It was more than he’d ever said on the matter when they were betrothed.
Still, though he said the words with confidence, she wasn’t so sure it had all been for him. He could deny it all he wanted, but she felt certain that he had, at least in part, taken what he’d thought were her wishes to heart. The very thought peeled away a few of the hardened layers that had formed over her heart these last few months, leaving her tender and hopeful. “So what happens now?”
He gently plucked the letter from her hands, refolded it, and tucked it back inside his coat. ‘The way I see it, we have two options. We can go round and round making lists and theories about who might have done this, or . . .”
She leaned forward. “Or . . .?”
For the first time since before the fiasco in July, he truly smiled at her, making her insides melt. “Or we can draw out the perpetrator with some subterfuge of our own.”
Chapter Four
Subterfuge?
Juliette had no idea what he had in mind, but she found herself leaning that much closer, liking the idea of sharing a secret with him. The scent of wood smoke and cheroots and the indefinable hint of maleness teased her senses as she closed the distance between them. “Oh really? What sort of subterfuge did you have in mind?”
He was no longer watching her with what she now realized had been suspicion and wariness. It felt natural for them to have their heads bent together like this, standing just a little closer than was proper for any unmarried couple.
“If someone is willing to go to this much trouble to prevent the wedding, it stands to reason that they wouldn’t want to see us together again.”
She nodded slowly. His reasoning was sound. If someone had gone so far as to meticulously recreate her handwriting and signature, that person wasn’t likely to simply ignore their reunion now. “So now that we are back together, we can watch for something suspicious to happen.”
Sebastian abruptly straightened, breaking the tenuous intimacy between them. “Back together only in the eyes of the ton, of course,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “If this whole farce taught me anything, it’s that I don’t want anyone deciding my life for me. Our fathers chose our spouses last time, and now that the old contract has been dissolved, I see no reason to reinstate it.”
She drew in a swift breath. He didn’t want to restore their betrothal? But they’d always been meant for each other. Whenever she closed her eyes and pictured her future, it had always been Sebastian across the breakfast table from her.
“But . . . neither of us intended to break the contract. It was a terrible and mean-spirited trick. There’s every reason to honor the contract our fathers agreed upon.”
The cold air betrayed her distress, turning her rapid breathing into tiny white clouds that floated away on the breeze. This was her chance to make things right; she couldn’t lose it just when it had fallen in her lap.
He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “These are modern times, Juliette. Arranged marriages are for the royal family. The rest of us are free to choose our own spouses now. Every female I know is clambering to find the perfect man to fall in love with, thanks to that Austen woman. I’m sure you’ll want the same, once you let go of your shock.”
Love? It had never been part of the equation. She had always been perfectly amenable to her father’s choice. She had even been happy about it when Sebastian had come to London this spring with the intention of finally marrying her. It had always been a foregone conclusion that they would be together, and she had never once looked at any other man with interest.
The reality of the situation settled heavily back onto her shoulders. “You assume there’s a man who would have me now, but remember I’m a jilted bride. Do you know nothing of the speculation and gossip that surrounds a broken betrothal?”
For once sympathy flashed in his eyes as he stepped forward to take her hands in his. “But that’s the beauty of us ferreting out the villain. Once we know who did this, he can be revealed for the blackguard he—or she—is. Both our names will be cleared, and the gossipmongers will have new fodder for their mill.”
She shook her head, tiny movements that didn’t even come close to conveying the tidal wave of dismay washing through her. It wouldn’t be that easy. A soiled reputation was like a stained gown: No matter how many times one washed it, it would never be quite the same again.
Still, she could see that she wasn’t going to change his mind here, standing in the cold in a semi-deserted section of Hyde Park. His determination was written in every line bracketing his tightly pressed mouth. Drawing a fortifying breath, she lifted her chin and said, “What is your plan?”
“A bit of playacting, I think. We pretend to have made amends and reinstated our betrothal, and wait to see what happens. We claim that we don’t want to rehash what caused the falling out, but after stumbling upon one another in the city, we decided breaking off the engagement was, in fact, a terrible error. A walk in the park here, an afternoon call there, and I’m sure the perpetrator will make himself known before too long.”
“But surely the villain won’t believe that we hadn’t discussed the reason for the breakup. It’s too farfetched to believe otherwise.”
“True, but only we and the perpetrator know that. I believe his behavior will be influenced by that knowledge. If he thinks we discussed it, there’s a chance he’ll become nervous and eventually implicate himself.”
Juliette worried her lip, considering his proposal. “And everyone else will simply think we’ve had a change of heart.”
“Exactly,” he said with a decisive nod.
Hmm. The plan was half-baked at best, but it had one very good thing going for it: She would have time to subtly convince him that they should be married after all. She didn’t know anything about love, but as far as she was concerned, they were a match. Having him break the betrothal had devastated her. This was her chance to right things between them and she wasn’t about to waste it.
Still, if she didn’t succeed in changing his mind, then once again she’d be the pitiful creature left behind by the handsome earl. Straightening her spine, she said, “If we do what you say, people will assume I’ve been tossed aside a second time.”
“No, not when they know the circumstances.”
“You’re wrong,” she said with authority. “I know how the people of the ton think. If we are to do this, and things don’t work out the way we hope, then you must allow me to be the one to leave this time.”
He reared back a bit, as though physically repulsed by the idea. “There’s no reason for that. We’ll make it clear that it is an amicable split.”
It was her one demand, and she was sticking with it. She refused to find herself back in the same position in which she’d found herself last summer. “I’m sorry, but these are my terms. I’ll go along with your plan, but in the event things don’t go as planned, I get to do the walking away.”
He pursed his lips, eyeing her appraisingly. Finally he sighed and nodded. “Very well, I’ll agree to your terms.”
“Excellent,” she said with a grin. “When do we begin?”
***
As plans went, it was a fairly poor one. Sebastian wasn’t above admitting that to himself. But if this was the only way that he could smoke out the culprit and restore both his and Juliette’s reputations, then by God he would do it.
And once he was identified, the blackguard would pay for having made a fool of him.
As he stood on Lord Gregory Pickford’s snowy doorstep the next day, Sebastian steeled himself for whatever reaction his presence would cause. He could only guess how Juliette’s uncle would react to his call, and his guess wasn’t very encouraging.
Not that it mattered.
Though he respected the viscount, Sebastian had a hunch that the perpetrator came from within his household. He’d given it quite a bit of thought last night and he had a strong suspicion it was probably one of Pickford’s sons. From what he’d heard, they ha
d a penchant for gambling. Was it possible that one of them decided that their fair cousin would make a well-dowered wife for himself?
It certainly wouldn’t be the first time such a thing had happened.
Straightening his spine, Sebastian lifted a gloved hand and rapped twice. The door opened almost before his second knock. The butler stood as rigid as an icicle, staring down his sloped nose at him. “Yes?” His thick black hair didn’t move an inch despite the chill breeze.
“I’m here to call on Lady Juliette. Is she at home?”
“No, my lord, she is not. Good day.” He started to swing the door closed, but Juliette’s voice rang out in the entry hall behind him.
“Lord Haverstan! What a lovely surprise.” She hurried forward, a smile pasted on her lips. She was already dressed for an excursion, decked out in a becoming blue wool gown and matching bonnet. “You just caught me. I was on my way to ask Georgiana if she wished to accompany me to the bookshop.”
He didn’t waste the opening she had afforded him. “Please, won’t you allow me to accompany you instead?”
“My lady,” the butler said sternly, his eyes widening a fraction, “I believe Lord Pickford would not approve. Perhaps Lord Haverstan can send him a missive to request a meeting.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Ritter,” she replied breezily, already tugging on her gloves. “My uncle was perfectly amenable to my marrying the man. I don’t see why he should object to a brief promenade.”
“With all due respect, my lady, that was before—”
“Thank you, Ritter, that will be all.” Her voice rang with authority as she stared the man down.
Sebastian was impressed. In the limited time they had spent together, she had never seemed like the type to command authority. The butler swallowed once, twice, then gave a miniscule nod and stepped back. Juliette didn’t waste a second. She marched through the open doorway even as she tied the ribbons of her bonnet. She wore no scarf today, but the high collar of her coat offered protection from the elements.
With a bright smile that spoke of victory, she met his gaze and said, “Shall we?”
“Indeed.” He waited until she looped her hand over his elbow before starting down the street. “I must say, I’m impressed. I’ve yet to gather the courage necessary to defy my butler. He’s a relic from my grandfather’s day, and I swear he has a scowl of disapproval that could burn a hole in a man.”
She chuckled lightly, the sound floating pleasantly on the chill air. “I attempted to borrow a page from Georgie’s book. She’s terrifying when she wishes to be. Let’s hope poor Ritter will speak to me again before my uncle’s big party. It would be deuced hard to coordinate the evening without his cooperation.”
He smiled briefly in return before turning to the task at hand. “Which bookshop did you have in mind? I know there’s one a block or two up, but I’d prefer somewhere more populated.”
“I agree. Perhaps Bond Street would be best? Nothing lifts eyebrows quite like a man accompanying a lady on a shopping excursion. In fact,” she said, challenge infusing the words, “let’s forget the bookshop and go straight for frippery. A few ribbons and a bonnet or two ought to do the trick.”
It was a good idea. Especially in this weather. What better place to be seen than on a street full of nice warm ton-friendly shops? “Good plan. God willing this will start the rumors, since I don’t particularly relish the idea of repeating such an excursion.”
As they walked the handful of blocks between her home and the shopping district, he kept up a steady stream of conversation, wanting to appear thoroughly engaged with one another should they be seen. She was surprisingly easy to talk to. They’d had very few true conversations during their “courtship,” if one could call it that. There hadn’t really been a need.
“What is your favorite wintertime activity, if not shopping for ribbons?” she asked as they turned onto Bond Street. As hoped, the street was bustling with carriages and pedestrians alike.
“Remaining indoors,” he said, allowing a bit of wry humor to seep into the words. He didn’t mind the normal winters, but damn if this current frigid tundra-like winter hadn’t put him off the season entirely.
“I don’t believe you for a moment. One doesn’t cultivate a figure like yours by keeping vigil by the fire all day. And I’m well aware of your fondness for good horseflesh.”
A figure like his? He bit back a smile. He hadn’t ever thought of her as cheeky. “Only when it’s warm enough to feel one’s face. I also enjoy rowing, which I’ve done since Eton, but the iced-over waterways do make it a bit of a chore this time of year.”
“But think of the exercise,” she said, a teasing grin firmly in place.
“Quite. What about you? Somehow I can’t picture you taking daily constitutionals in the snow.”
Actually, he could. Her cheeks would be just as pink, her eyes just as sparkling as they were at that moment. He blinked. She looked quite pretty today. He’d always considered her to be a rather plain girl, but looking at her now, that wasn’t a fair description.
Oblivious to his wandering thoughts, she said, “My uncle lives for all things botany, and I find I’m rather captivated with it as well. Therefore, I would have to say that harvesting mistletoe is my favorite thing about the season.”
Her answer was so unexpected, he laughed aloud. “Mistletoe? A plant is your favorite thing about winter? Not something I would say ignites the imagination.”
She cut a mischievous glance his way. “I beg to differ. What other plant has the power to set aside inhibitions and propriety and compel two people to kiss? It’s practically magical.”
Actually, she had a point. “Very well, I will accept your choice, but now I am left wondering just how many times you have taken advantage of mistletoe’s powers.” The words sounded suspiciously like flirting, but wasn’t that the role they were playing? Besides, he found he actually was curious, much to his surprise.
She sent him a mischievous side glance. “You must know such a question is impossible to answer. If I respond that I have partaken not at all, then I would be seen as a pitiable figure. If I respond that I have, then I should be seen as flirtatious and loose. Let us simply say that I appreciate the species and leave it at that.” She winked, honest-to-God winked at him before turning her gaze to the snowy pavement in front of them.
He chuckled. Yes, good idea.
Except . . . he found he really wanted to know the answer. He had been no saint during their years-long engagement, to be sure, but for some reason he had never pictured her lifting her cheek to another man. Had she accepted the brush of lips across her smooth skin, smiling demurely as color infused her face? It was hypocritical of him to be displeased with the image, but he frowned nonetheless.
A soft gasp from ahead of them captured Sebastian’s attention. He looked up into the startled gaze of Lady Wexley.
“Good heavens, what is this?”
“A simple promenade, my lady, not unlike your own, I’m sure,” he responded, offering a confident and welcoming smile.
The viscountess’s thin grey-blond brows crashed together as she looked back and forth between them. “But you—” She paused, clearly at odds at how to say you jilted her without coming out and saying so. “You are no longer betrothed, Lord Haverstan. This is terribly unseemly.” She flicked an uncertain glance toward Juliette, who smiled serenely back. Good girl.
“There is nothing unseemly about a walk with a longtime family friend, Lady Wexley,” Juliette responded breezily. “We are working out our differences. Isn’t that grand?”
The older woman looked momentarily lost as to how to answer such a comment. After a few seconds, she furrowed her brow ferociously. “What has your uncle to say about this, Lady Juliette? Surely he does not approve.”
Sebastian opened his mouth to respond, but Juliette squeezed his arm.
“With all due respect, Lady Wexley, I am two-and-twenty. Well past the age of consulting my uncle on every little
issue.”
The older woman’s cheeks reddened with displeasure. “Well, we shall see about that. In the meantime, child, I strongly implore you to return home.”
Sebastian lifted an eyebrow. “I couldn’t call myself a gentleman if Lady Juliette were to return home without the ribbons for which she set out. Shall we, my lady?” he asked Juliette, gesturing toward the nearest millinery shop.
“Yes, thank you, my lord,” Juliette responded with a wide grin. “Good day, Lady Wexley.”
They made good their escape, leaving the viscountess staring after them, her mouth slightly agape.
“I think the first seed of gossip has officially been planted,” Juliette said as they ducked into the store. “By tonight, the whole city will be buzzing with the news of our reconciliation.”
Sebastian nodded in agreement. They couldn’t have asked for a better starting point. Lady Wexley had always delighted in sharing the latest on-dit; so much so, in fact, that she had once been rumored to be leaking secrets to the scandal rags. Frankly, he wouldn’t put it past her.
There was no turning back now. For better or worse, their plan was officially in motion.
Chapter Five
The warmth in Juliette’s chest had little to do with the iron stove heating the shop and everything to do with the man beside her. Their conversation on the walk over had been more interesting than any they had shared in the two months preceding the wedding. For the first time, she felt like she had a glimpse into the real Sebastian Holmes.
And now that she didn’t hate him anymore, she found she rather liked him.
Moreover, it was terribly invigorating to be sharing this little deception with him. She felt as though they were a united front—not something she had ever experienced with him before. She relished the idea of sharing a secret with him.
“Which way to the ribbons?” he asked, glancing about the cluttered shop. He looked as out of place as a hawk among a flock of pigeons.
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