Miss Winters Proposes (3 page)

Her cousin gripped her shoulder and spun her away from the flames. “I hold you in the highest regard, Juliet. The two of us complement each other. You would be mistress of Hollington, your father’s home.”

“And you would acquire Evenrood. A decidedly remote retreat where you may sway votes and promise allegiances once you claim your seat in Parliament.”

His dark eyes narrowed. “Careful, cousin. Or I might start to believe you concocted this entire arrangement simply to deprive me of your dowry.”

Juliet shrugged off his grip and set the poker against the wall. “Don’t be ridiculous. I would do no such thing.”

Liar.

Breaking his intense study, she turned and made her way to the door.

“I would have given you a good life,” he whispered.

She stilled, her foot pausing in midstride, and glanced over her shoulder. “I suppose we will never know, as that duty now lies with the viscount.”

“Yes.” Her cousin’s lips lifted at the corners. “I look forward to speaking with him and seeing your
affection
for each other firsthand.”

If visual affirmation was what it took for Frederick to acknowledge her engagement, then that was what she would offer. She would simply have to ask the viscount for his compliance in participating in such a ruse…or…or force it by referring to the fate of his beloved hound.

“You shall have your opportunity soon enough. Lord Colwyn is due to return any day.”

If he didn’t run away and leave her to rot first.

Chapter Three

Benjamin was tired. Concerned. And rather anxious.

But he was also determined to see his betrothed safe, under his protection—and away from her lecherous cousin.

Mr. Frederick Winters’s less than idyllic character was why, instead of heading straight home to the warm comforts of bed after a week’s stay in cold and blustery London, Benjamin found himself staving off sleep in a deep and well-upholstered chair in the decidedly masculine sitting room at Hollington.

“My lord, thank heavens you’re here.” His future bride rushed into the room with one hand on her fischu-covered chest. Three hounds trailed behind her, each the model of their breed, their long tails wagging with excitement. “Were you able to procure a license?”

Stifling the sudden pang he felt at the absence of his own four-legged companion, Benjamin stood and slipped his hand inside his coat to pull out the small piece of paper that would forever bind Miss Winters to him.

She stared at his offering with an equal measure of relief and anxiety, the two opposite emotions warring across her delicate features.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Her gaze darted toward the door before lifting to his. “I cannot thank you enough for making haste. My cousin arrived last week—”

“Has he harmed you?” Benjamin shoved the license back into his pocket. “Has he mistreated you in any fashion?”

If the blackguard so much as placed one errant finger on her sleeve—

“No. It is, well…” Her gaze fell to the floor. “I may have told him our engagement was conceived under circumstances departing from the truth.”

Benjamin’s lips twitched in spite of himself. “I did not expect you to divulge your crimes.”

Her freckled cheeks flushed an attractive shade of pink. “I fear I stretched things in the opposite direction.”

“The opposite direction?” She tucked a coil of red behind her ear, his eyes following her slender finger.

“Yes. I may have suggested our future union was a result of our mutual affection.”

“And did he believe you?” Benjamin held out his hand to allow one of the inquiring hounds to take a sniff.

“Not fully, no. He wishes to speak with you to assuage his…doubts.”

Benjamin ran a hand through his hair. “Though it pains me to say it, your cousin has shown wisdom in his suspicions.”

She pounded her tiny fist on the back of a plush chair. “Is it so difficult to believe that despite my unique features, I might be capable of capturing a man’s attention?”

Was it possible her cousin suggested otherwise? The last rays of sunlight caught on her copper curls, their gentle glow casting her face in an almost ethereal light. She was, in a word, lovely.

And very, very capable of capturing a man’s attention.

“On the contrary, madam.” Benjamin swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “What your cousin has a right to question is not your ability to attract a beau, but the expeditiousness with which I pressed my suit, particularly at a time when your father is so ill.”

Her red lips opened and shut before settling on a quiet, “Oh.”

Benjamin cleared his throat, the temperature in the room suddenly a trifle warm for his comfort. “You may recall my disinterest in marriage.”

Her expression soured. “It is possible I remember a rejection or two. Or three.”

Benjamin adjusted the sleeves of his jacket, allowing a small draft to cool his wrists. “My aversion is a fact well known beyond the boundaries of our neighborhood. It is not a surprise your cousin is hesitant to believe your falsehood.”

“Why?” She peered at him with those inquisitive sapphire pools.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why are you so averse to marriage, my lord? Were you scorned?”

Was he scorned? Of all the outrageous ideas. Benjamin pursed his lips. “No.”

She leaned forward, the sheer fabric of her fischu pulling taut across her chest.

“Was it your parents, then?” The creamy freckle-covered tops of her breasts near spilled over the edge of her gown. “Their relations were not amicable? And you think by not marrying, you will avoid the same fate? I assure you, though ours is a marriage of convenience, I will not be unkind.”

Benjamin willed his eyes away from her chest to meet her gaze. “You stole my bitch, Miss Winters.”

“Well, yes, there is that.” Her gaze diverted to where her three companions peered up at her with affection. Her hand ran through the light hair of the nearest hound. “But I would never cause you any further harm, my lord.”

“A sentiment I will not soon forget.”

The black-and-white dog licked her hand with a sloppy, wet tongue, making her smile. “I was hoping you might go along with my deception.”

“To what purpose? To prevent your cousin from realizing it was fear of his offer that made you force mine?” He stepped toward her, tired of her refusal to meet his gaze. He placed his thumb under the soft skin of her chin and tilted it upward.

And instantly wished he hadn’t. A spark, a flare of something, spread from his fingers to his hand, causing his skin to warm and his heart to race.

She peered at him, her eyes a deep swirl of anger, determination, and…fear. Of him? Or of the scoundrel whom she meant to deceive?

“He believes you only offered once you heard my dowry included a coveted line of hunting hounds and a grouse moor in Northumberland. I wish to prove him wrong.”

Benjamin ran a thumb over the small dimple in her chin, amazed at the creamy clarity of her skin. “You realize that would require we spend actual time together.”

“Of course.” She pulled away from his touch.

What the devil was wrong with him? Did he not remember the sting of loss? Or his pledge to remain free of any entanglement that might cause him pain?

God’s blood. When had he allowed lust to overcome his good sense?

Benjamin’s hand fell, his fingers still warm from her skin. “I request an amendment to our arrangement.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What sort of amendment?”

“I will play along with your ruse, but only as long as Mr. Frederick Winters is at Hollington. As soon as he departs, so shall you, to Northumberland, whether or not Artemis has whelped.”

…

Lord Colwyn’s request seemed fair enough. Juliet would get the exile she longed for and the freedom to do whatever she wished, all with the protection of a husband and without his emotional attachments, save for the two months out of the year he had previously demanded.

There was one caveat…or rather two that made her pause and refrain from giving her acceptance.

“I cannot quit my father’s side. He is ill. And monstrously so. What if Mr. Winters leaves before my father’s health returns?”

The viscount ran a hand over Cleo, her best lemon-spotted hound. “Only a scoundrel of the lowest level would depart before making certain your father’s health was sound. However, should Mr. Winters find his time is better spent elsewhere, you may stay until the physician confirms your father’s recovery.”

His offer was exceptionally generous, especially given it was she who was coercing him into this arrangement. But—

“What of the pups, sir?” She stroked the silky ears of Horatio, her father’s favorite stud and the sire to Artemis’s impending litter. “Have you ever assisted in a whelping?”

Given the quick lift of his brows, and the rapid blinking of his eyes, she deduced he had not.

Which was silly. Had the man not professed an interest in breeding hounds? He must have a dam or two…

“Well, no. I have not. But I have been present at more than one whelping and believe it would not be difficult to assist Artemis, nature being what it is.” A subtle shade of pink stained his cheeks.

Juliet rolled her eyes. “Nature does not always comply by our rules. What if Artemis labors too long and her health deteriorates? What if two pups attempt to birth at the same time? Or what if one pup is unable to dislodge itself? I would hate for you to lose both your friend and her litter because of your eagerness to rid yourself of my presence.”

“Really, I had not thought—”

“Precisely, Lord Colwyn. Men, at least those in my experience, rarely do.”

He shot her a peevish look. “And you are trained in the arts of dog whelping?”

“Of course.” How could he assume any less? “I have been assisting my father in such matters since I was five. If you do not wish any harm to come to Artemis, which I can only presume will occur due to your inexperience in such matters, I suggest you allow me to see to her when the time arrives in two short weeks.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’ve seen Artemis?”

Juliet lifted her chin. He would have to do better than that for her to give away the secret location of her trump card.

“I have received word she does well, my lord.”

A mixture of relief and disappointment washed over his angular features. “It appears this remains your game, Miss Winters. I am resigned to abide by your rules for the safety and health of my prized pet.”

Juliet glanced once again at the door before meeting the viscount’s gaze. “You will feign a believable interest in me, then?”

He gave a stiff nod. “If you will see to Artemis in her hour of need.”

“Hours,” she said, correcting him with a smile. “It will likely take several, but yes, I have every intention of making certain her pups are born healthy and well.”

He let out a small breath. “I will speak with the vicar tomorrow. How do you wish to proceed with the nuptials?”

“Well, I, well…I’m not certain. I honestly haven’t given the matter much consideration.”

His dark eyes rolled heavenward. “You have undergone the steps necessary to force my hand but have given no thought as to how to proceed with the ceremony?”

She had been too engrossed with making arrangements and conjuring up her courage to dwell upon a detail that only now seemed significant. She lifted her eyes to the pair of disbelieving ones now glaring in her direction.

“Well I…I know I would like to marry before my father passes.”

Which was an undetermined and vague amount of time, she knew, but her father’s illness was unlike any she had ever seen. Though the apothecary advised her to ready and prepare herself for loss, she couldn’t help but notice her father’s improved physical appearance. His cheeks, while still rosy, were no longer flush with fever. His brow was no longer drenched with sweat. Even his cough had lessened, the wet, rattling sound having given way to a dry, almost forced, guffaw.

Lord Colwyn clasped his hands behind his back. “Then I advise we proceed with due haste, lest your father’s health take a turn for the worse…and your cousin wills the tragedy to his advantage.”

Juliet eyed the viscount. “My cousin may be a little…thoughtless with his words, but he would not be so devious and coldhearted as to wish me harm in my time of grief.”

“No?” The viscount’s gaze rested on the three pointers who had cozened up to her side. “Perhaps he shares in the family predisposition for kidnapping and decides the acquisition of these fine hounds is worth a ransom?”

“What precisely are you implying, Lord Colwyn?” She placed a protective hand on Horatio’s head.

“Only that trust is a virtue not easily won. Especially when it comes by Mr. Frederick Winters.”

There was a definite animosity between the two men. Juliet was certain she was not imagining the viscount’s crisp tone or stiffened posture. But how or why such antipathy existed remained unclear.

“What has my cousin done that you should think so little of him?”

A muscle in the viscount’s jaw tensed. “I think our time would be better spent discussing ways to convince him of our affection, Juliet.”

She blinked, stunned by his verbally pleasing, but uncomfortably familiar, use of her name. “I beg your pardon, my lord?”

“What better way to convince your cousin of our familiarity than through the use of our Christian names?” he asked. One corner of his mouth lifted. “There is only one other female who deigns to call me such and she carries the title of my sister.”

He had a sister? She hadn’t realized he had any family. Not that such a revelation was a surprise. She hardly knew anything of her reclusive neighbor. In the two years since he had moved into Darlington Hall, she had made his acquaintance only once—the day he sought to secure stud services for his hound, almost two months prior. And while he maintained a relatively close connection with her father, he almost went out of his way to avoid her. Why, even the Duke of Waverly, a peer well above her father and whose numerous estates dotted the countryside, made time to converse with her when visiting Thornhaven, his neighboring retreat.

“I would not presume to know such intimacy,” Juliet whispered.

His handsome and rugged face tilted toward her. He clasped her hand between his own. The simple gesture made her heart pound.

“You are to be my wife, Juliet. Allow me the courtesy and address me by my given name. Please.”

He stood so close she could smell the scent of pine, musk, and wood smoke lingering on his clothes. She almost leaned forward to discern if any other masculine scents had settled onto the wool of his coat before her cheeks flushed at the intimacy he offered.

“I do not know your name.” Her gaze lowered to the dark Greek key pattern decorating the edge of the sitting room’s rug.

He gave her a hand a gentle squeeze, bringing her eyes to the unexpected action.

“My name is Benjamin, Juliet.”

Her heart raced at the sound of her name once again spoken in the soft tenors of his voice. Where Frederick often said it with impatience and disdain, the viscount, or rather Benjamin, uttered her name with a caress.

Horatio’s low growl jerked Juliet out of her musings. She lifted her gaze to see her cousin standing in the doorway, a dark, heavy brow lifted in inquiry.