Page 83 of Love and the Shameless Lady

Chapter 13

Daisy ducked back inside the summerhouse, unsure what she’d just seen. Several men, running across the meadow, but who? One was headed straight for her. She shut the door, but it had no lock. She peered through the window, her heart pounding, knife at the ready.

She’d never had to defend herself before.

The door burst open. A man in footman’s livery came at her, snarling. Antoine?

“Don’t let him catch you!” That was Julian’s voice. She dodged behind the easel, knocking it over.

Antoine tripped, but righted himself quickly, then grabbed at her, cursing. She shoved the chair in his way, but he swerved in time. She backed away, slashing madly with the knife. He let out a shriek, then lunged, catching the hem of her wrapper. She yanked herself free, leaving the lace flounce in his hands, and ran, skirting the open trap door.

He missed falling through by an inch and kept coming. Julian leapt through the doorway. She dodged again, and Julian slammed into Antoine and brought him down, half over the hole in the floor. Antoine scrabbled for purchase, one hand grabbing at the trap door, the other swinging wildly at Julian, who struck him a ringing blow to the head.

The marquis came through the door, panting. “Allow me.”

Briefly, Julian’s eyes met those of the Marquis de Bellechasse. He nodded, and without letting the struggling, cursing Antoine escape, he moved aside. The marquis lifted his servant by the feet and dropped him through the hole in the floor. Antoine landed below with a sickening thud.

Julian let out a long breath and came over to Daisy. “You’re unhurt?”

“You-You let him drop Antoine through the floor!”

Julian’s voice was low and furious. “Daisy, if you can’t trust me when it really matters, fine. But for now, please just trust me about this.”

She wanted to hit him. She wanted to burst into tears. Instead, she gritted her teeth. “I am trying very hard to trust you.”

“I know of no more trustworthy man than Sir Julian.” Philippe sounded amused.

Daisy rounded on him, brandishing the knife. “How dare you lock me in that place?”

“If you had stayed there, you would have been safe,” the marquis said.

“So you could return and kill me?”

“It was not I who wanted to kill you, but my foolish Antoine,” the marquis said.

Gently, Julian removed the knife from her hand.

“How was I supposed to know that?” she demanded, her voice trembling with rage as much as reaction. “In fact, why should I believe you?”

“Why indeed?” Philippe peered into the dark hole. “If he landed on his head, there is an excellent chance that he is dead. I shall go down to see, non?” He was already feeling for the ladder with one foot.

“I assure you, neither Daisy nor I shall do so,” Julian said coldly.

“What if he is still alive?” Daisy asked.

“He is not,” Phillipe said, his voice tranquil and assured. Slowly, he disappeared from view.

“He means to make certain,” Daisy whispered, aghast.

“I assume so,” Julian said.

“Maybe he didn’t want to kill me, but he really is a murderer.” Appalled didn’t even begin to describe her dismay.

“Not by choice, I believe.” Julian sounded like one of the heroes in her book, entirely accepting of cold-blooded murder. Approving, even. It was much easier, she realized, to be callous in a novel than in real life.

It was at this point that she remembered what the marquis had said earlier—that Sir Julian was not what he seemed. A lie to confuse her, or the truth? Just now, he had said Julian was trustworthy. She didn’t know what to believe.

She had already decided—twice—to trust him. She wasn’t much of a heroine if she couldn’t continue to do so.