my sister again."
Her heart was beating erratically, and her thoughts were jumbled by his barbaric candor. Still, she knew she must protest. "It would be rude — "
Yet again he interrupted. "I would rather you cut her than use her for whatever scheme your clever mind is hatching at this very moment."
She did not like his accusations at all. Carefully, she stepped away from his suffocating closeness before she retorted, "I would much rather cut you, Mr. Hopkins."
His gaze, which had not left hers, narrowed. "I assure you, I will not mind one whit, Miss Fenster. I warrant that even in London a cut from you would be no more substantial than one I might receive from mishandling a sheaf of paper." His eyes dropped to linger on her buttons again — only until she took a deep breath to answer him — and then he raised his eyes to capture hers once more.
The protests bubbling within her died. There was something powerful in the dark glare of his eyes that scrambled her very thoughts. The silence between them stretched long, but she could not seem to tear her gaze away from his, could not seem to speak, could not even turn and flounce away, as his appalling behavior deserved.
At last, he looked toward where their sisters stood ostensibly admiring a painting of some sort. "I believe we are missed." The girls were sending puzzled glances over their shoulders, which suggested that their attention was not fixed on the painting in front of them.
Once again he took her arm without so much as asking permission. As they crossed back over to the girls, he said sharply, "I do not wish to be rude to you in front of my sister — or in front of your own. Please let us pretend you were indeed interested in that statue."
"Of course," she agreed, wondering if she still might somehow spirit his sister aside.
As if patiently instructing a child, he said, "I will then take my leave, and you will wish us a pleasant good-bye."
Juliet tried one more time to change his mind. "Your sister will wonder — "
In the same patronizingly paternal tone, he cut over her objections to say, "I will tell my sister that she is not to speak to you again, Miss Fenster. So may I suggest you not approach her again if you would find it unpleasant to be cut by an American."
"As you wish." Juliet could see no benefit in challenging him. She had never had a man so angry at her before — except perhaps her brother Valentine. She did not know how to deal with him, how to make him see how unreasonable he was being.
Quickly, politely, but clearly, the Americans said their good-byes and departed from the museum. Juliet was no more informed about the subject closest to her heart than she had been before. She wanted to stamp her foot but, noticing that she was attracting the attention of other patrons, decided to control her natural impulse in such a public place.
"I think you are outmatched, Juliet," Rosaline said with a wicked smile as they walked home. "For once, there is a man in London who does not fall at your feet."
"It had to happen sometime," Helena said in answer.
Juliet did not care that Mr. Hopkins treated her as if she were a snail to be stepped on. She did, however, seethe with fury that he would deny his sister her company. "Stuffed shirt!" She looked at her gleeful, mocking sisters and said recklessly, "I will ooze charm until I have him at my feet if it's the last thing I do."
Helena frowned doubtfully. "He doesn't look vulnerable to anyone's charms, Juliet. Not even yours."
Rosaline shook her head. "You've just thrown oil on the fire, Hellie."
Juliet gave them both her most quelling look. "I must find out what Pendrake feels for me. It would be a tragedy to find too late that he and I were made for each other."
Rosaline made a most unladylike sound. "So, you will show your undying love for Pendrake by making Mr. Hopkins fall in love with you?"
Juliet blinked. The thought of Mr. Hopkins's face suffused with affection and love was a bit much
Her heart was beating erratically, and her thoughts were jumbled by his barbaric candor. Still, she knew she must protest. "It would be rude — "
Yet again he interrupted. "I would rather you cut her than use her for whatever scheme your clever mind is hatching at this very moment."
She did not like his accusations at all. Carefully, she stepped away from his suffocating closeness before she retorted, "I would much rather cut you, Mr. Hopkins."
His gaze, which had not left hers, narrowed. "I assure you, I will not mind one whit, Miss Fenster. I warrant that even in London a cut from you would be no more substantial than one I might receive from mishandling a sheaf of paper." His eyes dropped to linger on her buttons again — only until she took a deep breath to answer him — and then he raised his eyes to capture hers once more.
The protests bubbling within her died. There was something powerful in the dark glare of his eyes that scrambled her very thoughts. The silence between them stretched long, but she could not seem to tear her gaze away from his, could not seem to speak, could not even turn and flounce away, as his appalling behavior deserved.
At last, he looked toward where their sisters stood ostensibly admiring a painting of some sort. "I believe we are missed." The girls were sending puzzled glances over their shoulders, which suggested that their attention was not fixed on the painting in front of them.
Once again he took her arm without so much as asking permission. As they crossed back over to the girls, he said sharply, "I do not wish to be rude to you in front of my sister — or in front of your own. Please let us pretend you were indeed interested in that statue."
"Of course," she agreed, wondering if she still might somehow spirit his sister aside.
As if patiently instructing a child, he said, "I will then take my leave, and you will wish us a pleasant good-bye."
Juliet tried one more time to change his mind. "Your sister will wonder — "
In the same patronizingly paternal tone, he cut over her objections to say, "I will tell my sister that she is not to speak to you again, Miss Fenster. So may I suggest you not approach her again if you would find it unpleasant to be cut by an American."
"As you wish." Juliet could see no benefit in challenging him. She had never had a man so angry at her before — except perhaps her brother Valentine. She did not know how to deal with him, how to make him see how unreasonable he was being.
Quickly, politely, but clearly, the Americans said their good-byes and departed from the museum. Juliet was no more informed about the subject closest to her heart than she had been before. She wanted to stamp her foot but, noticing that she was attracting the attention of other patrons, decided to control her natural impulse in such a public place.
"I think you are outmatched, Juliet," Rosaline said with a wicked smile as they walked home. "For once, there is a man in London who does not fall at your feet."
"It had to happen sometime," Helena said in answer.
Juliet did not care that Mr. Hopkins treated her as if she were a snail to be stepped on. She did, however, seethe with fury that he would deny his sister her company. "Stuffed shirt!" She looked at her gleeful, mocking sisters and said recklessly, "I will ooze charm until I have him at my feet if it's the last thing I do."
Helena frowned doubtfully. "He doesn't look vulnerable to anyone's charms, Juliet. Not even yours."
Rosaline shook her head. "You've just thrown oil on the fire, Hellie."
Juliet gave them both her most quelling look. "I must find out what Pendrake feels for me. It would be a tragedy to find too late that he and I were made for each other."
Rosaline made a most unladylike sound. "So, you will show your undying love for Pendrake by making Mr. Hopkins fall in love with you?"
Juliet blinked. The thought of Mr. Hopkins's face suffused with affection and love was a bit much
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