“Well, you do pity me, out of the goodness of your heart. You had never even met me before, but you believed me at once without a quibble and have been nothing but kind ever since.”

  “I do sound quite a paragon of virtue when you put it like that.”

  She smiled. “And you make me laugh.”

  “I endeavor to please.” He lay back on the blanket and put his hands behind his head while he gazed up at the sky and the clouds. “Oh, before I forget. The woman from the stagecoach who was looking for her runaway daughter. What was her name?”

  “Mrs. Harper? Or the daughter?”

  “The daughter.”

  “Susan. Why?”

  “It’s probably too convenient, but do you remember the couple we saw yesterday? The girl is one of my grandfather’s housemaids. Her name, apparently, is Susan Smith. Which immediately made me suspicious, on account of having so recently met another Miss Smith.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him, a childish gesture that made him laugh, though she said quickly, “You think she might be Mrs. Harper’s daughter?”

  “I didn’t get the chance to speak to her. I was on my way out, and she was under the close supervision of the cook. I’ll talk to her again.”

  “She ran away with a soldier,” Juliet confided.

  “Then she’s in good company at Myerly. Except that fellow yesterday looked more like a farmer than a soldier.”

  “He is.”

  “Hmm.”

  “But we should definitely find out because the poor woman is worried sick about her.”

  Dan nodded just as Gun reappeared and licked his face in passing. Dan spluttered and got to his feet, wiping his face, while Juliet laughed and made a fuss of the dog. Dan stood in front of the easel, examining her painting again, now that it had dried completely.

  “What will you do with it?” he asked her.

  “Nothing, I shouldn’t think. Add it to the pile still in the schoolroom, probably.”

  “May I have it?”

  She looked up in surprise. “Really?”

  “I like it.”

  “Then, of course, you may have it. I’m flattered. So long as you don’t use it to wrap your breakfast in tomorrow.”

  He laughed and detached it from the easel. He rolled it into a scroll and slid it into the long pocket of his overcoat. The sun was getting higher, and he knew it was time she was going back.

  He folded up the easel. “I’ll walk with you part of the way and carry your burden.”

  “There’s no need, you know. I am not such a weakling as I look.”

  “But I am. I need the exercise.” He whistled to Gun, while she looked him critically up and down.

  “No, you’re not,” she argued. “You look very thin, but your shoulders are broad and…” She broke off, blushing. “And I think you’re probably pretty strong,” she finished in a rush. “Sorry. I’m too comfortable with you. I say exactly what comes into my head.”

  “Good,” he said, then added, “So far.”

  With Juliet carrying the blanket, and Dan the easel and his overcoat, they walked through the woods, Gun trotting happily at their heels. From their comfortable chatter, he learned little bits about her childhood and her family, which both sounded completely different from his. He had run wild in army camps, and after his father’s death, he was brought up only by his mother. Apart from her, his only family stared through him or made rude comments on their very few encounters. Or laid down the law like his grandfather.

  As they compared these matters, he said, “You might even know my Aunt Tabetha. She claims acquaintance with your mother, Mrs. Cornwell.”

  She thought about it. “Does she have a very proper and slightly stiff son?”

  “Cousin Colin,” he recognized without difficulty.

  “Then, yes, I have met them both. Imagine her being your Aunt Tabetha! What of your other aunt? Will I know her, too?”

  “Mrs. Ames. She’s not as…forceful as Tabetha.”

  “I can’t think of an Ames,” she said, disappointed. “Except Mr. Hugh Ames, who is positively the height of fashion.”

  Dan grinned. “All fobs and quizzing glasses and the most outrageous waistcoats.”

  “He is your cousin?” Juliet exclaimed with apparent delight. “He took tea with Lady Alford one day wearing a pink coat!”

  “I was never sure whether the fashionable world regarded him as a leader or a figure of fun,” he admitted.

  “Neither is the fashionable world, I suspect! I rather like him, though. He is very good-natured and dances most gracefully.”

  Dan nodded since this was pretty much his own opinion of Hugh. “I prefer him to Colin, but I can’t say I really know either of them.”

  “I wonder if they will call on us?” Juliet mused. “If they—”

  Gun’s soft growling caught Dan’s attention first. His hackles were up. Dan seized Juliet’s hand on the leash, and she stopped talking at once.

  Someone was approaching along the path, humming to himself.

  As one, she and Dan veered off the path into the trees, dragging Gun with them. Juliet dived behind a large oak tree, and Dan propped up the easel there to set about distracting Gun, for the dog, picking up their alarm, was clearly about to have at the approaching enemy with his usual rifle-shot bark. Crouching down, Dan used both hands to ruffle the dog’s head and scratch behind his ears. Surprised but grateful, Gun licked his wrist but tried to scrabble toward the threat, the incipient bark rumbling still in his throat.

  Juliet caught on, hastily removing one glove and stroking Gun’s back. She had her hands well-licked in return, but she didn’t stop, and in the end, this game seemed more fun to the witless creature than barking. He sank down and rolled on his back to have his tummy tickled by them both.

  Peering through the undergrowth, Dan saw a man stride by with a gun over his arm. It looked like a fowling-piece, and sure enough, Juliet whispered, “It’s Campbell, the gamekeeper.”

  Dan, suddenly more concerned with the effect of her breath against his ear and her soft warmth against his shoulder, could only nod and try to keep scratching Gun’s belly. It was difficult, when all his senses focused on her, her fresh, feminine scent that reminded him of flowers and orange trees and the spices of the east, and yet was completely her own.

  If he just turned his head a little, his lips would touch her cheek, and from there, her lips… He had kissed her before, and his body remembered. Desire curled through him, a heavy, pleasurable ache that he could only ignore. It was exquisite torture he could not bring himself to end.

  She did that, up to a point, by standing and peering through the trees after the gamekeeper. The fine muslin of her gown brushed against his face, and he rose abruptly, almost desperately, to stand beside her.

  Disappointed, Gun rolled and got to his feet, too, gazing expectantly at Dan.

  “He’s gone,” Juliet murmured. “Maybe we should stay off the path.”

  Dan nodded as casually as he could and picked up the easel once more. At once, she reached for the leash, and their fingers touched. To Dan, it was electric. Her fingers stilled, her gaze lifted to his face, a tiny, questioning frown on her beautiful face. The world stood still.

  With women, as in most other aspects of his life, Dan was used to following his instincts. Usually, it had worked out well for him, and for the girls in question. Undoubtedly, this was the moment he could kiss Juliet—truly, deeply kiss her—and change their relationship forever. He knew she would let him, and if he did it as he wished, with all the sweetness and sensuality of which he was capable, he knew she would like it…

  But this damnable new sense of responsibility was getting in his way. She was not just another girl looking for flirtation or a little passion. He could not make her ruin true.

  He twisted his lips into a smile and let go of the leash, striding on in the direction of the house.

  Chapter Eight

  Juliet was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice her brother and sister until they were almost upon her.

  Something had changed in Dan. Or in the way she regarded him. It wasn’t so much a change in feelings as a change in emphasis. She had always been conscious of his physical attractions—his dramatic, handsome face and charming, easy smile, the casual grace of his long, lean body. Sometimes, when she’d glanced at him, her heart had given a pleasant little flutter. She liked looking at him. She liked being with him, and she had been undeniably delighted to see him walking toward her from the river.

  But in those ridiculous moments hiding from Campbell, the gamekeeper, and dementedly tickling Gun to keep him silent, she had found herself pressed against Dan’s shoulder. She could smell the soap he used, feel the brush of his hair against her cheek, her lips as she’d whispered in his ear. Her body had responded most agreeably to his nearness, and something about his stillness had spoken of his awareness. The emphasis had shifted. He was no longer simply a kind friend who shared her humor as well as her troubles. He was an attractive man who could, who did, recognize her womanly charms.

  And the moment she’d taken the leash… Touching him had been accidental. Lingering over it hadn’t, although she had almost felt incapable of moving. When she had lifted her gaze to his, she had barely been able to breathe for the heat of desire had stood out in his eyes as clearly as the sun in a cloudless sky.

  It made her heart soar. Even the fact that he had done nothing about it and had merely walked on, excited her more. And although they had said little on the last part of their journey, she would not have forgone it for the world.

  It was only as they had parted with a cheerful promise to meet tomorrow that the doubts had begun. He was a man. Men felt desire all the time, and mostly it had little to do with love—which was why a lady should never complain when her husband strayed, for it had nothing to do with his feeling for his wife and family. According to her mother, who had imparted a good deal of such wisdom upon Juliet’s engagement to Jeremy Catesby.

  So, she should not dwell on such odd, passing moments with Dan. They meant nothing and could lead to nothing. She was ruined in the eyes of the world and was, therefore, not wife material for anyone. They both knew that. Besides, if she made this into something it was not, she would lose his friendship, this precious time with him and, probably, her sanity.

  All the same…

  “Juliet!” Kitty exclaimed, right in front of her. “What daydream are you lost in?”

  Blinking, Juliet forced a laugh. “I scarcely know.”

  “You are covered in leaves and mud,” Kitty observed. “Where have you been so early?”

  “Oh, just for a walk,” she said vaguely. “I woke early and had the urge to paint the sunrise.”

  “Let’s see, then,” Ferdy said, taking the easel from her.

  Drat, I gave it to Dan! “Oh, it didn’t work out. I threw it away. What time is it? Have you breakfasted?”

  “No, because we went to find you first,” Kitty explained as they walked the last few yards to the house. “Only you weren’t in your chamber, which worried me because I know how all this must be affecting you.”

  “You don’t need to worry about me,” Juliet said, feeling guilty about enjoying her expedition so much. “Why were you looking for me in the first place?”

  “Well,” Kitty said, lowering her voice. “Ferdy had it from his valet that Baron Miserly’s long-lost daughter has come home, and the whole neighborhood is agog to discover if he is dying, and what Papa might do about it.”

  Juliet paused with one foot on the front step. “What in the world could Papa do about Lord Myerly dying?”

  “Not Myerly, his daughter,” Ferdy said, impatiently. “She’s the one who jilted Papa and ran away with an officer.”

  “Yes, but he can hardly do anything about that either,” Juliet pointed out, walking on up the steps and into the house. “It was more than twenty-five years ago, was it not?”

  “Well,” Kitty said with a twinge of doubt, “it seems to be a question about whether or not she should be received by local families. Our people seem to think that Mama and Papa should let it be known that she shouldn’t be.”

  “That would be vindictive, spiteful, and cruel,” Juliet exclaimed. “Worse even than was done to me. From Papa, it would also be paltry and mean-spirited. I hope he is not so petty.”

  “Why such heat?” Ferdy asked in surprise. “We don’t even know these people. Well, except Papa, obviously.”

  Juliet, tight-lipped, gave up her easel to the waiting footman and walked rapidly on.

  “Juliet met the son,” Kitty explained. “On the stagecoach.”

  Ferdy’s eyebrows flew up. “Did you, by God?”

  “Shouldn’t you change before breakfast?” Kitty interrupted as Juliet turned automatically toward the breakfast room.

  Juliet glanced ruefully at the bits of soil, bark, and grass-stains marring her walking gown, and gave in.

  By the time she reached the breakfast room, dressed in a fresh, clean morning gown of sprig muslin, her parents had joined her siblings and were reading their correspondence, while Kitty and Ferdy made desultory conversation.

  Her parents bade her a distracted good morning, and she helped herself to coffee and toast and a little smoked fish.

  As she passed her father to sit down, she couldn’t help noticing the next letter in his pile, and her stomach twinged unpleasantly. It was directed in Jeremy’s hand.

  “Is that all you’re eating?” her mother asked.

  Since it was, in effect, her second breakfast of the morning, she really didn’t want any more. “For now,” she murmured.

  “Hmm…”

  Juliet sat and drank her coffee.

  “I hear,” her mother remarked, “that Lord Myerly’s daughters are all with him.”

  The earl grunted. “Dying, is he? They’ll be round him like vultures.”

  “I thought I might leave cards at Myerly,” the countess said casually.

  Juliet held her breath and picked at her fish while gazing at her father.

  He threw down his letter and reached for the next. “You must do as you wish, my dear. I have no quarrel with Myerly’s daughters. In fact, if I ever quarreled with Myerly, I’ve forgotten why.”

  The last was a lie, Juliet thought. He remembered perfectly well, though it possibly didn’t disturb him hugely.

  “We are acquainted with the Cornwells in any case,” the countess observed.

  His lordship did not respond, for he was rapidly scanning Jeremy’s letter. He scowled and threw it on the table, then picked it up and read it again.

  “It’s from Catesby,” he said at last. “Jumped-up little…” He broke off, glancing at Juliet.

  “Carry on, sir,” she invited. “Abuse him to your heart’s content.”

  “What does he say?” her mother asked, hastily distracting his ire from Juliet.

  “That he has already told his friends that Juliet preferred to go home to her family than to marry him.”

  “That’s a terrible lie,” Ferdy growled. “No one will believe it.”

  The earl gave an irritable shrug of one shoulder. “Nevertheless, we can believe it was kindly meant. It’s the next bit that sticks in my craw. In retrospect, he claims, he and his father regret the haste of his actions—Jeremy’s actions, note, exonerating his father from blame—but not the decision to end the engagement. Pipsqueak! However, they are prepared—prepared!—to keep their promise to attend Kitty’s engagement dinner. His mother will attend, he says specifically, to support Lady Cosland. Bah! And, he so magnanimously leaves it up to me to decide whether or not Juliet will be present!”

  “I believe I would like to punch him straight in his smug mouth,” Ferdy observed.

  “No, no,” their mother said unexpectedly. “This could be the very thing for Juliet, Cosland. If they meet in friendship, it will silence some of the talk at least. And who knows? If things go well, the engagement could be resumed, and most people will put the other nonsense down to the Prince Regent’s spite. After all, Meg Winter was also named, and who is going to take on her father and you?”

  Juliet opened her mouth to squash this hope, but Kitty kicked her below the table.

  “Don’t,” Kitty warned under her breath. “You needn’t marry him, but a resumed engagement is exactly what you need. You may easily jilt him again when this nonsense has blown over.”

  Juliet blinked at her. “When did you learn so much social wisdom?”

  “It isn’t social wisdom,” Kitty denied. “It’s simple common sense. As is not fighting with Papa.”

  *

  At the request of his aunts, Dan took Gun straight round to the back of the house to stop him from spreading dirt and chaos through the front. To his surprise, he found his mother in the kitchen garden, gossiping with the cook, who, however, raced back to the kitchen as Jenny came to meet him.

  Gun gave her his usual boisterous greeting, jumping around her as they walked together toward the walled garden.

  “You take a long walk every morning,” his mother observed.

  “I like to.” He pushed open the gate to the walled garden and wrestled with the knot of Gun’s makeshift leash.

  At last, the dog bolted to freedom, and they shut him in.

  Jenny regarded the leash. “Why are you using a lady’s ribbon as his leash?”

  Dan shrugged. “I didn’t have one at all because he just follows me around. But it struck me rather belatedly he would be a hazard in the country until he learned what he could and couldn’t chase. Someone on the stagecoach gave me this.”

  “It must have been very pretty at one time.”

  “Have you had breakfast?” Dan asked.

  If she noticed the deliberate change of subject, she made no comment. “Not yet. I think there might be a little more of it now.”

  “Now that you have twisted the cook around your little finger?”

  Jenny smiled, though he noted she did not deny it. They entered the house via the back door and took the passage past the kitchen and the servants’ hall to the baize door that separated the servants’ domain from the main part of the house.

 

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