Page 84 of Love and the Shameless Lady

Julian went out the door and held the knife up in the moonlight. “It’s sticky. You drew blood?”

“When Antoine tried to grab me. Give it to me.” She took the knife, wiped the blade on her wrapper, lifted the nightdress, and put the knife back in its sheath. That was the sort of thing one of her heroines would do, including making sure the hero caught a glimpse of her legs.

She shivered a little, for the decision to trust him had consequences.

She raised her eyes to his, a little frightened and almost shy. He put his arms about her and kissed her hard. “Damn and blast Philippe, how dare he imprison you here?”

She shrugged in his embrace. “I wasn’t afraid. I played here with Gloriana, remember? I know how to use the ladder and open the trapdoor. Fortunately, I had my knife. It would have been much more difficult to escape without it.”

Julian took a deep breath, and she got the feeling he was about to scold her for leaving her bedchamber . . . but he didn’t. Instead, he tightened his arms, and his voice was rough. “Antoine knocked out a footman and took his clothing. He went to your room. He would have killed you.”

“Then it’s lucky I wasn’t there.”

“Yes.” He kissed her hair.

“I went down to get the chess set. I thought the thieves might be after it. The queen is so pretty, and the queen charm in my story was in Manchester.” When he didn’t reply, she asked, “Do you think the marquis really did bring me here for safety?”

“I hope so,” Julian said grimly. “If I discover otherwise, he will regret it.”

Shouts reached them from across the lawn. Miles and a footman, both hastily attired in shirts and breeches, hurried toward them. The footman carried a lantern.

“You are well, Daisy?” Miles sounded harassed. “Thank God.”

The voice of the marquis floated up from below. “Alas, my poor lunatic Antoine is dead.”

She stiffened. She’d seen no indication that Antoine was insane. Julian drew her back inside the summerhouse. “Let us listen before we decide what to do. Or say.” He raised his voice as Miles and the footman hurried in. “Take care where you walk. The trap door is open. Philippe’s servant fell through.”

“To his death,” Philippe said mournfully as his head emerged through the trap door. “Ah, Lord Garrison. My apologies for this disturbance. May I beg your man’s assistance to bring up his body?”

Miles ordered the footman to fetch a groom, a hurdle, and some rope. The man left the lantern with his master and loped away toward the stables.

“Death is preferable to an asylum,” said Philippe.

“An asylum?” Miles asked.

Philippe nodded, his expression convincingly sad. “But yes, my poor Antoine had gone mad. I believe . . . I believe the disappointment was too much for him. The ideals of the Revolution have gone by the wayside, and England is no better. The common people are still under the thumb of the kings and nobles. He craved equality; no, he demanded it. Alas, it was not to be.”

“That doesn’t explain why he threatened to kill Daisy,” Julian said caustically.

“Antoine wrote the threatening letter?” asked Miles.

“Indeed, yes,” the marquis said. “Without my knowledge and permission, needless to say. He was much enamored of the novel, The Lady’s Ruin, with its story of a woman who thrives despite society’s cruelties, until he neared the end, where the heroine laments that she had to leave her friend, an aristocrat, in France, where she is doomed to prostitution.” He paused. “That upset him greatly.”

“Because he believed the aristocrat deserved her downfall?” Daisy asked.

“But of course. He was enraged, because the ending of that book made it clear that the daughter would rescue the French aristo in the next story and restore her to the life of a privileged lady.”

That wasn’t true! “But—”

Julian squeezed her hand, and Daisy held her peace, seething. There was not even a hint in The Lady’s Ruin that Dianthus would rescue the prostitute. How dare Philippe mouth these lies, and worse, how could Julian aid and abet him?

“He wanted to kill Daisy for a stupid reason such as that?” Miles said. “I don’t believe it.”

“No, no, Lord Garrison. At that time, he did not equate the authoress, Desdemona Warren, with the Daisy he knew at the Diving Duck. He merely wished to prevent publication of The Lady’s Revenge. He broke into the publisher’s office, discovered the name of the authoress, and wrote threatening to kill her if she did not withdraw the book. He assumed she would comply. Unfortunately, she received the letter too late.”

“I wouldn’t have withdrawn it anyway,” Daisy said.

“Quite right,” Lord Garrison said. “You shouldn’t be writing books in the first place, but a Warren does not give in to threats.”