“So soon, my lady?” he said, his smile as-fake-as-you-please.
She narrowed her eyes on him. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back.” She hoped it sounded like the threat it was.
“I cannot wait,” he drawled.
She batted her eyelashes at him prettily. “In fact, I’ll be back tomorrow morning. I’d like you to take my sister and me on a ride to the lake.” She paused and her smile intensified. “Right after dawn.”
His perfectly charmingfaçadecrumbled momentarily before he replaced it with a wide smile. He hated early mornings. He’d told her that once.
“I look forward to it, milady.” His smile was nearly angelic. She hoped it pained him to be so false.
Moments later, as Julianna walked back to the manor house, a smile curled her lips. She may not have made him quit yet, but she honestly couldn’t recall the last time she’d had so much fun. Right up until the time he’d implied she’d lied and played him false at least.Thatwas maddening.
Though she had to admit today had been full of surprises. Not only had Rhys not quit, he hadn’t even balked at the chores she’d asked him to perform. In fact, he’d done them all with something that resembled aplomb. She was almost…impressed. Who knew? Apparently, the Duke of Worthington could work hard when necessary.
Not only that, but he was charming—not just to young women, as she’d learned to her own detriment last year, but his charm apparently extended to servants as well. They had either greeted him and seemed to genuinely like him or had gone so far as to come looking for him to thank him for his assistance. It truly boggled the mind.
Very well. The servants liked him. Perhaps it was because they were amused with his playacting as if he were one of them. She refused to allow his seeming friendliness to Clayton’s stablehands to make her forget themonthsof torture she’d lived through, wondering if he would return from the country, andmonthsof sadness she’d endured after he’d sent her that awful letter.
There. That was the memory she needed to recall the next time Rhys Sheffield seemed truly likable. The man might be slightly charming and able to perform a few tasks in a stable when called upon, but she wasn’t about to admit defeat. Besides, anyone could endure one morning of work. She would just have to ensure she made things worse for him tomorrow. Much worse.
CHAPTER NINE
Rhys heaved himself onto his side on the small hay-filled mattress. He was sleeping. Or, more correctly,attemptingto sleep in his berth above the stables. His head was pounding, and it was deuced uncomfortable, but he had no one to blame for his current accommodations but himself. He’d been the one who’d insisted upon sleeping out here with the other stablehands.
Kendall was sleeping on the fourth floor of the manor house with the other footmen. Bell was there too. At least they had beds. All he had was this mat on the floor. But Rhys wasn’t about to allow them to say he’d had the upper hand in winning the bet by accepting better sleeping arrangements.
The hay-filled mat might be a far cry from the downy plushness of the feather-filled mattresses he usually slept upon, but he would make do. Even if tonight’s mattress smelled like a horse’s arse and bits of hay were sticking into every conceivable part of him.
But the discomfort wasn’t what kept him awake. At least not the physical discomfort. No. He was awake because he couldn’t stop thinking about Julianna. She’d agreed to keep his secret, but he should have known she had a reason for doing so. Money hadn’t interested her. He suspected she was out for revenge. And that’s what bothered him. Not that she thought she could get him to quit and forfeit his bet, but thatsheapparently felt as if she were the wronged party in what had happened between them last year.
She was not only title-obsessed, she was also completely mad if she thought he was truly in the wrong. Yes, he’d essentially tossed her over, but he had every reason to do so. It just showed how entitled she was for thinking that of the two of them,hewas in the wrong.
He flipped over on his back and expelled his breath. There was no use fighting it. He wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight. Dawn was probably only a few hours off. No doubt, Julianna had picked dawn just to torture him. He grimaced. He seemed to remember mentioning to her that he and early mornings had never been friends. But one early morning wasn’t about to stop him. He could take anything she threw at him. He refused to give her the satisfaction of making him quit.
And it wasn’t just her. His friends, too, had ribbed him about being unable to stand the hard work of being a servant. It riled him that no one seemed to believe he was worth a damn other than apparently to be a drunken, gambling lout who just happened to have a duke’s title hanging about his neck. Hadn’t that always been what the papers reported? Hadn’t it always secretly pleased him to make them think they were right? Why was it bothering him now, then?
The worst part was that he should have known better than to believe Julianna had loved him. His father’s words thundered in his head, making his head ache worse. “Women are nothing more than diversions. Pleasant diversion. At times. But don’t confuse lust for love. That’s a fool’s mistake. When it comes time to pick a bride, choose her based on her family pedigree and nothing else. Lust is for mistresses.”
Rhys had been fourteen years old when his father had shared that particular bit of wisdom with him. Years of similar conversations had followed. His father had continued dispensing his advice right up until his last breath. Rhys, at twenty-six, had sat next to the old man’s deathbed, dry-eyed and stoic while his father shared his parting advice. “When it comes time to take a bride, my son, it will be the most important business decision of your life. Do not make a mistake.”
And Rhys thought he hadn’t. He’d actually fallen for Julianna’s lies and flirting. But she’d been ready to toss him over at a moment’s notice. And if there was one thing he abhorred, it was a woman who was only out for money and title. Loyalty was of the utmost importance. He would stand for nothing less than a loyal wife.
Kendall’s experience with Lady Emily had affected him greatly. Kendall had truly loved Lady Emily, all of his friends knew it. The damn sop was head over heels for the chit and she’d written to him days before their wedding and told him she’d received a better offer and was leaving him. She bloody well had expected him to understand, for the love of God. Kendall’s heart had been broken.
But when Rhys had heard the news, his heart had hardened. If anyone deserved better, it was Kendall. And now the bloody fool was forced to dress up and playact to find a true bride. It was ludicrous.
Perhaps Rhys would have his solicitor choose his wife for him. At least he wouldn’t have to pretend to care, and neither would she. Though he had years left to enjoy himself before he took that irreversible step.
That was another thing that angered him when he thought about how close he’d come to tying the parson’s noose around his own neck with Julianna. He’d actually considered marriage at the age of eight and twenty. It was true that he’d had quite a scare last year, but he’d somehow come through it remarkably. He’d been raised to think that fifty would be a more appropriate age to consider fathering his heir. The dukes of Worthington were all long-lived and the last three had produced their heirs past their own middle age. Rhys had every intention of following suit. That is until he’d met Lady Julianna and she’d turned his head so thoroughly. She was an actress and he was a fool.
And far from frustrating him and making him want to quit, the chores she’d had him do today had actually made him feel useful for the first time in as long as he could remember.
He tossed again upon the mattress and came down hard on his side, eliciting anoompffrom his throat. Damn this uncomfortable bed and damn this bet and damn Julianna for appearing and making it that much more difficult for him to win.
But if it was the last thing he did, he refused to let her break him.
CHAPTER TEN
