Chapter Ten #2
Emily and Alexander walked ahead. Mr. Stone watched them for a moment before looking down at his elbow.
His brow furrowed. Was he trying to decide whether to offer Juliet his arm and escort her?
The befuddled man had probably never dined with the aristocracy before.
Or maybe he had, since pugilists often mingled with the ton.
If that were the case, he was probably worried she might react to his proffered arm the way she had reacted to his injured eye.
Juliet placed the loom on the side table and stood. “Shall we go?” Hoping to ease his discomfiture, she linked her arm with his. A bolt of awareness zinged through her body, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the handsome pugilist’s breath hitched.
Although the original encounter with Mr. Stone was somewhat awkward, everyone relaxed as they dined.
After the first course of white soup with rosemary and thyme, came roasted lamb with potatoes, carrots, and asparagus.
There were also Ratafia biscuits lightly sweetened with almonds and apricots.
The final course consisted of mouthwatering layers of creamy custard, apricot preserves, and meringue.
And there was brandy. A lot of brandy. Which seemed to be doing Mr. Stone good, because the tension left his shoulders and jaw.
Although the man was not talkative, he answered every one of their questions and proved an agreeable companion.
Her eyes sparkling with whatever theory she was concocting, Emily gobbled up her last bite of pudding and then brought her index finger to her cheek.
“Mr. Stone, from what you have told us, I have deduced that getting a man in the corner and delivering combinations of hooks and uppercuts until he collapses against the ropes provides the most satisfaction?”
Alexander choked on his mouthful of brandy as his father chortled. Luckily, Juliet swallowed her sip before giggling uncontrollably, otherwise it would have sprouted from her mouth as if she were a Gargoyle, splashing the unsuspecting Mr. Stone.
“You must excuse my wife,” Alexander said, casting a side-eyed glower at her. “I can only assume she is devising experiments that test the power behind the major punches.”
“Undoubtedly,” Juliet said.
“Actually”—Emily continued to tap her cheek—“I wasn’t thinking about that, but it would make a rather interesting experiment.”
Mr. Stone smiled, and Juliet’s heart thumped against her breastbone. She thought pugilists were missing most of their teeth. Surprisingly, this fighter had a mouth full of white teeth. He caught her watching him. His smile faltered, and he looked down at his dessert.
He seemed so nervous around her. Because you looked at his eye and winced within the first seconds of meeting him, you silly, goat. She should convince him she was unbothered by his injury. Changing the subject might do the trick.
“Mr. Stone, I have another question,” Juliet said, “Do female pugilists also punch each other until one of them can’t get up?”
“They do, Miss Juliet,” he said. “There are women who box at my gymnasium.”
Since the man was not loquacious, every statement he uttered seemed particularly meaningful, and Juliet’s heart and body melted every time he said her name in that deep baritone.
“How fascinating,” Emily said. “I would like to see that.”
“As should I,” Juliet said. The blood would turn her stomach, but watching strong women defy society would be exceedingly exciting.
“Mayhap I shall escort the ladies to some mills,” Alexander said.
Mr. Stone locked eyes with Juliet for the briefest of seconds before sliding his gaze to Alexander. He opened his mouth, looking as if he meant to say something. Instead, he picked up his glass and drank.
“Shall we retire to the drawing room for charades?” Emily asked. “Please say you will play, Mr. Stone.”
“Yes,” Juliet softly said. “Please say you will join us, Mr. Stone. I don’t want the night to end.”
This enjoyable evening simply couldn’t end because when it did, Juliet would be alone with her thoughts, and lately her thoughts made her act impulsively and got her into trouble.
“I told you, Stone, there is no getting around it. The Coldpepper sisters are single-minded and when they gang up on a man…” Alexander sighed. “Well, ’tis better to give in and enjoy their company.”
Mr. Stone looked into Juliet’s eyes. This time, she held his gaze, refusing to react to the broken blood vessel spreading angry red lines across his once white pupil.
“Charades sound enjoyable,” he said.
Juliet bent forward, then cupped and tilted her ear to hear Lord Chesterhill.
“Tree blowing in the wind,” he whispered.
Nodding, Juliet took her spot front and center and regarded her audience.
Lord Chesterhill perched upon the largest wingback.
His smile consumed his countenance, and his typically gray pallor appeared rather ruddy in the firelight.
The married couple practically sat on top of each other since Juliet wasn’t currently sharing the settee with them.
Mr. Stone relaxed on one of the wingbacks, one thigh crossed over his lap, the golden glow of the firelight kissing his strong jaw.
With his intense gaze focused on Juliet, he chewed on his bottom lip.
“Father, you better have given her something challenging this time,” Alexander said.
Emily rolled her eyes. “Stop fussing.”
Trying not to laugh at the competitive couple, Juliet held up five fingers.
“Five words,” Emily said.
Juliet nodded and held up one finger.
“First word,” Emily said.
Juliet nodded. Unfortunately, the too-small slippers she’d borrowed from Emily pinched her toes, so she slid out of them and planted her bare feet on the carpeting. Raising her arms over her head, she pressed her palms together.
“Tall! Mountain! Tree,” Emily called.
Juliet hopped her feet together and touched her nose.
“Tree,” Emily said.
Nodding and grinning, Juliet held up two fingers.
“Second word.” Emily sent her husband a satisfied smirk.
He folded his arms across his chest and stuck out his bottom lip. Of course, the couple’s theatrics didn’t fool anyone. They were thoroughly enjoying the friendly rivalry, and beneath their contemptuous glares, their longing for one another crackled.
“Get on with it.” Alexander grunted. “Or forfeit your turn.”
Emily spun on him. “You hush.” Thereupon, she faced forward. “Hurry up, Jules.”
Lord Chesterhill chuckled. “Play nice, children.”
Mr. Stone exhaled, and Juliet swore she felt his breath blowing across her neck, which was utterly ridiculous since they were a few arm lengths from each other. She needed to concentrate. Resuming her tree stance, she swayed from side to side.
“Tree blowing in the wind,” Emily sang out.
Juliet tapped her nose, then clapped enthusiastically. Emily’s arms shot into the air in victorious triumph.
“Sugar and Spice, six. Snips and Snails, four,” Lord Chesterhill called.
“Bloody hell, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Alexander said. “They are winning because you are giving them things that a child on leading strings can act out. ‘Emily, act like a cute kitten. Alexander, act out William Shakespeare eating a pork pie while being chased by a vampire with purple hair.’”
“Poor loser.” Emily flicked her husband’s nose.
Instead of getting angry, his lids hung heavy as if he might pounce and kiss her in front of God and company.
Of course, Alexander was correct; Lord Chesterhill was showing favor to the sisters.
Yet, since it was all in fun, Juliet pulled her shoulders back as if she were an award-winning thespian.
She was annoyed with the slippers, so she strolled past them and sat with all the aplomb of a queen, bare feet and all.
The marquess curled his finger, calling Mr. Stone to him. “Your turn, Eric.”
Mr. Stone smoothed his hands over his thighs and stood.
Juliet’s gaze remained glued to him the entire time he walked to and leaned over his father.
She was still studying the way his muscles elongated and contracted when he took his place in front of the group.
She only stopped gawking because Emily slapped her shoulder and sent her a knowing glare.
“Come on, Stone,” Alexander said. “We need to beat these chits.”
Eric stood in silent contemplation as the rest of them waited with bated breath.
Then, his eyes lit up. He removed his tailcoat, which only served to draw attention to his well-formed thighs—that is, until Juliet was distracted by the biceps straining against his too-tight sleeves.
Good lord, how much more could she take before she melted all over the drawing room?
Mr. Stone sauntered in a big circle as Juliet produced entirely too much saliva. Perhaps she shouldn’t have drunk that third glass of brandy at dinner.
“This isn’t a mill,” Alexander said. “We don’t need you to peel and strut about like a stallion for us.”
If all boxers resembled feral stallions as they performed for their audience, Juliet had to attend a mill, sooner rather than later.
Seeming unperturbed by his partner’s taunt, Mr. Stone held up five fingers.
“Five words,” Alexander said.
Mr. Stone held up two fingers.
“Second word,” Alexander said.
Mr. Stone dropped onto all fours, and with the grace of a big cat, he crawled. Make that prowled. His perfectly shaped arse cheeks strained the trouser fabric just as much as his biceps strained his sleeves.
Juliet sat forward, her mouth hanging open indelicately. Emily joined her, her eyes wide as she gritted her teeth and pretended to put out a pretend flame. Thankfully, the men didn’t seem to notice the sisters’ state of…well, what was the word one used to describe lascivious shock?
Mr. Stone halted his movement to look up at them. He opened his mouth wide and mimed what looked like a very loud roar.
“A lion,” Emily called.
Juliet backhanded her. “Don’t help them.”
“A lion,” Alexander said.
Mr. Stone broke character to tap his nose and hold up five fingers.
“Fifth word,” Alexander said.
Mr. Stone nodded and stretched his mouth wide, moving it in all directions.
“Yawning,” Emily whispered in Juliet’s direction. “He is quite good. Well, quite a lot of things, really.”
“Stop gibbering, you two.” Alexander gave Emily one of his not very convincing glowers. “A lion yawning,” he called.
Mr. Stone crawled in a circle, lay on his side, folded his hands beneath his cheek, and closed his eyes.
Alexander bolted off the settee. “A lion sleeping. A lion napping. A lion dreaming”
“It’s five words, you silly goose,” Emily said.
“A lion taking a nap,” Alexander yelled.
Mr. Stone opened his eyes and grinned. Juliet’s heart tumbled all over itself.
Alexander’s arm shot into the air. “Huzzah! A lion taking a nap.” He rushed to his brother and fell on top of him. The two grown men rolled around playfully punching each other in what was a rather appealing display of athleticism. Meanwhile, Lord Chesterhill chuckled.
“Egad,” Emily eventually murmured. “Alexander, get off him or I will think you would prefer to share your bed with him tonight.”
Laughing, Alexander stood and held out his hand to pull the grinning Mr. Stone to his feet. “Well done, mate. You are jolly good at charades.”
“And the final score is Sugar and Spice, six. Snips and Snails, five,” Lord Chesterhill said. “The ladies win.”
Emily and Juliet leapt to their feet and twirled about the room in a celebratory dance, displaying a modicum more decorum than the wrestling brothers just had.
“Well, I suppose ’tis getting quite late.” Lord Chesterhill stood. “I have asked Cook to have a formal breakfast ready for tomorrow morning at ten.”
“How lovely,” Juliet said.
“Our guest washroom is splendid, Eric,” Lord Chesterhill said. “I will have warm water sent up in the morning so you can bathe.”
Juliet bit her tongue, so that she didn’t go on and on about how wonderful the water closet was. Such a conversation was probably most indecent, although the men had just rolled around on the floor like juveniles. Not to mention, she and Emily had drooled over Mr. Stone’s fine derriere.
“Then we shall all have an afternoon constitutional,” Emily said.
“Although the air is chilly, ’tis life-affirming,” Juliet added.
“I’m afraid Stone is leaving us after we break our fast,” Alexander said.
“No.” Emily stared at their guest with puppy dog eyes.
The look had never worked on their mother, but oh, had Father fallen for it.
To her credit, Emily had further mastered the adorable pleading expression while living with the Beckett men.
“Boo. You can’t leave us, Mr. Stone. We are having such a delightful visit. ”
Juliet’s thoughts exactly.
“I have decided to stay an extra day or two,” Mr. Stone said. “If that suits?”
Lord Chesterhill grinned. “Nothing would please me more. Let me walk you to your room, and we can discuss the details.”
Alexander clapped Mr. Stone on the back. “Excellent decision, mate.”
Their visitor followed Lord Chesterhill out the door as Juliet’s heart fluttered like a leaf in the wind.
A runaway engaged to a man she detested and obsessed with a masked avenger who had kissed her in public, all while her heart performed death-defying acrobatics for a handsome pugilist who had crawled around on all fours as she ogled him. She was beyond hope.