Chapter Nine

Juliette spent the next two weeks preparing their country house for the party. She had to coordinate shipping her necessities, but it was rather convenient to have a fair stock of things already in the country. The staff had to be notified to open and air out the rooms for guests. The stores had to be counted and restocked. She’d sketched out a general menu, but looked forward to meeting with their housekeeper and cook to finalize everything. She took great pains to plan outings and activities. There was still much to be done, but she tried to accomplish as much as she could from London. By the time Ethan was ready to leave, she was fairly bouncing in place in anticipation. Of course, she had to be particularly careful to temper her excitement, lest Ethan wonder why she was inordinately excited about a rather small, relaxed house party.

In addition to Ian, Lord and Lady Sommerfeld, and the Duchess of Morton, several of her brother’s friends would also be attending. She’d balanced out their numbers by inviting a few eligible women from her reading society—friends who would be grateful for the opportunity to be out of London and enjoy the freedoms to be experienced in the country.

The day before they departed from London, Juliette received a note from Ian. The single line of slanted writing indicated he would do his best to attend if his schedule permitted it.

Then, a few hours later, a second delivery arrived…as if the sender had debated about forwarding it along to her. When she opened it up (safely away from her brother’s prying eyes, just in case), she found a small, old book, well-worn and well-loved. It was barely bigger than her hand, with yellowed pages and a fragile brown fabric cover smudged with years of tiny fingerprints. She opened the cover to find a lilting language and plate line drawings illuminating the stories within.

It was a Gaelic book for children. A note fluttered out from between the pages and into her lap. It was a small scrap of parchment with only two words in the same sprawling, masculine script as earlier: Start simple.

Juliette smiled instantly, keenly aware of just how sweet a gesture the book was.

“Another book for your reading society?”

Juliette jumped, nearly dropping the book and the note to the floor as her brother strode into the parlor. She hadn’t expected to see him again until supper, but there he was, carrying a thick book along with him.

She choked on her words and prayed he would accept her simple nod in response. She tucked it away against her hip, carefully disguising it beneath the folds of her skirt until she could slip away to her rooms and pack it safely away.

∞∞∞

Juliette was adjusting one last flower arrangement on the circular table in the entryway when the crunch of gravel and jangle of tack echoed up the long drive. The first of her guests were arriving, one by one, carriage by carriage. Lord and Lady Sommerfeld shared Lady Morton’s carriage. A few of her brother’s friends arrived on horseback, having sent their trunks ahead with their valets. One by one, they filtered inside, were greeted warmly, and shown to their rooms to freshen up after their journeys. As each one arrived, her anticipation only grew…until Ian’s hired private coach finally pulled into the drive. She experienced a small pang of guilt because she knew such a thing did not come cheaply; however, she really couldn’t have offered to send the Hopesend carriage back for him. Good lord, but what would Ethan have thought of that? Instead, Juliette chose to be honored that Ian had agreed to attend even though it was inconvenient for both his purse and his business.

She did her best to affect the calm, cool collection expected of a hostess, careful to wait the appropriate amount of time to greet Ian so he would not realize just how long she’d been shooting glances out the manor’s many front windows for his arrival.

The subtle glitter in his eyes, however, told her he knew she’d done just that.

His trunks and boxes were carried in one after another by the footmen. It was immediately apparent that he had taken her offer to bring his work to the house party.

“He and my husband’s brother share a similar penchant for packing ‘light,” murmured Lady Sommerfeld with a conspiratorial chuckle as Ian was led away, followed by the trail of luggage like ducklings. He’d been distant and composed upon greeting her, but Juliette feared her nerves and excitement were becoming too evident. He’d come, which meant he’d well and truly accepted her offer. And she couldn’t wait to get started.

∞∞∞

That evening, there was a light, informal supper served for those who wished to eat with company rather than retire to their rooms. As luck would have it, Juliette was the only lady in attendance; Lady Sommerfeld had been exhausted from traveling and the viscount had opted to stay with her; Lady Morton had a headache because she never seemed to remember that she always developed one when she read while traveling in a coach; the rest of Juliette’s friends had opted to stay in their rooms with their chaperones. This was, of course, not to say that Ethan’s friends weren’t perfectly polite to her, but it was exhausting being the only woman in attendance. It would normally have been considered inappropriate, but this was a relaxed country dinner and her brother’s watchful eyes never left her. As was his custom, he’d smoothly interject if he felt one of them was too interested in her. He needn’t have worried; the only thing more of a deterrent than a hawkeyed male relative would have been if she’d worn a dress made from angry bees.

Following dessert of berries and clotted cream atop a moist spongecake, the men excused themselves to chat over drinks and cigars in the library—of course, not until each one politely offered to refuse to leave her alone. She declined their offers gracefully, especially because she could tell they would all much rather enjoy whatever it was men discussed when they were outside of a female’s delicate ears…

Rather than sit alone in the large parlor, she decided to retire for the evening. It didn’t look as if much of anything exciting would happen that evening. The house was quiet. She could rest peacefully knowing she’d accomplished an uneventful start to the house party. Only…

Just the thought of Ian residing under the same roof as she made her pulse trip over itself like a gangly filly.

He hadn’t joined them for supper. She wondered if he’d eaten alone and was just then lying atop the comfortable bed in the room she’d chosen for him. Was he a restless sleeper, as busy in repose as he was during the day? Or did he sleep like the dead to recuperate from his neverending schedule?

Juliette was wrenched from her wayward thoughts when she reached up to tuck a loose curl behind her ear and noticed she’d lost one of her earrings.

“Drat,” she muttered. It must have been knocked loose during supper—the emerald earrings had been her grandmother’s and tended to come loose. She was exactly halfway to her rooms at that point; she could have continued on and sent her maid back to look for it, but that seemed needless. It would take far less time for her to retrace her steps and check the spot where she’d sat during the meal. Resolved to handle it herself, she turned around and headed back to the first-floor landing only to collide with a solid wall of man as it came around a blind corner to the same landing.

Large, warm hands caught her upper arms to steady her. Juliette’s breath caught harshly in her chest when she looked up into Ian’s ruggedly handsome face. All rational thought fled her and her brain melted into slush. Those well-formed lips of his tilted into a hint of a smile.

“Headed down to supper?” he asked, casting a glance at the small clock on the landing’s half-moon table. “I thought I’d missed it.”

“You did,” she started and then slowed her speech to sound a little less eager to be conversing with him. “I mean, yes. Supper was at half-seven.”

“A shame.” His thumbs stroked the skin between her cap sleeves and her long gloves once. Twice. Another time and she might just press herself against him there in plain view for anyone to see.

“A—Are you hungry? Let us find you something to eat.” She didn’t give him a chance to decline and latched onto a thread of boldness, taking his hand in hers and leading him back down the stairs to the ground floor.

“I wouldn’t want to put you out.” His tone was hesitant, but the way his fingers intertwined with hers was unexpectedly warm and lovely. They fit.

“Not at all! I was headed back down anyway. Lost my earring, you see.” Juliette gestured to her naked earlobe and guided him toward the dining room after listening and confirming her brother and his friends were still occupied on the far side of the house. “We just need to make a quick detour to the dining room to find it, and then we can slip down to the kitchens to find you a bite.”

Reluctantly, she slid her hand from Ian’s as they entered the dining room. The efficient staff had begun cleaning as soon as she’d left the room and the footmen and maids froze in their tasks and greeted her with deference when she entered.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Lady Juliette?” inquired James, the under-butler.

“Thank you, no,” she replied with a smile. “I’ve just come to find—my earring!” She snapped up the glittering bauble from beneath the chair she’d sat in during the meal. Holding it aloft, she grinned triumphantly and affixed it to her ear. “There.” She turned back to Ian and tilted her chin to indicate they should leave through the door from which they’d entered. She led him back up the hallway, past the stairs, to a disguised doorway cleverly papered over to match the wall. “They’ll make a fuss if we ask them for food for you,” she explained. “It’s easier and quicker if we just do it ourselves. They’ve all worked so hard to ready the house and I’d rather not cause a stir this late in the evening.” She pressed open the servants’ doorway to the close flight of stairs used by the staff to traverse the full height of the house, from the basement kitchens to their private quarters on the topmost floor of the manor. A glance over her shoulder provided an amusing scene. The width of Ian’s shoulders made the narrow staircase seem even more so; indeed, he looked far too big to be attempting this route. The corners of his mouth were turned down in concentration.

“This seems like a great deal of trouble—”

“Not at all!”

He made a grunt of disbelief before his large hand cupped her elbow from behind to steady her as they turned on the landing. His skin was so warm, his palm slightly roughened from his work.

She stopped when they reached the lowest floor; Ian halted as closely behind her as they could without touching her. She could feel his heat along the length of her back and she had to fight the nearly overwhelming urge to lean back into him.

Instead, she glanced at Ian over her shoulder, pressing her finger to her lips to signal that he should remain silent and wait for her. She turned the corner into the golden light pouring out from the kitchens.

She’d always loved sneaking down here as a girl—before her health had forbidden such adventures, and then her parents’ cautiousness prevented it even after she’d recovered. It was always warm and smelled of citrus and herbs, woodsmoke and flour. The long plank table was worn satin-smooth from decades of being scrubbed clean with sand.The happy chatter floated on the steamy air as the cookmaids and scullery maids tidied and scrubbed pots and dishes. One footman lingered in the corner out of earshot of the rest as he and an upstairs maid whispered with inclined heads—a clear courtship if ever there was one. Juliette might have mentioned something to young Hattie about being careful, but, for one, who was Juliette to say anything about just such a situation? Ian was mere feet away waiting for her. And she knew Francis was a good lad from a lovely family who would rather harm himself than another person. Hattie could do far worse than he.

“Lady Juliette!” Cookie caught sight of her as she stepped from the larder and back into the bustling kitchen. The ensuing expectant silence and eyes upon her made Juliette want to squirm like a child. “What can we do for you?”

“Oh, don’t mind me!” she waved her hands and giggled uncomfortably. “Go about your business. I’m just here to filch some leftovers.”

“Was supper not to your liking?”

“Oh, no! It was lovely!” she rushed to reassure the cook who’d been in her family’s employ since before Juliette’s birth. She wished she’d formulated a good excuse on the way down to the kitchens, but it had been so intoxicating being alone with Ian that no other thoughts had been allowed into her brain. She couldn’t very well say she was personally retrieving food for him—that would no doubt get back to her brother, whether accidentally or with good intentions—so she fumbled for something else. “I know Lady Sommerfeld didn’t have a chance to try your delicious supper, so I thought I would take a plate to her when I look in on my way to my rooms.”

Juliette realized her mistake as soon as the words left her lips and a frown passed over Cookie’s plump features. Of course, Lord and Lady Sommerfeld had had trays sent up while they rested. She’d never been brilliant at thinking on the fly when there were at least half a dozen pairs of eyes watching her.

“Well,” the cook said finally, wiping her hands on her apron. “Why don’t we just gather up some things…” It was obvious that the older woman didn’t believe Juliette, but she also didn’t seem to be able to parse out the truth. This served Juliette just fine as she supervised the heaping of a plate with rolls and thick slices of cold beef roast crusted in herbs from the kitchen gardens. Juliette added a cluster of fat grapes beside the remaining slice of sponge cake and berries and accepted the plate from the cook.

“You have Lady Sommerfeld let us know when she’s finished. You keep fetching and serving the guests, then His Lordship will have our heads for not doing our duties.”

“Of course, Cookie. Thank you again.”

Juliette found Ian standing still and silent as a sentinel in the dim stairwell. She tilted her chin toward the stairs and he took the plate from her before allowing her to lead the way.

They reached the first floor and slipped into the dimly lit hallway. Juliette had one more floor to climb before she reached the family bedchambers, but there was no sense in continuing to use the servants’ stairwell.

“Thank you. For this,” Ian said, holding up the plate piled high with food.

“Of course.” She offered him a smile, suddenly much shier than she had been when she’d concocted this scheme of hers. She cleared her throat as daintily as possible. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Have a lovely evening and I will see you—” Ian’s hand upon her arm stopped her words and her body from retreating.

“I eat alone so often, I would be quite glad of the company. That is if you are not overtired from today.”

“Not at all!” she replied far too swiftly for any sort of dignity. If Ian minded, then his small grin did well to hide it. “Come with me.” She proceeded to lead him up one additional flight of stairs to the family floor. In addition to the family bedchambers and private sitting rooms, there was also a lovely glass-paned gazebo. It was quite unique in its design and construction, being on the topmost floor of the wing with large Easterly-facing windows on three sides. It made one feel as if she sat on top of the world. It had always been one of Juliette’s favorite places, even when she was a little girl clinging to her mother’s skirts.

Ethan hadn’t entered the room since their parents’ passing; still, Juliette had diligently requested that the room always be tidied and aired whenever they were in residence. It was her escape. And it was also the safest place for her to spend uninterrupted time with Ian because she was entirely confident her brother would never interrupt.

She plucked a candle from a sconce in the hallway and carried it along. Ian moved surprisingly silently for a man of his size as he trailed closely behind her. Together, they ducked into the room and she pressed the heavy door closed before flitting about and lighting several candles placed around the room. She could have lit more, but too much glow would ruin the effect of the velvet night and diamond stars outside the expansive windows.

She turned to find that Ian had set his plate of food on a table set between a pair of spindle chairs and was staring out into the night. The fine fabric of his coat was stretched taut across his broad shoulders as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Quite the view,” he whispered, catching the reflection of her movement in the glass when she came up beside him.

“It is, isn’t it? I always loved coming up here as a child.” They smiled at one another. “You needn’t whisper. No one will be able to hear us,” she added. His eyes lowered to her lips and her cheeks warmed when she realized just how her words could be interpreted.

The way his dark gaze caressed her mouth told her he may very well have interpreted those words just so. Her heart kicked up a more frantic beat; her breath became stuck in her throat and made her suddenly lightheaded.

She’d been nearly silly with anticipation of finding herself alone with Ian once again and, now that she was quite literally confronted with the moment, she found herself nervous all over again. What she wouldn’t have given for an ounce of the confidence she’d felt when she’d concocted the scheme and coerced him into attending this house party.

His large hand lifted ever so slowly until one of his fingers trailed across her cheek softly enough that she might have imagined it. That blunt fingertip seared a path up the curve of her cheek to gently replace a lock of her hair behind her ear and it lingered there.

He seemed as indecisive as she.

Ian had only to slide his fingers into her hair and tug her to him; she knew she would gladly fall into his arms if he did so. She’d surrender herself to his whims and, together, they would fan the flames of the desire that had simmered between them since the moment he’d come to her rescue all those weeks ago.

Instead, Ian’s hand dropped, a rueful tilt to his lips, and he turned back to the small table behind them.

“Will you join me?” he asked, pulling out one of the chairs for her.

She could only nod and soon the two of them were sitting together at the table, so close that his long legs brushed her skirts, his knee pressed into hers and she did not pull away. She savored the heat and hardness of it.