England, and to Blackheath Castle."
But Nerissa was staring at Charlotte,
sleeping in Juliet's arms. Her hands flew to her mouth, and sudden
tears filled her pretty blue eyes. She took a hesitant step
forward, biting her lip and raising her pleading gaze to Juliet's.
"May I?" she whispered, stretching out her arms.
With a resigned smile, Juliet passed the
infant to her aunt. So much for leaving — and escaping the odious
presence of the duke. But her peevishness melted away as Nerissa,
her head bent over the little bundle, carried the baby into the
shadows. The girl's shoulders were shaking, and it was obvious she
was weeping.
"That's Lord Andrew and Lady Nerissa," the duke corrected, irritably. "If you insist on
introducing yourselves, at least do it properly."
Andrew waved a hand in dismissal and moved
toward the decanter. "Oh hang it, Luce, she's from the colonies.
She's not bothered by all that."
"I told you to leave us, Andrew. Do so
immediately, before I get angry."
"That's Lord Andrew, if you don't
mind."
The duke's glass slammed down on the table,
his face no longer wearing its veneer of tolerance. A frigid chill
settled over the room. Juliet held her breath, all too aware of the
enmity between these two brothers — one so dark and formidable, the
other fiery, brazen, and openly insolent. For one terrible moment
she thought the two of them were going to come to blows; but no.
The duke had his temper on a tight rein. He would not stoop to
fisticuffs, not in front of a stranger and certainly not with his
own brother.
She was correct. He inclined his head,
conceding this small victory to Andrew if only to avoid what would
otherwise be a scene. "Sit down, then," he said, darkly. "Both of
you."
Nerissa, still holding Charlotte, complied,
but Andrew obviously felt that this order had to be challenged, as
well. Taking all the time in the world, he poured himself a drink,
then tossed himself into one of the chairs, one long leg thrown
over his knee and bobbing lazily. He raised his glass to Juliet and
took a long sip as he studied her. "Ah, yes. You look just like
Charles said you did. I can understand why he was so captivated by
you, Miss Paige."
"Not just Charles," Nerissa chimed in.
"Gareth's up there singing your praises as well, and he and his
friends are all drinking bumpers to you. Gareth said you took
control, calmed everyone down, and saved his life with your quick
thinking. I think he's completely charmed!"
"I'm afraid Lord Gareth gives me far more
credit than I deserve," Juliet said, head bent as she discreetly
tried to cover her bloodied skirts with her arms. "He was the real
hero of the hour, not me."
"On the contrary," said Andrew, waving his
glass. "Gareth may be a rake, a wastrel and a scourer, but he
doesn't make things up."
"Most assuredly not," his sister added.
Juliet glanced at the duke. The dark gaze
was still on her. Still watching her. Still studying her.
Worse, that faint little smile still played
around his lips. It was unnerving.
"And how is Lord Gareth?" Juliet
asked, directing her attention to this cheerful pair in an attempt
to ignore that enigmatic stare.
"Oh, a bit faint from loss of blood and
Irish whiskey, but otherwise quite well. But then, that's Gareth
for you." Andrew downed the rest of his brandy with a practiced
flick of his wrist. "The villagers call him 'the Wild One,' you
know. Why, just last week he had the Den of Debauchery members make
a pyramid of themselves down on the village green, took bets from
all those who'd gathered to watch, and jumped Crusader over the lot
of them. Won himself a fortune that day. The week before that
—"
"That's enough, Andrew," the duke
interrupted, straightening up.
"Come now, Luce, even you have to
admit that his getting Mrs. Dorking's pig foxed was hilariously
funny."
"It was not hilariously funny, it was
uncommonly stupid. Especially in light of all the damage the animal
went on to cause."
Nerissa, examining each of
But Nerissa was staring at Charlotte,
sleeping in Juliet's arms. Her hands flew to her mouth, and sudden
tears filled her pretty blue eyes. She took a hesitant step
forward, biting her lip and raising her pleading gaze to Juliet's.
"May I?" she whispered, stretching out her arms.
With a resigned smile, Juliet passed the
infant to her aunt. So much for leaving — and escaping the odious
presence of the duke. But her peevishness melted away as Nerissa,
her head bent over the little bundle, carried the baby into the
shadows. The girl's shoulders were shaking, and it was obvious she
was weeping.
"That's Lord Andrew and Lady Nerissa," the duke corrected, irritably. "If you insist on
introducing yourselves, at least do it properly."
Andrew waved a hand in dismissal and moved
toward the decanter. "Oh hang it, Luce, she's from the colonies.
She's not bothered by all that."
"I told you to leave us, Andrew. Do so
immediately, before I get angry."
"That's Lord Andrew, if you don't
mind."
The duke's glass slammed down on the table,
his face no longer wearing its veneer of tolerance. A frigid chill
settled over the room. Juliet held her breath, all too aware of the
enmity between these two brothers — one so dark and formidable, the
other fiery, brazen, and openly insolent. For one terrible moment
she thought the two of them were going to come to blows; but no.
The duke had his temper on a tight rein. He would not stoop to
fisticuffs, not in front of a stranger and certainly not with his
own brother.
She was correct. He inclined his head,
conceding this small victory to Andrew if only to avoid what would
otherwise be a scene. "Sit down, then," he said, darkly. "Both of
you."
Nerissa, still holding Charlotte, complied,
but Andrew obviously felt that this order had to be challenged, as
well. Taking all the time in the world, he poured himself a drink,
then tossed himself into one of the chairs, one long leg thrown
over his knee and bobbing lazily. He raised his glass to Juliet and
took a long sip as he studied her. "Ah, yes. You look just like
Charles said you did. I can understand why he was so captivated by
you, Miss Paige."
"Not just Charles," Nerissa chimed in.
"Gareth's up there singing your praises as well, and he and his
friends are all drinking bumpers to you. Gareth said you took
control, calmed everyone down, and saved his life with your quick
thinking. I think he's completely charmed!"
"I'm afraid Lord Gareth gives me far more
credit than I deserve," Juliet said, head bent as she discreetly
tried to cover her bloodied skirts with her arms. "He was the real
hero of the hour, not me."
"On the contrary," said Andrew, waving his
glass. "Gareth may be a rake, a wastrel and a scourer, but he
doesn't make things up."
"Most assuredly not," his sister added.
Juliet glanced at the duke. The dark gaze
was still on her. Still watching her. Still studying her.
Worse, that faint little smile still played
around his lips. It was unnerving.
"And how is Lord Gareth?" Juliet
asked, directing her attention to this cheerful pair in an attempt
to ignore that enigmatic stare.
"Oh, a bit faint from loss of blood and
Irish whiskey, but otherwise quite well. But then, that's Gareth
for you." Andrew downed the rest of his brandy with a practiced
flick of his wrist. "The villagers call him 'the Wild One,' you
know. Why, just last week he had the Den of Debauchery members make
a pyramid of themselves down on the village green, took bets from
all those who'd gathered to watch, and jumped Crusader over the lot
of them. Won himself a fortune that day. The week before that
—"
"That's enough, Andrew," the duke
interrupted, straightening up.
"Come now, Luce, even you have to
admit that his getting Mrs. Dorking's pig foxed was hilariously
funny."
"It was not hilariously funny, it was
uncommonly stupid. Especially in light of all the damage the animal
went on to cause."
Nerissa, examining each of
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