Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love (Scandalous Seasons #4)(60)

Jonathan scrubbed his hands over his face, and when he dropped them at his side, she staggered back a step under the icy hardness that sharpened the harsh, angular planes of his face. A muscle ticked at the corner of his eye. “Who was he?”

She angled her head, suddenly nervous of this fierce stranger she’d never before encountered.

“I want his name, and he will regret having dared to put a hand upon you.”

And in that moment, she fell in love with him all over again. She knew it imprudent, and hopeless as nothing could ever come of anything with Jonathan, the Earl of Sinclair, but she loved him. A man who believed her without reservation, who wanted to protect her like she was a cherished young lady in need of protecting—when no one had looked after her in so very long. Juliet swallowed hard.

Jonathan’s back straightened, and his head whipped toward the entrance of the copse, from which Lord Williams had disappeared a short while ago. “It was him. That day in Hyde Park, when you claimed to have dropped your kerchief, you were in fact hiding from him, weren’t you?”

She hesitated, and knowing any further attempt at prevarication futile, nodded once.

His eyes narrowed into near-impenetrable slits. “He propositioned you, didn’t he? That is why he came for you this afternoon.” An edge, hard as the steel press of a blade, underlined his question.

Juliet rocked back and forth on her heels. “He spoke of Newgate. He suggested—”

“You aren’t going to Newgate,” he cut in with the bold conviction that could only be evinced by a man in possession of a lofty age-old title.

“You can’t prevent him from seeking justice, Jonathan.”

“Justice? There would be no justice in that.” He shook his head, and a black lock tumbled over his eye, the only softening to this stone-faced earl. “I will protect you. No harm will come to you as long as you belong to me.”

Her heart skipped several beats, and then settled in a fast, pounding rhythm. He spoke so effortlessly of protecting her; of her belonging to him. But in what way? In no way that could ever be honorable. He spoke with all the resilient determination of a man who’d not known the desperation of being alone, at the mercy of those around him. He pledged to protect her, but his were not the words of a gentleman seeking marriage to her.

Or were they?

“Are you offering marriage?” The lone cry of a kestrel above was her only response. She smiled sadly up at his unflinching face. “I didn’t believe so, Jonathan. You would make me your mistress, but I’ll never become your lover.” It would take her heart apart piece by piece to spend the fleeting days as his lover, knowing he’d wed, and one-day tire of her.

His jaw flexed. “I would take care of you, Juliet.”

“I don’t want to be with a man solely because he’ll take care of me," she interjected in hushed tones. “I want to marry a man because he cares for me, because he loves me.” She held her palms up. “I’d wed a gentleman because he can’t live a life without me.” She somehow gathered the words on his lips before he even uttered them. “I’d not have a man outside the bonds of matrimony. I have too much respect for myself, Jonathan.”

Something stirred to life in his eyes; something powerful and harsh.

Juliet winced at the curse that burst from his lips.

He held his arm out. “This is not finished, Juliet,” he said between gritted teeth.

A sad smile turned the corners of her lips downward as she placed her fingers on his coat sleeves and allowed him to escort her home.

It had been finished before it had ever truly begun.





Chapter 17


Jonathan and Juliet made their way inside the townhouse, silent, unspeaking. Tension thrummed through his body. He glared at her from the corner of his eye.

She’d rejected him. He had offered her protection. As his mistress, she’d want for nothing…and she’d replied with a curt no.

No.

She’d said bloody no.

If someone had told him a fortnight ago that he, Jonathan, Earl of Sinclair, unrepentant rogue, and Sin to all Society would be sulking like a petulant child all because a woman had rejected him, he’d have had a bloody good laugh in their face. If that same someone had told him a spirited governess would reject his offer, well, he probably would have—

“Jonathan,” his mother cried. She all but sprinted toward the foyer, her skirts swirled wildly about her feet. “I must speak to you at once.” She skidded to an ungraceful halt as her gaze caught Juliet.

“Not now,” he said curtly.

Juliet bowed her head like she was a damned servant and hurried above stairs.

His mother’s gaze, steeped in loathing and outrage, took in Juliet’s fast-retreating form. “Jonathan, there is a matter of urgency demanding your attention.”

He cursed roundly. Her eyes went wide. “Whatever it is, it can wait,” he bit out. He needed a stiff whiskey, two or three of them, and a trip to his clubs. He did not need to attend business, and more, he did not need to be under the same roof with Juliet Marshville this afternoon.

“It is a matter of urgency, Jonathan!” As if to punctuate his mother’s dramatic exclamation, Poppy appeared above stairs, tear streaks upon her face, lower lip quivering. All his pent-up frustration and hurt shifted at the sight of his sister.