Page 81 of Love and the Shameless Lady

Then hesitated.

Daisy was fine. He had no reason whatsoever to check on her. She was a grown woman with a gun and a knife, and she knew enough to lock her door.

Oh, hell. She’d been in a defiant mood. He had to at least check the door, very, very quietly, so as not to waken her. He tiptoed down the hall and pushed on the door.

It swung open. Fool woman—

A dark shape hurled itself at him. A knife flashed. Instinctively he struck out, sending the blade skittering. He rolled away. His candle clattered to the floor and went out. Julian launched himself at the intruder, knocking him to the floor of the passageway, gripping him with one hand whilst groping for the knife.

Fear arced through him. Had the man already killed Daisy?

That moment’s inattention was enough. The intruder wrenched himself from Julian’s grasp and fled for the stairs. Julian let him go and returned to Daisy’s room, sick with fear.

“Daisy?” Nothing. He groped his way to the bed, felt about, but she wasn’t there. Not dead. Thank God, not dead.

“What the devil is going on?”

Miles Garrison stood in the doorway in his nightshirt, a candle in his hand.

“Give me that.” Julian snatched the candle and held it up, searching the room, even under the bed. She wasn’t there. “Thank God.” He let out a breath. “There was an intruder in her chamber. He escaped me, but Daisy’s not here.”

“Then where is she?”

“I don’t know.” He found a candle on the mantel, lit it, and passed the other to Lord Garrison. He headed for the stairs. “But I’m going to find out.”

Daisy stood, gingerly putting her weight on her twisted ankle. Nothing but a twinge of pain and a lingering soreness, thank heavens.

It was nothing to the pain in her heart. What a frightfully trite thought that was. She’d written that phrase of her heroines, but now she knew what it really meant.

She gazed blindly into the darkness. She wasn’t really afraid. She’d been here before many times. You couldn’t pretend you were a vestal virgin being buried alive if a little darkness scared you.

But that Julian wasn’t what he seemed? That he was the one who wanted to kill her? That was true anguish.

She didn’t believe it. She couldn’t. She sat on the cold floor and thought about it, and realized that it might be true.

She must not shirk from the truth. With a sore heart and cold determination, she made a mental list.

He had shown interest in her from the day they had met. She’d read his intent gaze correctly right from the start. It did indeed indicate a working mind, not the prurient interest she’d come to believe. Definitely not a man struck with love almost at first sight, not that she’d ever believed that.

She remembered a feeling of being watched in Liverpool. What if he’d been watching her, to see her reaction to the threatening letter—that he had sent?

He’d been just down the road when someone had shot at her.

He’d been awake when someone tried to get into her room at the inn. He’d been in the Diving Duck earlier that evening. He could have taken her gun and knife then, and restored them, too, after she escaped onto the roof. He certainly knew she had weapons in her room; he’d asked if they were just tales.

He was related to Lady Bilchester, who might be a lovely person who would never countenance murder, but that didn’t mean an angry male relative wouldn’t kill on her behalf.

He’d insisted on protecting Daisy, which would enable him to remain near her, waiting for another opportunity to kill her.

The betrothal ruse was an excellent way to divert suspicion, as were his so-called attempts to find other motives for the death threat. As were his protestations of love.

It now became clear why he didn’t mind if he had to marry her. He needed money, according to Miles. If he married her, he could get hold of her dowry and kill her later!

Appalled, she covered her face with her hands. Tears burned behind her eyelids, and she welcomed their sting. She ordered her heart to accept the fact that Julian was a villain worse than any she’d ever written.

It didn’t work. After several moments of utter misery, she realized that the problem was worse than she’d thought. She didn’t believe a word of her list. Which meant she was a complete fool, in love with a murderer.

Or . . . that the list was all wrong.