Page 20 of Drowned in the Pleasure of a Devilish Baron
But it did not stop him from asking himself the same question over and over again.
This morning’s letter from his little sister had been a very welcome distraction, though he was concerned. It was not like Juliet to ask so plainly for him to visit. She had written, “Please do not reschedule. I must see you today.”His sister was not a lady given to dramatics. He wondered now if she was worried about Sarah, for surely she would know already about the fate of that recent meeting.
He took the front steps leading to the heavy front door two at a time, rapping sharply. Mrs. Beeton appeared at once.
“Sir Felix, welcome.” She stepped aside and held out one arm, gesturing for him to head toward the drawing room.
Juliet was seated at the edge of the couch there, rocking his nephew.
“Well, if it isn’t the little lord of the manor.” Felix’s heart lifted at once at the sight of the pink-cheeked baby, whose eyes were so like his sister’s and their mother before her.
“Take him, won’t you?” Juliet passed him, and Felix accepted the soft bundle carefully. He was still quite nervous to handle George, worried he might do something wrong and break him.
“I’ll be just a moment, I’m just checking on something.” Juliet stood and left the room before Felix could ask her why he was here.
“Just me and you, isn’t it, Georgie?” he asked, bouncing the plump baby boy.
George grinned up at him, his hazel eyes shining. Felix stood and began to swing the boy down and up, down and up, eliciting a shrieking giggle from him on each turn.
“Through here, Miss,” Mrs. Beeton said on the other side of the wall.
Felix wondered why the housekeeper would be showing Juliet into her own drawing room.
But then Sarah walked through the door.
He froze at once, poor George halted mid-swing, a situation he apparently objected to, for he began to babble loudly at once.
“Miss Marlow,” he said. Though he was in shock, he found himself drinking her in. Today she wore a gown of lush green, the color of the new buds of spring. At the neckline, it was edged in the barest scalloped lace, allowing a peek through the material to the swell of creamy flesh beneath.
“Sir Felix.” She came to a stop at the door. “I- I didn’t know you would be here today.”
Mrs. Beeton had disappeared. Pulling George to his chest, he crossed the room to meet her at the door.
“I also did not expect to see you here.”
“Jules said—” Sarah’s voice broke. She took a breath and tried again. “Jules said she needed me here, it was important. I came straight away.”
“She said the same to me,” as Felix spoke, there was a dawning understanding at the back of his brain.
At that moment, Juliet bustled into the room and swept George from his arms. “Oh, good, you’re both here,” she said, transferring George expertly to her hip. At the shocked two faces before her, she smiled a little. “I thought you two might appreciate the chance to talk to one another,” she said. “Without your family present.”
She shot a meaningful look at Sarah. “Jules—”
“Mrs. Beeton is bringing in some tea for you both.” Juliet continued, unheeded. “I’ll be chaperoning, of course, but unfortunately, our dear George here needs some freshening up at the moment. I do so wish I could ask our nursemaid to handle it, but as a new mother, I find myself too anxious to leave her alone with the baby for too long.”
And with a wink, she and George left the drawing room.
That Juliet!
Sarah hesitated in the doorway, twisting her fingers. Before her stood Felix, looking impossibly strapping and bronzed from working in the sun. She wanted nothing more than to cross the room and take his bristled face in her hands. But the heavy awkwardness laying in the air between them, as thick as a rug, stopped her.
“Please, sit.” Felix gestured to the couch, a gentlemanly as always.
She looked over her shoulder, down the long empty hallway. Cunningham Manor was quieter than she had ever seen it before, with no servants rushing to and fro, hard at work. With no reason not to forthcoming, she went to the couch and sat.
Felix seemed equally uncertain of what to do with himself. He circled the couch across from her, went to the window, came back to the couch, and then froze, standing over her uncertainly.
“If I’m sitting, you ought to as well,” she said, a touch of amusement warming her voice. She couldn’t help it. He just looked so big and out of place in the decadence of the drawing room, with his hair curling wildly down to his shoulders, his shoulders so broad they looked as if they might break the furniture, and his rough-hewed clothing.
