veil.
“Oh my gawd ,” she shrieked. “Lord help us, a heathen!”
Marko fell back a step in the face of such noisy female hysteria.
“What the devil?” James moved to stand beside him. His expression blanked as he stared into the interior of the carriage. “That’s not Juliet.”
Marko tried, but he couldn’t restrain the guffaw that shook him. He clutched his middle and bent over, trying to contain the combination of laughter and relief.
James was not amused. “Where’s my sister?” he demanded of the girl. “Tell me this instant.”
“Careful,” Marko warned, his voice not quite steady, “you’ll set her off again.”
The girl seemed to regain some measure of calm as she recognized James. She pushed the heavy veil back from her face, exposing eyes wide with dread. “Oh, sir, I’m that sorry, but she made me do it.”
“Yes, I’m sure, but where is she?”
Looking from one man to the other, the girl burst into tears. “She told me not to tell. I don’t want to be let go from my p-position.”
“You won’t have a position if we don’t find your mistress,” James said with callous disregard for the girl’s feelings.
“London,” she offered hurriedly. “She’s gone to join the theatre. Said she’d earn her living as an actress rather than be wed to someone she didn’t want.”
“The stagecoach.” The words were forced from James on the tail end of a groan. “Quick, girl, what time does the coach leave?”
“The one from the Cock and Hound, sir?”
At his curt nod, she told him.
“I’m away.” Running for his horse, James swung up into the stirrups and turned the animal’s head toward the village. “Pray god I’m in time.”
Marko watched him go, his lids dropped slightly over his eyes as he considered whether to follow. Pursing his lips, he gave the piercing whistle he used to call his horse. The animal came from where he’d been nibbling on a bit of spring grass. Putting one foot in the stirrup, he sprang into the saddle then turned back toward the open door of the carriage. It wasn’t the girl’s fault that she’d been embroiled in this fiasco. In fact, he owed her a debt of gratitude, and he always paid his debts. His voice as gentle as he could make it, he said, “Wait here. I’ll send the driver back to take you home.”
~ Chapter 5 ~
Juliet paced beneath the spreading limbs of an oak tree. Her cloak was soaked through and she was wet and cold. Worse yet, she was beginning to feel like the world’s biggest dupe.
Marko had not arrived.
The old woman had led her false. There was no other path. No other hope. She would be forced to crawl back to Reginald and beg him to marry her.
Since it was unlikely that he would do so after the embarrassment of being left standing at the altar, what remained was a dwindling list of unpleasant choices. Given that she had no talent for needlework, drawing or cooking, the story she’d concocted for her maid might yet become the truth. London and the debased life of an actress might be the only course. She could only hope that she had enough bloom left to attract a wealthy protector.
Her fingers twined together as her nerves tightened. She forced them apart and crossed her arms under her cloak, hunching into herself for warmth. Soon she would have to seek shelter and dry clothes. The gypsy camp was closest, but she cringed inside at the thought of appearing there again. Reaching the drip edge of the tree, she twisted and began to pace back the other way. A man stepped out from behind the huge old tree trunk. A startled scream escaped her before she recognized him.
“Luca, what are you doing here?” She craned her neck to see around him. “Is Marko with you?”
The older man didn’t answer, just approached her slowly, his arms held out to his sides. His gaze shifted to something behind her and she whirled, startled
“Oh my gawd ,” she shrieked. “Lord help us, a heathen!”
Marko fell back a step in the face of such noisy female hysteria.
“What the devil?” James moved to stand beside him. His expression blanked as he stared into the interior of the carriage. “That’s not Juliet.”
Marko tried, but he couldn’t restrain the guffaw that shook him. He clutched his middle and bent over, trying to contain the combination of laughter and relief.
James was not amused. “Where’s my sister?” he demanded of the girl. “Tell me this instant.”
“Careful,” Marko warned, his voice not quite steady, “you’ll set her off again.”
The girl seemed to regain some measure of calm as she recognized James. She pushed the heavy veil back from her face, exposing eyes wide with dread. “Oh, sir, I’m that sorry, but she made me do it.”
“Yes, I’m sure, but where is she?”
Looking from one man to the other, the girl burst into tears. “She told me not to tell. I don’t want to be let go from my p-position.”
“You won’t have a position if we don’t find your mistress,” James said with callous disregard for the girl’s feelings.
“London,” she offered hurriedly. “She’s gone to join the theatre. Said she’d earn her living as an actress rather than be wed to someone she didn’t want.”
“The stagecoach.” The words were forced from James on the tail end of a groan. “Quick, girl, what time does the coach leave?”
“The one from the Cock and Hound, sir?”
At his curt nod, she told him.
“I’m away.” Running for his horse, James swung up into the stirrups and turned the animal’s head toward the village. “Pray god I’m in time.”
Marko watched him go, his lids dropped slightly over his eyes as he considered whether to follow. Pursing his lips, he gave the piercing whistle he used to call his horse. The animal came from where he’d been nibbling on a bit of spring grass. Putting one foot in the stirrup, he sprang into the saddle then turned back toward the open door of the carriage. It wasn’t the girl’s fault that she’d been embroiled in this fiasco. In fact, he owed her a debt of gratitude, and he always paid his debts. His voice as gentle as he could make it, he said, “Wait here. I’ll send the driver back to take you home.”
~ Chapter 5 ~
Juliet paced beneath the spreading limbs of an oak tree. Her cloak was soaked through and she was wet and cold. Worse yet, she was beginning to feel like the world’s biggest dupe.
Marko had not arrived.
The old woman had led her false. There was no other path. No other hope. She would be forced to crawl back to Reginald and beg him to marry her.
Since it was unlikely that he would do so after the embarrassment of being left standing at the altar, what remained was a dwindling list of unpleasant choices. Given that she had no talent for needlework, drawing or cooking, the story she’d concocted for her maid might yet become the truth. London and the debased life of an actress might be the only course. She could only hope that she had enough bloom left to attract a wealthy protector.
Her fingers twined together as her nerves tightened. She forced them apart and crossed her arms under her cloak, hunching into herself for warmth. Soon she would have to seek shelter and dry clothes. The gypsy camp was closest, but she cringed inside at the thought of appearing there again. Reaching the drip edge of the tree, she twisted and began to pace back the other way. A man stepped out from behind the huge old tree trunk. A startled scream escaped her before she recognized him.
“Luca, what are you doing here?” She craned her neck to see around him. “Is Marko with you?”
The older man didn’t answer, just approached her slowly, his arms held out to his sides. His gaze shifted to something behind her and she whirled, startled
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