Page 51 of Joker in the Pack

“What can I get you?”

“Quiche Lorraine with salad, please.”

“Coming right up.”

She disappeared into the kitchen and didn’t return until she put my plate down in front of me. On past form, she’d have stayed with me for a while and chatted, but she practically sprinted back to the counter.

“Sorry, terribly busy today,” she muttered over her shoulder.

Really? There was only one other customer in there, and he was reading the newspaper. Was there something in the water? Why did everybody dislike me all of a sudden?

When the other patron left, I decided I’d had enough of being kept in the dark.

“Daisy, what’s wrong?”

She let out a peal of false laughter. “Nothing! Why on earth would you think something was wrong?”

“I’m not stupid. Since yesterday, everyone’s been treating me like a leper.”

She approached gingerly and perched on the edge of a nearby chair, ready to run at any moment. Her posture reminded me of an antelope watching a lion.

“There might be a few stories going around.”

Dread settled in my stomach like a dodgy curry. “What kind of stories?”

“About your life back in London.”

Oh hell, it was the stripper thing, wasn’t it? How many people had seen the pictures? Had the WI handed out copies at their latest meeting?

“I should have guessed. I suppose nothing on Facebook can ever remain a secret.”

A flicker of confusion crossed Daisy’s face. “Facebook? What’s on Facebook?”

She didn’t know about the photos? Then what stories had she heard?

“Never mind. What are people saying about my life back in London?”

“That you go after rich men and take them for everything you can.”

“Seriously?”

“You’ve only been here for five minutes, and you’ve already got your claws into Tate Palmer.”

They thought I was a gold-digger? I couldn’t deny Mother had encouraged me to marry well, but our ideas of what constituted “well” had certainly differed. For me, it wasn’t all about the money. There had to be love too. That was why it had hit me so hard when Edward cheated.

“But I didn’t go after Tate. He approached me.”

“People are also saying you faked your burglary to get sympathy.”

“That’s crazy.”

She shrugged. “It’s what they think.”

“Look, I can see how people might think I only date rich men, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Yes, my ex-boyfriend was a banker, but that wasn’t why I loved him.”

“And Tate? Women around here have been chasing him for years. You’ve been here five minutes, and you’re already going to the manor for dinner.”

How did she even know that? Barely half a day had passed since I left his cottage! I couldn’t even fart in this place without somebody sending out a news bulletin. Not that I would fart, obviously. That would be unladylike.

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