Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love (Scandalous Seasons #4)(20)

She flinched, remembering the poor, porcelain shepherdess and her whole flock of porcelain sheep that had been shattered in his boy-like outburst. “If he harms any of the staff, Lillian, you are to send word.”

Lillian blew her nose once again. “And what will you do, Miss Juliet? There will be nothing you can do.”

Guilt twisted in her stomach, for Lillian spoke correctly on this matter. Juliet had managed to temper her brother’s childlike outbursts through the years, having learned long ago to diffuse his shows of temper. Who would help them now?

Lillian must have seen guilt stamped on her face, for she stuffed her soiled kerchief into her apron front. “Oh, miss, don’t look like that.”

“Like what?”

“All guilty like.” She brushed back the tears on her cheeks. “Why, you’re indeed correct. This is surely the best thing to happen to you.”

Well, Juliet hadn’t said that exactly. Fine, was a good deal different than the best thing to ever happen. She chose not to point out that very detail to the suddenly brightening maid.

The butler, Peter, appeared in the doorway, sadness etched in his heavily wrinkled face. “A servant has arrived from the Earl of Sinclair’s home, Miss Juliet.”

Lillian launched into another round of blubbering. She threw her arms unceremoniously around Juliet’s neck and squeezed hard.

“Oh, Lillian,” she murmured, and smoothed her hands reassuringly over the sobbing girls’ back.

A sheen of crystal drops glazed Peter’s warm brown eyes.

Oh, no, not Peter too. The stoic, somber servant who’d been with the family since she’d been a mere girl had never been given to shows of emotion.

He cleared his throat, and hurried to pick up Juliet’s valise.

Before Juliet’s courage deserted her, she gave Lillian a final, gentle squeeze, stepped away, and began the short walk to the front door and her new life and role as governess. She made it no further than the foyer where the earl’s servant stood patiently waiting near the door.

Albert stepped directly into her path. A mere inch or so taller than herself, he’d never intimidated her with his height but more the cold, malevolent glitter in his unfeeling eyes.

She tipped her chin and boldly met his gaze. “Albert,” she greeted, and made to step around him.

He shifted his bulky frame and effectively blocked her escape. “You’ve become Sinclair’s whore,” he hissed.

Heat flooded her cheeks, and she glanced pointedly at the servants. “Have a care, Albert,” she demanded with quiet firmness. Regardless of their faithfulness through the years, Juliet had long ago learned that servants had loose lips. “I’d become his governess, because work as a governess would be preferable to the offer presented by your friend, Lord Williams,” she spat. Her gaze caught the Earl of Sinclair’s footman. The handsome, liveried servant averted his eyes. She shifted her attention back to Albert, studying him, as she tried to sort it all out. Why, why would her fool brother have such a volatile reaction to her leaving? He’d always treated her as nothing more than a nuisance. He had little intention of giving her a London Season having blamed it on the expenses.

Albert lowered his head. His lips pulled back in a snarl. “You’d reject Lord Williams’ offer and become a maid.”

“His was not a respectable…” Her words died on her lips. She had assumed her brother believed Lord Williams intended to make her an honest offer of marriage, and it occurred to her in that moment. “You knew?” she breathed.

Albert rocked back on his heels, but did not deny the charge she’d leveled at him.

Her brother had known of Lord Williams’ offer and had left her alone with the fiend, and…then all the pieces of the confounded puzzle slipped into their respective places. “You owe him money, don’t you?” she whispered.

Color suffused his cheeks. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Of course, Albert owed Lord Williams money, surely for lost wagers, and he’d offered her as his whore. Her skin crawled like so many spiders had found a home upon her skin, and she rubbed her arms to drive back the chill inside her. “You wastrel. You are an odious, horrible—” she gasped as he shot his hand out and wrapped his fingers tight around her wrist. He squeezed hard enough to rob her of breath.

The earl’s servant took a deliberate step forward, and her brother released her with sudden alacrity. He eyed the footman a moment, and then lowered his head close to hers. “You’ll become nothing but Sinclair’s whore.”

And because she knew it would enrage him, she smiled and said, “Perhaps, but at least it would be my choice.”

He raised his forearm, and the footman took another step forward. Albert’s hand fell back to his side, and with a final glare for Juliet spun on his heel and left.

She looked after him a long moment, a familiar sadness filling her at this apathy her brother carried for her. Then, Peter handed her valise over to the waiting footman, and she promptly shoved thoughts of Albert to the furthest recess of her mind.

Peter proceeded to wring his gnarled hands together. Juliet walked over to the old servant took his hands in hers, staying the movement. She leaned up and placed a kiss on his wizened cheek. “I shall miss you, Peter.”

He cleared his throat. “And I you,” he said gruffly.