Miss Foster’s Folly

by Alice Gaines

  The whole situation felt dizzying. An hour earlier, she and Derrington had had the whole estate to themselves, aside from a staff that managed to disappear at the most important times. Now, they had a visitor. No, a relative, and one who seemed to have uncanny instincts into what went on between her and Derrington. Could her mouth actually show what she’d been doing just before the woman arrived? If she could, Lady Derrington certainly looked as if she approved.

  “You’re glad your grandson orders me about, Lady Derrington?” she asked.

  “Heavens, no,” the woman answered. “I’m glad your behavior nettles him.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He has the family curse, you see,” Lady Derrington said.

  “Now, I really don’t understand,” she said.

  “Winslow males come in two distinct types,” Lady Derrington said. “The staid and dependable, and the restless. We knew this one was restless the day we named him Bump.”

  “Settle in, Miss Foster,” Derrington said. “We’ll be here for a while.”

  “We suspected Bump would be one of the restless ones before he was born,” Lady Derrington said. “He kicked his mother mercilessly. When he finally graced us with his presence, he slept deeply for long periods at a time. His mother thought she’d been spared the worst, but that turned out to be horribly wrong.”

  The man in question—Bump—raised an eyebrow in disapproval as the woman continued her story, but one corner of his mouth curved up as well. He clearly enjoyed his grandmother, no matter what she did. Judging from the way the woman’s gaze settled softly on him as she spoke, the affection went both ways.

  “We soon discovered he was saving up his energy for maximum effect when he was awake,” Lady Derrington said.

  “I was a mere infant,” he said.

  “Un enfant terrible.”

  Juliet couldn’t help but laugh. He dominated any space he occupied. It wasn’t hard to believe he’d done that from birth.

  “As soon as he could stand up, he walked,” Lady Derrington said. “And as soon as he could walk, he ran. Nothing was safe—not the crockery, nor the furniture, nor even his mother’s cats.”

  Juliet studied him where he sat sipping tea, seemingly the pinnacle of civilization—the well-bred English nobleman. With a little effort, she could imagine him as a child, running free, only loosely contained by the demands of good behavior. Defying humans and terrifying cats.

  She’d noticed the sparkle in his eye the first moment she’d met him. It gleamed there now as he gazed at his grandmother. He’d never lost that naughty child inside him. He brought it to everything he did, including lovemaking.

  He caught her staring and gave her a knowing look. “I thought you wanted to know how I got the name Bump.”

  She looked right back. “You must have bumped into a lot of things.”

  “Exactly,” his grandmother said. “And when anyone confronted him with what he’d destroyed, he’d claim it had bumped into him.”

  “And so you named him Bump and decided he was cursed,” Juliet said.

  “You understand,” Lady Derrington said.

  “Not at all. What does his curse have to do with me?”

  “That sort of Winslow male needs a woman who can stand up to his devilment and return it with a vengeance. I was that woman for Bump’s grandfather,” Lady Derrington said. “If you drive my darling boy to distraction, it proves you’re his equal. He’ll never ride roughshod over you. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

  “Miss Foster manages nicely,” Derrington said. “You’ll see for yourself while you’re here.”

  While she was here? Did the man expect Juliet to remain and entertain his grandmother? “Excuse me, but how long did you—”

  Derrington pointedly turned to his grandmother, cutting Juliet off. “How did you know I was here, Harry? More important, how did you know I’d brought a young lady with me?”

  His grandmother didn’t answer but took a sip of her tea, wearing a self-satisfied smile.

  Derrington groaned. “I should have known. My valet. I thought I could trust him.”

  “You can with anyone but me,” his grandmother answered.

  “You always could get anything you wanted from the servants,” he answered.

  “Most of them worked for me before they did for you, or their parents did.”

  “Well, I’m glad you came.” He turned his gaze on Juliet, and a definite softness entered his eyes. “I would have arranged for you to meet Miss Foster, in any case.”

  “I don’t see a ring on her finger,” Lady Derrington said.

  “I haven’t decided on what kind to give her,” he answered. “It would have to be something unique.”

  Lady Derrington set her teacup on the table at her elbow and twisted a ring off one of her fingers. She handed it to her grandson, who held it up to the light.

  “A ruby?” he asked. “Not a diamond?”

  “Pfft,” she said. “Diamonds are plain. Besides, this stone has a history to it. A maharaja gave it to his lover. She outlived his wife, and they spent the rest of their days happily in sin with each other.”

  “Harry, I can’t give that to my wife-to-be,” he said.

  “Your what?” Juliet said.

  He gave her that don’t-you-dare-say-a-word glare he’d used on other people. She opened her mouth to speak, and he increased the glare of his expression. She shut her mouth again. If she’d read him right, a confrontation would lead to shouting, and she might as well save that for when they were alone.

  “I bought the ring in Rome,” Lady Derrington said. “The story was probably wrong or made up for drama, but it’s a nice stone.”

  He reached across the small distance that separated their chairs and took Juliet’s hand. After a bit of pushing, the ring went onto her finger where it looked as if it had been made specifically for her. It was, indeed, a fine stone—bright and clear with a distinct star in the center.

  “I can’t take this,” she said. “It’s much too precious.”

  “Nonsense,” Lady Derrington declared. “If you make my Bump happy, you’re worth your weight in stones like that.”

  She started to object, but I don’t make him happy or I won’t make him happy sounded silly. She’d sort all this out with the man himself and give him the ring back, no matter how stunning it was or how wonderfully it fit on her finger.

  “I’ve brought yards and yards of fine, white silk,” Lady Derrington said. “And Venetian lace, enough to drape half the statues in the garden. We’ll get the best seamstress up from London to make it all into a gown for the bride.”

  “Lady Derrington, I—” she tried, but Derrington gave her that look, so she shut her mouth again. That wouldn’t last forever.

  The sounds of furious barking came from the foyer, accompanied by the scratch of dogs’ nails against the slick floor. Human shouts followed.

  “Good Lord, what is your man doing with my dogs?” Lady Derrington demanded.

  “Sounds like the opposite,” Derrington said.

  “If my babies get out, we’ll never find them,” Lady Derrington said.

  Derrington rose. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Never mind.” Lady Derrington got up, too. “They only obey me.”

  She left quickly, and Derrington made to follow, but Juliet jumped up and managed to catch his elbow. “You’re not going anywhere until we talk.”

  “But—”

  “I mean it.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “All right. You start.”

  “What was that look you gave me?”

  “You mean, this one?” He glared at her the same way he’d done to stop her from speaking before.

  “Exactly.”

  “That was my warning to keep your beautiful mouth shut.”

  “How dare you shut me up?” she said.

  “If I hadn’t, you would have told my grandmother you weren’t going to marry me.”

  “I
’m not.”

  He did it again. That same imperious expression, now with a lifted brow.

  “Enough of that,” she said. “I’ll go out there and tell her right now.”

  He grabbed her arm. “I don’t want you to tell her.”

  “Fine, then you tell her.”

  “I’ll do no such thing.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Why on Earth not?”

  He leaned toward her. “Because it isn’t true.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not through persuading you,” he said. “You’ll marry me eventually.”

  Words absolutely failed her. He should have been joking, but he wasn’t smiling. He just stared at her with a maddening certainty in his gaze. The odious man thought she didn’t know her own mind.

  “I’m going to say this as simply as I can,” she said. “I’m not going to marry you.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “We’ll see nothing.” She thumped his chest with her finger. “You can’t command me.”

  “I think I can while you’re in my house.”

  “I only came here so you could make love to me in privacy,” she said. “You’ve done that. Now, I want you to take me back to London first thing tomorrow morning.”

  His jaw went rigid. “No.”

  “No?”

  “No,” he repeated. “And don’t try to leave on your own. I forbid it.”

  “You forbid it?” Her feet wouldn’t stay still. She paced away from him and back again, prowling like a caged cat. “No one forbids me anything.”

  “Perhaps someone should have. I’ll do it now.”

  “You’re not my father. You’re not my brother!” she shouted. “You’re nothing to me.”

  “I’m the man you’re going to marry.”

  “When hell freezes over,” she said.

  His eyes narrowed. “That can be arranged.”

  She let out a strangled shout. “You lied to me. You told me I’d won and that you’d make love with me. You only wanted to bring me here to do it.”

  “You did win. I hadn’t planned on doing the deed until our wedding night,” he said. “And I did bring you here to do it.”

  “You said you’d let me go after a bit.”

  “That’s not at all what I said. I asked you to stay here for a while. I didn’t specify how long.”

  She stopped in her tracks. “You didn’t say I’d have to agree to marry you to get out of here.”

  “Why would I say that? You wouldn’t have come.”

  She threw her hands in the air. “You lied to me!”

  “I may have tricked you. I didn’t lie.”

  “You…you…” Her mind wouldn’t form words ghastly enough to describe him. He’d brought her here under false pretenses, and now, he’d hold her prisoner. She’d kill him with her bare hands as soon as she figured out how.

  “Now, see here,” he said. “You can defy me, if you want, but you will not disappoint my grandmother.”

  “I don’t obey her, either. I only just met her.”

  “That little lady has been my dearest friend for my entire life.” He wagged a finger in her face. “If she wants you to marry me, by God, you’ll marry me.”

  And to think, she’d been considering doing exactly that less than an hour earlier. Thank heaven, she hadn’t agreed before she discovered how arrogant and underhanded he could be.

  “You’d better hope I never do become your wife, because I’ll make your every waking hour a living hell.”

  “I have no doubt about that,” he said. “You’ll marry me nevertheless.”

  “Not if you were the last man on Earth,” she said. “And we’ll just see if you can keep me here against my will.”

  With that, she left the room, her shoes making a satisfying clatter against the floor as she went.

  ***

  Derrington’s stomach felt full of lead as he crept down the dark hallway. The single candle shed enough light to guide him through a house he knew so well. Juliet’s bedroom lay only a few feet ahead of him. He didn’t dare to fail to appear there, as she hadn’t told him in so many words that he wasn’t welcome. Her posture all through dinner had spoken volumes about how she felt about him. And then, after dinner, she’d excused herself as quickly as courtesy to his grandmother would allow.

  At least, she hadn’t informed Harry she had no plans to marry him. That ought to ease his mind, but with Juliet Foster, silence could prove more treacherous than an explosion of anger. At least when she shouted, you knew where you stood.

  He reached her door and raised his hand to knock. Instead, he opened it slowly and waited to see if anything would crash against it. Nothing, so he slipped into the room.

  All lay in darkness outside the glow of his candle, and silence settled all around him.

  “Juliet?” he whispered. He got no answer.

  What if she wasn’t here? She could have gone to another part of the house or even tried escaping to the village. He approached the bed and found her, an unmoving lump in the bed. Her candle sat unlit on the table, and she’d curled up with her back to him.

  “Juliet,” he said again. Still, nothing.

  She might very well be asleep, or she had heard him and had decided to answer with cold, stony silence. Neither possibility offered any kind of invitation. She’d shut him out either way.

  “I’m only doing what’s best for both of us,” he said softly.

  She might have stiffened at that, just a lift to her shoulder, but in so little light, he could have easily imagined the movement.

  He sighed. He should have told her he loved her days ago. Fool that he was, he’d kept the secret close to his heart for fear she might reject him. Telling her now might help, or it might make things terribly, horribly worse. Instead, he whispered the words inwardly.

  I love you, Juliet Foster. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

  At that, she stirred, pulling the covers tightly around her as if preparing herself for mummification. Still, she didn’t utter a word, ignoring him completely.

  “For the love of God, say something,” he said. “I know you’re awake.”

  “I might have been asleep before you started shouting.”

  “I haven’t been shouting, damn it.” Very well. Now he was shouting, but she deserved it. He’d offered her his name, his title, his estate. He’d even offered her his heart just now. Maybe she’d heard it psychically and decided to wrap protection around herself to keep him safely away from her.

  “I want to talk to you,” he said.

  “Fine, talk. I’ll try to stay awake for the lecture.”

  “It won’t be a lecture, and I’d rather be in bed with you to deliver it.” Bloody hell, that didn’t make any sense, but nothing made sense with this woman. “May I get in bed with you?”

  “Suit yourself. It’s your bed.”

  What a grand invitation. Still, he’d take it. He set the candle on the bedside table and sloughed off his robe but kept his nightshirt on. As angry as she was, he wouldn’t trust her with the sensitive parts of his body just yet. Unless she wanted them, of course.

  When he lifted the covers, he got almost nothing for his efforts. She’d wrapped them around herself completely enough to take them all for herself. She also hadn’t left him much room in the bed, as she’d taken the center. He tried snuggling up to her, but he might have had more effect on a boulder. She didn’t budge.

  “Juliet?” he said. “Wouldn’t you like to move over a bit?”

  “Why would I?”

  “Oh, I don’t know…so I can fit in here, perhaps.”

  “Is that an order?” she said.

  “Me, order you to do something? Don’t make me laugh.”

  “You issued enough orders for an army general officer this afternoon.”

  “I didn’t want you to upset Harry,” he said.

  “Upset her? She’s pretty good at issuing orders, too.”

  “She only wa
nts me to be happy.” He tried putting his arm around her, but he ended up embracing blankets more than anything else. “Marriage will make you happy, too. I swear it.”

  “Taking me back to London and letting me follow my own path would make me happy.”

  His teeth ground together, and the sourness in the pit of his stomach didn’t help matters, either. “We’ve discussed that.”

  She sat up just enough to glower over her shoulder at him and then went back to acting the unmovable obstacle. “I don’t remember a discussion. I remember you telling me what I could and could not do.”

  “I suppose I should be flayed alive for asking you to marry me.”

  “You didn’t give me any choice in that, either.”

  He rolled onto his back, almost falling out of the bed, and rubbed his brow for a moment. He wasn’t getting anywhere this way. He needed to find some way to win her over. He shouldn’t find it this difficult, surely. He’d wormed his way into the good graces of numerous women over the years. Think, think. What did all women like? Jewelry, fine clothes, flowers, flattery. He couldn’t get the first two without visiting London, and he wouldn’t take any chance she’d stow away with him if he did. Hell, he couldn’t even trust her enough to leave her alone here, when you got right down to it.

  She hated flattery, too, insisting any compliment he gave her was insincere. That left flowers, and she did appear to love orchids—perhaps a little too much, based on her discourse in the shop in London. Although he might risk a similar display, some local flowers might hold her interest. Good idea. Keep her too busy to carry out any mischief.

  “I was thinking you might enjoy a side trip,” he said.

  “To London?”

  “No, not to London.” Bloody hell. He took a few breaths. “The vicar is rather good at horticulture. I haven’t visited him for some time, and Harry will want to tour his gardens. You might enjoy it.”

  “Fine,” she said without moving an inch. “Whatever you say.”

  His jaw clenched. All this tension couldn’t be good for his teeth. “I only want to make you happy.”

  She went so stiff she almost vibrated against him. “I am. I’m almost delirious with happiness.”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t become you.”

  She rolled over and glared at him. “Do you really want to know what I think?”