Chapter Twelve
Juliet and Eric followed Emily and Alexander into the foyer, where they shook the snow from their coats.
Even her soggy hat did not detract from Juliet’s good humor.
She untied her bonnet and removed her mittens, exchanging them for the dry shawl that Esther proffered.
Juliet hugged the cashmere around her as she followed the parade to the drawing room, where trays of cakes, dried fruits, and small ham sandwiches awaited them.
Emily poured the tea as they filled their plates.
Still cocooned in the cozy shawl, Juliet chose a chair close to the crackling fire. The heat warmed her cheeks and hands as she devoured two sandwiches and an iced cake. Exercising in the fresh air always whetted her appetite.
Emily and Alexander claimed the settee. Eric sat in the chair beside them, balancing his loaded plate on his knees. The dainty teacup he held looked like a child’s toy in his large hand. Interestingly, his knuckles were swollen, and his fingers were long, much like Mister Brown Eyes’ hands.
Augh. Of course, their hands were similar. Eric’s knuckles were swollen and scarred because he was a pugilist, and Mister Brown Eyes punched villains.
As they ate, Alexander chatted away, filling them in on the changes he wanted to make to his garden come spring.
Emily echoed her husband’s enthusiasm, showering compliments on his lovely flowers.
Juliet tried to be attentive, but it was difficult to focus while the man across from her radiated distracting masculinity.
Unable to control herself, she stole a peek through her lashes. Eric’s wind-kissed cheeks and snow-dampened hair curling about his forehead and ears added to his already potent allure. His gaze slid from his half-brother to her, and his lips parted.
Criminy! She’d been caught spying. She averted her gaze to stare into her teacup. He must still be watching her because the heat from his perusal burned her entire being with a scorching intensity. Nibbling on her lip, she looked up.
His lids hung low over the piercing irises. She’d grown accustomed to his injured eye, no longer feeling the need to wince or look away. However, black and blue half circles now underlined his eyes.
Their inhalations and exhalations synced as if they breathed the same mouthful of air.
Her heartbeat picked up, and her mouth became dry.
As she sipped the last of her tea, his Adam’s apple slid with her swallow, as if he was the one who’d taken the sip.
Still desperate for moisture, she licked her lips.
Eric’s gaze followed her tongue, and if she wasn’t mistaken, his breath hitched.
Her heart swooped low as if she were falling.
This was ridiculous. Her behavior was entirely inappropriate. Juliet broke from their sizzling communication to focus on Alexander, who droned on and on about something or other that had to do with long-lasting blooms.
“Blah, blah, blah,” Alexander said as Emily nodded in agreement.
It was no use. Juliet couldn’t concentrate. She could barely breathe.
Teacup in one hand, plate in the other, she bolted onto her feet. “Please excuse me. I want to rest for a bit in my chamber. Then I must choose a book for this evening.”
“Of course,” Emily said.
“Would you like a tour of the library?” Alexander asked. “My books are arranged by—”
“No!” Juliet hadn’t meant to bellow, but she needed time alone to pull herself together.
Alexander’s smile faltered. Obviously, her rudeness had hurt his feelings. “If you change your mind, I would be happy to edify you about the system I use to arrange our books.”
“Thank you,” she said. “You are very kind. I believe I remember where everything is from my last visit.” That was a bald-faced lie, because back then, she’d been more concerned with her sister’s romance than the location of books.
Juliet placed her plate and cup on the side table.
“Thank you, everyone, for a lovely time.”
Her gaze fixed on the carpet, she hurried from the room.
Exhaling, Juliet addressed the missive she’d just penned to Charles.
Perhaps it was cowardly to end her engagement in writing, but her instincts told her that if she tried to talk to him in person, she’d be putting herself in danger.
Not only that, but she also could no longer take the guilt coursing through her over her reactions to Eric and Mister Brown Eyes.
At least now, if she didn’t sort out her feelings, she wasn’t cheating on a deplorable fiancé.
“Miss,” someone behind her said.
Juliet whirled, to find Esther staring at her. She placed her hand on her wildly beating heart.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Esther said. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer so I thought I’d better check on you.” Esther inclined her chin toward the letter. “Who is the missive too?”
What a nosy woman. Juliet bit her lip.
“I can take it into town for you,” Esther said.
Actually, that would be quite helpful because then Juliet could go to the library and choose a book.
“Thank you, Esther. It is crucial that this letter is posted right away.”
“My friend Walter is currently visiting Lord Chesterhill. He can take me into town.” Esther’s cheeks colored up. “It would be a nice drive for me.”
Juliet handed over the missive, reminding Esther of how important its delivery was. So giddy, that her hands were waving with excitement, Esther scurried from the room.
Juliet chuckled. Despite Esther’s eccentricities, she couldn’t help but like the woman. Seconds later, trepidation about the letter left Juliet breathless. She gasped, then exhaled slowly. Once she’d steadied her breathing and her nerves, she slid into the hallway.
If only she had taken an extra few seconds to pack shoes, then Emily’s tight slippers wouldn’t be pinching her toes.
Although quite fashionable, the dashed things were uncomfortable as the dickens.
Somehow, Juliet managed to glide from her chamber to the library.
But once the door closed behind her, she limped to the settee, dropped onto it, and rolled into a ball.
The quiet respite in her room and penning the missive had not helped her regain her composure. If anything, her shame had intensified.
As the minutes ticked by, she berated herself for her unladylike behavior and indecent thoughts.
Mr. Stone had been a perfect gentleman as he escorted her down the slippery decline.
Meanwhile, she’d flirted like a trollop.
Not only had she told him they were destined to be friends and keep each other’s secrets, but she’d also lowered her voice as if she were a seductress.
Some might consider her a great beauty, but due to her lack of experience with men, she was as seductive as an ant-covered biscuit.
She may have captured Charles’s attention, but that was hardly flattering.
She suspected a barnyard pig in a wig could snare Charles’s interest. However, if Eric’s heated glares were any indication, he wanted to know her romantically.
Still, she’d made an absolute ninny of herself.
She harbored no doubts; if he knew her naughty secret, he wouldn’t want anything to do with her.
No man desired a woman who obsessed over a stranger she’d kissed in front of her fiancé.
Her flirtations hadn’t stopped after the walk.
During their repast in the drawing room, she’d peered at Mr. Stone through fluttering lashes, further encouraging his interest in her.
This was wholly unfair to him, because although she found him to be pleasant company and exceedingly attractive, and his gaze heated her insides, it was the mysterious masked man she ached to be near.
More than likely, you will never see Mister Brown Eyes again, and the charming Mr. Stone is here with you now.
She scoffed at her foolish thoughts. Even though she’d broken her engagement, it would take a few days for the letter to reach Charles, so both of these men were off limits for now.
Even then, it might not matter, because a baron’s daughter could not be with either a man who roamed the streets, or a marquess’s illegitimate son.
She must accept that her destiny was not her own.
Undoubtedly, her parents would force her to marry the future earl, break up letter or not.
Sighing, she sat up. What was done was done. Further fretting about her coquetry served no purpose. From this minute forward, she would conduct herself with the decorum befitting a virtuous woman of her class. For now, she needed to comb the library and choose a book for their evening read.
Toeing off the slippers, she stood and padded across the carpeting to the closest shelf. Her fingers skimmed over the colorful leather volumes. She skipped a few books, her finger landing on, On the Origin of the Vaccine Inoculation by Edward Jenner. She feigned a yawn.
Next, she explored the shelf to the left of the science texts. Lives of the Artists. History Of The Art of Antiquity. Theory of Colours. Alexander and Emily must own at least thirty books on art. Not that she was surprised.
She stepped around a ladder and perused the shelf in the front corner from right to left.
Waverly. Virtue Rewarded. Tom Jones. Robinson Crusoe.
Finally, the section she sought. She leisurely read the first page of the titles that piqued her interest. Cecilia by Franny Burney seemed as if it might suit her mood.
Hopefully, everyone would enjoy her choice.
On second thought, she wasn’t as well-read as Emily and Alexander. They might find this book to be insipid or provincial. Maybe Macbeth was more exciting.
She sighed. Perhaps she was overthinking her selection because after reading the first two pages, she wanted to know what happened to the one-and-twenty-year-old heroine searching for a husband.
Maybe now that Emily was more romantically inclined, she would be interested in this story as well. She clutched the volume to her chest.