Page 34 of Road Trip With a Rogue (Her Majesty’s Rebels #3)

It was full light when Daisy woke again, and a servant scratched at the door with a steaming bowl of porridge. The girl drew open the heavy curtains, and Daisy blinked in the bright sunlight that streamed through the tall windows. Her head, mercifully, didn’t object.

“Morning, Miss. I’m Jenny. His Grace said you’d be wanting a bath.”

Daisy smiled. “A bath would be lovely, thank you. But breakfast first. I’m famished.”

“I’ll come back up in twenty minutes or so to assist you.” The girl bobbed a curtsey and slipped out the door before Daisy could object.

The porridge was delicious, made with extra cream and a swirl of honey, and Daisy ate the lot, glad that she was feeling almost back to normal. When Jenny returned, clutching an armful of bathing sheets, she gestured to a doorway Daisy hadn’t noticed, set into the wooden paneling.

“The bathing room’s through there.”

Daisy almost laughed when she saw the enormous copper tub set in the center of the tiles.

Tess had a similarly luxurious bath back at Wansford Hall, and it was clear that Vaughan had spared no expense when it came to his own creature comforts.

No measly, cramped hip bath in front of the fire for His Grace, the Duke of Cranford.

The tantalizing image of him, steam beading his skin, rippled in her brain like a mirage before she forcibly dismissed it as not helpful .

An ingenious series of pipes brought both hot and cold water up from the kitchens, and when it was half full Daisy sank into the most welcome bath of her life. She slid under the surface and fanned her fingers through her hair, washing the dirt and dust away.

The maid had left a bar of delicate, rose-scented soap, and she lathered it over her whole body, reveling in the sensation of feeling fully clean once again. Her knees were grazed from the fight, and there was a faint purple bruise on her right cheekbone, but otherwise she didn’t feel too bad.

When she finally emerged, cheeks glowing from the heat, it was to find Jenny laying what looked to be a dress, petticoats, and other pieces of feminine clothing on the bed.

Daisy’s brows rose in surprise. “What’s all that? Do they belong to His Grace’s sister?”

The maid smiled. “No, Miss. Mrs. Hughes is quite a bit taller than yourself. Her things would be far too long and I’ve had no time to alter any of them. These are from Master Peregrine’s new wife. She said you didn’t have any dresses of your own, and asked me to give this to you.”

Daisy bit back a small groan, even as she forced a sunny smile. “How kind of her.”

The chemise and silk stockings were lovely, but her spirits plummeted as she got a closer look at the dress.

Violet’s sartorial preferences were diametrically opposed to her own.

She cast a desperate glance around the bedroom for the clothes she’d just discarded.

She’d rather put on soiled garments than don the pastel horror Violet had sent.

“I’ve taken your breeches and shirt downstairs, to be washed,” Jenny said cheerfully.

Damn it all.

“Would you like me to help lace you up?”

“No thank you, I can manage. Do you happen to know where His Grace is?” Perhaps she could linger up here and avoid seeing him altogether.

“He’s in the breakfast room, miss. He told me to tell you to get dressed and meet him there at eleven o’clock.”

Daisy glanced at the clock. It was already half past ten. She was going to have to wear the blasted dress.

“Thank you, Jenny. I’ll find my own way down.”

Daisy descended the stairs twenty minutes later, her heart pounding oddly in her chest. Carisbrooke Hall, from the little of it she’d seen, was undeniably impressive.

The hallway she’d just traversed was huge, littered with priceless paintings and antiques, and the gardens she’d glimpsed through the windows spread out as far as the eye could see. There was an entire herd of deer.

She’d given in to the temptation to snoop before she left Vaughan’s room, of course. They’d be on their way back to London soon, and she might never have another chance, and she wanted to know as much about him as possible.

A peek inside the huge linen press had produced a waft of his familiar scent that made her stomach do a little somersault, but a quick search of the drawers, writing desk, and dressing chests proved unproductive.

Paper, ink, a block of sealing wax. Some bills from his London tailor.

He paid an exorbitant amount for his boots.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to find.

He wasn’t the sort of man to keep incriminating love letters.

And it wasn’t as if he’d have a sheaf of erotic drawings hidden somewhere, when he’d probably done all the scandalous things depicted in them in real life.

The memory of him doing several of those things to her brought an extra flush to her cheeks.

No. However tempting his body might be, the rest of his personality left a lot to be desired. He was sneaky, manipulative and… he’d given her the best climaxes of her entire life.

Not helpful.

The man in question was seated at one end of a large mahogany breakfast table, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand, and his eyes widened as she appeared in the doorway.

“Good God.”

“Don’t you dare laugh!” Daisy ordered fiercely. She’d never felt so self-conscious.

His gaze raked her from head toe, and he pressed his beautiful lips together into a thin line. It was clear he was holding back laughter as she stalked the length of the table toward him.

“You look…”

She sank into the seat next to him with a disgusted snort. “Go on, say it. Like a jellyfish. Or a strawberry blancmange. I can’t decide which.” She gave one of the frills that adorned her neckline a disgusted flick.

The gown Violet had provided was the most hideously unflattering thing she’d ever worn in her life.

No doubt the pale pink color looked wonderful with Violet’s cornflower blue eyes and golden ringlets, but it didn’t suit Daisy’s darker coloring one bit.

To make matters worse, the fussy proliferation of lace, bows, and frills made her look like the result of a terrible accident in a haberdashery shop.

Vaughan took a sip of coffee, but his eyes laughed at her over the rim of his cup.

“I think it’s safe to say that pale pink is not your color.”

The amusement he was deriving at her expense was obnoxious. Daisy narrowed her eyes. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“And the style suggests a certain girlish innocence that strains credibility.”

She poured herself a steaming cup of coffee. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I won’t object in the slightest if you want to take it off,” Vaughan said. “In fact, I’d be happy to assist.”

“I still have a knife,” she reminded him, even though his suggestive words brought a flash of heat to her skin.

He grinned. “You can’t stab me, Hamilton. I played your knight errant. I rescued you. It would be exceedingly ungrateful.”

She added two lumps of sugar to her cup. She needed the energy to argue with him. “You’re the reason I was kidnapped in the first place, and the reason we’re in this ridiculous situation now.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded. “But I had noble intentions. I was trying to make the best of a bad situation.”

“Wasn’t it Samuel Johnson who said that Hell is paved with good intentions? We’re clearly well on the way.”

Daisy had spent much of the morning trying to decide what she should do.

“The way I see it, there are several ways this ‘situation’ can progress. Option one would be the worst for you. We could say that you lied to Letty, that we were never engaged, and that you forcibly abducted me and took me to Gretna as your mistress.”

He raised his brows. “You’re right. That doesn’t reflect well on me at all. Especially if everyone thinks I’m subsequently refusing to marry you. Not that I particularly care about my reputation, but even cast as the poor, unwilling victim, you’d still be ruined.”

“True.”

“Besides, that doesn’t make any sense. Why would I bother to take you all the way to Gretna if I had no plans to marry you? I could have just stayed in London and debauched you there.” He slanted her a wicked, knowing look. “In my study. Against the desk. Multiple times a day.”

Beast. Why did he have to taunt her so?

“That’s also true,” Daisy conceded serenely. “And anyone who knows you would instantly realize you’d never put yourself to so much trouble for a woman.”

He ignored the unsubtle dig. “I suppose we could say I was in Gretna because I was chaperoning Perry and Violet. And that I took you along for my entertainment. But again, why would I bother abducting someone unwilling when there are so many willing ladies who would gladly fill your place?”

Daisy’s heart gave a jealous little clench at the truth of that, but she forced herself to match his flippant tone.

“Would it be too much to pretend that your desire for me was so insatiable that you lost all sense of reason and resorted to kidnapping?”

He sent her an amused, ironic look. “What do you think?”

“You’re right. Nobody would believe it.”

She quashed an irrational sense of disappointment. Of course it was too much. She’d never inspire such passion in a man like Vaughan. That fact that he’d even desired her once was a miracle.

“What’s option two?” he asked.

“We let everyone think I agreed to an affair with you, and Letty caught us.”

“That’s a terrible idea. Not only would you be ruined socially, but every unscrupulous cad in London would start pestering you in the hopes of making you their mistress once I’d finished with you.”

“I think you’re overestimating my appeal,” Daisy scoffed.

“And I think you’re underestimating it. Even in a dress as hideous as that.” His eyes flashed.

“Either way,” she said, ignoring the way her stupid heart gave an irregular little thump, “if I’m thought to be a lightskirt, Ellie and Tess will suffer by association, and so will King and Company. I don’t want that.”

“So what’s option three?”