by Kim Bowman
Grey forced his voice to equal her gravity. “I must admit I wondered if old Lord Perceval would become acquainted with the point of your shoe when he stepped on your foot for the third time.”
A smile turned her lips upward but then she cocked her head to one side. “Lord Perceval? The Lord Perceval who Uncle Lucien named…”
“The very same. Perceval Thorpe, Marquess of Clareborne Pool.”
“Oh, dear!” Magpie clapped her hand over her mouth but the laughter escaped nonetheless. “Oh, I’m so grateful I didn’t know that while we were dancing. I might not have stopped laughing.” She giggled again. “Oh, but he is a sweet old dear, isn’t he?”
“Indeed,” murmured Grey, wondering what she would think were she to see the ruthless man at White’s, where he had gained a reputation for his competitive nature and the need to win at all costs.
“Anyway, I quite enjoy dancing with you. I haven’t yet noted you to take a misstep, and certainly never one that landed you on top of my toes.” She laid a hand against his chest as she spoke. The smile on her lips was for him alone.
Grey’s body came alive under her attention and he brought his hand up to cover hers, as though to keep it in place where it rested over his heart.
I do fear I am about to make a misstep, my lady, and I do not wish to stop myself.
****
Juliet hadn’t intended to touch Grey. What had possessed her to reach out? Her hand had seemed to move on its own. She’d never been so bold.
And yet, here she stood, her hand over the duke’s wildly beating heart. Oh, she wasn’t so foolish as to think it raced for her. The dancing had gotten it going. But for a moment, she could pretend the heavy pulse under her fingers was because of her.
“I know one dance I would perform with you again if I could,” he murmured, his voice embracing her like soft silk. “I would waltz again with you in my arms and enjoy every moment.”
Juliet’s breath caught and her gaze flashed to his to find his eyes fair burning a hole right through her. She wet her dry lips, and rather impossibly, his heart seemed like it might leap into her hand when she did. “I…” She drew a deep breath, mindful of her own heart crowding her chest. “I should love to dance the waltz again with you, your grace. One day.”
He stepped into the lamplight spilling through the French doors. His eyes glittered with the hunger of a man for a woman.
“Why not now?” he asked softly.
“Oh…” Juliet’s eyes widened and she pressed her fingers to her lips. She stole a glance at the doorway and then looked beyond Grey to the other side of the courtyard.
“We are quite alone. Do I frighten you?” His words were less concern, more of a direct challenge. His hold on her tightened.
“No,” she whispered. He didn’t frighten her one whit. But to dance so in public. Only very few of the nobility had begun to embrace the gliding dance. Lady Harmony had mentioned that even Lord Byron thought it was scandalous for a couple to embrace while dancing.
“No, you won’t dance with me?”
Juliet could hardly catch her breath. “No, you do not frighten me. But… the music is wrong.”
“Then let’s make our own,” he murmured, sliding one hand along her arm to capture her hand and resting his other arm around her waist. He began to move and Juliet closed her eyes, sliding into the rhythm he set as he danced them around the balcony. Small fires ignited where his body brushed against hers and grew in strength when he pulled her more snugly to him.
The dance wove its way into her veins, ensnaring her with its spell. The world around them faded. Only the two of them existed. He molded her so close they might be one person. His hand tightened on her waist when they twirled and glided together. He stepped away and gave her a little spin and then reeled her back to him like she was a fish on a line. They stopped suddenly, next to the stone wall between the doors that led back into the assembly hall.
Grey bent and pressed a sweet, gentle kiss to her lips. When he straightened, his eyes sought hers. Breathing hard, he pulled off his mask and dropped it to the ground. Then he took hold of hers, and with an unsteady hand, he untied the ribbon and pulled the mask from her face.
“Please, my lady,” he murmured, allowing her mask to slip from his fingers to join the bandit’s mask on the ground. “Won’t you tell me your name?”
Besotted with the man, foolishly drunk with the dance he’d just led her on, she answered him, never removing her gaze from his. “I’m Juliet.”
He jerked as though startled, then blinked rapidly a few times. Disappointment might have shown itself in his eyes but the moment was fleeting.
“Then by all means, my lady… let me be your Romeo.”
He crushed his lips to hers and stole what remained of her breath as he pushed her against the wall. The chill from the stone at her back in sharp contrast to the heat radiating off Grey’s body made her dizzy. He brushed his lips back and forth along hers and then left her mouth, allowing his to roam along her jaw, down her neck. When he reached the base of her throat, he breathed in deeply and she arched her neck.
With a moan, he worked his way back to her mouth and took advantage of her parted lips to plunge his tongue into her depths. Juliet could only cling to him. If he let go, her weakened knees would drop her to the ground.
“Lord Perceval, good to see you, good to see you.” Lucien’s overly loud voice filtered into Juliet’s awareness.
Grey wrenched himself upright, using one hand to push Juliet behind him.
“I was looking for your nephew and his companion,” answered a man, presumably Lord Perceval. Juliet had hardly spoken with the man before the dance, but the voice sounded familiar. “I thought I saw them come this way.”
Her lungs threatened to explode, and Juliet let out her breath slowly, trying not to gasp for breath and draw attention to them.
“I do believe I saw them near the refreshment table,” said Lucian. Why was he speaking so loudly? “I say, did I ever tell you about my dog?”
Grey cursed and hastily bent to scoop up his mask. As he finished tying it in place, he stepped into the light falling through the doorway. “Uncle Lucien, did I see Lady Harmony looking for you?” Grey nodded to the man Juliet still couldn’t see. “Perceval. Good to see you. How is your wife these days? She’s quite the lively dancer, isn’t she?” He stepped through the doors, leaving Juliet to follow or be left in the dark.
She glanced down at her mask lying where Grey had dropped it, and blinking back tears, she bent to pick it up. Then she set the magpie mask against her face and retied the ribbon.
****
“I have an acquaintance with a business proposition you may be interested in,” said the Marquess of Clareborne Pool.
Grey feigned listening while he watched over the other man’s shoulder. When he caught sight of Magpie standing in the doorway, he let out his pent up breath.
“What do you think?” asked Lord Perceval, his expression somewhat hopeful.
Grey smiled and nodded. “Let’s get together soon to discuss it.”
Apparently it was the correct response.
“Wonderful, wonderful,” said the marquess. “I’ll see you at White’s next week and we can make the arrangements.” Evidently pleased with the transaction, the other man strode away.
Grey stared after the man with a frown. What in deuces have I just agreed to?
Magpie stood just inside the double doors, but she didn’t appear to be looking for him — or for anyone. She’d put her mask back on. Grey smiled without humor. Had the lady’s mask ever truly been removed?
He shook his head and considered his misfortune. Just as he’d begun to think he’d met the woman whose love could bring him to his knees, had begun to think she trusted him enough to tell him the truth, she’d chosen to play yet another game and called herself Juliet, a name no doubt gleaned from his father’s books. Grey clenched his hands into fists. He deplored her deception even as he was well on his w
ay to falling in love with her. If only he could stay away from her, his heart might yet be spared.
With quiet deliberation, he unfurled his hands and strode toward the golden-haired siren.
Chapter Fifteen
Awake far earlier than she should be after staying out so late at the masked ball, Juliet let herself into the library. A finger of morning sunshine edged its way across the floor, and she smiled at the dust motes dancing in the brilliant light. Following the line across the muted colors of the Turkish carpet, she wandered to the shelves where it seemed to be leading her. There it was right where she’d left off. The sixth volume of William Shakespeare’s work. She knew exactly what she would be reading today, for Volume VI contained Romeo and Juliet.
Juliet’s heartbeat quickened. Her arms tingled with the remembrance of Grey’s touch. Her neck and cheeks flushed at the memory of his fingers gliding along the skin, guiding her face to his so he could claim her lips. He’d nearly begged to be her Romeo the night before. And her body had cried out, pleading with her to let him. If not for Lucien showing up, would he have pressed her for the truth once she had given him her name?
Fine tremors raced through her, chilling her and then heating her blood in their wake. With a trembling hand, she slipped the volume from the shelf and clutched it to her breast in nearly the same manner she’d clung to Grey the evening before. Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath. She could almost smell again the masculine musky scent that had tantalized her nostrils when they’d embraced.
If he finds out the truth…
Maybe he won’t have to.
She popped her eyes open. No, she wouldn’t think of any of that. Not today. Not when the wonder of the masked ball lingered in her heart. Still clutching the book to her breast, Juliet padded across the carpet to the library door.
Dressed in a day dress in dark blue and edged with black lace, Lady Charity looked up when Juliet let herself into the private parlor. “Did you find something to read, dear?” She closed the book in her lap but held her place with a finger.
Juliet held up the brown leather volume. “I did. I shall read Mr. Shakespeare’s words.”
Charity’s eyes widened and she sat up impossibly straighter. “Bah! William Shakespeare! You should immerse yourself in something more modern.” She opened the book in her lap again and began to read, mumbling under her breath. “Seems to me you could find a far more enjoyable way to spend your time than reading something written by that dusty old curmudgeon.”
“Oh, but isn’t Romeo and Juliet just so romantic?”
“Hrmph,” muttered Charity. “Seems like madness, if you ask me. Killing yourself because your families don’t like each other.”
Juliet smiled as she curled her feet beneath her on the window seat and opened the book. She loved Annabella’s aunts, dear old souls really, and both of them prone to stubbornness once they had an idea in their heads.
She turned the pages with care as she absorbed the two-hundred-year-old words describing ill-fated love. Juliet sighed when Romeo compared his Juliet to the morning sun.
A finger of sunshine splashed across the page and Juliet stretched. It had made its way to the window where she sat and warmed her into laziness. She closed the book with a sigh. Something thumped on the other side of the wall and she jumped.
“Did you hear that, La—Aunt Charity?”
“Oh, you heard it too, dear? Gracious, I feared I was hearing things again.” Charity chuckled.
A pitiful moan came from somewhere in the hallway, followed by frantic scratching.
“Oh, my,” murmured Charity, her brow now creased in concern. “That sounds rather like someone in pain.”
Juliet laid her book on the seat next to her and rose. “It sounds like poor Percy needs to go for a walk.” Maybe she should take him. She‘d been lounging inside for the greater part of the day. “I could use some fresh air myself.”
“That sounds lovely, dear.” Lady Charity stood. “Would you like me to see if Harmony wants to go along? She’s not been feeling herself lately. It must be the change in the air.”
“I should enjoy that very much.” Juliet opened the door and stepped out into the hall just as Grey exited his suite at the other end, a scowl on his face. He’d obviously heard the ruckus too and come to investigate.
Her heart skipped a beat. Then another.
His tight-fitting riding breeches clung to his legs like faded brown skin. The black riding boots were his favorites, the ones he wore when he went to the livery. He’d obviously been in the middle of dressing because his shirt, although tucked into his pants, remained unbuttoned.
Juliet stared at the bare expanse of muscular chest peeking from between his lapels. Her breath hung in her throat and her head spun. Oh, my. Why does he have to be so handsome?
Her eyes drifted up to his face to find him watching her as she gawked at him. Her cheeks warmed and she hurriedly focused her attention on Percy sprawled on his side in front of the hall closet with his paws under the door.
“There now, Percy. Do you need to go outside?”
The dog grunted and then groaned as he scraped his leg beneath the door. Finally, he pushed to his feet and began scratching in earnest at the floor.
“What the — Stop that!” Grey stalked over and swung open the door.
A female voice yelped, followed by a male’s voice mumbling curses.
“Uncle Lucien!”
“Harmony Whithersfield!” Charity bellowed at the same time as Grey.
Eyes wide, Juliet bit her lip and choked on a hoot of laughter. She slid a glance from Grey to the compromised couple and then back to the horrified look on Grey’s face.
Not that she blamed Grey in the least for his dismay over such scandalous behavior. Harmony’s hair hung wildly over her left eye. Her sage green dress sagged down over one shoulder, exposing a generous amount of flesh. Several buttons were undone on Lucien’s shirt and he seemed to be having trouble keeping his pants up.
Any minute now, her laughter was certain to escape. Juliet covered her mouth with her palm. At least she now understood why Percy had been so neglected most mornings.
“Lucien!” Grey folded his arms across his chest. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Nothing now, thanks to that no-good dog.” Lucien glared at Percy. “You traitorous beast!”
“And you, Harmony. In a closet!” Charity pressed her lips into a thin line and shook her head.
Juliet trembled. She must contain her mirth. She turned her head toward the main staircase in time to see Percy waddle down. Yes, go on with ye, Lord Percy, now that ye’ve done yer damage. Could she manage to slip away and follow him?
She risked a look at the hallway.
Grey glowered at his uncle. “Do you realize you’ve compromised Lady Harmony? That you’ll have to marry her?”
The two lovers looked at one another, eyes wide.
“I-I-I don’t think we can get married. Can we? I mean, we are related by marriage,” Harmony said, tugging the shoulder of her dress upward.
Lucien took her hands in his, apparently having forgotten the reason for holding his breeches. “Oh, fair beauty, it matters not. It only matters that we spend our days together. Besides,” he jerked his head in Grey’s direction, “if my nephew can fall in love with his stepsister, I see no reason why I cannot marry her aunt.”
All eyes turned to Grey. The merriment drained from Juliet like water from a leaky bucket. Her heart pounded so wildly it was certain to burst from her chest. Grey’s face had gone crimson. His mouth hung open but he remained speechless.
Was Lucien correct? Did Grey care for her? The room became hazy and started to spin. She needed air but couldn’t draw a breath. After an eternity, she sucked in a great gasp.
His gaze connected with hers briefly, then hardened. “I am not in love with my stepsister.” A chill entered his already cold voice. “And furthermore, I do not happen to be conducting inappropriate liaisons in hal
l closets. As soon as I’m changed, I will speak with you privately in my office, Lucien. And pull your pants up, you blasted fool!” Grey turned and stomped to his rooms, slamming the door behind him.
Charity planted her hands on her hips. From behind, Juliet couldn’t see her face, but her voice was cold as a steel blade. “And I shall have a word with you, Harmony.”
Shaking, Juliet slipped through the door to the suite, praying no one would notice. Her tattered heart whimpered in her chest as she closed the door softly behind her.
****
Once alone, Grey let out a string of profanity. A fire gnawed at his gut but it had nothing at all to do with Lucien’s antics.
“Magpie.” Grey’s knees weakened. Her face had gone to ash and her eyes had clouded over. He’d hurt her with his words. Curse Lucien and his propensity for spouting whatever foolishness crossed his mind out his blasted mouth.
He fumbled with the button on his shirt, finally getting the ruddy thing through the hole. He scraped his hand through his hair and pulled in a long shaky breath before attacking the next button.
He needed to talk to her… explain himself.
But how?
Irritation sparked. Truth be told, he wasn’t the one who had the explaining to do. It was not he pretending to be someone else. And even if he did love her—
His hands stilled, fingers still wrapped around the button.
Love her?
He staggered and threw an arm against the armoire to steady himself. How in blazes could he love her? He didn’t even know who she was. For all he knew she could be part of some scheme concocted by Regina and Dawes to fleece him out of funds.
No! He thrust the thought away. Jon would have warned him if the chit was up to no good. Except he’d awakened to Higgins informing him the letter he’d sent off to Lord Seabrook had been returned unopened, Jon apparently having departed from Haselmere.
That left Stowe’s investigation. Grey’s gut twisted. He’d deliberately kept mention of his stepsister out of his last maddening conversation with the man. But if Regina and Annabella had become involved with Dawes’ schemes, Stowe would find out.
