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Pinpricks needled down her body as Daisy forced herself to turn and meet Miles’s eyes. She felt swamped by guilt and horror. “I’m so sorry!” she all but wailed. “I had no idea that Regina would follow me to your house.”

Miles’s cheekbones were drawn tight, his eyes dark as pitch. “That woman is a harpy.”

Daisy felt a tear slide down her cheek. “I’ve ruined you,” she whispered. “Forced you to marry me in order to protect me, when Belle isn’t yours. I’ve ruined you.”

“I do not consider myself ruined,” Miles said, “though I’ll admit that my future just took a sharp right turn. Damn it, Daisy, what in the hell are you doing, bringing your child here? No, forget that,” he muttered. “Too late.”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly!” Daisy cried. “It was … It was an impulse. A foolish impulse.”

“I have one question: Who is the father? I’m going to give myself the pleasure of slaying him on the way to Doctors’ Commons to acquire a special license.”

Daisy took one look at his murderous expression and knew that her father’s life was in her hands.

“I can’t tell you that,” she gulped.

“You must tell me,” Miles snarled. “I’m raising this man’s bastard, and I’m giving the lass a handsome dowry. I deserve that information.”

“No!” Daisy cried. She dashed away another tear.

He took a step closer, his expression forbidding. “Do you know what makes a marriage successful?”

Daisy shook her head. Clearly, her parents had not provided a role model.

“Honesty between husband and wife. Honesty and loyalty. Not loyalty to previous lovers.”

“I am not loyal to him,” Daisy promised with a fervency in her voice that she hoped sounded convincing. “Please, could we start over?”

“Start over from the moment when you strolled into my house, basket in hand? I wish that was possible. Where is your father in all this, by the way? I presume Lord Wharton knows of that child?”

“He doesn’t,” Daisy said, pretty sure that was true. “He has no idea. He doesn’t live with us.”

“I’ve heard as much.”

“My father lives in a bachelor apartment in the Albany.” Another tear slid down her cheek. In a lifetime of impulsive misdeeds, walking to Miles’s house had to be her worst—and that included sneaking into Rothingale’s masquerade. She had practically invited Lady Regina to conclude that Miles was a dastardly rake who would seduce a young lady.

“Given the knowledge I’ve gained in the House of Lords, I might as well accept that every young lady on the marriage market has entertained several lovers before she appears at her debut ball, swathed in virginal white, some months later trotting up the altar trailing a veil,” Miles said grimly.

“I’m sure that’s not the case,” Daisy said uncertainly.

Miles shook his head. Misery and exhaustion were etched on his future wife’s face, yet her cheeks held a rosy flush, and her gaze was pure and clear beneath welling tears. How could she look so innocent?

Yes, she was impulsive in visiting him. But she came to ask him for help.

He had to admit that he liked that.

The idea of Daisy wandering the city with a baby in a basket was abhorrent. In fact, when he next saw Lady Wharton—presumably at the wedding—he would say as much. What was she thinking, throwing her daughter into the street?

He’d never liked the woman, but he had respected her moral sense. When she attacked his reputation, he had accepted the judgment as deserving. But now, he decided broodingly, Lady Wharton was very, very lucky that he was marrying her daughter, because otherwise he would have told all of London just what a hypocrite she was.

“I’m so sorry,” Daisy rasped. “I know you don’t want to marry me.”

“It could be worse,” he replied. “I could have been forced to marry Lady Regina. She would likely cause a fuss at being immured in the country.”

“What?”

“You and Belle will have to stay in the country for a few months until we can announce the demise of family. I don’t think that either of us are good enough actors to carry off true love on close examination, do you?”

Daisy’s eyes filled with tears again.