“Well, what was she doing up there at all? What possible reason could there be for her to climb into the driver’s box?”
“Lady Fosberry said she was attempting to retrieve a pistol from—”
“I’ll tell you why she did it, Barnaby. Because Juliet Templeton can’t stir a single step without it ending in theatrics.”
She couldn’t simplywalkinto a room. Oh, no, nothing so dull as that. She glided, or swept, or floated. On one memorable occasion, he’d even seen her gambol. Other ladies might sit in a chair, but she dropped into it like a plump, ripe bit of fruit from an overladen tree, or collapsed with graceful abandon. Her smiles were sunrises, her laughs a concerto, her voice silver bells drifting through the clear, cold air on a Christmas morning.
He’d never met a more aggravating lady in his life.
“Now, Cross. I don’t think you’re being quite fair to Miss—”
“Ofcourse, she somehow contrived to drop from mid-air right into the cradle of my arms, as if fate gave her a shove when I was the only person in the entire world in a position to catch her!”
Fortunately, he didn’t believe in fate.
But he did believe in chaos, and that was what Juliet Templeton was. “That woman is pure pandemonium, Barnaby, hidden behind a lovely face and eyes so innocent, so guileless, one would never guess what utter havoc lurks in those deep blue depths!”
Barnaby was staring at him. “Surely, that’s an exaggeration—”
“Not a bit of it, Barnaby! As long as Juliet Templeton remains in this house, I foresee a fortnight of utter mayhem.”
“Perhaps you’d better sit down, Cross, before you—”
“And I don’t just mean a few spilled drops of port or a few shattered dishes, cousin. If we make it to the end of a fortnight without a ruination, a duel, and without Steeple Cross’s roof caving in, we may consider ourselves fortunate!”
“For God’s sake, Cross, do you hear yourself, man? And you accuse Miss Templeton of theatrics!”
“She can’t remain here, Barnaby. I won’t have it.”
All of his meticulous plans for the next fortnight—the elegant dinners, the bottles of fine liquor stacked to the ceiling of his cellars, the blazing fires in every bedchamber, and the curated collection of young ladies he’d chosen for Barnaby—were going the way of the carriage yesterday.
A slow slide toward the edge of a precipice.
“Now just a moment, Cross. You can’t mean to say you’re going to toss her out the door. Lady Fosberry will take offense, and rightly so. You invited Miss Templeton here—”
“Ididn’tinvite her! I haven’t the vaguest idea what she’s doing here.”
“But sheishere, Cross, and it’ll cause a dreadful fuss if you send her away.” Barnaby paused, studying him from under lowered brows. “Is this about what happened between you and Miss Templeton this season?”
Miles froze, and it took every bit of restraint he had to keep his expression neutral, and his voice calm. “Gossip, nothing more.”
“It’s not gossip if it’s true, Cross. Is it true?”
It wasn’t true. Itwasn’t, no matter if it felt as though she were haunting him. “What, that I’m madly in love with Juliet Templeton? That she bewitched me, and I spent all season chasing her, only for her to slip through my fingers? What do you think, Barnaby? Have you ever known me to lose my head over some chit before?”
“No, but it was bound to happen, wasn’t it? And Juliet Templeton is rather tempting.”
God, his face felt stiff, and his stomach was roiling. “Not tome.”
Barnaby considered him for a moment. “I don’t believe you, Cross.”
“Damn it, Barnaby. I told you, it’s nothing but gossip. I hardly know the girl. I don’t have a thing to do with Juliet Templeton, and I amnotbegging her pardon. I refuse.”
The silence that fell between them in the wake of this outburst wasn’t of the comfortable, soothing variety. It bulged and swelled and twisted until Barnaby threw his hands up in the air. “Very well, Cross. Then you’ve plunged a knife right into my heart for no reason whatsoever. Your only cousin, too. I hope you’re happy.”
“I’m never happy to have inconvenienced you, Barnaby.” Miles dropped back into his chair, rubbing his hand over his eyes. It was only the first day of his house party, he was already exhausted, and it was all Juliet Templeton’s fault. Drama trailed after her like a dog on a scent. “Not to worry, cousin. Miss Templeton isn’t going anywhere.”
Barnaby looked up at him, his eyes flaring with hope. “She isn’t?”
