Chapter Ten
The fire crackling in the hearth and a dozen flickering candles illuminated the Chesterhill’s elegant drawing room.
Juliet peered over Emily’s shoulder. Her sister’s needle and thread danced in and out of the fabric in a cadence that both mesmerized and soothed her.
Emily might have the grace of a one-legged ostrich, but her needlework was precise, and her fishbone-stitched leaves were a work of art.
Spending the day with Emily had been delightful and wholly cathartic—from a breakfast of chocolate and freshly baked bread, to exploring Alexander’s winter garden, to afternoon tea in the cozy library as Juliet and Emily curled up and read like they had when they were children.
The icing on the cake was this precious moment, chatting as they tackled Emily’s embroidery project and waited for the evening meal.
Emily finished the leaf she’d been concentrating on and knotted the green thread. “Your turn,” she said as she handed Juliet the loom.
Juliet eagerly slid the needle she’d pre-threaded into the linen.
Emily leaned back and stretched her arms to the ceiling. “Isn’t it peaceful without my monster-in-law slithering about the estate causing trouble?”
“Exceedingly so,” Juliet said. “Now that she is gone, I want to stay with you forever and ever.” An image of Lord Riley grabbing her by her hair and dragging her to his carriage infiltrated her thoughts.
She shoved the nightmarish vision to the back of her mind and concentrated on the rose she stitched.
“I have a secret to tell you,” Emily said. “You must never tell anyone.”
Was Juliet to be an aunt? She would be a fabulous aunt, and Emily would be the greatest mother in the world. “I won’t say a word.” Juliet mimed sewing her lips together with her needle.
Emily giggled. Then, her expression sobered. “I am serious. You can’t repeat this to anyone.”
Oh, bother. Perhaps the secret had nothing to do with a baby. “I promise,” Juliet said.
“I think you are aware that Lord Chesterhill hired Hugh Fletcher to find all of his by-blows.”
Emily had not written many details in her letters, but she had indicated that Lord Chesterhill hired the ex-Bow Street Runner to search for the children he’d abandoned after indiscriminately bedding dozens of women.
It was hard to believe the marquess had been such a cad because now he was a kind, elderly man who struggled with his health.
Juliet nodded.
“Well, Hugh tracked down one of his by-blows before Christmas. ’Tis rather shocking because this man’s mother had an affair with Lord Chesterhill while being married to a viscount.
The viscount had no idea and raised his illegitimate child to be his heir.
If people find out that the viscount’s heir is actually Chesterhill’s son, this unfortunate man could lose his title.
Can you imagine losing your lesser title because you are the bastard child of a man with a more significant title?
Exceedingly ironic, don’t you think, because you have no claim to either title?
” Emily rolled her eyes. “The archaic rules of the aristocracy. Sometimes Alexander and I want to say to the devil with it all and run away.”
It took Juliet a moment to make sense of Emily’s story. Once she connected the dots, she gasped. “So, Alexander has a half-brother that he can’t acknowledge, or this man could lose his title?”
“Precisely. And you won’t believe who this illegitimate son of Lord Chesterhill’s is?”
Emily had never been one for tittle-tattle, so her sister’s loose tongue gave Juliet pause. “I haven’t a clue,” she said, her tone a gentle rebuke. “Are we truly going to sit here gossiping like nasty hens?”
Emily shrugged. “Never mind then, if you don’t want to know. But, since it is my husband’s half-brother and you are my sister, and you are going to carry this secret to the grave, it’s hardly gossip. It is family history.”
When Emily put it that way… “Fine, tell me,” Juliet said, her curiosity piqued.
Emily leaned close and whispered, “Theodore Ravenforde.”
Poor Theodore Ravenforde was an unmitigated disaster.
He drank and gambled entirely too much and was known to visit brothels nightly.
Juliet couldn’t say she disliked the Viscount of Ravenforde’s son because he had always been kind to the three Coldpepper sisters.
Still, Theodore ensconced himself in trouble as if it were a too-tight cravat about to strangle him.
“Does Theodore know?” Juliet asked. “Does Lord Ravenforde know?”
“Yes, they all know, and everyone has agreed to keep the secret. The Ravenfordes have even forgiven each other for their indiscretions, especially since Theodore married Victoria Rosewood, Ravenforde’s by-blow.”
“Oh, my,” Juliet said. “Mother would faint dead away if she knew about all of this scandal.”
Glowering, Emily grabbed the loom and attempted to tug it from Juliet’s grasp. “But she is never going to know. Correct?”
Juliet held on tight. “Not from my lips.”
Emily relinquished her hold on the loom of blackmail. “Today, another of my father-in-law’s by-blows is to arrive. He might even be here now.”
What a titillating development. “Truly? Will we meet him? What should we say? Should we pretend like we don’t know?”
“I am unsure,” Emily said. “I suspect Alexander will be along soon to discuss the details.”
“Are you talking about me, Kitten?” Alexander asked as he sauntered into the drawing room. A large man followed at his heels. Alexander halted and spread his arms wide. “Because I am indeed here.”
Emily’s cheeks pinkened as she stood and pecked her husband on the cheek. Meanwhile, Juliet’s cheeks caught fire wondering how much the men had overheard.
Alexander stepped aside. Palm up, he presented the newcomer. “Ladies, this is Mr. Eric Stone. He will be joining us for dinner and spending the evening with us. Eric, my wife Lady Emily, and her sister Miss Juliet Coldpepper.”
As Mr. Stone approached, Juliet took him in from his dark hair to his black boots. He was tall with a warrior’s physique, and despite having one angry-red eye, and a swollen nose and bruised jaw, he was exceedingly handsome.
“Good evening, my lady,” he said as he greeted Emily with a slight bow. Although uncultured, his voice was as smooth and rich as warm honey.
When his gaze settled on Juliet, she rudely cringed, not because she was horrified, but because the injury to his eye looked painful. She struggled to meet his gaze without feeling a sympathy burn in her eyes.
His chin snapped back as if he’d been slapped, but he quickly composed himself. “Miss Coldpepper, ’tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. She’d do anything to take back her overreaction. “I am pleased to meet you as well, Mr. Stone. Please call me Juliet.”
“Mr. Stone is a champion pugilist,” Alexander said, his chest puffing with what she suspected was sibling pride. “They call him The Stone.”
At least Juliet assumed this was Lord Chesterhill’s by-blow since he resembled a darker, more street-roughened Alexander. His opponent must have caused his injuries, but his wounds did not detract from his masculinity, and for some reason, he reminded her of Mister Brown Eyes.
After another bout of berating herself for being a ninny, Juliet finally found her etiquette. “How exciting, Mr. Stone, I hope you will regale us with tales of your valiant pugilistic daring.”
Mr. Stone cocked his head to the side, studying her as if he were trying to decide if she was serious. “Is that an appropriate conversation when dining with gently bred ladies?” he asked in what seemed to be sincerity.
His deep voice sent a prickle of gooseflesh up the back of Juliet’s neck.
Juliet was not one to blame others, but her wanton state was the masked man’s doing. His kiss had awoken pent-up desires, so now, even the voice of a man she’d met moments ago made her body misbehave.
Emily snorted. “Juliet and I grew up with polite dinner conversation, and I find it boring. I’ve never had dinner with a pugilist before, so I would like to hear what it’s like to punch someone in the nose.
Is it more fun to attack their midsection?
How many men have you knocked out? What is it like to be akin to a brave knight? ”
“A brave knight,” Juliet accidentally whispered.
Mr. Stone’s chiseled jaw went slack. He must think they were having fun at his expense.
“Please forgive us, Mr. Stone,” Emily said. “We are thrilled to have you as a guest, and we truly want to hear all about being a pugilist. By the by, Juliet was recently saved by a knight in shining armor, so we are quite taken with warriors at the moment.”
Juliet glared at her sister. Emily was about to find herself at the end of an embroidery needle.
Mr. Stone’s lips parted, and he tilted his head. Lord above, he had the same shaped mouth as Mister Brown Eyes.
Juliet inwardly moaned. Her obsession with the masked man was out of hand.
“Why don’t I know about this courageous man who saved your sister?” Alexander asked.
“We haven’t had a chance to discuss it yet. When I came to bed last night —” Emily coquettishly rolled her shoulder “—I was distracted and forgot to mention it.”
Alexander grinned. “Ah, yes. I remember quite well.” He clapped his brother on the back. “No use in fighting them, mate. It seems you are to impart theory about the sweet science at dinner.”
Emily clasped her hands together. “What a lovely night we shall have.”
“We just passed Warrington,” Alexander said. “Dinner is ready. Father will meet us in the dining parlor.” He grasped Emily’s elbow and peered over his shoulder at their visitor. “Stone, we don’t stand on ceremony at our family meals.”