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Miles blinked down at her. “Does nothing shock you?”

“The murder of Jeremy Tulip shocked me,” Daisy said. “In comparison, the Earl of Debbleton’s criminality seems not only trivial but downright dull. Why should I care what he does in the privacy of his own estate?”

“His wife cared.”

“Likely she had any number of reasons to be offended,” Daisy agreed. “But does that mean their marital problems should occupy the gossip columns? What did Mr. Hemlock have to do with it?”

“He was charged with procurement.”

Her brows drew together. It seemed that there was something this sophisticated young lady didn’t know.

“He allegedly supplied the earl with young women from the provinces who came to London seeking their fortunes but were forced to perform on that particular stage.”

She winced. “That’s revolting.”

“Didn’t you say it was merely a private matter?”

“I take your point, Lord Devin. Those poor young women. I shouldn’t have ventured an opinion when my knowledge was so shallow.”

Daisy had shocked him again. Almost no one of his acquaintance would admit to being wrong. Her uncle, for example, had blustered about his innocence whenever their paths crossed during the murder trial. Miles considered his apoplectic fit the result of outrage when no one agreed with him.

Off to one side, a footman picked up the white satin panels torn from Daisy’s gown. He draped them over his arm, likely thinking they made up a lady’s shawl, and walked away before Miles could catch his eye.

Jolted by the reminder of precisely why they were standing together, Miles said, “Miss Wharton, I didn’t keep you here merely because of Mr. Hemlock’s association with Debbleton.”

Daisy raised an eyebrow. “I was beginning to wonder, since Lady Regina will be waiting to dine with you. I should find my mother.”

“You can’t move,” Miles said.

“Actually, I must move or you, Lord Devin, will find yourself embroiled in a scandal. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but a good half of the ballroom is fascinated by the marked attention you have been paying me this evening. Gossipers are not privy to your horror at that idea and may assume that you are courting me.”

“I am not horrified,” Miles snapped. In fact, he was shockingly close to announcing his intentions, despite all his best instincts.

She looked up at him with a curious expression, somewhere between skepticism and surprise.

Miles cleared his throat. “Be that as it may, you mustn’t leave at this moment.”

At that, Daisy’s brows drew together. “I have the greatest dislike for orders, Lord Devin. Goodbye.” She stepped sideways and turned to go.

Instinctively his eyes dropped to her arse. It was—his arms shot out and caught her, pulling her back against the wall.

“Lord Devin!” Her eyes sparked with anger. “Your behavior is quite unacceptable. We both know that you don’t wish to have your name linked with mine. Even if you hadn’t said so earlier, I could have surmised that from the condescending remarks that you’ve made to me over the last year or so. I labeled you my suitor out of pure mischief, to see if you would turn white with fear.” She paused. “Which you did.”

“You misunderstood.”

Daisy shrugged. “I found that idea amusing, but I am no longer amused. I do not wish my name to be linked to yours any more than you wish for the reverse.”

In one fluid motion she twisted away from him again, exposing her near-naked bottom to the room. Without thinking, Miles stepped forward and pressed his front directly against her back.

And backside.

EPISODE NINETY FIVE

THE HUMILIATION OF EXPOSURE

Daisy’s first thought was that something thick and long was pressed against her rear. The second thought followed almost instantly: she should not have been able to feel anything, given her voluminous skirts—but without her noticing, those skirts had lightened.

In the rear.