“Of course I would care!”
A smile blazed across his face. “I didn’t challenge him. I merely pointed out to him the advantages of reversing his story.”
“Oh, Lord Templemore,” Rosalind gushed, “we owe you such a debt of gratitude!”
“Then again,” Griff grumbled, “your brother was the one to cause all this in the first place. The least you could do was set matters to rights.”
“Griff, really!” Rosalind protested. “You shouldn’t be so ungracious!”
Griff’s suspicious gaze fixed on Sebastian. “I was merely stating facts.”
“It’s all right, Lady Rosalind,” Sebastian put in quickly. “He does have a point.”
“Perhaps so,” Rosalind retorted, “but pay his rudeness no mind. He’s been grousing and mumping about ever since we left Shropshire.”
“Mumping!” Griff looked offended. “I haven’t done any such thing.”
“Yes, you have.” Rosalind leaned toward Sebastian confidentially. “He’s been very worried about this situation with Juliet, you see. And no matter what he says, I assure you we’re all very grateful for your help.”
Strange, but Griff didn’t seem grateful at all. Indeed, he looked as if he wanted to tear Sebastian’s head off and mount it on Lady Feathering’s wall.
“I was happy to do it,” Sebastian said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Lady Juliet has expressed an urgent desire for punch. Lady Rosalind, would you like some as well?”
Rosalind smiled broadly. “I’d love some punch, Lord Templemore.”
With a bow, Sebastian left to fetch it. As soon as he was out of earshot, Griff muttered, “I still want to know what he said to Montfort. This is all very questionable.”
“Balderdash.” Rosalind winked at Juliet. “I think my shy sister has finally found a suitor who suits her.” She smiled at her little play on words.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t be so hasty to leap to conclusions,” Griff bit out.
Unable to bear her family one minute more, Juliet murmured, “Excuse me,” and hurried after Sebastian.
She couldn’t believe he’d threatened Montfort on her behalf. It gave her hope. Surely if he would risk that sort of trouble…She halted him as he passed some French doors leading out to a balcony. Tugging him outside, she faced him in the cold night air.
“Thank you for speaking to Montfort,” she whispered. “Even if it doesn’t work—”
“It will work. You needn’t worry about that.” His eyes searched her face. He stepped nearer, and she suddenly realized they were quite alone on the balcony. He took her hand. “I don’t suppose this changes your mind about becoming engaged to me.”
She glanced away, torn. She should have known he’d try to sway her at every opportunity. “It’s not that I’m not grateful—” she began.
“If I wanted gratitude, I’d buy a puppy,” he growled. “I don’t want gratitude from you, especially when it’s misplaced. As Knighton pointed out, I’m responsible for this nightmare, and I do take care of my responsibilities.”
Him and his infernal responsibilities. Her gaze swung back to him. “Not all of them. You still refuse to do the one thing I’ve asked of you.”
A flush of anger darkened his cheeks. “Yes, I refuse to let you twist me around your little finger. I don’t take kindly to manipulation, Juliet.”
She bristled. “Nor do I. And if you think I’ll sit and twiddle my thumbs like some poor Penelope while vainly waiting for you to do this properly, you can think again. I intend to move about society as before until you come to your senses.” Snatching her hand away, she turned to go back inside.
He caught her arm, drawing her close enough that she could feel his breath against her cheek. “You do that. Dance with your bumbling idiots. Flirt with a lot of scoundrels who’ve shown themselves eager to believe the worst of you. But I promise you, sweeting, this time I won’t bury myself in Shropshire while you do it. I intend to marry you with all due haste, and you know how persuasive I can be when I set my mind to something.”
Oh yes, he was a master of persuasion. The very thought of what he might do made her shiver.
He slid his arm about her waist as he brought his mouth to her ear. “I happen to know all your weaknesses. I know your fondness for ‘intimate’ kisses and chess and pedestals. I know how to make you burn. And I shall exploit my knowledge to the fullest. By the end of the week, you’ll be begging me to marry you, make no mistake.”
“Y-you seem very sure of yourself for a man who hasn’t had much experience with women,” she said, trying for icy disdain and managing only tepid uncertainty.
As if scenting triumph already, he nuzzled her hair aside to plant a hot, openmouthed kiss to her ear. “I don’t need experience with women. I only need experience with you. Fortunately, I have all that I require. And I’ll win you on my own terms, too. That is my solemn vow.”
Then brushing a kiss to her hair, he was gone.
She stood on the balcony shaking with both anger and desire for long moments after. So the impudent scoundrel thought to change her resolve with some kisses and caresses, did he?
She’d just see about that. Yes, she wanted the scoundrel for her husband, and she wanted him badly. But they could have no kind of marriage at all if he expected her always to bow to his dictates.
It was high time Sebastian Blakely learned a thing or two about women. She knew how to make him burn, too. By the end of the week, she’d have him agreeing to do whatever he must to secure her. And that was her solemn vow.
Chapter 22
Fate finds for every man
His share of misery.
Euripides’ Helen, worked on a handkerchief by Juliet on her way from Shropshire to London
F or five days, Sebastian watched as Juliet made her brilliant return into the good graces of society, aided by Montfort’s reluctant reversal. But watch was all Sebastian could do, thanks to her stubborn determination to make his life hell.
It was hard to make her burn when she wouldn’t let him within a foot of her. Now that the gossip was fading, her popularity was rising. Not that he regretted his part in ending the rumors, but he did hate having to join all the others trying to get her attention.
If it wasn’t her family, it was a simpering girlfriend or a gossipy matron. And the men came sniffing around her skirts, too. Sebastian disliked that intensely. From what she’d said about suitors, he’d erroneously believed they were all lacking, but quite a few were too handsome and eligible for his peace of mind.
Of course, Juliet, being not easily prone to forgiveness, paid most of them little heed. After all, they’d been the first to shun her after Montfort’s initial tales, so she clearly wasn’t about to countenance their suits now.
But she did allow one man close—that blasted Havering. Apparently, ever since Havering had stood by her during her disgrace, he’d risen in her esteem. Sebastian had to remind himself often that the man was too stupid for her to be genuinely attracted to him. That was the only thing that kept Sebastian from lunging for Havering’s throat whenever the man took her to the dance floor or fetched her pelisse or brought her negus at parties.
His reaction to Havering plagued him. Sebastian couldn’t believe he was actually jealous. He’d never been jealous before, mostly because he’d never had a woman he felt possessive about. It was a singularly unpleasant sensation. He wondered how his father had ever flitted from woman to woman. One tiny female was tying Sebastian into knots—he couldn’t fathom suffering this misery with a succession of them.
Nor did he intend to let Juliet inflict it on him anymore. So tonight he lay in wait for her at Lady Brumley’s card party, determined to get her alone. He’d come prepared, too. He’d uncovered Havering’s main weakness—a fondness for cockfighting—and had learned the dates and times of all the matches. A few choice words to Havering about tonight’s “fight of the season” had sent the young lord racing off to the Royal Cockpit for an exciting evening of bloodl
etting and mayhem.
Sebastian intended his own exciting evening, of a decidedly different sort.
He spotted his quarry the second she entered Lady Brumley’s massive salon, which had been turned into a card room for the evening. Tonight, Juliet wore some green satin confection that swirled about her slender form like the sea mist from which Aphrodite had arisen. Pearl pins adorned the hair that foamed in golden curls about her face, and pearls encased her lovely throat.
His heart flipped over in his chest. By thunder, she was beautiful. There were women here dressed more richly, with finer features and more buxom figures, but only Juliet was perfection.
Even the entrance of her blasted family a few seconds behind her couldn’t dampen his enthusiasm. Sebastian had planned for that, too, by paying a furtive visit to Lady Rosalind today to ask her assistance in getting Juliet alone. He’d told her he wanted the chance to propose marriage. Which was almost the truth.
But his secret weapon came in the most unlikely form—their hostess herself, Lady Brumley. The battle-ax had been eager to help him once she’d heard that a secret romance was involved.
With one of her signature nautical headdresses perched atop her gray head, Lady Brumley now wended her way across the room. When she reached Juliet, she attached herself to the young woman like a barnacle. A few moments later, Rosalind pulled Griff off to a card game.
Congratulating himself for choosing such worthy allies, Sebastian shoved away from the pillar he’d been holding up and headed for his quarry. Two other gentlemen reached Juliet first, but Lady Brumley quickly dispatched them to card tables. Some chit tried to strike up a conversation with the ladies, but she, too, was sent on her merry way. By the time Sebastian sauntered up, Juliet still stood alone except for Lady Brumley.
The matron greeted him with a smile and a wink. “Ah, Lord Templemore, I have found you a partner at last.”
Juliet whirled around with an almost comical expression of dismay.
“You see, Lady Juliet,” Lady Brumley went on, “poor Lord Templemore spent so many years away from good society that he never learned to play cards. Imagine that! But I’ve discovered he’s rather fond of chess, and I promised to secure him a partner.”
Juliet glared daggers at him, and he met it with a look of perfect innocence. She wasn’t the only one who could be devious.
Lady Brumley patted Juliet’s hand. “I’m so delighted that you said you play, too. I should hate to force the poor man to sit in the corner idle all evening.”
“Yes, what a crime that would be,” Juliet said coolly.
Despite her frigid air, he knew he had her trapped. Juliet’s one unfailing characteristic was good manners and an inability to be rude to anyone but him. So it was a foregone conclusion that Lady Brumley’s request for Juliet to “entertain the poor man” at chess would be met with terse agreement. Sebastian offered Juliet his arm, then tried not to gloat as she was forced, under their hostess’s watchful eye, to take it.
“I even have a special table set aside,” Lady Brumley went on. She pointed across the room to an alcove separated from the other guests’ tables by a low wall and a post.
Sebastian had tried to talk Lady Brumley into putting the table in a private room, but she’d told him sternly that she wasn’t in the business of arranging seductions. So he’d settled for the alcove. At least it afforded them some measure of privacy.
“Now that Lord Templemore is settled,” Lady Brumley said, “I must go see about poor Miss Childs. She’s complaining about the quality of my wine again. Such a vexing young woman.” With that, Lady Brumley bustled off.
“I’ll tell you who’s vexing,” Juliet muttered under her breath as soon as the marchioness was gone. “Scheming hostesses, that’s who.”
“I rather like them, myself.” He led her toward the alcove, his heart pounding foolishly at the prospect of having her all to himself.
“You would. And I daresay you had a hand in this particular scheme.”
He didn’t even bother to deny it. “You gave me no choice. You’re never at home when I call, you won’t answer my notes, and you surround yourself with fawning admirers in public.” Despising how peevish he sounded, he forced a smile to his face. “You’re clearly worried that if you let me close, I’ll convince you to change your mind.”
“No, I’m merely busy enjoying myself with companions who find me interesting and fun. As opposed to you, who find me ‘childish’ and unreasonable.”
“I did not call you—” He broke off, tamping down his irritation. He would not let her put him on the defensive this time. “Yes, I suppose you would prefer a mooncalf like Havering, who lets you tromp all over him. You never did like a challenge.”
She stuck her chin out. “I’m not afraid of you. I’ll meet any challenge you offer.”
“Excellent. Because I look forward to a rousing game of chess, and it would be spoiled if you were cowering in the corner.”
“By ‘chess,’ you’d better mean the board game and nothing else,” she warned.
“We’re surrounded by Lady Brumley’s guests. I can scarcely ravish you over the table.” He bent to whisper, “Though I’ll admit the thought did occur to me.”
When she blushed and jerked her gaze away, he chuckled. This was what he’d missed most about Juliet—how she turned from determined goddess into fetching innocent with little provocation. She was the only woman he actually enjoyed talking to.
The virginal sorts annoyed him with their vacuous discussions of the weather, the latest gossip, and the last ball they’d attended. The widows were no more tolerable, either. When they weren’t assessing his suitability for marriage, they were offering to “entertain” him. Come to think of it, the married women did their share of the latter. Where the devil were their husbands? Didn’t the men know how to keep their women content?
No, he supposed not, judging from the number of married men spending these evening affairs drinking with their male friends.
That would never be him. He wouldn’t make the mistake his father made—neglecting his wife until she looked elsewhere for comfort. He smiled to himself. As if he’d ever prefer any other entertainment to spending time with Juliet.
He led her to the seat at the table before the white pieces. “I’ll give you the advantage of being first,” he said as he went back round to sit in the other chair.
“As a gentleman should,” she said haughtily.
From across the table, he watched her assess the board, her pretty brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re looking very lovely tonight,” he ventured.
She moved her pawn out to begin the game. “How adorable of you to say so,” she responded in a sugary voice. “And so original, too. Lord Ferguson and Mr. Rowland said exactly the same thing when I entered this evening. Lord Havering has remarked on it often this week. I do believe I have looked ‘very lovely’ to every gentleman I’ve met for the past five nights.”
If she thought to provoke him, it wouldn’t work. “Can we help it if your astonishing beauty dulls our wits?” He blocked her pawn with his.
“That doesn’t bode well for our chess game. A dull-witted man can hardly win. I wonder why you even bothered to play.”
“To sharpen my dull wits, so I can proffer more ‘original’ compliments next time.”
“Don’t trouble yourself.” She examined the board, then moved her knight out. “Any compliment you give would be insincere, since—as a certain devious man once told me—it only means you’re ‘aiming to win’ and has naught to do with me.”
He chuckled. “You’re bent on annoying me, aren’t you? But nothing you say can annoy me tonight. I plan to enjoy myself. How can I not, with such fetching company?”
Tipping up her chin, she stared hard at him. “I don’t suppose you’ve received any more news of your brother.”
His smile faded. He’d been wrong—there was something she could say to annoy him. “No, I haven’t.”
“I heard that it
isn’t at all certain Lord Blackmore will find the pirates. Men have tried before, you know, and failed.”
“I have faith in Blackmore,” he ground out. “Now can we discuss something else?”
“Why?”
He moved out his knight. “Because you only speak of it to keep your resentment of me alive.”
She arched an eyebrow. “My resentment of you is thriving very well on its own.”
Reaching over, he caught her hand. “Then give me a chance to banish it.” He lifted her gloved hand and pressed a kiss into the palm.
She snatched her hand back. “That is not the way to go about it. Besides, you’re only distracting me so you can win the game.”
“True. But chess isn’t the game I’m trying to win. And the only reason you won’t let me touch you is you know how strongly it affects you.”
“Not at all, I assure you.” She held out her hand with a haughty frown. “Go on, kiss it all you like. I’m immune to your ridiculous maneuvers, sir.”
“Are you indeed?” He ignored her hand to attack on another front. Since the low wall of the alcove completely shielded everything below the table from the other players, he used that to his advantage. Removing his shoe, he ran his stocking foot up her calf.
Sucking in a sharp breath, she jerked up straight. Then she leaned over the table to whisper, “Stop that right now, Sebastian!”
“Or what? You’ll capture my king?” With a smile, he caressed her calf.
She kicked at him, then winced.
He laughed outright. “If you’re going to kick, you need something other than slippers to be effective. And since they’re doing you no good anyway…” He hooked his foot behind her heel and slid her slipper off. Then he dragged the flimsy satin confection back to where she couldn’t reach it.
At least now she couldn’t jump up and storm off without doing it in stocking feet. After all, that wouldn’t be proper.
Judging from her look of outrage, she knew it, too. “Give me back my slipper,” she hissed under her breath.
“Not yet.”
After the Abduction Page 29