He retreated with a small bow. “Good night, Juliet.”
“Good night,” she said softly, then vanished into her room, closing the door.
The moment the latch clicked, he leaned back against the wall, heart pounding an irregular beat. He didn’t have time for this now, and yet here it was, this draw—this irresistible pull—to a woman he suddenly couldn’t bear to lose.
He closed his eyes. Hadn’t he asked God for help? And Juliet Finch had appeared—resourceful, sharp-eyed, brave. Was she the answer to that prayer or the consequence of his pride?
Because the truth was hard and unforgiving … ever since he’d brought her into this, the danger had only grown. More letters. More shadows. Now a man standing beneath her window. This wasn’t a solution. This was escalation.
For a moment, he nearly turned on his heel and penned the letter he’d sworn never to write. One word to his father and the man would be on the next ship, walking away from peace and headlong into a storm. But the cost would be more than passage. His father had finally begun to fully live again after his mother’s death, to find beauty in the world after years of mourning. No, he could not call him back unless it was truly time—and he wasn’t sure if what held him back now was confidence or cowardice. He pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, suppressing a moan.
Oh God, help me get this right. I cannot afford to fail my father, my sister … or Juliet.
Chapter 13
The entire earth was created in six days. Six. And what had Juliet achieved since discovering the patch snipped from Charity’s nightgown?
Precious little.
Disgusted with herself, she fiddled with the fur trim on her borrowed pelisse as the coach neared the Bedford Assembly Rooms. All she had to show for the past week was a megrim from scrutinizing the penmanship on a cryptic card.
Farewell to you.
Written in the same nondescript block letters as all the other notes and delivered with flowers for Charity … and for her. This time, the boy who’d brought them had conveniently vanished to London, or so Mr. Walton said when she’d enquired—for the young man worked for the greengrocer, after all. And as if that weren’t vexing enough, she’d run into Mr. Scather in town, which had sparked yet another pointless row over tinctures and legality.
And then there was Mr. Dankworth. She and Henry had questioned every servant and even trudged to the neighbour’s, only for that maddening man to speak about moon phases instead of giving a straight answer—though he did enquire specifically about Henry’s sister and seemed to be inordinately interested in her health.
On the cushioned bench next to her, Charity reached over and stilled her hands. “You need not be nervous, Juliet. The only one my brother will be frowning at tonight is me.” She arched an indicting brow at Henry, sitting opposite them in the coach.
His scowl deepened, lending him a gothic attraction. “You should have been on that ship yesterday,” he grumbled.
The light from the carriage lanterns didn’t flicker against his form so much as bow to him. His dark garments—a black coat with silver embroidery on the lapels, a midnight waistcoat and matching trousers—lent him an intensity that stole Juliet’s breath. Only the flash of green in his eyes and ivory cravat broke the austere uniformity. Even so, he was an imposing figure, one that commanded attention whether she wished to give it or not.
Charity grabbed the sidewall as the wheels dipped into a rut. “As cochairwoman of the committee that arranged this evening’s fundraising soiree, you know I couldn’t miss this event. Besides”—she grinned at her brother—“you are too much of a gentleman to drag me to the port kicking and screaming.”
Henry planted his elbows on his thighs, leaning forwards. He did not return her smile. In fact, the sharp set of his jaw made it clear he was not playing. “You overestimate me, Sister. If I thought it would work, I’d truss you like a Christmas goose and pack you into a barrel, then load you onto the next dray bound for port.”
“Henry, really!” She rolled her eyes.
The passion in his gaze did not relent. Juliet’s heart fluttered in response. She had no doubt he would go to any lengths to keep his sister safe. Would to heaven that her own father had felt that way!
Gently, she squeezed Charity’s arm. “Your brother merely wants what is best for you, that is all.”
“I know.” She sighed. “And I will keep my promise. After tonight’s gala, I shall take the next ship to Italy. So, no more frowning, agreed?”
The barest hint of a smile played on Henry’s lips as he sank back against the cushion. “I make no promises.”
With a “Ho now” from the driver, the carriage rolled to a stop. Juliet peered past Charity, catching a glimpse of the Bedford Assembly Rooms outside the window. How different the stone walls looked by torch flames, so much more regal in the soft glow than in the harsh light of day. Roman columns lined up like soldiers in front of the entry doors, and behind the low-set gabled roof, two upper levels towered above, golden light pouring out the windows.
Henry opened the coach door and jumped down, offering his hand to his sister. Once Charity alighted, he reached for Juliet.
She steeled herself before grasping his fingers—and a good thing too, or she’d have staggered from the twang of his touch through her lace gloves. Just like the night they’d brushed hands at her door, the same heat flashed through her from head to toe. Did he feel the same?
For barely the space of a breath, something sparked in his eyes. Something charged, like the hint of lightning on a stormy night just behind a black bank of clouds. Then, every bit as quickly, it vanished, his expression completely composed as he released her. Had she imagined it?
“Well, ladies, shall we?” He crooked both his arms. Charity took his left. Juliet rested her fingers atop his right, trying not to notice the swell of his muscles beneath his sleeve as he led them into the mix of arriving guests. Inside the lobby, he helped them out of their pelisses and checked their coats, then directed them into the grand ballroom.
Chandeliers glittered like thousands of diamonds over the gathered suits and gowns. Canary-yellow walls added to theenchanting radiance, as did the sconces gleaming along the upper gallery. The hum of conversation filled the room, along with laughter and greetings.
