Never mind there was no one else present in the library to witness their altercation.
He seemed to have realized the same thing as he shook his head and blinked, his arms lowering to his sides. “You said this morning you have been assisting your father since you were five. And never once have you encountered this particular complication?”
Any shared intimacy between them was gone with his prodding question and guarded expression. “None. As I said earlier, most of the process occurs without mishap. You have little to worry over, my lord. Artemis is in perfect health. I have no cause to be concerned.”
To further prove her point, she pulled herself away from the viscount to kneel at Artemis’s side, the sleeping bitch having sprawled out on the woven rug next to the roaring fire. Juliet placed her hand on her swollen sides, the unborn pups causing the future dam’s skin to ripple with their movement.
“At least two pups disturb her slumber,” she said. “Maybe three or four.”
Benjamin knelt down beside her, the crackling of the burning wood loud in comparison to the whoosh of air he exhaled upon placing his large hand beside hers. “How can you differentiate between them?”
“I can only make an educated guess. I have no means to see inside her womb, so I must feel.” With a tentative breath, she placed her hand atop the viscount’s and moved it to the left, where her hand had been only moments before. “Here. Do you feel this taut ridge? I’m guessing it to be a juncture of bones, a leg attached to the hip perhaps? And this.” She stretched her fingers over his to press her pads against his nail beds. “This is another pup. Do you feel how it is softer and moves of its own accord, in motions separate and different than the prior lump?”
Benjamin’s arm went rigid, his hand stilling beneath hers.
“My lord?” She tilted her head to better see the viscount. He pulled his hand away and stood, taking a step to the side. Startled, Artemis righted herself and scrambled to the viscount, her tongue lapping his outstretched hand.
“I think it time I retire, Juliet.”
She blinked. “Oh. Oh, yes. I suppose it is rather late.” Unsure what she had done to hasten his abrupt and rather surprising departure, she sat back on her heels. He had appeared interested in validating her knowledge of dog breeding. And yet, he was now walking toward the door, his stiff gait and agitated pose clearly disinterested in her and her research.
With a curt nod he said, “Enjoy reading your book.” And walked out of the room.
…
Benjamin stalked out of the warm library, away from Juliet’s cinnamon scented curls and toward the back door and the promise of a frigid, mind-clearing winter night.
He couldn’t walk fast enough to escape her soft curves, her gentle touches, and worse, the connection between them that seemed determined to grow, despite his oppositions and objections to the contrary.
Her intelligence, her confidence in her abilities, her creamy, freckle-covered skin—it was all he could do not to make his staged compliments sincere.
He was merely creating a mirage for her staff, putting on a show for her benefit, and acting—like an arse. How could he be so foolish?
Benjamin lifted the latch to the blessed outside door, the arctic blast of cold hitting his face with a numbing ferocity. And yet, his mind still wandered, still wanted to do the unthinkable—imagine he might have something more with Juliet than a mere arrangement.
No. He had allowed himself to believe once before he could have happiness with another, indeed, that he could have a family.
But that had been a lie.
He would not be so foolish to allow himself to feel hope again.
Artemis licked his fingers and whined, the poor hound likely chilled after her warm spot by the fire.
All that mattered now was Artemis, her pups, and their role in ensuring his sister and her family were no longer in financial duress.
Turning back, he returned to the warmth of the house. Two more weeks were required to continue this farce. Then Juliet would leave and the desire he held for her would end and things would return as they once had been.
So why, then, did he feel like he was telling himself a lie?
Chapter Eight
The universe approved of her hastily arranged wedding.
It was the only explanation Juliet could give to account for melted snow, near travelable roads, and a vicar who had made himself available at a moment’s notice. Even her father’s health seemed to approve of her union, his complexion, and indeed, his entire constitution showing marked improvements through this morning’s short, but legally binding ceremony.
She was married. She was now and forevermore Lady Colwyn, Benjamin’s viscountess.
Now, if only her mood reflected the merriment of her father, the staff, and even the excited hounds, she’d be the perfect bride—instead of the nefarious and guilt-ridden one who had coerced her husband into a marriage he neither wanted nor required.
Not that anyone would ever suspect Benjamin of being anything other than a besotted spouse. Much to his credit, he had done exactly as she had asked, and had played the role of attentive betrothed to perfection. For the past two days he had doted, flirted, and flattered, almost convincing even her of the sincerity of his affection.
Almost.
She knew very well it was all an act, and one that would end after Frederick departed for town. Benjamin’s attentions would be replaced by indifference, and life, for both of them, at least once Artemis whelped her puppies, would return to solitary, unattached, and unaffected happiness.
So why then, did something feel terribly wrong?
Likely, guilt. No, definitely guilt.
Benjamin had played his role too well. Had he not made her think she held a chance of claiming the same respect and admiration he had once held for Amelia, she wouldn’t feel so guilty about blackmailing him in the first place.
Pacing the familiar and creaking floorboards of her bedroom, Juliet wrung her hands, taking care not to step on Cleo’s long white tail. She wanted this, or at least the freedoms it promised. He, contrary to his initial misgivings, wanted this, too. He must. Otherwise he would not have invested so much of himself into convincing everyone, including the stoic vicar, their union was anything but contrived.
She bit into her nail and ripped it off the tip of her finger, her other hand plunging into the soft fur of Cleo’s neck. Oh, who was she kidding? His act was contrived to save Artemis. The hound had not once left his side since their reunion. Benjamin had clearly agreed to wed Juliet to ensure she was around when the bitch went into whelp.
Juliet was a means to an end. As he was to her.
“Ah, there you are dear.” Hollington’s housekeeper, Mrs. Ancell, bustled into the room, a set of delicate undergarments draped over her arms. “This is pressed and ready for you to wear this evening.”
Cleo sniffed at the white, lace-trimmed shift while Juliet eyed it with suspicion. “This is mine?”
“Yes, of course. I don’t know of anyone else who married today, do you?”
No, she very well didn’t. But what did ribbon and lace on her usually plain undergarment have anything to do with her wedding?
Mrs. Ancell ran a hand over the delicate stitching. “I made this up for you as soon as I heard of your engagement. Spent the past few nights on it, I have. Would’ve saved me some sore eyes had you told me of it sooner.” She laughed. “I suppose all is well in the end. I doubt he’ll be paying much attention to my stitches, anyhow.”
“He?” Juliet asked.
“Why, the viscount.” Mrs. Ancell gave her a wink.
Merciful heavens.
Juliet’s heart wedged into her throat. She had completely forgotten the small detail that with a wedding came a wedding night.
Well, not completely. The idea had flitted through her mind at the ceremony, when Benjamin’s hands wrapped around her own pair, eliciting the increasingly familiar rush of heat that seemed to accompany his touch. And afterw
ard, when his lips had once again pressed against hers, unleashing the storm of emotions that swept through her whenever he drew her near.
She had, however, pushed all thoughts of the evening’s activities from her mind after he had left her to do whatever it was men did following a wedding ceremony.
Their marriage was a business arrangement after all. The viscount would not demand or even expect her to, well…to actually…
True, he had been congenial, kind, and attentive, but he was doing as she had asked. Why, she doubted he even thought of her in such a way as was required in order to do whatever actions were necessary to perpetuate his line on their wedding night. A line, she might well add, he had shown no interest in furthering. A legal document and a religious ceremony would hardly sway him to think otherwise.
Then again, he was a man, and one who had clearly stated he wanted reparation for her crimes against him. Would he pursue her as Frederick had, demanding what, as her husband, was rightfully owed to him?
Or would he ignore her in cool indifference?
Juliet’s entire body warmed, and she fanned her face against the sudden onslaught of heat. She had promised him two months of the year at Evenrood to perpetuate his line. But this was neither Evenrood nor grouse season.
And she was not Amelia.
Mrs. Ancell patted Juliet’s arm before pulling her into a hug. “Nervous are you? The viscount is a good man, dear. He’ll likely be gentle with you. Now, let’s put this on, shall we?”
Gentle?
A hard thump on the door had her near jumping out of her skin. Mrs. Ancell chuckled and undid the buttons of Juliet’s gown. “Goodness, child. I didn’t think he’d be after you quite so soon, but then he is a virile one. I can tell from the looks of him, you’ll be with child in no time at all.”
If ever Juliet wished for the floor to open up and swallow her whole, now was that moment.
“Juliet, I wish a word.”
“Frederick?” Juliet clutched the gaping neckline of her gown and stared at Mrs. Ancell. The elder woman lifted her wide shoulders into a shrug, her round face crinkled in confusion.
What could he possibly want? He had not said two words to her since his embarrassing encounter, his lips remaining sealed throughout her wedding ceremony. Not even after she had turned in his direction, with the large gold band around her ring finger declaring to all and sundry she was, indeed, a married woman, and one he could no longer claim, did he acknowledge her marriage or offer his congratulations. What could he have to say to her now, with supper over, and the evening hours descending, he could not have uttered earlier?
Juliet made her way to the door and pressed her ear against the thick-knotted oak separating her from her cousin. “What are you doing here?”
“A word. Alone.”
She wasn’t an imbecile. This scenario had been played before, and it was not one she wished to repeat. Juliet placed a finger to her lips and glanced at Mrs. Ancell, who nodded. “I am alone. You may speak with me through the door.”
A heavy sigh elicited from the other side. “I know Mrs. Ancell is in the room with you. I will play your games and speak through the door, but I insist she leave first.”
“I do not think that wise. The last time you asked to have my sole attention you were—”
“Not myself, I know. I assure you I have my full wits about me and will do you no harm. I simply wish to say a few things to you before matters are…well, before the viscount…” Frederick paused. “Before I depart in the morning.”
“You’re leaving tomorrow?” she asked. Her hands splayed against the wood. She hadn’t expected him to leave so soon. Vows were exchanged, yes, and her father’s health had definitely improved, but she hadn’t thought…well, she hadn’t thought a lot of things lately. She certainly hadn’t thought she would be alone with her newly wed husband so soon.
“I am.”
Juliet stepped away from the door and motioned toward Mrs. Ancell, who sighed and lifted the latch.
The housekeeper gave her a stern look. “If you need anything, I will be down the hall.” With a grunt, she slipped through the small crack she had allowed herself and shut the door firmly behind her.
“Your conditions have been met, Frederick. I am alone, though I have hesitations admitting as much.”
“I would never hurt you, Juliet. I simply want what is best for you. For this family. Indeed, for the Winters name.”
Juliet swallowed before answering. “I am no longer a Winters.”
“True, but, you are not yet a Colwyn either.”
Juliet stared at the dark knots embedded throughout the wood of her door. “I beg your pardon?” Frederick had bore witness to her ceremony. There was no denying what had been done.
“Your marriage can still be annulled.”
“Annulled?” What the devil was the man on about now?
“I beg you to put an end to this foolishness, dear cousin. You have convinced me, and indeed, the entire house of the viscount’s affections, but love is fickle. It wanes with time. Family, however, cannot be changed. Blood is forever.”
Juliet nibbled on her lip. “It is. But so, too, are the vows I exchanged before God. My marriage is something I cannot simply undo.”
“There are always caveats, loopholes put in place to protect the innocent and naive.”
“What are you suggesting, Frederick?”
Silence met her inquiry. She stared at the door, her nose crinkling, when her cousin’s deep baritone sounded through the door. “Until the marriage is consummated, an annulment can be made.”
Consummated. The little bit of breath she had been holding escaped through her lips.
Frederick continued, his voice low. “Now, I will forgive you of this transgression, but you must promise you will not be ruled by your emotions again. As my wife, you will be an example for other ladies, and as such you must—”
“Forgive me of my transgression?” This, from a man who had nearly assaulted her a few days prior and had not once come to apologize or seek her forgiveness on the matter? The audacity! She balled her fists, her bare feet pacing over the wool fibers of her bedroom carpet.
“And I am most certainly not your wife.” She stared back at the door.
“Juliet—”
“You have spoken your piece, sir, and I must reply with a negative. I am not interested in your offer. Not now. Not ever.”
Frederick pounded on the thick oak boards of her door. “You can’t possibly think—”
“What I think is that the viscount and I have entered into a binding arrangement that is no longer reversible.”
She stalked toward her bed. Snatching up the shift Mrs. Ancell had placed on her bed sheets, Juliet stared at the delicate stitching.
Consummation.
She could do this. She would do this. Juliet glanced down at the champion bitch at her side. She had seen her dams stand idle, in their placid breeding stance, while the sires stood tied to them. She, too, could compose herself into a quiet state of placidity and indifference while Benjamin did what was necessary to solidify their union.
The end justified the means.
Juliet shrugged out of her plain shift and into the wedding undergarment Mrs. Ancell had so thoughtfully made. The cool cotton brushed against her skin, raising little prickles of awareness over her entire body.
The same awareness Benjamin stirred with each glance, whispered word, and touch of his hand.
Juliet peered into the mirror beside her bed, her reflection one of naïveté, innocence, and determination. True, she didn’t know the first thing about the art of seduction, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t attempt to secure her husband’s attentions. Her skin had taken well to the lemon wash she had recently applied, her freckles lighter now than they had appeared the morning she had asked for his hand. And her hair, though still red, seemed a tad muted, the garish copper appearing a more favorable auburn in the flickering candlelight.
Perhaps her husband
would notice.
Of course, he could only notice if she made herself readily available to his advances. And if he was not in the mind to pursue her…well, she had to make certain he would not have another option—which meant entering his chambers and waiting for his inevitable arrival.
Licking her lips, she made her way past the bed and toward the second entrance to her room. While utilized only by the serving staff, it now provided her excellent access to her husband’s quarters on the other side of the house, as well as an escape from Frederick, who could still be heard breathing on the other side of the main door.
Juliet lifted the latch and peered into the dark hallway. There was no glow from an errant flame, no sound of rushed footfalls, or any other notable signs of a person present in the empty corridor. Careful not to interrupt the silence, she gave Cleo a small pat and slipped out of the room with the lightest of steps. Making certain the latch fell into its place, she then turned and made her way toward Benjamin’s chambers.
Two lefts, a right, and three doors brought her to the masculine guest room set aside for visitors of importance. A small fire lit the hearth, enabling her to see the large four-poster bed that filled the modest-sized room.
Juliet took a deep breath to steady her frazzled nerves. The sheets had already been turned down for the evening, the heavy blankets folded away to reveal the welcoming white linens underneath.
Linens she would keep warm for his arrival.
She bit down on her lip, her pulse roaring in her ears. This was foolish. Asinine. And quite possibly her worst idea yet.
So why, then, did excitement surge through her at the thought of what the evening’s activities might entail?
With a deep inhale, she slid onto the cool bedsheets and waited.
…
Benjamin tossed back another swallow of his father-in-law’s fine brandy and rubbed his hands over his face. Damn, he was tired. A day of deceit, bribery, and marriage had the power to wear on a man.
He stretched his limbs and stood, taking a long glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of the study.
Miss Winters Proposes Page 7