Chapter 2
Chapter two
As soon as she awoke, Juliet Coldpepper bounded out of bed and rushed to the window.
Watching the sunrise always filled her with awe, and this morning was no exception.
Splashes of pink and dazzling gold striped the purple horizon.
In the distance, a spiraling church steeple stretched toward heaven.
Her gaze dropped to the Anderson’s townhouse across the street.
Although the wisteria and roses had long since shed their petals, the charming structure still looked as if it belonged in a fairy tale.
How delightful it would be if later today snow fell, coating Mayfair with a blanket of pristine powder.
Who cared what her parents or any other naysayers said.
In her humble opinion, London was exceedingly beautiful.
Juliet exhaled a bittersweet sigh. This was her first visit to Briar House without her sisters Emily and Maria.
Emily had recently married Alexander Beckett, the future Marquess of Chesterhill, and was happily living at Chesterhill Manor.
Unfortunately, Maria was taking her turn serving as Aunt Lydia’s companion—a fate worse than death.
Juliet had almost withered away from boredom when she was tasked with the responsibility.
Aunt Lydia rarely received visitors, and she repeated the same stories over and over.
Of course, Juliet smiled and remained attentive, even when she thought she might crawl out of her skin.
And then, just when she’d decided she couldn’t bear one more day of isolation at the out-of-the-way country estate, Lord Charles Riley strolled into her aunt’s drawing room, ensconcing her in the attention she craved. And now they were engaged.
Lord Riley, or Charles as she called him, was handsome and intelligent. Her oldest sister insisted he was too controlling. Maybe he was a bit insistent, and sometimes he could be gruff.
Come to think of it, he was terribly arrogant. Not to mention, last night, he left dinner abruptly, insisting he had to be somewhere else. But these were all forgivable foibles, were they not?
Of course they were. No man was perfect. She needed to stop waffling.
Her gaze wandered back to the quiet streets.
Perhaps a morning walk would help silence her sister’s opinions…
But her mother forbade her from exploring London without a chaperone.
She should probably call for Betty, her lady’s maid.
Although… She tapped her cheek. If she dressed quickly and slipped out the servant’s entrance, she would be back before anyone missed her.
She chose a blue day dress that she could secure without assistance. Walking boots, a hooded cloak, and gloves completed her ensemble.
Juliet tiptoed along the hallway and stepped lightly as she descended the servant’s staircase. Once she ensured the kitchen staff were absorbed in their tasks, she slipped out the door.
As she predicted, the wind on her cheeks invigorated her, the blood pumping through her limbs was life-affirming, and the rising sun filled her with joy.
Perhaps she would make this solitary stroll part of her daily routine.
If the street were always empty this early, no one would ever discover her secret.
Admiring a particularly lovely house with a half-dozen terraces, she rose on her tiptoes, trying to see what was on the other side of the bay window.
She loved looking at pretty things, and the interior of this home was as lavish as a palace.
Entranced, she moved closer and crashed headfirst into a solid figure.
Strong hands gripped her waist, steadying her.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” she said as she raised her gaze to take in a masked face.
Her heart slammed against her chest, and she gasped.
Masks at balls were one thing, but what kind of malefactor wore a disguise during an early morning constitutional?
Egad! It was as if he had sliced a black sack in half and cut eyeholes into the fabric.
She shoved on his hard-as-rock chest, which was pointless since he was the size of a mountain.
Spinning around, she dashed back the way she had come.
In her haste, she tripped over a loose cobblestone.
Arms windmilling, she tried to steady herself to no avail.
She toppled forward, landing on her knees.
Now she knew what it felt like to be her clumsy sister Emily, and it was not the least bit enjoyable or humorous.
“Blast,” she grumbled. She tried to stand, but her boot caught in her hem. She fell backward, landing on her bum.
“Miss,” the masked man said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Let me help.”
She would have smacked his hands away, but his voice was gentle, and he sounded sincere.
“If you don’t want to startle ladies, then you shouldn’t be wearing a mask when you aren’t attending a masquerade,” she said with as much indignation as she could muster with her buttocks on the cold ground.
He hoisted her onto her feet as if she weighed nothing. “Are you injured?” he asked.
Not that she could tell, but it was difficult to concentrate with his fresh, citrusy-smelling breath blowing across her cheek.
Staring into her eyes, he grabbed the bottom of his mask.
For a second, she thought he might remove it, and truthfully, she wished he would, because she suspected he was quite handsome.
His dark brown eyes reminded her of melted chocolate, his lashes were extraordinarily long, and his jawline was chiseled.
And his hands. Oh my! They were gloveless and scandalous.
Swollen knuckles led to long, masculine fingers that had seen their fair share of work.
Juliet was tall, yet this man towered over her.
Beneath his layers of clothing, she wagered he was all sinew and muscle.
She shivered. Perhaps the wind had chilled her. Although that hardly seemed likely since her cheeks and bosom were on fire.
Instead of removing his mask, he rearranged the bag that hung over his shoulder. “You shouldn’t be walking alone. Danger lurks everywhere.”
But this was Mayfair, not some rookery. Unable to think of anything to say and feeling utterly befuddled, she turned her back on him.
Trying to stride gracefully, she headed home.
Once she reached Briar House, she peered over her shoulder.
As she suspected, Mister Brown Eyes had followed her.
He’d kept his distance, though. He lifted one of those masculine hands and waved.
Had he watched to ensure she made it home without running into a lurking danger? If so, she had her very own guardian angel. She rolled her eyes at her silliness.
Mother would insist Juliet’s behavior was much too forward, but someone would have to inform her of it first. Since no one was around to bear witness, then tattle, Juliet waved back as if the mystery man was an old friend.
“Miss Juliet,” someone said. “What are you doing out and about so early?”
She swiveled to face Calvin, their dutiful butler, who stood on the front stoop, broom in hand.
“I was…um…simply getting fresh air.”
She turned to take one last look at Mister Brown Eyes, but he had disappeared into thin air, almost as if he were a figment of her imagination.
Juliet made it to her chamber without anyone noticing her.
At one point, she ducked around a corner, successfully evading their footman.
Without a doubt, the refreshing stroll and her odd encounter with an alluring mystery man were worth almost being caught.
She quickly changed into her nightdress and then tugged on her bellpull.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, she struck an innocent pose, which included hands angelically clasped on her lap and an innocent I’ve-been-sitting-in-this-spot-woolgathering-forever stare into the corner.
A few minutes later, Betty entered the chamber and performed her courtesy bob. “Good morning, Miss Juliet.”
“Good morning, Betty. Are Mother and Father in the morning parlor yet?”
“They are, Miss.”
Her adventure seemed to have whetted her appetite because her mouth watered as she pictured coffee, jam, and fresh bread. “I shall wear my green dress with ivory trim this morning.”
“As you wish, Miss.” Betty promptly strolled to the wardrobe.
Not only did Juliet need to choose her day dress, but she also needed to decide on her evening wear, so she followed Betty, peering over her shoulder as her maid shuffled through the colorful frocks.
Blues, greens, purples, pinks, reds, and florals.
Silks, satins, taffetas, velvets, and muslin.
Every single garment was adorned with delicate trims, embroidery, or lace.
“I want to wear something spectacular to the theatre tonight,” Juliet said.
“Miss, you would look lovely in a burlap sack.”
Juliet scoffed. “I most certainly would not. But thank you for saying so.” She ran her fingertips over her decadent gowns, lingering on the red silk. Tiny crystals adorned the bodice. “I shall wear this.”
“Excellent choice, Miss. I will be sure to have it ready. Now, let us get you into the green.”
Almost twenty minutes later, Juliet was suitably dressed, and her hair was pinned into place.
Sitting in front of her vanity mirror, she turned her head from side to side, studying her reflection.
Her cheeks were still flushed from her chilly excursion.
Mother would faint dead away, assuming she had worn rouge to the morning meal.
She could always apply powder, but that also might cause the woman to suffer an apoplexy.
If only her sisters were here, so she didn’t have to deal with Mother’s drama on her own.
“Is something troubling you, Miss?” Betty asked.
“I suppose I miss Emily and Maria.”
“Me too. And soon you will marry and go away, leaving me alone until Miss Maria returns.” Betty sniffled, wiping tears from her eyes.