in French. A conversation between Philippe and his servant, perhaps. She might have remembered names and items but not how they were connected, although it did seem far-fetched . . .

“And even if I overheard something and have forgotten, and somehow wove it into my story, what is the likelihood that anyone will make a connection between my books and the thefts?”

“Or even realize that the thefts were connected,” he mused. “We wouldn’t have thought of it if someone hadn’t threatened you.”

“The thief should have left well enough alone.”

“Perhaps he panicked because of the popularity of your books. The Bow Street Runners aren’t likely to read them, but one of their wives just might, as might the wife of any one of the men whose items were stolen.” He added ruefully, “Not that anyone would be likely to listen if one of them proposed such a theory.”

“It was kind of you to speak up for women just now,” she said.

“That wasn’t kindness, it was outrage. I was almost roused to sympathy for Gloriana.” She wasn’t his problem, thank God. “We’ll speak to Lord Garrison in the morning.” In the meantime, he intended to have an extremely serious conversation with Philippe de Bellechasse. After that, he could get on with winning Daisy.

She smiled at him, and his heart turned over.

“Oh, my love,” he said, standing. “You mustn’t smile at me like that.”

She stood as well. “It’s just that I’m so, so pleased and relieved, and—”

“And intoxicatingly beautiful because of it.” He bent and kissed her, purposely not trying to pull her close. She pressed her hands to his chest, but kissed him back. Arousal took hold, but this wasn’t the time or the place or even the right moment. Even if he could get his mind off the perfidy of the marquis . . . “Don’t be too relieved yet. Until we can identify and stop the thief, you are still in danger.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t feel as if I’m in danger. I feel . . . exhilarated.” She kissed him again, and for a few sweet moments, he gave in to the drunkenness of passion. She broke the kiss, panting. “And, oh, a little bit afraid, but not because of that.” She blushed in the candlelight, and her bosom rose and fell.

“Tell me why you’re afraid,” he said.

Idiot, Daisy berated herself. Why had she mentioned her fear? For a few precious moments there, she hadn’t been afraid. How must it feel to look forward to passion with anticipation, and no fear?

“Confide in me,” he said. “You’ll feel much better when it’s over with.”

Not likely.

“Maybe I can think of some embarrassing moments to confess to you.” He knit his brows. “I have it. Since we’re discussing sexual matters, let’s see . . . Hmm. My father caught me pleasuring myself when I was only fourteen years old.”

She felt her cheeks heat.

“I’m supposed to be the one blushing, not you,” he said. “In fact, considering that your heroines obviously do the same to themselves, although you manage to couch their activities in euphemisms that can be interpreted otherwise, I wonder why you blush at all.”

Oh, God. She buried her face in his chest.

“Let’s see now, what else is there? The scullery maid mortified me by saying I needed to practice kissing . . . on someone else.”

Daisy choked on a giggle. Oh, God, what am I going to do? “I assume you found someone to practice on.”

“And I assume that means you enjoy my kisses.” He took her in his arms.