Her Secondhand Groom (17 page)

His foot landed on the top step that led to the third floor and Patrick froze. He’d been married to Juliet a full month now and hadn’t heard her hum before. A small smile tugged on his lips, his heart lifting. He didn’t know what was making her so happy, but whatever it was, was in his house! Four weeks ago he wouldn’t have given a fig whether or not she were happy in his house, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little relieved to know she’d found some sort of contentment here. He paused. That wasn’t true. She’d seemed very content in the presence of his girls. He leaned against the door her humming was coming from and folded his arms across his chest. His forearm pressed against the invitation in his breast pocket, reminding him of his purpose. A broad smile spread across his lips. Perhaps he, too, would soon be able to be the reason for her happiness.

Quiet so not to alert Juliet to his presence thus bringing her merriment to an abrupt end, Patrick turned the doorknob and used extra care to ease the door open. The door opened only halfway and Patrick’s body stilled. His eyes were captured by the breathtaking sight in front of him: Juliet naked and wet in a hot, steamy bath. Her eyes were closed, her head leaning over the back edge of the tub, face pointed up at a ninety degree angle toward the ceiling. Her right arm rested along the right side of the copper tub, her left hand holding a soapy cloth, methodically moving it up and down her right arm, leaving a trail of slippery bubbles in its wake before moving to her chest. Mesmerized, his eyes followed her hand and stared shamelessly as she brought the cloth along the top of her chest then down to her perky breasts. He clenched his hands into two tight fists. He could no more will his eyes away from her sudsy breasts than he could make himself stop breathing.

You’re only staring at them because you didn’t think she had any
. He shook his head. No, not even that thought could explain why he was staring at her breasts as if he’d never laid eyes on a set before. She brought the cloth up to get her neck. Slowly, almost torturously, she dragged the cloth from one side of her neck to the other. Rivulets of water flowed from the bottom of the cloth right down her chest. Naturally, his eyes followed―his blood, face, and desire heating up to the temperature of an inferno. A little stream of water ran straight down the middle of her breast, rinsing off all the bubbles in a line that ran directly over her nipple. A sound he didn’t recognize escaped his lips.

Juliet shrieked and plunked herself under the water in the most haphazard, unladylike fashion imaginable. She reemerged, wet but free of soapy bubbles, her hands wildly feeling about for her spectacles. “Who’s there,” she demanded.

Her panic cooled Patrick’s ardor and heat fueled by embarrassment warmed his face. “Your husband.” He winced at the raggedness of his voice.

“
Why did you have to scare me like that?” Juliet asked, fumbling to put her spectacles on, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks.

Patrick averted his eyes, feigning interest in the tops of his shoes. “I didn’t mean to,” he rasped, blood roaring in his ears.

“
Was there something you needed?” Juliet queried from the tub.

Wasn’t she going to cover up? There was a towel sitting right there. Why wasn’t she wrapping it around herself? “We can talk later.” He took a step back.

“
I’ll be occupied later. What was it that was so important you needed to interrupt my bath to discuss?”

Patrick’s throat worked. “I didn’t realize you were bathing,” he stammered. He cautiously raised his eyes just enough to see her, but not be too obvious about it.

“
Of course,” she muttered. She frantically took that little rag full of soapy water and hastily ran it over her body.

“
I’ll come back,” Patrick said inanely, forcing his feet to take yet another step backward.

Juliet stood. Patrick froze, utterly paralyzed. The only sound in the room was the loud thunking
ker plunk
of Juliet’s discarded rag hitting the bathwater. “No need, my lord.” She reached both hands up and started squeezing the water from her hair, the simple task lifted her pert breasts and made them gently bounce as she continued to wring out her hair. “What was so important?”

Patrick remained motionless. Even his mouth couldn’t move to so much as
attempt
to form a sentence. Here his wife stood completely naked in front of him and he was reduced to staring at her as if he were a green lad who’d never seen a woman in a state of undress before.

Juliet cleared her throat. “Now that you’ve gotten your chance to enjoy the view, will you tell me what you came to say? I need to get back to the girls.”

“
Girls,” he choked, blinking out of his haze. Just where were the girls? And why was she in here taking a bath in the middle of the day? His jaw clenched. More importantly, why was she in
this
room taking her bath? So many questions raced through his mind, he barely registered Juliet was stepping out of the tub.

“
Yes, girls,” Juliet intoned coolly. She used her towel to dry off the wet skin of her left arm. “I need to finish their lessons.”

“
Where are they now,” he forced himself to say, commanding his eyes to look anywhere but at her naked body that was beckoning to him.

“
Taking their own baths, I’d presume,” she said easily, now drying her right arm. “We went for a walk after lunch.”

Patrick glanced out the window. When had the rain started? “Did you get a chill?” He started, surprised by the genuine concern that had just filled his voice.

She looked up from where she was now bent over drying her legs and blinked at him. “No, just a little muddy.” Juliet stopped toweling herself off long enough to use her right hand to gesture to her discarded gown, the bottom of it covered in mud. She sighed. “Could you please tell me what you came for so I can dress?”

“
Right,” Patrick clipped with a curt nod. “I uh...” He swallowed the surplus liquid that was filling his mouth. The sight of her naked chest and shoulders glistening with a thin layer of moisture was draining all the blood from his head and channeling it down to another part of his anatomy. The part that had no business being active in her presence. He couldn’t possibly have a conversation with her until she covered herself. “Would you please wrap that confounded towel around yourself?”

Juliet looked down at the towel that was in her hand. “No, I’m not done drying off yet.”

“
You’re dry enough. Just cover up,” he snapped, running his hand through his black hair.

“
Why should I?” She bent her head forward and wrapped the towel around her hair as best as she could. “It would seem that when I’m in my room I should be allowed to wear whatever I wish, even if you are the lord of the manor, and I am but a mere servant.”

Her room? Lord of the manor? A mere servant?
A sinking feeling settled in his gut. “Juliet,” he said thickly, his brain unable to think of what to say next, and this time his inability to think had nothing to do with the fact that she was naked.

“
Yes?”

“
Could you please explain your last statement to me?”

She shrugged, her creamy, pink-tipped breasts bouncing before his eyes once again. “I meant nothing by it that you don’t already know. You’re the master and lord of the manor to which I am the servant, but even as a servant I should think I should be allowed a bit of privacy in my own quarters. But I guess even that’s not meant to be. Not that I should have expected anything different from you.”

“
Your quarters?” he repeated, looking around the room. His eyes grew wider with every object they landed on. A small table no bigger than one of his nightstands was cluttered with combs, brushes, and other vanity pieces, albeit they weren’t very nice vanity items, but they were usable. He shifted his gaze to a little trunk resting next to the makeshift vanity. Before he knew what he was doing, his feet carried him to the chest. He extended his nearly-numb fingers and lifted the lid of the chest. Patrick mutely stared at the chest full of the clothes he’d had commissioned for her the day after they’d married. “How long?”

She seemed to understand his question well enough. “Since the day we married. Of course you’d know that if you’d ever seen fit to visit my bed. But you didn’t marry me to make me a wife, just a motherness.”

Patrick’s mouth went dry. The hurt in her voice was utterly unmistakable. Even a fool such as he couldn’t have missed it. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered harshly. For the first time since he’d entered her room, he looked into her slate grey eyes. Though she was standing there not wearing a stitch of clothing, he couldn’t force his eyes to leave hers. He’d been able to sneak a glimpse of laughter and excitement in them when he’d watched her and the girls undetected. He’d seen what he thought was cold indifference or even irritation in them most times when she knew he was close by. But right now he wasn’t sure what was in her eyes. They looked distant...broken perhaps. No, resigned. That’s what it was. She was resigned. His chest clenched in the most unusual way as he remembered her insinuation from yesterday about him purposely avoiding hiring a suitable governess because she was around. The enormity of the situation hit him like a shot to the heart. “Will you meet me in the drawing room in half an hour?”

Juliet’s head nodded a fraction. “All right.”

Doing his best to tamp down the vast array of emotions that were threatening to consume him, Patrick quit the room and went downstairs to await Juliet, racking his brain for the appropriate words as he went.

By the time he crossed the royal blue carpeted threshold of the drawing room, Patrick hadn’t thought of a single thing to say to Juliet. But there was one thing he’d determined: tomorrow he’d be employing a real governess, even if it meant temporarily hiring the spitter.

***

Juliet had never been so uncertain of anything in her life and that included that unfortunate surprise she’d received four short weeks ago when she realized she was marrying Lord Presumptuous in truth. She grabbed her towel and clutched it tightly to her chest. Closing her eyes as tightly as she could, she willed her nerves to settle down. Her harsh command went unyielded. Her fingers clung to the plush towel so tightly her fingertips and knuckles grew white and her lower lip quivered uncontrollably. Why did he have to have this effect on her? What gave him the power to shatter her control?

She exhaled and buried her face in her towel, the events of the last ten minutes replaying in her mind’s eye. Had she given herself away? Had she said or done anything that would give him reason to believe she was anything but the strong, unaffected woman she wanted to portray? The chime of the clock yanked her from her thoughts. There was no use in sitting here wondering if she’d made a slip. She needed to get downstairs and see what Lord Presumptuous had to say.

Twenty five minutes later, Juliet scurried into the drawing room wearing a simple blue muslin frock. She’d hate to be late to
her
interview.

“
Juliet,” her husband said, standing up with such an abrupt movement his knee hit the edge of the tea set and almost knocked it off the table.

Juliet blinked at him. Something was different about him. She didn’t know what, but she wasn’t going to question it. “Yes, my lord?” She forced herself to look into his deep brown eyes.
You can do this, Juliet. You can look him in the eye. Forget he was so thoughtless as to walk in on your bath and not leave until long after any polite gentleman would have.

“
Will you sit down for a minute?” He waited for her to take a seat before he sat on the settee across from her. He cleared his throat and smiled at her.

“
Is there a problem?” She honestly doubted there was a problem, but the way he was looking at her gave her the queerest feeling in her stomach. She didn’t like that. She had come here at his request. He needed to get on with what he wanted to say, and soon.

“
No, there’s no problem. Actually, I have some good news.” His smile grew a bit broader. “We’ve been invited to a dinner party to be held at Lord and Lady Watson’s estate. Would you like to accompany me?”

A knot the size of Kate’s head formed in her stomach. “D-do I have to go?” she stammered, forcing a nervous smile to her lips.

“
You don’t have to,” he said, a frown tugging on his lips. “But I’d like it if you did.”