She agreed while leaning forward in her chair with interest. I enjoyed her attentions too much. They were entirely innocent, but her lips were parted with intrigue, and her sky-bright eyes were warm with enthusiasm. No one had ever placed such import on my words and actions, except when trying to outmaneuver me at the card table. Her intentions were entirely guileless; she had no plan to leave me gulled.
I dealt us each six cards before I explained that two cards went in the crib. “Cards are worth their face value; face cards are ten, aces are one.”
She nodded at me to continue, and I elaborated further. If I were studying her with less enthusiasm, I would have missed the brief flash of worry before her eyes dropped to the table, and her chest rose with a deep inhale.
“Does that make sense?”
“Yes, please continue.” Her voice was a little tighter than before as well. She returned her gaze to mine, and that infuriatingly blank smile was back. My stomach twisted at the sight of it. It hadn’t made an appearance since the night before. I nearly forgot how much I loathed it until it returned.
“I wish you would tell me what’s troubling you. If you don’t wish to play, we can choose another game. Or I can leave you to your own devices.”
The smile dropped at that. Even though it was replaced by a distressed countenance, I was relieved to see it gone.
She bit her lower lip before starting with a deep breath, “It is just that—you see—I am not particularly skilled with arithmetic.” She rushed to explain. “I know my addition. It is just, I am rather slow at it. It can be rather frustrating to deal with me while I work it out.”
Her eyes didn’t leave the table for the entire speech. I couldn’t determine whether I was more honored that she was willing to share with me or more enraged at whoever made her feel inadequate. After a moment’s consideration, and with no enemy before me, I was left to discard the latter and focus on the former.
“You’re in luck then; we’re in absolutely no hurry.”
She offered me a skeptical smile in return. I continued with the rules explaining play while she listened intently. I refrained from further efforts to show off. When we finally began, I prepared myself for a lengthy struggle with each additional card.
For the first few rounds, that was precisely what I found. She contemplated each additional card, occasionally taping each finger against her thumb in sequence. She announced her total with a slight look of trepidation. Even with the delay, she took no longer than most gentlemen after they’d enjoyed a drink—or several. As the rounds passed, and she quickly became more confident in the rules, her responses sped up. Her fingers ceased to tap. The apprehension disappeared. She played with the same speed as the gentlemen who regularly frequented my establishment before they had imbibed. She was still slower than I was, but I made my entire fortune with these cards.
When she apologized for the third time, I’d had enough. “You know, you’re faster than my patrons who’ve been playing for years. It’s a good thing you’ll never set foot in my establishment. With a bit of practice, I would lose everything to you.”
“You are too kind. A terrible liar, but kind.” Even with her denial, her smile was pleased, and the flush returned to her cheeks.
“Take it back!”
She looked up with alarm.
“You’ve just destroyed my carefully cultivated reputation as a liar, a cheat, a rake, and a brute. Take it back.”
That earned me a delighted laugh, and it took effort to retain the stern facade I’d adopted.
Our play was only interrupted by the bell to dress for dinner. She helped clear our game before I escorted her up the stairs. Her small hand rested in the crook of my arm where it belonged. Before we parted at the top, I gathered my courage.
“Lady Juliet, I quite enjoyed our time together today. I was wondering if perhaps we might repeat it tomorrow? If you’re not otherwise engaged.”
Her acceptance and genuine grin brightened her countenance and eased the anxiety in my chest. With that promise, we parted ways.
Fifteen
THORNTON HALL, KENT - APRIL 12, 1814
JULIET
Two hours and fourteen minutes.It felt like an eternity. I had been trying and failing to find sleep. Every single tick of the clock was beginning to agitate. One twenty-five, I was sure to have dark circles tomorrow. I rolled to my other side, flipping and punching my pillow for the seven hundred and fifty-sixth time. When the ache in my shoulder returned, even more quickly than the last time, I finally gave up with a performative sigh for an imagined audience.
Lighting a candle, I grabbed my dressing gown and made for the library in desperate search of something dull enough to quiet my mind. Padding barefoot down the cold hall, I regretted my lack of stockings. In my haste to escape the frigid ice of the hall, I missed the hint of candlelight seeping underneath the door to the library.
I pressed open the door, and I was met with the sight of Michael asleep on the settee, book propped open against his stomach and a flickering candle low on the table behind his head. His body flopped across the furnishing, while his feet dangled over the edge. His neck was bent at an awkward angle that could not possibly be comfortable. Far from being formally attired, he was clad in only his shirt sleeves and breeches, suspenders hung over the side of the seat. Even his feet were only in stockings. A lone lock of hair made itself at home on his forehead.
He was more peaceful than I had ever seen him. My feet dragged me to his side without permission. From a closer vantage, I could see the shirt open low on his chest, a dusting of dark hair and freckles called it home. A collection of sonnets from Sir Philip Sidney rose and fell gently on his stomach with each soft breath. For a moment, I was paralyzed with indecision. His situation could not possibly be comfortable. But our position was scandalous enough with his unconscious state. For him to awaken—to see me as such—it was too much to contemplate. But to leave…
My uncertainty forced my decision. With an inelegant snort, he startled awake, flailing in his unbalanced position on the settee. He rose to sit before I could react, bringing us impossibly closer.
“Juliet?” His voice was bleary with sleep but softer, raspier than I was used to when he was reading to me.
