Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love (Scandalous Seasons #4)(37)

Poppy winked. “We’re free of them,” she whispered.

“Poppy,” she gently scolded. Though secretly, she could admit to being very, very pleased by Poppy’s kind gesture.





Chapter 11


Juliet shifted the burden of her basket from one hand to the other as she and Poppy walked through Hyde Park, onward toward the Serpentine River. In the distance she detected a flash of Lady Beatrice’s pretty pink skirts alongside the girls’ matching ivory ones. One of Lord Westfield’s servants snapped open a stark white blanket, vivid upon the lush green grass.

“Do you know, Miss Marsh, I believe you don’t like them either,” Poppy mused aloud.

Juliet warmed and her attention flew back to the girl who strolled at her side. “Of course I like them.” Pause. “Though, I do not know them, so I’ll reserve judgment.” Not that she would ever really come to know Lord Westfield and his angelic sister. They may as well have moved within entirely different worlds.

Juliet stumbled a bit, and Poppy reached for the basket. “Allow me, Miss Marsh. I, insist,” she said with a resolute set to her shoulders when Juliet made a sound of protest. She relinquished the basket to the girl’s care. As they walked, Poppy pointed her finger excitedly over at the long-necked swans that floated within the placid river. “I should like to sketch that, Miss Marsh. He’s ever so lovely.”

They paused at the edge of the water “Indeed,” Juliet said, and stopped beside Poppy to admire the graceful creature as it dipped its long neck beneath the surface. The swan resurfaced moments later with a wildly flapping trout between its mouth. They stood in companionable silence, both seeming to appreciate their unfettered view of the pelicans and ducks as they glided over the water.

The occasional gentleman would pause to tip the brim of his hat in her direction. The glimmer of interest in their lustful eyes, at odds with the gentlemanly acknowledgement.

Poppy wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like them, either.”

“Who?”

“Those…those gentlemen who continue to look at you. They remind me of Patrina when she’d sneak into the kitchens to steal one of Cooks’ tarts.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “And do you know, I believe Sin wouldn’t care for it, either.”

Juliet snorted, even as she sought out the sinful earl in the distance. She instantly recognized the broad set of his muscular shoulders in the sapphire blue coat. “Perhaps,” she said at last. In actuality, she didn’t think he’d much care. Rogue-like gentlemen kissed a lady senseless in one moment, and didn’t have another thought about it. With his wicked grins and husky whispers, Jonathan was a rogue in every sense of the word.

A kestrel cried in the distance, and a chill stole down her spine as a sense of impending calamity snaked through her body

“What is it, Miss Marsh?” Poppy murmured at her side.

“Hmm?” The tips of her toes curled in the soles of her slipper. Her gaze lingered upon the crystal ripples that rolled across the river surface. She could now admit, the volatile feelings Jonathan roused inside had filled her with no small amount of panic. “Come along,” Juliet said. “We’ll find a more secluded area where we might sit, and you might sketch.”

As they continued on, the young girl prattled on about what she intended to sketch, what might pose a good place in which to best view the pelicans.

Gravel crunched beneath the slight heel of Juliet’s slippers as they made their way further down the path, toward the enormous boulders that lined the end of the trail. She paused a moment and glanced back at where Jonathan and his sisters sat with Lord Westfield and Lady Beatrice. Another frisson of unease unfurled within her, and she brushed off the unpleasant sensation, continuing on with Poppy.

And froze.

The breath left her on a swift exhale, and a loud humming filled her ears as her gaze locked upon a gentleman seated astride a familiar midnight black mare with equally black eyes. The gentleman expertly guided his horse down a nearby riding path. A very familiar gentleman with brown hair and so-blue-they-were-nearly-black eyes; black like Lucifer’s and a heart to match the fallen angel’s. Oh God. Her stomach roiled, and she glanced around, consumed with a desperate urge to flee. Except logic told Juliet if she were to make any sudden movement, Lord Williams’ eyes would lock on her like a practiced hunter tracking its prey.

“Miss Marsh?” Poppy inquired.

Lord Williams nudged his horse to a slow gallop, an entirely too-quick pace in the crowded park.

Juliet cursed and dropped to her knees, and with infinite care motioned Poppy over.

Poppy dropped to her haunches and joined Juliet beside the enormous boulder that fully shielded the girl’s small, slender frame.

Juliet swallowed hard, never hating her own height more than she did in this moment.

“What is it?” Poppy whispered. She pulled at Juliet’s hand.

She nodded fast. “Er, I thought mayhap we might best view the pelicans and swans here,” she lied; praying her charge wasn’t practiced at identifying lies.

“Uh-oh, well, then,” Poppy hopped up, and went to retrieve the basked she’d dropped.

All the while Juliet prayed Lord Williams had continued on. She clenched her eyes tight, as horror upon horror revisited her. His hand on her breast. His mouth over hers. The thick, crystal candelabra she’d brought down upon his head. Then the blood. There’d been so much blood. Her breath came in quick-gasping spurts and she knew the lords and ladies passing along on the walking trail eyed her with something akin to horror. But not for all the wealth in the world could she still the panicked beat of her heart. She pressed herself even tighter against the boulder.