Page 51 of Unmasking a Wicked Marquess
“You look tempted,” she whispered knowingly.
“By you? Certainly.” His voice had deepened, and her smile grew wider still. “You seem to tempt me a lot.”
“As you do me,” she confessed, a shaky breath escaping her. “You offer a world I hardly knew was within my grasp, Edward.”
“What’s that? Rebellion?” he teased her, offering that tantalizing touch once more. She nodded gently.
“And … something more.”
He longed to ask her what it was, but behind them, a starting pistol had gone off. They both turned in time to look out the window and watch the race together.
“It’s begun!” She was practically on her feet in order to look past him and watch the race, her hand gripping his shoulder.
It was a short race, just a couple of furlongs, and Edward could have sworn he held his breath as he watched the black steed,Night’s Wonder,streak ahead of the other horses. The jockey drove hard, but not too hard. The technique allowed the horse to dictate the race more, and in his element, he was suddenly putting distance between himself and the other horses behind him.
“Yes!” Juliet declared excitedly. “Oh, he’s going to win, Edward. Your horse is going to do it!”
Edward was finding it hard to concentrate now. With Juliet gripping onto his shoulder and shoutingyes,his mind wandered. He thought of other ways she could grip his shoulder, shouting the same thing. He chuckled deeply, shifting his focus back to the horse just as it streaked across the line. Like lightning, it won with a vast distance behind them.
“Oh!” Juliet gasped so loudly and released his shoulder that it captivated his attention.
“Pleased you won some money?” Edward asked, still laughing at her reaction.
“We have been seen.”
“What?” Edward realized where she was looking. Angling his head around, he saw that her father and mother stood together by the racetrack. Lady Clarence was doing her best to pull on her husband’s arm, to make him look away, but Lord Clarence refused. He was staring up at Edward and Juliet together on the balcony overlooking the race. His brow was furrowed deeply, his eyes unblinking in a questioning gaze.
“I must go,” Juliet whispered.
“Wait, Juliet.” Edward turned, longing to spend more time with her.
This cannot be over so soon.
Yet she was gone, running as the horse had done, so fast out of the private room that Edward felt empty, staring at the vacant chair she had left behind her.
***
“Father, what are you writing?” Juliet strode into the room to see her father huddled in the corner over the writing bureau; there was paper out in front of him, inkwell close to his elbow and quill in his hand. Juliet had barely seen him since the races that morning. Between ignoring her as much as he had been ignoring anyone else at the party. “Father?”
Robert looked up from the desk; there were shadows under his eyes, and the skin around his lips was purse tight. Juliet edged forward a little more, closing the door behind her as she went to get a better look at him.
He gave no sign of responding to her but bent over the letter again, dipping the quill in the ink before he continued to write his letter. Juliet went behind him, peering over his shoulder to look at what he had written on the page.
Dear Arthur,
It is my dearest wish that you will join us here ...
Juliet laid a hand on her father's shoulder, urging him to stop what he was doing and look up from his work, the inkwell still beside him as he held the quill in the air, hovering like a bird for a second.
“Why are you writing to my cousin?” Juliet asked.
“I think it's time you had some other company to talk to at these events other than Lord Ashton.”
Juliet felt her stomach tightening fast. She had seen Robert looking at her earlier that day when they were at Ascot. She had seen the crease in her father’s brow as he watched her and Robert together. Even as she had tried to scurry away, to hide how close she and Edward had been, Robert had plainly seen it all regardless.
“Why Arthur? Why bring him here?” Juliet wrinkled her nose, peering down at the letter. Arthur was a distant cousin of hers, so distant that she was not even certain they were related by blood at all but only by marriage. He was an awkward sort, and the pair of them were of such similar age that they had often been thrust together in their youth. “Father, we have spoken about this …”
Yet Robert didn’t seem to be listening to her now. He dipped the quill in the inkwell once more and returned to his letter, clearly quite eager to finish it.
