With relief, she heard a key turn in the lock, and then the door cracked open. Juliet pushed her way in. “Thank you. I urgently need your advice.” Fortunately, Rosalind could never resist interfering in Juliet’s affairs.
As Rosalind stuck her head out the door and looked both ways along the hall, Juliet surveyed the room. It was neat. Tidy. Not a good sign at all. If Rosalind had stooped to straightening her room, she must be extremely upset.
Rosalind shut the door and locked it again, then faced Juliet with a frown. “All right, what’s this about Lord Templemore kissing you?”
Not to mention that Rosalind’s eyes were bloodshot and swollen, and her nose looked rouged.
“You’ve been crying,” Juliet stated as she settled onto Rosalind’s bed.
“No, I haven’t.” With a sniff that belied her words, Rosalind stalked off to the dressing table. She plopped down on the stool in front of it and scowled at her face in the mirror. “Curse it all, why must it show? I don’t want him to see it.”
“I suppose you mean Griff. And I think you should know that your husband is prowling downstairs, utterly beside himself over this.”
“Aha!” Rosalind swung around on the stool. “I knew you had come as his emissary!” She pointed at the door. “This is none of your affair, Juliet. Get out!”
“I’m not here about your argument with Griff. I’m here because Lord Templemore has offered his help.”
Rosalind stared hard at her. “Help with what?”
Now came the difficult part. “Well…er…you see, his lordship figured out what’s going on between you and Griff.”
Averting her gaze, Rosalind picked up a tambour, of all things, and actually took up the needle. Worse and worse. Rosalind doing embroidery without being prodded—now Juliet felt genuine alarm.
Rosalind pierced the cloth. “I can’t imagine what you mean. Griff and I had a spat, that’s all.”
“Yes, over a concoction used to help a woman conceive children.”
The tambour clattered to the floor. “H-how…I mean, that’s nonsense.”
Feeling her heart catch in her throat, Juliet rose from the bed to go to her sister’s side. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Plenty of women take time to conceive.”
She laid her hand on Rosalind’s shoulder, but her sister leaped to her feet as if branded. “Two years? When all we do is…when we are so diligent in our…oh, bother, you know what I mean.”
Juliet blushed. “In theory, yes.”
“So there’s no reason for it except that…” She trailed off with a curse.
“Yes?”
Rosalind faced her, eyes desolate. “That something awful is wrong with me.”
“Don’t be silly.” Juliet picked up the tambour and set it on the dressing table. Then, looping her arm about her sister’s waist, she led her to the bed. “It just takes time, is all.”
“A lot you know about it,” Rosalind muttered, but she let Juliet sit her down, then tolerated Juliet’s taking a seat beside her. “You don’t understand—it’s been forever. And I want a child so badly, Griff’s child…” The anguish in her face tugged at Juliet’s heart.
Then Rosalind’s tone hardened. “But my stubborn husband doesn’t even care.”
“Of course he cares,” Juliet said, rubbing Rosalind’s back with soothing strokes. “I’m sure he wants a child as much as you.”
“Then why won’t he let me do what I must to fix my body?”
“Probably because he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with your body that time won’t cure.” When Rosalind scowled, Juliet added, “Besides, this mare’s milk concoction you’re taking doesn’t even work and could be dangerous. Griff’s right about that much, and Lord Templemore says so, too.”
Rosalind looked shocked. “You talked to him about me and Griff?”
“No! I mean, not exactly. Mostly we discussed his parents. Until he and Morgan came along, his mother also had trouble conceiving. She went five years before finding herself with child.”
Judging from the sudden light in Rosalind’s eyes, Juliet had finally snagged her interest. “What happened?”
Juliet related what Sebastian had told her and explained his offer.
“A wise woman? I’ve heard of such people living in the provinces.” She mused a moment, then sat up straighter. “I’m willing to try it. But I can’t tell Griff. He’s still convinced I’m overreacting. He’ll never agree to it. The wretch is so bloody pigheaded.”
Black pots and kettles came instantly to Juliet’s mind. “If this plan is to work,” Juliet said, “you’ll have to convince him that you’re through with your bout of temper. Or you’ll never be able to sneak away.”
Rosalind nodded, her clever mind undoubtedly working at some plan already.
“That means you must apologize,” Juliet prodded.
With a roll of her eyes, Rosalind stood. “I suppose so.” She turned her sharp gaze on Juliet. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you invented this tale of a wise woman just to make Griff and me stop fighting.”
Juliet grinned. “But you know I’m not that devious.”
“Humph, I’m not so sure.” Rosalind crossed her arms over her chest. “And did you lie about Lord Templemore’s kissing you?”
She only wished she had. Hiding her face, Juliet stood. “I had to get in here somehow, didn’t I?” She headed for the door, hoping Rosalind didn’t continue her inquisition further. “Now come along. Griff is waiting for you downstairs.”
With a heavy sigh, Rosalind rose to follow her.
Juliet opened the door. “I know your husband’s highhanded pronouncements have put your back up, but you do realize he’d do anything for you, don’t you? This whole thing has him very upset. He even said he was afraid of losing you.”
“Losing me! How ridiculous. Who’s overreacting now?” Rosalind swept past Juliet and through the doorway. “It was just a little harmless remedy.”
“Sheep’s urine?” Juliet said dryly as she hurried to catch up with her sister.
Rosalind made a face. “Well, I’ll admit that the urine sounded a bit…questionable, but Mr. Arbuthnot said it’s been used for centuries.”
“Urine was used to clean castles for centuries, too, but that doesn’t mean I want to fill a bucket with it and scrub the walls, especially when there’s soap ready to hand. And to drink it? Ugh!”
A faint smile touched Rosalind’s lips. “You do have a point.” Striding alongside Juliet, she reached up to pat her shoulder. “You’re full of passionate opinions these days, aren’t you? Indeed, you’re turning into quite the little fighter.”
Juliet swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. It was the first time Rosalind seemed to notice she wasn’t a foolish girl anymore. “I’m trying.”
Rosalind squeezed her shoulder. “Well, don’t try too hard,” she joked. “Or before you know it, you’ll be as brazen as me, and that would never do. One outspoken, temperamental female in the family is plenty.”
Chapter 9
Don’t scald your tongue in other people’s broth.
English proverb written on a list once mounted on the Templemore schoolroom wall
T he sun had just poked its nose above the horizon the next morning when Sebastian strode down the central staircase of Charnwood Hall. When he realized the foyer was empty, he glanced through the window to the grooms waiting on the front drive. There was no sign of the women.
Before dinner last night, he and Juliet had managed a few words alone, agreeing that the three of them would meet here at dawn. She’d told him that the early hour might help Lady Rosalind escape her husband unnoticed. So where the devil were they?
He paced as his mind settled on another vexing subject. Yesterday’s encounter with Juliet might have been rash, given that Knighton had nearly caught them, but it had proved one crucial fact. No matter what she protested about his kissing, she was attracted to him. Him, Sebastian. Not his other self, “Morgan.”
Because if she hadn’t been, she would have told Knighton of his advances, then watched in glee as Knighton strung him up. No, she had feelings for him.
But obviously, she didn’t particularly like having feelings for him, or she wouldn’t deny them so adamantly. He didn’t understand it. She said she wanted to marry, and that he was the sort of man for it. So why pretend his kisses didn’t move her?
It must be because of “Morgan.” Perhaps she feared that Sebastian was like his “wicked” brother at heart. And she thought pretending to be unaffected would keep him from her.
Ha! She knew little about men if she believed that insulting a man’s pride would frighten him off. Not a man with any self-respect. Not a man like him. It simply challenged him to do better.
A smug smile crossed his lips. He’d say he met the challenge deuced well yesterday. He could still feel her small hands sliding inside his coat and her wonderful mouth opening like a spring rose…
“Excuse me, milord,” came a soft female voice from behind him, and he whirled around, his pulse leaping in expectation of Juliet.
But it was only a kitchen maid, which turned his smile into a scowl. “What is it?” he demanded.
The maid blanched as she dropped her gaze. “C-Cook said to tell you that the ladies are having a b-bit of toast in the kitchen, and they’ll be here in a trice.”
He relaxed. “Ah.”
Now that the little mystery was cleared up, he noticed Mary’s shaking. Juliet’s words came back to him: They’re terrified of you…You bark orders without ever stopping to chat with them or thank them.
Blast it all. He forced some amiability into his voice. “Thank you, Mary.”
She glanced up, startled, then bobbed a little curtsy. “’Tis no trouble, milord. Now if that’s all…” she murmured timidly, turning toward the back of the house.
“Mary—” he called out to stay her.
She froze, then faced him, a hint of worry in her features. “Yes, milord?”
He felt all at sea. Sifting frantically for something with which to allay her discomfort, he suddenly remembered a tidbit of gossip that Boggs had mentioned this morning. “I understand that your sister is ill.”
Her eyes went wide. “I promise it won’t affect my work in the least, milord!”
Oh, for God’s sake, did they think him a monster? “I merely wanted to inquire after her health. Is she doing better? Does she require a physician?”
He might as well have asked if she required a jester, for she gaped at him, bewildered.
“Mary?” he prodded. “Should I send a physician to your family home?”
A smile broke over her face as broad as morning. “Oh…oh no, milord, no. She’s faring better now. Thank you for askin’.”
“You’re welcome,” he answered, amused by how little it took to please the girl.
With another quick curtsy, she hurried off, still smiling, and he turned to find Juliet and Lady Rosalind standing there.
When he spotted Juliet’s warm look, he wavered between pleasure at her approval and annoyance that she’d seen him following her instructions like some besotted halfwit.
“Good morning, ladies. I trust you slept well.”
“Quite well,” Juliet answered as the footman hastened to bring her sensible wool cloak and her sister’s crimson velvet pelisse. “I’m sorry we’re late.” She shot Lady Rosalind a teasing smile. “My eternally ravenous sister had to stop in the kitchen to eat.”
“You know I don’t go anywhere without breakfast,” Lady Rosalind grumbled.
“It’s all right,” he interjected. They didn’t have time to stand around chattering, not with Knighton liable to come looking for them at any moment. “Let’s be off. Winnie’s cottage is on the estate, but still a good distance away. And with this snow…” Hurrying them out the door, he began helping them navigate the slick stairs.
As they neared the bottom, Lady Juliet exclaimed, “A sleigh! You have a sleigh?”
He glanced at the elaborately painted gold and black equipage with its curved blades and plush seats. “Yes. Uncle Lew bought it in Geneva years ago when he went to see about my mother and Morgan.” He helped Lady Rosalind in. “He had a devil of a time getting it back to England, but said he couldn’t resist. Unfortunately, we rarely have enough snow to make it useful. And it’ll be a tight squeeze, since it’s really built for two. But with the carriage useless just now, I thought you’d prefer the sleigh over horses.”
“Oh, I do, I do!” Juliet beamed up at him as he helped her in next. “I’ve never ridden in a sleigh. And it’s perfect weather for it.”
“Perfect indeed,” Lady Rosalind grumbled as she drew her pelisse closer about her shoulders. “Cold and miserable. How delightful.”
Taking two fur lap robes from the footman, Sebastian handed them to the ladies.
“Pay no mind to Rosalind,” Juliet said apologetically as she spread one over her legs. “She hates rising early.”
“I’d never have guessed.” Sebastian climbed in and squeezed himself in between the two women, then took the reins. If Knighton were smart, he’d stay abed a long time.
As they set off, Juliet tugged her lap robe over to cover his legs, too. The solicitous gesture warmed him far more than the fur. He decided at once that sharing a sleigh with Juliet might be worth Lady Rosalind’s grumbling.
Especially when it put Juliet in such high spirits. Despite the cold, she threw back her hood as the sleigh set off, lifting her face to the brilliant blue sky with a crow of delight. “Ah, fresh air!” Her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “I do so love being out in the early morning.”
It was hard to resist her infectious enthusiasm. Even Lady Rosalind managed a small smile at Sebastian. “My sister was always one for the country, my lord. If not for her desire to marry, I think she would’ve been perfectly content to abandon Knighton House in London for our family’s moldering old estate at Swan Park.”
“Most assuredly.” Juliet laughed, emitting little puffs of frosty air. “Oh, Rosalind, how could you not find this invigorating, you who like all things strong and bracing?”
“I only like them later in the day, dear heart, when I’m awake enough to enjoy them. Besides, this isn’t strong and bracing—it’s just cold. I’d much rather be back in my warm bed with my husband.”
“I daresay he’d rather have you there as well,” Sebastian remarked.
“Not this morning. I doubt he’ll even notice I’m gone.” Her eyes sparkled with sudden humor. “I kept him up quite late, you see. He needs time to recuperate from the different sort of ride he took last night.”
“Rosalind!” Juliet exclaimed. “I can’t believe you’d speak of such things, and before his lordship, too!”
“I was merely informing you that I followed your orders yesterday,” Lady Rosalind told her sister smugly.
“My orders! What are you talking about?”
“You did tell me to apologize convincingly to Griff, didn’t you? So he wouldn’t suspect what we were up to? And considering my husband’s love of certain activities—”
“That’s quite enough!” Juliet cut in with a blush. She refused to look at either one of them. “I’m sure we all take your meaning. Your inappropriate, improper—”
“Have I embarrassed you, dear heart?” Lady Rosalind teased. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did,” Juliet grumbled. “It’s your favorite pastime. Though one would think that after all these years the sport would pale. Or that as a married woman, you’d have learned some sense of propriety.”
“Propriety is highly overrated, dearest, especially for married women.” Lady Rosalind winked slyly at Sebastian. “Don’t you agree, Lord Templemore?”
“Oh no, you won’t draw me into this family spat,” he protested, though he envied them their easy, familial teasing. He’d scarcely had the chance to get to know his own relations. Well, that situation wouldn’t continue, no matter what he must do to get his brother back.
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“She’s only trying to provoke me, you know,” Juliet complained. “She likes making me blush.”
He cast her a sidelong glance as he guided the sleigh down a hill. “I can’t blame your sister for that—even I like making you blush. Especially when you do it so prettily.”
That deepened her blush to crimson, and he smiled. He couldn’t help it—he found her blushes enchanting. And downright provocative. How had she run the gauntlet of London society and still managed to retain her refreshing innocence? That and her new flirtatious manner provided her with a lethal arsenal of female attractions. All he wanted to do was get her alone so she could use him for target practice.
“So that’s the way of it, is it?” Lady Rosalind eyed him with keen interest. “My sister—”
“Oh look, what’s that?” Juliet broke in, pointing to a modest Palladian villa in the distance.
What an obvious ploy to change the subject. Sebastian shook his head, but decided to let her off the hook. For the moment. “That’s Foxglen, Uncle Lew’s estate. We’ll pass it on our way.”
“Has his family always lived so near?” Juliet asked.
“Since before either of us was born.” Sebastian drove them along its outskirts. “The Pryces and Blakeleys have been neighbors for over a century, but oddly enough, it took my parents to join the two families in marriage.”
He sighed. “Unfortunately, it looks as if the Pryce branch of the family will end with Uncle Lew. He didn’t marry until late, you see, and then they had only a few years together before my aunt fell ill. So they never had children. Now Uncle Lew says he’s past the age to marry, which is absurd, even if he is fifty. And since he seems intent on remaining a bachelor and there are no male heirs, he’s said he’ll leave Foxglen to me.”
“Which is why you don’t mind letting him use your house in Bath, I suppose,” Lady Rosalind remarked.
“Letting?” Sebastian laughed. “My refusal wouldn’t make a whit of difference, I assure you. My uncle would merely find a way to insinuate himself into the household, and before long they’d be thinking he owned the place.”
After the Abduction Page 13