“Not at all, Mr. Worthy,” Mary replied, smiling at him sweetly and allowing him to help her down onto the grass.
Lord Clayton’s cook had provided Julianna with a picnic basket, and before facing Rhys, she pulled out the basket and a blanket she’d brought with her. Rhys took the items from her and set them into the grass near Mary’s feet before turning back to Julianna and offering her his arm.
She reached out and placed her gloved hand on his strong, warm forearm. She nearly gulped when she felt the size of his muscles. Memories flooded back to her. One specific memory: of her lying beneath him on the chaise in his study one night, his hips grinding into hers, his mouth on her neck, her arms around his wide shoulders, pulling him closer, and—
“Are you all right, Julianna?” Mary asked again.
Julianna didn’t have to wonder why her sister had asked that time. Heat was burning her cheeks. No doubt she was a bright shade of red. Oh, bless it. Why did she have to have such a vivid memory and why did it have to somehow be triggered every time she touched Rhys Sheffield? Or caught a whiff of his expensive cologne that he apparently was still wearing even while pretending to be a groomsman. Unless…he somehow knew it drove her mad. No, he couldn’t know that. Could he?
“I’m…fine,” she managed, nearly jumping to the ground in an effort to step away from Rhys, his muscles, and his memory as quickly as possible.
The moment her hand flew away from his sleeve, Rhys bent to pick up the blanket and the picnic basket. “Where would you like me to set up the picnic, milady?” he asked in an overly helpful voice.
Julianna nodded toward the edge of the lake. “Over there will be qu…quite fine.”
“Oh, yes, let’s sit by the water,” Mary said, clasping her hands together and moving ahead of them to find the perfect spot.
Rhys allowed Julianna to lead the way, while Ernest remained at the coach. She could feel Rhys’s eyes on her backside. She could only hope he hadn’t guessed that she was blushing as a result of touching him. But then again, the man did have enormous confidence, he was probably quite certain she was blushing over him.
Mary stood spinning in a circle in the spot she’d picked, and Rhys set the basket aside and tossed the blanket onto the soft, green grass. Then he set about ensuring all four corners were pulled wide before he picked up the basket, leaned over, and set it on the center of the blanket.
“Would you care for me to serve you?” he asked in a completely nonchalant voice.
“Yes, please,” Julianna replied, forcing herself to remain committed to her plan. She’d meant to make Rhys cater to her every whim, but now that he was doing it, why did it feel awkward and uncomfortable? She should be enjoying every moment of this instead of feeling vaguely guilty.
“As you wish, milady,” Rhys replied, nodding and bowing.
There, that was more like it. In addition tomilady, she loved it when he saidas you wish. She shook her head as if to divest it of the unhelpful thoughts from earlier and set about enjoying herself as Rhys pulled out the contents of the picnic basket. There were two plates and two cloth napkins, two forks, a teapot with still-hot tea inside, two cups and two saucers, a basket of buns, a variety of jams and marmalades, two knives with which to spread the jams, a small basket of boiled eggs, and a small bowl of purple grapes.
Rhys arranged the entire set in a small circle in the center of the blanket, then he removed the basket and set it off to the side on the grass. If he was irked over having to serve as a footman, he showed no signs of it. Bless it.
“This looks delightful,” Mary exclaimed.
“It does,” Julianna agreed quietly, not meeting Rhys’s gaze.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll just leave you to it,” Rhys said, standing and moving back toward the coach.
“Thank you, Mr. Worthy,” Mary said, picking up a knife and dunking it into the jam.
Julianna tried to concentrate on the picnic, but she couldn’t help but wonder what Rhys was doing back at the coach. She kept glancing toward the conveyance. At first, he set about giving the horses some water, but soon after he disappeared around the far side of the vehicle and she had no idea what he was doing. Ernest had disappeared too. She sat picking at her bun and wondering.
“What do you think Mr. Worthy and the coachman are doing?” The question from Mary had been so exactly what Julianna had been thinking that it momentarily stunned her into silence.
“I…I’m certain I don’t know,” she finally managed.
“I hate to admit it,” Mary replied. “But I’ve never thought about what servants are doing while I’m busy enjoying things like this picnic.”
Julianna bit her lip. Once again it was as if her sister had read her mind. “I must admit the same thing.”
“They usually tend to disappear after arranging things and return when it’s time to take everything away,” Mary continued, a guilty look on her face. “Do you think Mr. Worthy and the coachman have anything to eat?”
Julianna sighed. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I hadn’t thought of that before. I…I just assumed they’d eaten before they came. But perhaps they are hungry.”
“Should we ask them if they’d like a bun?” Mary asked.
Julianna shook her head. “It seems so improper, but I wouldn’t mind sharing.” Of course, her own guilt was doubled because here was poor Mary feeling contrite over Mr. Worthy when Julianna happened to know he was a duke who could have a half dozen servants at his beck and call if he only said the word. And stopped playacting.
But now that Mary had brought it up, Julianna couldn’t help but wonder if Rhys had brought food for himself. Was he eating it even now on the other side of the coach? She craned her neck but couldn’t see what he was doing.
