Sam had left a mountain of work piled on his new desk, which was temporarily situated against a wall in Griff’s office. Sam’s friend had assured him he’d have his own office as soon as it could be arranged, but Sam didn’t mind. He watched everything Griff did—and learned.
He’d planned to stay late into the evening looking over the contract Griff’s solicitor had drafted. But as dusk fell, one of Griff’s footmen brought Sam a message that had been delivered to the house, to Sam’s attention.
Dear Cousin Samuel,
I’m gratified to know you are well and committed to pursuing your own passions, whatever they may be. I do hope that you will keep me disguised of your progress and visit Juliette and me on occasion. In the event that you plan on attending Lord Torrington’s soiree this evening, we shall see you there. I know Juliette would be delighted.
Alistair
Sam had barely read the last word before he’d extinguished the lamps and locked up the office. He couldn’t forgo the chance to see Juliette. He’d thought of her constantly, and the mere prospect of being near her made his heart hammer in his chest.
He quickly changed into an evening jacket and walked the three blocks to Torrington’s brightly lit townhouse, where a line of coaches wound around the corner. The soiree was obviously well underway.
As he entered the bustling ballroom, he searched the crowd for Juliette’s familiar form—the long line of her neck, the sprightly curls at her nape, and her willowy limbs. But he didn’t find her twirling on the dance floor or chatting in one of the clusters of guests along the edges. He’d overheard someone mention charades and cards, so he headed toward the parlor in hopes of finding her there. Just as he was about to exit the ballroom, a hand clamped his shoulder.
“If it isn’t the prodigal son—or brother, as the case may be.”
A chill slithered down Sam’s spine. “Nigel.” He shook the hand his brother offered. “It is good to see you.”
“Is it?” Nigel arched a sardonic brow. “I haven’t heard from you in days. I’d begun to suspect you’d met your demise in a ditch on the side of the road.”
“It’s a wonder you’ve been able to sleep at night,” Sam quipped, but he was grateful—and somewhat surprised—that Nigel and he were at least on speaking terms.
“Come. Let’s nick a drink from Torrington’s study.” Nigel rotated his shoulder in invitation.
“Give me a half hour to greet some friends and acquaintances, and I shall meet you there.”
Nigel rolled his eyes. He must know Juliette was there—and had no doubt sought her out as well. “What’s happened to us, Sam? What would our father think if he could see us now?”
Guilt niggled at Sam’s gut. “He’d tell us we were acting like idiots and make us muck out the stable together until we forgot why we were ever at odds.”
“Right,” Nigel said. “Let’s skip the stables and have a brandy instead.”
Sam hesitated. Now that he was so close to Juliette, the need to see her was a real, physical thing. But part of his new approach to life was putting duty before his own selfish desires. And if Nigel was willing to extend an olive branch, the least Sam could do was meet him halfway.
He’d be honest about his feelings for Juliette, and his intentions. Both he and Nigel had to accept that in the end, she would decide whom she chose to be with.
Sam swallowed past the knot in his throat. He prayed Juliette would choose him. But if she didn’t, he hoped that one day—in the very distant future—he’d be man enough to wish her and his brother every happiness. And mean it.
“I suppose a quick drink couldn’t hurt.” Sam had been curious about Nigel’s true motivation for taking back the house on Hart Street. Maybe he’d learn something that would be useful to Juliette. Sweeping a hand in front of him, he said, “Lead the way.”
As they slipped inside Torrington’s darkened study, Nigel sniffed the air. “Mmm, cigars. Maybe we should nick a couple of those, too.”
Sam snorted and lit a lamp on the earl’s desk. “It’s bad enough that we’re sneaking his brandy.” As he poured, Sam added, “Don’t think the irony of this conversation has escaped me. You’re the one suggesting less-than-gentlemanly behavior, and I’m keeping you in check.” He handed Nigel a snifter, and they sat in a pair of chairs that flanked the dormant fireplace.
“You’re looking well,” Nigel said, swirling the brandy in his glass. “Your jacket and cravat are immaculate, your hair has been cut, and the dark circles beneath your eyes have vanished. I scarcely recognize you.”
“I’ve been staying with Griff—er, Jonathan Griffith.”
“The wealthy merchant?” Nigel asked, with just a hint of disdain.
“And my friend. I’ve begun working for him,” Sam said, unapologetically. “As soon as I’m able, I shall pay off my debts.”
“You’d rather work for a living than accomplish the single task I gave you?” Nigel shook his head, incredulous.
“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I forced Juliette and her uncle out of that house.” Sam stared into his drink. “But let us be honest with each other. You’re not really interested in the house, are you? You knew she lived there from the start. This was all an attempt to manipulate her—and me.”
Nigel sniffed, hesitated a beat. “Yes. As you’ve probably already deduced, I am enamored of Juliette.”
“Then why the hell would you try to toss her out of her house?” Sam sputtered. “She thinks you’re a cold-hearted cad.”
“No, she thinks you’re the cad. After all, you’re the one who first tried to evict her and then seduced her. I’m the gentleman who’s allowing her to stay in her beloved home. I’m the one who’s salvaging her reputation.”
Sam’s blood simmered. “I had no idea you were so morally corrupt.”
“Few people do.” Nigel smiled smugly. “I believe our father knew, deep down. That’s why he preferred you.”
“Father loved you. Did you know he always counseled me to be more like you? It would break his heart to know what you’ve done.”
“Then I guess I should be glad he’s not here to witness it.”
Sam slammed down his glass and stalked across the room so that he wouldn’t throttle his brother with his own neckcloth. “You underestimate Juliette’s intelligence. Once she learns how you’ve deceived her, she’ll want nothing to do with you. She deserves to know who you truly are.”
“Who I really am is of little consequence, brother. What matters is who people think I am, and they think I’m the honorable, steadfast, dutiful Marquess of Currington.”
Sam spoke through gritted teeth. “Juliette won’t be so easily fooled. I won’t let you take advantage of her.”
“What’s this?” Nigel asked, amused. He stood, rounded his chair, and stood toe to toe with Sam. “Never say you’ve developed a tendre for the wallflower.”
Shit. Sam grabbed Nigel by the collar of his jacket, yanked him forward, and looked straight into his cold blue eyes. “She’s no more a wallflower than I am a saint. And my feelings for her”—Sam shoved his brother backward and released him—“are none of your damned concern.”
Chuckling, Nigel smoothed his collar. Regained his composure. “You fancy yourself the hero, do you? I suppose you’ll come charging to her rescue upon your white steed?”
“Maybe.” Sam was breathing hard from the Herculean effort it took to resist throwing Nigel against the wall and wreaking havoc right there in Torrington’s study.
“You’re no prince, Sam. You don’t even have a godforsaken cottage to live in,” Nigel said coolly. “Do you honestly think you could give her what she needs? What she wants?”
“That will be up to her to decide.”
Nigel picked up his snifter and threw back the rest of his brandy. “She’s already decided. She’s chosen me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Juliette and I have a past. I tasted those sweet lips long before you knew her name.”
Sam gripped the back of his chair. “I don’t care.”
“She’s a passionate creature, as you well know. But she’s also a practical sort. She wants what’s best for her uncle and her family.” Nigel rubbed the back of his neck as though it would pain him to say the next bit. “Even if you were capable of providing for her, your reputation as London’s greatest rogue would do naught but damage her standing in society. She and her sisters have been struggling to crawl out of the hole they were in, through no fault of their own. If this town were to discover that you lived with her—even for a brief time—you’d essentially be kicking the whole family back into a pit of disgrace.”
“You’re despicable,” Sam spat. “If you cared for Juliette, you wouldn’t threaten to expose her.”
Nigel shrugged. “In any case, she has agreed to let me take care of her.”
Bile rose in Sam’s throat, but he had to ask. “You are engaged?”
“Not precisely … but under my protection, she’ll want for nothing.”
Sam blinked, unbelieving. “I don’t understand. You intend to make Juliette your mistress?”
Leaning an elbow on the fireplace mantel, Nigel said, “If circumstances were different, I might have offered her marriage. As it is, her devotion to her lunatic uncle is a serious liability. So I intend to take Lady Clementine—the Duke of Grimby’s eldest chit—as my wife. She’s pitifully plain, but her dowry more than makes up for her looks. The duke intends to gift me several hundred acres adjacent to my estate in Yorkshire.” Nigel’s blue eyes gleamed with greed. “I set my sights on that land years ago, and now it shall be mine.”
Sam gaped, incredulous. “Juliette would never agree to be anyone’s mistress.”
“She is headstrong, no doubt. That’s why some … persuasion was required on my part. Perhaps it is not the life she envisioned for herself. However, her choices are limited now that…” Nigel let his words trail off.
“Now that what?” Sam demanded.
Nigel snorted. “You’ve defiled her.”
Sam stalked toward Nigel, his thoughts lethal. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I do,” Nigel replied nonchalantly. “Juliette admitted as much tonight. I don’t mind though. You’re merely the stable boy who’s broken my wild pony. I shall be the one to ride her.”
Sam tackled his brother before Nigel knew what hit him. The snifter flew out of his hand and shattered on the hearth. Nigel bucked beneath him, but Sam pinned his shoulders to the floor and spoke in a low, lethal tone. “Don’t speak of her that way.”
“Why not?” Nigel spat, his face purple with rage. “It’s the bloody truth.”
Sam cocked his fist. “Keep talking. See what happens.”
“Maybe if you’d controlled your baser urges…”
Damn it. Nigel was right—Sam was partially to blame for Juliette’s predicament. He let his fist drop and shoved himself off his brother. “I don’t believe a damned word that comes out of your mouth.”
Nigel sat up and coughed. “Fine. Ask her yourself.”
Sam was already heading for the study door. “It would be an insult to even ask her the question. But I will seek her out.” One look into her beautiful eyes would tell him everything he needed to know.
“Fool yourself if you like, brother.” Nigel barked a hollow laugh, stood, and dusted off his trousers. “If you think of it, inquire about the earrings she’s wearing.”
“We’ve more important matters to discuss than jewelry. If you’re even one tenth of the gentleman I thought you were, you’ll allow her and her uncle to remain in their house—without any remuneration.”
“And if I don’t?”
Sam paused at the doorway. “Then you’re ten times the scoundrel I ever was.”
Having delivered that parting shot with considerably more confidence than he felt, he went in search of Juliette.