Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love (Scandalous Seasons #4)(31)

“I thought to begin with watercolors and charcoal, my lady. If that meets with your approval.”

“It does,” Jonathan interjected. He picked up his cold coffee and took another sip. “Perhaps we might spend this day shopping for any items you might require to deliver your instruction.” Usually loath to shop in London, he found he preferred the intimate time it afforded him with his new governess.

“You want to shop again?” Prudence shot back incredulously. She shook her head. She and Patrina spoke in unison. “You never want to shop.”

Prudence continued on. “First the ribbons, and now the…”

He fixed his eyes on her from over the rim of his glass of coffee. She lowered her brows. He stared back intently.

“Er, I meant to say how very fortunate we are to have a brother as you,” she said with a nauseating sweetness.

He stole a glance at his mother to find whether she’d detected the patent insincerity in his sister’s words, but her face remained set in the smooth, unbothered lines he’d come to expect of the graceful countess. Instead, she remained focused on Juliet. “You are proficient in art, then, Miss Marsh?”

Juliet hesitated a moment, and then nodded once. “I am proficient, my lady, particularly with charcoals.”

Mother wrinkled her brow. “Charcoals, you say? That is rather unconventional,” she said as if more to herself.

Juliet inclined her head. “It is, my lady. I began when I was Poppy’s age.” Then she looked to Jonathan. “Nor do I require any supplies at this time, my lord. I have an adequate amount of materials for each of the girls.”

He absently swirled the contents of his glass. Like hell she did. A trio of groans sounded about the table at the end of the girls’ dream of a shopping trip. He frowned as with their dreams went his hope of an additional meeting with the lovely Miss Marshville. “I insist, Miss Marsh.”

Alas, she demonstrated a warrior’s determination. Juliet leaned forward in her seat. “And I insist that we do not require anything at this time. My lord,” she added almost as an afterthought.

Mother cleared her throat. Juliet and Jonathan jumped. “It is settled then, I believe, Jonathan.”

The hell it was. Jonathan took a final sip of his coffee and set it down. He tipped his head in Juliet’s direction. “Very well, Miss Marsh. If you, however require anything of me, if you are in need of anything you can but ask and I’ll see your desires met.” From the heightened hue upon her cheeks, his clever Juliet had clearly followed the double entendre behind his very deliberate words.

She shoved back her chair and surged to her feet so quickly, the delicate wood scraped upon the wood floor. “Shall we begin then, my ladies?”

Poppy and Penelope stared at her like she’d sprouted a second head, whereas Prudence… His frown deepened. Whereas Prudence had a knowing glint in her entirely too young eyes.

Jonathan gave a quick clap of his hands. “I bid thee good day, my lovely sisters.”

Penelope pointed at him. “You’ll promise to take us shopping though?”

“Of course,” he assured her with deliberate somberness. He marked an X upon his chest. “I am a brother of his word.”

His three sisters looked between one another, and seemed to come to a silent, unspoken consensus for they all nodded in unison and trotted after Juliet like a bevy of Prinny’s pugs.

Jonathan shifted in his seat to better avail himself to his view of Juliet’s sweetly rounded, departing derriere.

“Jonathan!” his mother snapped.

He forced his attention back to his mother’s suspicious stare. “Hmm, uh-yes, Mother?”

“Now that we’ve addressed the matter of the governess…”

Now that he’d addressed the matter…

“There is the matter of your future countess.”

Patrina inclined her head looking entirely too much like Mother. One mother was quite enough. Two was not to be countenanced. “And it is a very important matter, Jonathan.”

He bit back a curse and reached for his coffee. He peered into his glass with a frown. Empty. Jonathan sighed and set it back down. “It is not enough that I’ve found us Miss Marsh?” He drummed his fingers upon the mahogany surface of the table.

“It is certainly not.” Mother placed her folded hands in front of her. “Miss Marsh will not secure the Sinclair line.”

Except with those eight words uttered all manner of wicked thoughts paraded through his mind; wicked thoughts that involved Miss Marsh upon his bed and her sweet thighs spread wide in invitation as she secured the Sinclair line.

His mother continued, fortunately unaware of his desirous thoughts involving the delectable Juliet. “I understand you courted the Duke of Somerset’s niece, but the young lady is now married. Her cousin would make you an excellent match.”

He snorted. Her cousin? As in the Lady Beatrice Dennington. With her golden ringlets and soft-spoken, well-modulated tone she could not be more different than the vibrant, spirited Juliet Marshville. No, Lady Beatrice could not hold a candle to Juliet’s effervescent glow.

“Do not make that face, Jonathan.”

“And what face is that, Mother?” he drawled.

She motioned toward him. “The one that suggests you find Lady Beatrice dull.”