Page 26 of Odd Earl Out
After a short time, he gave up worrying over the damage to the floors of a ballroom he never used, or agonizing over the imagined recriminations of a father who’d died more than a decade ago. Instead, he simply enjoyed himself, until his father’s outraged voice faded to silence in his head.
“Lady Cora’s aim is dead on, isn’t it?” Barnaby’s eyes were bright, and his face flushed with laughter. “Watch, Cross.”
Lady Cora sent her bowl flying across the ballroom, letting out a squeal of delight as it nudged against the jack, then gripped Juliet’s arm, jumping up and down.
“Did you see that, Cross? Very pretty, Lady Cora!” Barnaby rushed back over to the ladies and handed Juliet her ball. “Go on, Miss Templeton. It’s your turn.”
Juliet stood in the middle of the melee with long strands of her dark hair coming loose from its coil, cradling the bowl in the palm of her hand. She took a dainty step forward, and with a graceful swing of her arm, tossed her bowl onto the green with such force it hit Lord Ambrose’s bowl with a crack, and sent it skittering out of bounds.
Lady Cora let out a shout of glee as Juliet’s ball rolled slowly down the green as if the hand of God himself were guiding it, until it came to a stop so close to the jack, one couldn’t slide a shilling between them.
“Well done, Miss Templeton!” Barnaby cried, bursting into enthusiastic applause. “I daresay both you and Lady Cora would be crack shots. Do either of you hunt?”
Juliet’s reply was lost in the commotion, but she was beaming, her blue eyes alight with the fun of it, much as they had been that day in London, when he’d escorted her through Lady Hammond’s rose gardens, and she’d teased him aboutRomeo and Julietbeing a romance, instead of a tragedy.
Which was nonsense, of course.
But she’d been right about the bowls. A bit of exercise was just what was needed, particularly for his younger guests, who’d grown dull and listless from too much time indoors. Now everywhere he looked, there were flushed cheeks, and wide smiles.
Or nearly everywhere.
Lady Cecil and her nieces had declined to participate in any activity that included Juliet Templeton, and a dozen or so of his haughtier guests had followed suit. One by one, they’d all turned up their noses at her.
The rumors were as ugly, as vicious as Juliet had told him they were. He already knew that to be the case, as he’d made a few discreet inquiries into the matter, and had had a long discussion with Lady Fosberry, but no one who witnessed his guests’ behavior today could possibly doubt it. They were as swollen with venom as a swarm of insects bloated with blood.
Yet for all their staring and muttering and glowering, Juliet’s smile never dimmed. She chatted with Lady Fosberry, and laughed with Lady Cora and Barnaby, her lips curved with delight.
There wasn’t a shred of guilt on that conscience. No lady who’d schemed and machinated as thetoninsisted Juliet had done could smile with such a pure joy as that. It was like the sun bursting over the horizon, warming everything it touched.
She’d told him the truth from the start. She hadn’t had anything to do with the scandal, but was merely a victim of vicious gossip, as so many others before her had been.
Had he ever truly believed otherwise? Or was he just a coward?
It was much safer to hate Juliet Templeton than it was to love her…
Because in the end, it didn’t make any difference. She might be as blameless as a newborn babe, her heart as pure as a beam of moonlight, as pristine as a blanket of sparkling new snow, and it wouldn’t change a thing.
That infectious smile was meant to be shared.
And that…thatwas the danger of Juliet Templeton.
Not just dangerous for him, but dangerous forher.
That smile made him wish for things he had no right to want—made him forget he was still his father’s son. How long would she survive with a man like him, in a place like this, before that sunrise of a smile froze on her lips? How long before it disappeared entirely?
A year? Maybe two?
Juliet Templeton wasn’t for him. If he’d forgotten who he was for a few short, delirious weeks in London—had wished for something more—he had only to be grateful he’d regained his senses before he made a dreadful mistake.
ChapterNine
Juliet was balanced on her tiptoes, reaching for a book on a shelf above her head when Lord Cross burst through the library door, then slammed it closed behind him again with an echoing thump. “Why aren’t Barnaby and Lady Cora betrothed yet?”
She jumped, the book’s spine slipped from her fingers, and would have hit her on the head if he hadn’t darted forward and caught it just in time. “For pity’s sake, Lord Cross, you must stop bursting upon me like that! I’m right here, so there’s no need for you to…”
Shout.
She never got the last word past her lips, because when she turned to face him, he was much closer than she’d anticipated, with one long arm braced on the bookshelf above her, his fitted coat straining at his shoulders, and her tongue grew too thick to utter a sound.
