“Alas, no. Fetch Mrs. Poole for me, will you?”
“Yes, of course.” Barnaby shot to his feet and fled out the door of the study, trusting without question that Miles would set everything to rights again at once.
And he would, but the draught of pride he’d be obliged to swallow first might choke him.
“Lord Cross?” Mrs. Poole appeared in the doorway. “You sent for me?”
“Yes, Mrs. Poole. Would you be so good as to fetch Miss Templeton, and have her come downstairs to my study? I wish to have a word with her.”
“I believe Miss Templeton is next door in the library, Lord Cross. I saw her go in there myself just a short while ago.”
“Very good. Thank you, Mrs. Poole.”
Miles waited for Mrs. Poole to leave, then rose from his chair and made his way down the hallway. The door to the library was partway open. Juliet was indeed inside, and she was… what on earth was she doing?
Her back was to him, and she hadn’t heard him enter, so he remained quiet, and watched as she selected a book from one of the shelves, glanced briefly at the title, then crossed the room and slid it between two books on a different shelf.
She was disarranging his bookshelves!
Why, it was outrageous, and yet… how often had he longed to do the same thing when he was a boy? Tip books sideways, leave smears on the windows, muss the spotless floors, and set all of his father’s rigid right angles askew?
“I don’t thinkRomeo and Julietbelongs next to Galileo’sSidereus Nuncius, Miss Templeton.”
She froze, her fingers wrapped around the spine of Copernicus’sDe revolutionibus orbium coelestium, which was no doubt destined to end up buried betweenRichard IIIandJulius Caesar.
“I don’t see why not.” She turned and gave him a careless shrug. “Shakespeare had a good deal to say about astronomy. Have you forgotten yourRomeo and Juliet, my lord? ‘The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven.’”
Naturally, she had a relevant Shakespeare quote right at her fingertips. “I remember it. I also recall your telling me that play is a romance, not a tragedy.”
Aromance, of all ridiculous things. But then perhapseverythingwas a romance, when one was Juliet Templeton.
“It is a romance. But I don’t wish to argue with you, Lord Cross. Indeed, you need not trouble yourself with me any longer. I’m leaving Steeple Cross first thing tomorrow morning.”
“You mean to drag poor Lady Fosberry into a carriage so soon after last night’s debacle?” He leaned a shoulder against a bookcase. “That’s rather selfish of you, Miss Templeton.”
“I suppose it would be convenient for you to find me so. I’m sorry to disappoint you, my lord, but Lady Fosberry is free to remain at Steeple Cross for as long as she likes. You did inviteher, after all.”
“You can’t mean you intend to go back to Londonalone?”
“Not London, unless Lady Fosberry chooses to leave tomorrow morning. If she’d rather remain, then I’ll go to the Earl of Hawke’s estate in Charlbury. My sister is governess there. I’ll remain with her until Lady Fosberry is ready to return to London.”
A sister in Charlbury? How convenient, but then Juliet Templeton seemed to live a charmed life. No doubt the woodland animals would have joined forces to rescue her and Lady Fosberry last night, if he and Barnaby hadn’t appeared. “I’m afraid that’s out of the question, Miss Templeton. I can’t spare a carriage to take you to Charlbury.”
She shrugged. “No matter. It’s eight miles from here, my lord. I’ll ride. Unless you can’t spare a single horse, despite having stables the size of Hyde Park?”
“It’s raining.” He nodded at the rain-streaked window.
“Then I’ll get wet. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“Wait. I—I need your assistance with a, er… a task.”
There went her eyes, wide, then wider still, and so very, damnably blue.
“A task,” she repeated flatly. “Youare askingmeto assist you with a task.”
“Yes. You see, Lord Barnaby is—”
“You, who told me just last night, and in no uncertain terms that you didn’t want me in your house.”
