dinner.”
“I will speak to Mr. Black. Do you mind?” Landon asked.
“No, I am sure being away there is a lot you need to catch up on. I shall be fine.” She turned her cheek to him.
He felt awkward, and yet he stepped over and placed a chaste kiss upon her cheek. She took her leave and he watched her move away, head high, shoulders erect. He doubted the queen could have done better. Something in his gut tightened. A hunger he could not describe rose. He wished to follow, to pull her into a room away from prying eyes, then lay waste to her lips and uncover the secrets hidden beneath the silk.
“She is quite remarkable, Lord Montague.”
His glance jerked toward the doorway of his study where Amos lounged. “Yes, yes she is.” He looked back toward the empty stairs. The very thought of being cloistered away with his solicitor grated upon his nerves when so many other worthwhile endeavors were a mere floor away.
“Come. You need a drink and we need to formulate a battle plan before the dowager arrives.”
***
Juliet stood before the mirror and stared at her reflection. The woman looking back seemed the same, and yet. Her glance centered upon the simple ring that adorned the third finger of her left hand. Lifting it, she twisted the gold band.
“You will get used to it, milady.”
Juliet blinked and lowered her hands hiding them in the folds of the lavender gown. Her eyes met the young woman’s face rising above her shoulder.
“Begging your pardon.” Helen smiled. “But all new brides are a bit nervous when it comes to nightfall.”
Heat radiated from Juliet’s cheeks. “I am not sure.”
“Just remember to relax. He means you no harm. There.” Helen stepped back and admired the woman who stood before her. “You look beautiful.”
“For a country mouse,” Juliet said, staring at her reflection. The gown was at least two season’s old, and even to her untrained eyes, the design was dated. “It will do for tonight.”
“His lordship will make sure you are well dressed and heeled as befitting a lady of your station, before he takes you out in public.”
Juliet swallowed and Helen’s glance moved toward the carpet.
“Pardon my boldness, milady.” Helen stepped back and picked up the clothing they discarded.
“No, you are correct. Thank you for lifting my spirits.”
“Well, he is the Earl of Broadmoor, and the stories they tell.” Helen shook her head in disbelief. “Would you like something else done with your hair?”
“No.” Juliet swung away from the mirror to collect her fan. “I shall ring for you when we are done and I am ready for bed.” She turned and drew the ribbon across her wrist and moved toward the door. “You enjoy your evening, Helen. I hope your room is to your liking?”
“Yes, milady. All is well.”
Entering the hallway, she tread toward the stairs past the portraits of ancient Montagues from the dawn of time. The lamplight caught their eyes, as it danced across the painting, making the images follow her. Unease slithered up her spine. Even though she knew she was safe, her footsteps hurried along the carpet, until a bit out of breath, she reached the stair head. Pausing, a hand against her stays, she took a breath.
A sound echoed in the shadows as if a foot hit a table leg. With a gasp, she turned. Eyes narrowing, she peered into the darkness. “Who is there?” she demanded, as the heavy thump of her heart rattled against her chest. Her eyes widened as the figure of a young boy no more than seven rose and moved to the light.
“You are not what I expected,” he said.
Taken aback, she paused and blinked at the aloof glance reflected in the child’s eyes before summing up her courage to inquire. “And who might you be, young sir?”
His dark head snapped up. Shoulders squared and he pressed his hands to his hips, then leveled a haunting stare. “Can you not tell?”
For a moment, her brow furrowed. A deep spike drove its way between her
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley