Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love (Scandalous Seasons #4)(54)

Penelope furrowed her brow. “Even Prudence?” Incredulity underscored her question.

“Even Prudence,” Juliet said with a smile.

“Do you know, Miss Marsh, I wish Sin would make you his wife.”

Juliet stared unblinkingly at Penelope. Words eluded her.

“I do,” Penelope insisted. “You’re ever so lovely and kind and talented.” She beat her sketchpad against her thigh. “Mother will have him wed one of those landscape sketching misses, I’m sure of it.”

Even at the tender age of thirteen the clever girl had already realized the truth of their world. Earls wed genteel young ladies, not those women who encouraged free thought in young girls. “Penelope, you shouldn’t say such things,” she murmured.

Penelope slashed her sketchpad through the air. “Bah, why? I imagine you care for him.”

Her cheeks blazed.

“And do you know how many times he’s visited us in our studies prior to you, Miss Marsh?” She didn’t wait for Juliet’s response. “Not once. Now he’s taking us shopping for ribbons.” She caught Juliet’s gaze. “Ribbons! And he detests shopping. Yet, he eagerly joined us because of you, I’m sure of it.”

“Penelope,” she chided. Jonathan wasn’t the sort of gentleman to join his sisters on a shopping expedition solely for the purpose of Juliet Marshville’s company. “Your brother is merely being attentive.”

Penelope snorted “Attentive to you, perhaps.” She planed her arms akimbo. “Do you care for him?” she asked baldly.

Juliet choked. “Penelope!”

“You do!” The girl’s eyes widened. “I was certain of it.”

She could not afford to have the girl’s scandalous charge reach the Countess of Sinclair. “No,” Juliet said hurriedly, because it would be tantamount to disaster if the sisters took it upon their head to play matchmaker between their roguish nobleman of a brother, and her, their governess. Information in these girls’ hands, even if well intentioned by one or two of them would be ruinous. “You are wrong.”

Penelope studied her for a moment. She lowered her eyebrows. “You do not care for him, then?”

I love him. Juliet shook her head. “He is my employer, Penelope,” she said with a gentle firmness. She was saved from saying anything further on the dangerous subject, for the door flew open so fast it bounced off the wall and nearly hit Poppy in the face. She kicked the door closed behind her.

I really must begin instructing the girls on the proper way to enter and exit a room.

“Poppy, you mustn’t just barge into a person’s chambers,” Penelope scolded, sounding more a young governess than young girl.

“Stuff it, Penny,” her sister muttered. She began to pace a frantic path at the entrance of the room.

Juliet bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling at the ever-dramatic Poppy. She’d come to learn the girl would reveal her thoughts all in due time, no prodding necessary.

Poppy paused mid-stride and flung a forearm across her brow. “It is a disaster. A complete and total disaster. We must do something. Anything.”

Penelope rolled her eyes nearly to the back of her head. “Oh, Poppy, must you—”

“It’s Sin.”

Juliet’s heart paused. She wet her lips. She should gently discourage the girl from gossiping about her brother. She should guide her back to her chambers. Alas, she had increasingly of late seemed incapable of doing, as she should. “What is it, Poppy?"

Poppy slammed her fist into her open palm. “That Lady Beatrice,” she said between gritted teeth. “Simpering and fawning.” The girl proceeded to titter behind her hand, and dropped her gaze to the floor in what Juliet suspected was a rendition of the young lady.

A dull pain built in Juliet’s chest. She rubbed at the spot, to no avail.

“What of Sin?” Penelope demanded.

God love the girl for asking the question Juliet daren’t ask.

Poppy growled. She stalked over to Juliet’s bed and collapsed upon it, arms spread wide, gaze fixed up on the canopy above her head. “He’s…he’s…flirting with her in return,” she said on a lamentable moan.

Of course he was. A rogue of the first order, a gentleman like the Earl of Sinclair was incapable of anything less. Only, Juliet knew of the likelihood of a match between Jonathan and the Lady Beatrice. This was no mere flirtation. And worse, knew there was every likelihood that this Lady Beatrice would in fact become the future Countess of Sinclair. Her heart cracked and bled. She glanced down stunned to find no crimson mark of her despair upon her modest ivory wrapper.

“She’s gone all quiet,” Poppy whispered, and shoved herself up on her elbows.

Penelope shook her head. “Of course she did, you ninny. She cares for him.”

Juliet shook her head, Penelope’s words sinking into her brain. “No!” she exclaimed, and then, “No.” There, vastly more steady than that first exclamation.

The sisters shared a look.

“I do not care for your brother,” Juliet said quickly. The girls’ lips turned down in matching frowns. “Er, that is, as anything more than a benevolent employer.” The implications of the girls’ pronouncement robbed her of coherent thought. If these two, innocent, inexperienced young girls should have detected her feelings for Jonathan then surely the countess had, and worse… Her eyes slid closed.