Chapter Eight
Even though a quick trip turned into a disappointing all-day journey, Juliet needed to count her blessings.
First, the weather delays could not be helped, and secondly, she was finally standing on the front stoop of Chesterhill Manor, breathing in the crisp country air.
Any moment now, she would embrace Emily, and all would be right with the world.
She probably looked a fright, but there was nothing to be done about it, so she pulled her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and knocked.
Within seconds, the massive door opened. Warrington peered out at her. He blinked and his eyes widened momentarily before an even-keeled expression washed over his visage. “Good evening, Miss Coldpepper. We were not expect…” He cleared his throat. “Please come in.”
Juliet stepped past him, entering the grand foyer.
“Come along,” he said. “The evening meal is being served in the dining parlor.”
“I hope I’m not intruding,” Juliet said, mostly to be polite because her sister would never see her as an intrusion.
Would she?
“Not at all, Miss,” he said. “Lady Emily will be thrilled to see you.”
Despite his dutiful manners, it seemed Juliet had shocked the butler, because he hadn’t offered to take her cloak or satchel, proving just how presumptuous her behavior was.
She followed him, their footsteps echoing in the long hallway as she second-guessed everything she’d done these past two days.
“Your lordship,” Warrington announced when they entered the dining room, “you have a dinner guest.”
The three diners looked up from their plates and gawked.
What had Juliet been thinking? One didn’t just barge in on their relations without warning. This was a horrific plan.
Emily’s befuddled expression instantly turned to glee, and she squealed with delight. “Jules!”
Before Juliet could brace herself, Emily charged, wrapping her in a warm hug. Juliet collapsed against her big sister as sights and sounds whirled.
“How delightful to see you,” her brother-in-law said as he grabbed her satchel and handed it to one of the footmen.
Someone in livery took her reticule.
“Another plate,” the marquess called. “Why is our guest still wearing her cloak?”
Her fretting had been for naught. She was welcome, safe, and loved.
Warrington held out his hand. Juliet unclasped her cloak and unwrapped herself. As she handed her outer garment to the butler, cool air kissed her upper back. She winced, and her cheeks caught fire. Whirling, she turned her buttocks to the wall.
“Em, could we speak in the hallway?” she asked.
Before her sister had a chance to answer, Juliet backed out of the room. Luckily, Emily did not ask questions as she followed.
Practically gluing her bum to the wainscoting, Juliet pointed over her shoulder. “Please?”
Despite her skeptically raised brow, Emily squeezed her tiny physique between Juliet and the wall. “Heavens above!” Once she secured the dress, she turned Juliet to face her. “After we dine, we shall discuss why you ran away from Mother and Father.”
Juliet gasped. “How did you know?”
“First of all,” Emily whispered, “you show up with your dress undone and you are not in your stays. I’d wager this isn’t because you had an untoward liaison in a stagecoach. You are much too proper for such things.”
Obviously, she wasn’t too proper. She had enjoyed a mysterious stranger’s kisses, after all.
In public. As if all of this wasn’t scandalous enough, Mister Brown Eyes was an avenger of some sort.
She may have even flirted with him upon their first encounter.
Proper? To the contrary. A harlot? Perhaps.
Juliet shook herself to the present, where Emily’s big sister lecture was in full force.
“Second—” Emily held up two fingers “—you must have avoided Betty, which you would never do unless you wanted to leave in secret.”
Juliet winced. Poor Betty. After she got over the shock of Juliet running off, she would be terribly disappointed about not visiting Emily.
Emily held up a third finger. “To my knowledge, you traveled with one small bag. You do not go away for even one night without a trunk packed full of dresses, shoes, and trinkets.”
Before Emily had a chance to hold up a fourth finger, or Juliet had an opportunity to deny or confirm the accusation, her brother-in-law peeked into the hallway.
“Kitten, can I assist with anything?” the younger Alexander asked, his voice gentle.
Shame washed over Juliet as she stared at her mud-caked boots.
“No, darling,” Emily said. “But thank you for checking on us.” She grasped Juliet’s elbow and escorted her back the way they had come. “Later,” she whispered in Juliet’s ear.
When they entered the dining room, Lord Chesterhill smiled as if nothing was amiss.
The sincere gesture calmed Juliet’s nerves.
Feeling more at ease, she sat in the gilded chair across from Emily.
Instantly, a plate of roast beef, carrots, and perfectly cut potatoes was placed in front of her, and her glass was filled with amber brandy.
“Juliet, how are your parents?” the marquess asked as if she hadn’t just arrived unannounced, half-dressed, and filthy.
More than likely, they were distraught she was missing, but that was no reason for Juliet not to ensconce herself in practiced etiquette. “They are well, my lord. My father has been spending time at White’s, and my mother enjoys attending the Garden Society tea parties.”
“I am pleased to hear that,” the marquess said. “I hope they visit soon. I’d enjoy the company of an old friend.”
“I am sure they would love that,” Juliet said. At least Father would love it. Mother would fret about how unpleasant Lady Chesterhill had been on their last visit. Although with the marchioness gone, Mother might want to see Emily.
On second thought… Juliet stifled her moan.
Once her parents discovered she was missing, they would descend upon Chesterhill Manor, and it would not be for a pleasant social call.
Oh, no. They’d drag Juliet home by her ear and force her to marry a cowardly man who had pushed her into the path of danger moments before a heroic stranger kissed her.
Chesterhill Manor boasted a guest bathing chamber fit for a queen.
Colorful porcelain tiles adorned the walls, floor, and built-in seating.
A massive marble tub, capable of comfortably accommodating three people, sat in the center of the room.
Flickering flames in strategically placed sconces cast a dreamy glow over the chamber.
There was even one of the newfangled showers that was so tall, it towered over Juliet.
Under Emily’s supervision, a half dozen footmen filled the tub with hot water, and Esther, one of the maids, delivered a variety of soaps and fresh towels.
“Enjoy yourself,” Emily said. She unfastened Juliet’s dress that she’d clasped less than two hours ago. “I shall meet you in your chamber when you are finished.”
Once she was alone, Juliet stripped down and dipped her toes into the warm water. She hadn’t realized how chilled her blood was until now. Craving heat, she immersed everything but her head, neck, and shoulders under water.
While luxuriating in the tub, Juliet scrubbed the filth of the day from her body and then soaked until all the stress left her muscles. The scent of exotic spiced soap whirled around her. She breathed it in, leaned her neck on the tub’s rim, and closed her eyes.
This was heaven. Maybe she could stay with Emily forever.
Although if she didn’t return to London, she might never see those soulful brown eyes again.
It also meant she wouldn’t have a second chance to kiss him, which would be a travesty since his lips were soft.
They were also firm and masculine. By God, the man had a perfect mouth.
Juliet brushed her index finger over her lips, and they instinctively puckered.
What the dickens. Since when did her own touch make her prepare for a kiss?
Was it the rising steam? The decadent scent?
Her relaxed muscles? Memories of her masked hero?
Perhaps all the above? If so, this raised a critical question that required an immediate answer.
Was her entire body highly sensitive right now?
Curiosity getting the better of her, she dragged her fingertip across her cheek and along her jaw. Rather soothing, she decided. Exhaling, she trailed a wavy line downward, over her breast, pausing at her nipple.
Dare she?
Why not? She was a grown woman who was still a virgin, for heaven’s sake.
Fondling herself had always felt so wrong.
Dirty and depraved. Over the years, she had secretly touched her feminine bits a few times, not particularly enjoying the odd sensations.
However, today, right this second, the tingling in her torso and core was exceedingly pleasant.
Her nipples pebbled beneath the gentle circles she traced. Sighing, she trailed her fingers lower, tapping them over her belly. There, she halted, frozen in place. Gnawing on her lip, she searched for the courage to continue exploring.
“’Tis not so terribly sinful,” she whispered. This was her God-given body, and she could do whatever she wanted with it in private.
Still, her hand didn’t move. She opened her eyes and peered into the water at the golden curls between her thighs. She spread her legs wider, studying the view. Water sluiced over her folds. How exquisite! She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and gave in to the desire to picture him.
Brown irises staring at her. Thick lashes fluttering. His lips on hers. Kissing. Tasting.
She slipped a finger into her folds. Although pleasant, she needed more friction. Sliding her hips forward, she parted her thighs wider and added another finger. Yes. This was better. Her tight circles turned to piercing thrusts. Her hips bucked, and she moaned indecently.
Something clicked.
Juliet opened her eyes and bolted upright.