Page 23 of Odd Earl Out
“Do we have an agreement, Miss Templeton? Lady Cora and Lord Barnaby in exchange for your sister and Melrose?”
He made it sound bloodless, indeed.
Yet it didn’t have to be, did it? Her visit to Steeple Cross had been ill-conceived, ill-timed, and ill-executed, but if she trulycouldhelp bring Lord Barnaby and Lady Cora together, and see them happy in each other, mightn’t it help restore her flagging faith in love? Perhaps she wasn’t destined for a happy ending herself, but to give up on love entirely was unthinkable.
If one lost that faith—ifshelost it—what did she have left?
“Well, Miss Templeton?”
He was gazing down at her, his handsome face half hidden in the shadows cast by the firelight. He looked a perfect devil, with those stern lips and dark, gleaming eyes.
If a lady was going to wager her soul, she’d best make it worth it, hadn’t she? “Very well, my lord. We have an agreement, as long as you’re willing to make one final concession. It’s just a tiny, insignificant thing.”
He let out a sigh so heavy it threatened to snuff out the fire. “What now?”
Oh, he wasn’t going to like this at all, but then that’s what made it so delicious. “I want you to sayplease.”
Silence. Then, in a tone that could only be described as a growl, “You want me towhat?”
She ran a fingertip over the marble mantel, fighting a smirk. “I want you to ask me once more for your favor, but this time, I want you to sayplease.”
It was childish of her to take such delight in tormenting him, but the thrill of sweet vengeance was rushing through her veins. It wasn’t every day such an arrogant, overbearing lord was forced to beg a scandalous lady for help, especially after he’d made it clear he could hardly stand the sight of her.
But if there was ever a man who needed a firm set-down, it was the Earl of Cross.
“Miss Templeton, will youpleasedo me the honor of favoring me with your assistance with my cousin’s courtship of Lady Cora Drummond?”
Were his teeth clenched? They were! Why, how tremendously gratifying. She bit her lip, but it was no use. She could feel the pull of a wicked little smile in her cheeks. “If I didn’t know it to be impossible, Lord Cross, I might believeyou’djust beggedmefor a favor.”
“Idid,” he ground out. “Do we have an understanding?”
She gazed up at him, into the dark eyes she’d so admired in London. They were narrowed to slits, and his mouth was pulled into a forbidding line. He was, once again, the detached, imperious earl every young lady in London feared.
Butshe’dnever feared him, and she didn’t fear him now. “Will you promise to do as I say, without question, as regards the courtship? I may not be a matchmaking genius, but I imagine I know more about it thanyoudo, and I refuse to argue every point with you.”
“Yes,” he muttered, his teeth still clenched. “I promise.”
She raised her chin, and met that fearsome stare without a quiver. “Then I believe we have an agreement, Lord Cross.”
ChapterEight
Three days had passed since Miles had struck his bargain with Juliet Templeton. Three calm, quiet, peaceful days, days in which he hardly heard her voice, or saw her face.
There were no theatrics. None of his volumes of Shakespeare went astray, only to be discovered days later among his history tomes, or his father’s political discourses. There wasn’t a speck of mud on his entryway floors. There were no brawls, duels, ruinations, or conflagrations.
It had been, dare he say… serene?
Yet somehow, they’d been the longest three days of his life.
Juliet attended dinner every evening, but she spoke only to Lady Fosberry, Barnaby, and Lady Cora and her mother. If he did happen to come across her during the day, she was invariably gazing out a window, through the rain-streaked glass to the grounds beyond.
Alone. She was always alone, but if she was lonely, it wasn’t forhiscompany.
If their paths did happen to cross, she pretended not to see him.
Which was how he preferred it, of course. He didn’t need Juliet Templeton hanging about, distracting and provoking him, her dark lashes fluttering over those deep blue eyes, a stream of nonsense issuing from between those parted red lips, the soft tendrils of her dark hair against the white skin of her neck making his fingertips ache to touch, to stroke…
Indeed, he wasgratefulfor the reprieve, because while she may have gone dormant, like a caterpillar snug in its chrysalis, she was sure to find her way back out soon enough, and then there’d be beating wings, and all manner of flapping and fluttering about.
