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But obviously, she didn’t particularly like having feelings for him, or she wouldn’t deny them so adamantly. He didn’t understand it. She said she wanted to marry, and that he was the sort of man for it. So why pretend his kisses didn’t move her?
It must be because of “Morgan.” Perhaps she feared that Sebastian was like his “wicked” brother at heart. And she thought pretending to be unaffected would keep him from her.
Ha! She knew little about men if she believed that insulting a man’s pride would frighten him off. Not a man with any self-respect. Not a man like him. It simply challenged him to do better.
A smug smile crossed his lips. He’d say he met the challenge deuced well yesterday. He could still feel her small hands sliding inside his coat and her wonderful mouth opening like a spring rose…
“Excuse me, milord,” came a soft female voice from behind him, and he whirled around, his pulse leaping in expectation of Juliet.
But it was only a kitchen maid, which turned his smile into a scowl. “What is it?” he demanded.
The maid blanched as she dropped her gaze. “C-Cook said to tell you that the ladies are having a b-bit of toast in the kitchen, and they’ll be here in a trice.”
He relaxed. “Ah.”
Now that the little mystery was cleared up, he noticed Mary’s shaking. Juliet’s words came back to him: They’re terrified of you…You bark orders without ever stopping to chat with them or thank them.
Blast it all. He forced some amiability into his voice. “Thank you, Mary.”
She glanced up, startled, then bobbed a little curtsy. “’Tis no trouble, milord. Now if that’s all…” she murmured timidly, turning toward the back of the house.
“Mary—” he called out to stay her.
She froze, then faced him, a hint of worry in her features. “Yes, milord?”
He felt all at sea. Sifting frantically for something with which to allay her discomfort, he suddenly remembered a tidbit of gossip that Boggs had mentioned this morning. “I understand that your sister is ill.”
Her eyes went wide. “I promise it won’t affect my work in the least, milord!”
Oh, for God’s sake, did they think him a monster? “I merely wanted to inquire after her health. Is she doing better? Does she require a physician?”
He might as well have asked if she required a jester, for she gaped at him, bewildered.
“Mary?” he prodded. “Should I send a physician to your family home?”
A smile broke over her face as broad as morning. “Oh…oh no, milord, no. She’s faring better now. Thank you for askin’.”
“You’re welcome,” he answered, amused by how little it took to please the girl.
With another quick curtsy, she hurried off, still smiling, and he turned to find Juliet and Lady Rosalind standing there.
When he spotted Juliet’s warm look, he wavered between pleasure at her approval and annoyance that she’d seen him following her instructions like some besotted halfwit.
“Good morning, ladies. I trust you slept well.”
“Quite well,” Juliet answered as the footman hastened to bring her sensible wool cloak and her sister’s crimson velvet pelisse. “I’m sorry we’re late.” She shot Lady Rosalind a teasing smile. “My eternally ravenous sister had to stop in the kitchen to eat.”
“You know I don’t go anywhere without breakfast,” Lady Rosalind grumbled.
“It’s all right,” he interjected. They didn’t have time to stand around chattering, not with Knighton liable to come looking for them at any moment. “Let’s be off. Winnie’s cottage is on the estate, but still a good distance away. And with this snow…” Hurrying them out the door, he began helping them navigate the slick stairs.
As they neared the bottom, Lady Juliet exclaimed, “A sleigh! You have a sleigh?”
He glanced at the elaborately painted gold and black equipage with its curved blades and plush seats. “Yes. Uncle Lew bought it in Geneva years ago when he went to see about my mother and Morgan.” He helped Lady Rosalind in. “He had a devil of a time getting it back to England, but said he couldn’t resist. Unfortunately, we rarely have enough snow to make it useful. And it’ll be a tight squeeze, since it’s really built for two. But with the carriage useless just now, I thought you’d prefer the sleigh over horses.”
“Oh, I do, I do!” Juliet beamed up at him as he helped her in next. “I’ve never ridden in a sleigh. And it’s perfect weather for it.”
“Perfect indeed,” Lady Rosalind grumbled as she drew her pelisse closer about her shoulders. “Cold and miserable. How delightful.”
