Page 17 of Miss Ellis Unleashed

The maid stilled. “What if Lord Throsby should call on you?”

She sighed. “I can’t imagine that he will.”

“But he could,” the maid said, turning, eyes alight with barely suppressed hope. “His lordship might discover he left something behind.”

Daisy sighed. The servants had grown fond of Lord Throsby, despite his growls and stomping about the house. “I was very thorough to send back anything that did not belong here promptly.”

“Yes, I suppose you were,” the maid murmured, a note of disapproval in her tone before she offered Daisy a gown in a soft shade of blue to change into. It was a gown that Throsby had approved of her wearing. Higher at the neck than fashionable, and therefore, far too modest to attract leers from scoundrels.

Daisy accepted the gown, letting the matter of acquiring a cat drop, too, as she readied herself for an outing to parts unknown. “Ask Gibbs to hail a hack and then fetch your bonnet.”

“Yes, miss.”

Perhaps a visit to the shops, or even the treat of an ice at Gunter’s might lift her spirits. She had to do something to relieve the boredom of her own company. There was only so much pacing she could bear.

In Bond Street, she stopped first to look in Cabot’s Haberdashery windows, where she’d shopped many times before. There was nothing much of note to see that was new or appealed to her greatly. Out of habit, she entered and purchased some ribbons and another pair of silk stockings for her collection.

When they stepped back outside, they fell in behind a pair of toffs who were deep in conversation as they strolled along.

“Did you hear about Throsby’s luck last night?” one said.

Sarah gasped to hear someone speaking of her former employer, and Daisy quickly warned the maid to remain silent as they followed the men along the street.

“Gentlemen everywhere should know better than to gamble with him,” the other replied. “He’s always had the devil’s luck, even so deep in his cups.”

“I learned my lesson long ago never to trust him with my money,” the first man noted.

“The viscount’s luck took a decided turn for the better in other matters, too, hypocritical prig. Imagine the odds of him claiming a night with London’s most particular courtesan, as well?”

“How do you think the Duke of Norrington will take it, sharing his mistress with his cousin?”

“Probably not well, when he hears of it. Someone will tell him eventually. I don’t imagine Throsby can keep it quiet.” The first speaker laughed softly. “This is the consequence of abstinence from the real pleasures in life for a gentleman,” the other laughed. “Throsby’s winning now, but I’m sure he’ll not last long at this rate.”

“And we’ll be there to cheer his downfall, and recover our losses at the card table, too.”

The pair chortled with glee.

“A man’s character never really changes. Once a scoundrel, always a scoundrel, I say.”

The pair flagged down a hack, climbed inside, and off they sped together.

Daisy stopped in her tracks, staring after the carriage in shock. “Is there another Lord Throsby in London?”

“They couldn’t possibly be speaking of your Throsby.”

“He’s not mine.” Daisy worried her lip.

“I do hope Lord Throsby is all right,” the maid whispered, sounding frightened. “I think it strange he’s not called on you.”

Daisy and Throsby had not gotten along, so it was no surprise he hadn’t called on her again. He would seek to avoid her, especially after their last conversation.

But after what she’d just heard, she was stunned. Throsby was not a scoundrel! He did not gamble or drink to excess. He had no interest in women, or courtesans. He was dull and predictable. A gentleman when it came to women. “I’m sure they were speaking of some other Throsby,” Daisy assured. “Come on, I think we deserve an ice each from Gunter’s before we head home.”

Daisy turned back the way they’d come, heading for a spot to hail a hack—only to come face to face with her Throsby bursting out of a side street.

At least, the fellow seemed similar to her Throsby at first glance. A second, much longer glance was required to confirm his identity.

She hadn’t seen Throsby since he’d surprised her with a kiss…and he was not the same man at all. His hair had grown shabby, his jaw was covered in horribly long stubble, and his attire was so rumpled, he looked to be wearing last week’s clothes.