Free The Last Debutante by Julia London Page B

pressed the flat of her hand to her abdomen. “Mamie, please, I am begging you—the truth .”
    Mamie sighed. She pushed her hair back from her forehead and lifted her gaze to Daria. “Is a woman not permitted to defend herself?”
    Daria’s heart sank as Jamie Campbell erupted.
    “ Defend yourself! Madam, I was unarmed!”
    “I didn’t mean to shoot you,” Mamie said to him, and to Daria, “I had the gun for protection, naturally. I am here alone, and a strange man had come to my door. It . . . it went off—”
    “When my back was turned,” Mr. Campbell said. “ Ach, woman, you dissemble yet!”
    “Did you announce yourself?” Daria demanded of him. “You must admit that you are intimidating in your appearance, especially to a woman who resides alone.”
    He looked very surprised by that. “Intimidating? In what way?”
    “Well, your size, for one.” And his hair, hanging to hisshoulders. Broad, barely clothed shoulders. “And your . . . dress,” she added carefully.
    His brows dipped into a dark frown. “My dress ? Buckskins? A linen shirt? A coat and a plaid for warmth? These are intimidating? What, must a man wear lace to quell the fears of an English rose?”
    “I am not an English rose! I mean that you might appear, at first glance, perhaps a bit . . .” She shifted in her seat. “Savage.”
    “Savage!” he bellowed. “I will have you know that I’ve been welcomed into ballrooms across London and was no’ thought a savage !”
    “I don’t mean that you are a savage, but only that to a woman’s eye, there might be a moment of consternation if one is not acquainted. That’s all.”
    He was not appeased. He shifted forward again, propping his good arm against the table so that he could pierce her with his dangerously dark eyes. “Allow me to tell you why your grandmamma shot an unarmed man,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “I didna intimidate her. I scarcely had opportunity, aye? She met me at the door with a gun. I announced myself. I told her I had come to inquire why she unlawfully divested my addlepated uncle of one thousand pounds. Her response was to shoot me. Now—have you any whisky? I find all this more than a wee bit trying.”
    Daria was appalled. “Now you accuse Mamie of not only shooting you with your back turned, but stealing as well? I think you are as mad as she!”
    “I beg your pardon, I am not mad .” Mamie stood, reached up to the top shelf, and brought down a green bottle. She took down three small glasses as well, and putthem all down with a loud clap before Jamie Campbell.
    Daria did not generally imbibe. But in this extraordinary circumstance, she eyed that bottle of whisky. So did Jamie Campbell. He reached for it, filling the three glasses, then making quick work of one. As he poured another tot of whisky for himself, Daria moaned, laid her arms on the table, and rested her forehead against them, her eyes closed, trying to absorb another impossible turn of events.
    “Oh, Daria, dearest,” Mamie said sweetly, and Daria felt her grandmother’s hand on the back of her head, stroking her. “I am so very sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you.”
    Daria was beyond apologies. She was wildly alarmed. She had no idea what she was to do, and Daria always, always knew what to do. When Mr. Anders, a bachelor with thinning hair and bony fingers, had pursued her quite ardently last year, she’d known precisely what to do. When Mrs. Morton had confided in her that Daria’s good friend Lady Ashwood was rumored to have contributed in a nefarious way to the death of her first husband, Lord Carey, Daria had known precisely how to scotch the rumors. But God help her if she knew what to do in this little cottage with these two.
    “Go on, then. Tell her,” Jamie Campbell rumbled. “Tell your granddaughter why you robbed my uncle of one thousand pounds, aye?”
    “I didn’t rob him of a thousand pounds!” Mamie said angrily, causing Daria to lift her