“No, I dare say we would not. Especially when Lord Roughton so heartily approved our match.”
Which was a thin truth, given the word “heartily” implied something beyond the weak smile and nod of affirmation the baron had offered, but his acquiescence of their match was truth nonetheless.
A thin smile crossed Winters’s face. “How refreshing to hear my uncle’s muddled mind did not impair him from blessing his daughter’s marriage to a viscount.”
“Indeed,” Benjamin said. “Though hardly surprising, given most minds need not be muddled to approve such an ideal match.”
Juliet stepped toward him, making her way around her docile hounds. “It is fortunate Lord Colwyn and I suit each other so well.”
Winters studied him, his green eyes glinting. “Yes. How very fortunate indeed. Should we look forward to your company at dinner this evening, Lord Colwyn?”
“I fear I don’t have a choice.” Benjamin lifted a small magnifying glass off the table beside him and studied the smooth oak handle. “The roads being what they are.”
“The roads?” Juliet asked. “How are they, exactly?”
“Near frozen. Or at least they were, before the snow.” Benjamin held the glass to his eye, fighting the upward tug of his lips. “With a promise of a heavy layer, should the dark sky and biting wind be any indication.” As if on cue, the glass panes on the front window rattled and a blast of wind whistled down the chimney.
Winters strode toward the window, his footsteps echoing in the small and warm room. Lifting the heavy curtain, Winters peered out at the steady wall of white swirling beyond the glass. “It appears you may be staying for more than dinner, Lord Colwyn.”
…
Juliet trailed her fingers down the side of her father’s serene face, his lips lifting in his slumber, as though he knew she was beside him in his warm and darkened room, doing her best to ease his burdens.
All while she attempted to soothe her own. She had to give credit where credit was due and, in the case of the viscount, the man was deserving of not only her gratitude, but her praise for a match won and a game well played.
Heavens. Had she not been certain of his inability to control the weather, Juliet would have believed he had conjured the storm for her benefit.
Or his.
The viscount had attempted to suppress his smile, but he could not hide the amusement that twinkled in his dark eyes at Frederick’s disapproving stares.
Juliet, however, did not wish for Benjamin to be here. At least not overnight.
Yet, this was what she wanted, was it not? An opportunity to display her affection, to convince Frederick of the viscount’s undying love and, in doing so, forever free herself from her cousin’s misplaced attention and Society’s narrow views on what a woman should or should not do for pleasure. She should be groveling at Benjamin’s feet, thanking him for the opportunity he had created.
Only she wasn’t. She was doing quite the opposite, avoiding him entirely as she sat beside her father’s rumpled bedside, watching as his chest rose and lowered in contented slumber.
And wondering how the devil she was going to survive an evening, or possibly two, of not only entertaining Lord Colwyn under Frederick’s watchful and scrutinizing gaze, but keeping him and his dog from sniffing each other out.
A sharp rap had her lifting her head and bustling to the door, hoping to quiet the intruder. Perhaps it was the maid, come to tell her pigs had sprouted wings and a warm summer sun had melted the snow, clearing the roads for travel.
“Yes?” she asked, slipping out into the hallway.
Frederick’s solid form took shape in the dim light, his pursed lips illuminated by the flickering flame of a single candle.
“I wonder if I might have a word with you, Juliet.”
She glanced down the empty hall. “Is there something the matter?”
“I wish to speak with you.” He lifted a brow. “In private.”
Juliet frowned. “The corridor is empty. Is it not conducive to your request?”
“The matter I wish to discuss is of an extremely personal nature.”
And likely dealt with their unexpected houseguest. Well, perhaps she could glean a few details of the extenuating circumstances that existed between the two men.
She took one last glance down the hall before leading Frederick to the quaint and tidy guest room across the hall. Shutting the door behind them, she turned to face her cousin.
“What is this all about?”
“When.” He growled the word, which made it more of a statement than a question, and a fearful one at that.
“When what, Frederick?”
“Don’t toy with me, Juliet. When are you expecting your arrival?”
God in heaven. How was it possible Frederick knew of Artemis’s litter? She had been so careful, slipping down to the kitchen every evening, checking to make certain the staff had seen to the future dam’s comfort. Goodness. Frederick could hardly discern one dog from the next. How had he known Artemis was increasing? Or that she belonged to Lord Colwyn?
“Arrival?” She did her best to sound ignorant. “Should I be expecting someone?”
“That remains the question, does it not?”
Juliet studied her cousin, her eyes taking in his flushed appearance and heated gaze. She squirmed under his appraisal. It was not like him to be so upset. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Oh, I believe you understand quite well, cousin. What remains unclear is why you did not come to me first.”
This was what the man was about? That she had not sought his approval on breeding the dogs? “I did not think you were interested in such matters.” Indeed, his eyes usually glazed over when she spoke of anything to do with her beloved hounds.
“I am a man, like any other.”
“And I a woman.” What did their sex have anything to do with dogs and breeding?
“Indeed. And a very pretty one. Have you applied a new treatment to your skin? The freckles appear a tad muted this evening.” He took a step toward her, his hand brushing her cheek.
She had, in fact, applied a lemon wash to her face that morning, but that Frederick had noticed had, in fact, used the word “pretty” in reference to her appearance, and was now touching her in an intimate fashion, set her on edge.
Juliet took a step back toward the door, her fingers reaching behind her for the latch.
“I don’t profess to know what has overcome you, that you now seek to compliment me, Frederick, but I must remind you I am engaged to another.”
Frederick let out a loud snort. “The viscount? Come, Juliet. I think we both know I would be a better match for you…even with your little indiscretion.” His eyes lowered to her midsection.
Was he implying she was with child? That he thought she and Benjamin had been intimate before vows were exchanged? The very idea brought a rush of heat to her cheeks and her hands to the metal latch on the door.
“I can assure you there was no indiscretion. Now, it is late and I must see to Lord Colwyn before retiring for the evening.” The latch lifted in her hands, the cool metal bringing her a sense of reassurance—before Frederick put a heavy palm on the door.
“Why not see to my needs first?” He leaned forward, the fruity smell of her father’s best brandy heavy on his breath.
“Have you been imbibing, Frederick?” That would certainly explain his insulting behavior.
“Perhaps a little. It is rather cold this evening.” He removed his hand from the door and placed a finger under her chin, tilting it upward. “I was hoping you might warm me up.”
Juliet brushed her cousin’s hand away. “I’ll have the staff bring some extra blankets to your room.” She turned, her hands trembling on the metal latch. Pulling it back, she made her way out of the room and down the hall.
With a hand to her chest and her slipper-covered feet flying over the carpeted floor, she turned the corner and barreled into a thick, broad, and very hard chest.
A deep grunt and an expletive were whispered into her hair before two hands wrapped around her arms, pushing her away from his chest.
“Juliet?” Benjamin’s dark eyes swept over her. “Are you all right?”
Her cousin was foxed and acting all out of sorts. He had suggested she, well, she was with child. She was the farthest thing from all right. Her eyes darted back to the hall.
“I was—”
He took hold of her hands and clasped them between his own.
“Dear God, you’re trembling.”
Her fingers tingled at his touch, a rush of heat warming her where his skin met hers. It was a comfortable sensation, and one she wished would continue, but she could hear Frederick’s plodding footsteps making their way over the carpet.
Her cousin’s voice carried down the hall. “Juliet, please, don’t be foolish. You and I are suited for each other.”
“Winters.” Benjamin’s jaw clenched. His face lifted to the dimly lit hall.
“He’s been drinking Father’s brandy. I’m afraid he is not himself.”
Benjamin’s gaze met hers. “Know this is for your benefit and not mine.”
“Benjamin?” Her words were silenced with his lips crushing over hers.
Chapter Five
Juliet was not unaccustomed to open and forward displays of affection. She received them often, and in great number, albeit from her four-legged companions, not her two-legged ones. Her hound’s wet kisses and slobbery licks of friendship were a continual source of comfort that never failed to make her smile.
They did not, however, make her feel like this. She wasn’t quite certain what this was, but her lids fluttered closed and her lips parted.
Benjamin placed his palm on the back of her head and pulled her close, the pressure of his fingers tantalizingly perfect. Her skin was aflame, her pulse ragged—and her mind…well, it was certainly not in the same place it was when she dispensed affection on her hounds.
Had Frederick not over imbibed and made the fool decision to press his suit after her engagement, she was quite certain the firm, slightly sweet lips of the viscount would not be crushed against hers now.
But they were. And she was quite enjoying the way they tugged and teased over her mouth much more than she ought.
Then again, her mind was muddled, both dulled and frighteningly alert. Despite her full knowledge this was all a charade to dissuade her cousin’s ill-timed and unwanted advances, her nerves were painfully aware of every nibble, swipe, and—good gracious—suck, Benjamin applied to her person.
“Juliet.” Her name was spoken on a gasp, the bewildered and horrified tone seeping through the fog of her befuddled mind and wrenching her back to reality. She stiffened in Benjamin’s grasp, her lips no longer parting for his entrance, but rolling into a pursed line.
“Winters?” Benjamin lifted his head and blinked. His voice was thick, his eyes dimmed as though he was equally affected by their intimate display.
Which was, of course, absurd. Had he not stated his actions were for her benefit and not his?
Frederick lilted to the side. “Unhand my cousin.” He placed a hand against the wall to steady himself, his rumpled cravat glowing in the flickering candlelight.
Instead of relaxing, Benjamin’s grip tensed, the pair of thick arms encircling her body gripping her closer and making her feel…safe.
“Perhaps she does not wish to be unhanded.” Benjamin’s gaze returned to her. “Would you like me to release you?”
Juliet stared into his rich brown eyes. Something unfamiliar swirled in their dark depths. Something almost…dangerous. And yet, she had no desire to be anywhere but in the confines of his reassuring embrace. The unknown was a far better alternative than Frederick’s cold and maladroit clutches.
Not to mention she had a ruse to carry and a role to play. Would a love-struck-soon-to-be-wed Juliet be willing to leave the warmth of her intended?
Not likely.
“No.”
Staggering forward, Frederick snorted. “It is clear she does not have her wits about her. As her cousin, I am honor bound to protect—”
“And as her intended I have released you of your familial responsibilities and have taken them as my own.”
Benjamin nudged her behind him, the warmth of his hands seeping through the thick muslin of her gown and comforting her more than any lick from her hound.
Frederick’s face contorted into one of indignation. “But she is my cousin. You have not yet exchanged vows.”
“A detail that will be remedied shortly, I assure you.” The soft cotton of Benjamin’s unjacketed shirt brushed against her hands. “Now, if you wish—”
“She was supposed to be my intended.” Frederick’s words slurred together. “As was Amelia.”
Benjamin’s entire body stiffened, the muscles of his arms tensing into tight little cords beneath the thin lawn of his shirt.
“Amelia?” Juliet nudged Benjamin to the side to peer at her cousin. Frederick had never mentioned an engagement. Or an attachment. But then, he had never been one to indulge her with conversation. At least not when it pertained to anything other than politics, government, and his strong opinions of the two.
Benjamin turned toward her, his hands gripping her arms. “The hour grows late.”
“Juliet loves me,” Frederick persisted.
Her cheeks heated. “As one does a cousin yes, but not as a—”
“As did Amelia.” Frederick thrust his index finger into his chest. “She loved me. She was to marry me.”
Benjamin’s chin lifted. “Winters, this is not the time nor place to discuss—”
“Amelia was your intended?” Juliet’s gaze darted between Frederick’s animated features and Benjamin’s agitated ones.
His expression darkening, Benjamin said, “He did not give her the honor, as you will never give him yours.”
Frederick’s face turned a mottled shade of red. “But I am her rightful match, Colwyn. She is to be my intended, my wife, my—”
“I suggest we all retire for the evening.” Benjamin’s steely tone dismissed any argument to the contrary. “We can continue to discuss matters tomorrow. After things have settled.”
“You dare to dismiss me in my own house?” Frederick hissed.
Juliet pushed Benjamin’s solid body aside, her fury at Frederick’s arrogance outweighing any of her lingering fears or curiosity in his personal affairs.
“This is not your home, Frederick. At least not while Father’s heart still beats in his bed. You may imbibe in his choice beverages and sit at his table, but you hold no power over the occupants and business of this house as long as he is the baron.”
“I would never imply—”
“But you did. And as Lord Colwyn has suggested, I believe we should retire and reconvene after a good night’s rest.”
Benjamin took her hands in his, her pulse jumping at his touch. “If you could have a servant assist me in taking Winters to his room, I would be most obliged.”
Frederick stumbled, reaching for the wall. “You would toss aside Amelia’s memory so quickly?” he sneered.
Benjamin closed his eyes, but not before Juliet saw the pain reflected in their depths.
“Winters, you are addled, sir. Should you have something you wish to discuss with me, I encourage you to do so after the effects of your drink have been diluted.”
“You know this Amelia to whom my cousin refers?” Juliet asked. She peered up at Benjamin’s weary face.
His eyes blinked open, the pain still reflected in their watery depths. “I knew her, yes. She passed away three years prior.”
Frederick let out a low guffaw. “Of course he knew her. She was his wife.”
A whoosh of air left Juliet’s lungs. His wife? The viscount had been previously married? The same man who had insisted upon his disinterest in marriage had exchanged vows with another?
Sighing, Benjamin ran a hand over his bristly hair. “Indeed, she wa
s. But the fates ended our arrangement when they took her life and…our unborn son’s in the throes of childbirth. This, however, is not the time or the place to recount the sorrows of the past.”
He had possessed both a wife…and a child? She had never imagined, never dreamed… “Forgive me. I-I had no idea.”
Indeed, the more that was revealed about the man, the more she became aware of how very little she knew of her future husband. She had preferred being blissfully ignorant of Benjamin’s personal affairs. She was, after all, departing for Evenrood once her father’s health improved, and Artemis whelped her puppies. Knowing more about the viscount than was necessary only complicated matters.
And yet, she found herself intrigued, drawn to the intimate details of his life like a mouse to a piece of fresh, succulent cheese. Was Amelia the reason he did not wish to wed again? Was her death still mourned? Her loss irreplaceable? A hollow ache pricked at Juliet’s chest.
Benjamin led her toward the stairs. “Now you do.”
“Juliet.” Frederick gripped her elbow and jerked her into the side table. Pain sliced up her side. “I am the more logical choice. It is I whom you should wed.”
His lips lowered to hers, and for the second time in one evening, she found herself kissing a man.
But where Benjamin’s lips had been firm yet gentle in their exploration, Frederick’s were limp, harsh, and…wet. She felt no stirrings in her nerves, no rushing of heat or pounding of her blood as she had with Benjamin’s intimate embrace. Fear, cold and stabbing, gripped her limbs and made her unable to protest her anger at his violation of her person.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to voice anything, as Benjamin resolved the awkward situation with one swift blow to Frederick’s side.
With a gasp, Frederick doubled over, clutching his midsection and knocking his head against the sharp corner of the side table.
“Are you all right?” Benjamin’s gaze roved over her face before he clutched her to his chest.
Like a cooling salve applied to a festering burn, his embrace was a balm to her frazzled nerves. “I-I’m not certain.” She had never been kissed before this evening, and in the course of ten minutes, her lips had been claimed by two different men. She had been both abused and cherished, assaulted and comforted, and the effects were…overwhelming.
Miss Winters Proposes Page 4
