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EPISODE NINETY SIX

THE UTILITY OF CODPIECES

Regina tripped up to them, eyes shining, her lips curved in a cheerful smile. “Good evening!” she cried. “Shall we go into supper now?”

“I have a wretched headache and must return home,” Daisy said. “Lord Devin is escorting me to the entry so that I can sit down while waiting for my mother.”

“Oh, do you feel faint?” Regina sounded sympathetic, but she looked eager. “Of course, you must leave. It’s all those layers of satin.” She flipped open her fan and leaned close. “You must be horribly sweaty. If you don’t mind my mentioning it, your face is quite red and blotchy.”

The hapless countess had chosen to sink into her husband’s arms in the doorway, which was vastly irritating. On the other hand, all the guests were focused on her operatic moans and paying no attention to the way Lord Devin—Miles—was plastered to Daisy’s back.

“I suppose it’s the heat,” Regina continued, closing her fan. “Do you see spots before your eyes, Miss Wharton?”

“She is unsteady on her feet,” Miles put in. “Perhaps the heat combined with champagne.”

“I didn’t drink any champagne!” Daisy protested.

Regina beamed up at Miles. “I wondered why you were being so attentive. Of course you are standing ready to catch Miss Wharton, like a knight in shining armor.” She began vigorously waving her fan, presumably to cool Daisy’s face.

“Lady Regina, I have been invited to dine at the Duke and Duchess of Trent’s table,” Miles said. “Would you be so kind as to inform them that I shall join you once Miss Wharton is safely in her mother’s care?”

Regina’s eyes lit up. “Of course! I shall leave through the other entrance, shall I? Since the countess has been so inconsiderate as to faint in that doorway.”

Daisy swallowed hard as Regina trotted away. He … It … moved.

“I apologize.” Miles’s voice was gruff, quite unlike the gentlemanly Lord Devin’s usual accent. “I cannot control it, Daisy. No gentleman could, not pressed up against you like this. You are so damned delectable.”

Daisy was dying to see his expression, but she was afraid of what hers might reveal. She ought to be horrified, and she didn’t trust her own acting abilities to convey disgust. In fact, her face might well show humiliating eagerness.

“I was under the impression that such reactions were reserved for the bedchamber,” she said, schooling her voice to a ladylike tenor.

“Generally yes. I am glad not to have shocked you to the marrow, but very occasionally a man does lose control. I suspect that is why my ancestors wore codpieces,” Miles said thoughtfully.

“Are you making a joke?”

“Of a sort. I do have a sense of humor.”

“Not that I’ve noticed. At any rate, codpieces make sense.” She flipped open her fan and hid behind it again. Her knees were trembling, and every instinct told her to snuggle backward against his body—which would be the most scandalous action of her life.

No one had ever called her delectable before. She didn’t think anyone had ever found her delectable.

“Just to clarify, you rarely find yourself in this state?” she inquired.

In front of her, the countess was in a fit of full-blown hysterics, and behind her, Miles was laughing so hard that he was likely to convulse as well. “Never. Not at my age,” he managed.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Daisy observed. “How am I to know such things? I wouldn’t have imagined men being plagued by this sort of occurrence, but now I think on it, why else would our ancestors have worn codpieces? Those adornments look so silly, strung with ribbons and bows.”

“I expect that the stockings they wore would have revealed far more than modern pantaloons.” Miles cleared his throat. “Are you deliberately leaning against me?”

“No!” She jerked forward, but his hand held her in place: close, but not too close.

“I’ll be damned if I don’t feel as out of control as a lad of fifteen,” he rumbled.

Daisy felt a wash of pleasurable happiness spiked with mischief. “Missing your ancestral codpiece, are you?” In a fit of madness, she did lean back against him, swallowing a gasp as their bodies connected more firmly.

His hand tightened on her hip. “Did you know that I can look directly down your bodice?”

She straightened. “Really? My mother chose this design with fervent attention to disguising the fleshier parts of my body.”