Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love (Scandalous Seasons #4)(71)

There was one slight, yet significant difference.

Jonathan loved her enough to finally do the honorable thing.

Stay away.





Chapter 20


July 1819



Jonathan picked up his glass of whiskey and rolled it between his hands. He stared into the amber depths, the burnished orange-red hue put him in mind of hair the same color as a burnt sunset.

He set the glass down with a thunk. Liquid droplets splashed the surface of his desk, and onto the opened sketchpad.

He fixed his gaze on the book left by Juliet more than three months ago. The grinning visage of a gentleman who looked a good deal like him stared up from the page. Only this gentleman possessed an easy grin and a carefree spirit.

He no longer knew that man. That gentleman had died sometime in the days after he’d made the decision to not fight for Juliet.

Oh, that wasn’t to say the selfish scoundrel in him had at all respected his silent pledge he’d taken to stay away from Juliet. He’d gotten on his horse more times than he could count and galloped in the direction of Kent but always dug deep and found the strength to double-back around. A humorless grin turned his lips. Who would have imagined that someone else’s very happiness mattered to him more than his own?

“I have doubts you’ll be able to stand this evening, if you continue in this manner,” his mother snapped from the doorway.

He grinned and poured himself another. “Mother!” he said jovially, and raised his glass in mock salute.

Her frown deepened. She entered the room, and then trotting behind her came four dark-haired devils who’d tormented him for most of his life. They lined up in a single, determined line, arms folded across their chests.

Penelope glowered at him. “You smell hor–disgusting, Jonathan.” She bristled at the pointed looks thrown her way by her sisters. “What? I didn’t say horrid. I said disgusting.”

A still familiar pain pierced his heart. Juliet had tried valiantly to strike that single word from his sisters’ vernacular. It appeared in the end, she’d proven mostly successful. Would the pain of losing her ever fade? He forced a smile for their behalf. “How lovely it is to see—”

Poppy stuck a finger out, silencing him. “Stuff it, Jonathan.”

He blinked. “You called me Jonathan.”

She threw her arms into the air. “Of course I did. No decent, proper young lady would refer to her brother as Sin. Surely you know that?”

“Neither do young ladies throw their arms up in a dramatic fashion,” Prudence muttered under her breath. Four pairs of eyes swung in her direction. She shifted back and forth upon her slippered feet. “I was merely pointing out that detail. Not that I don’t agree with Poppy. Because I do. A young lady mustn—”

“Please, ladies.” Patrina shook her head with the somberness of a Society matron and not the young minx who’d done something so foolhardy as to nearly elope with a heartless cad. “We mustn’t lose focus on the purpose of this visit.”

Five pairs of eyes swiveled back to Jonathan. He swallowed a groan at the determined sets to their mouths. He’d well learned over the years when the ladies in his household wore those defiant expressions, the best course was either to flee or hide. Alas, between the five of them fixed between him and the door, they posed quite an impenetrable wall. He propped his hip on the edge of the leather sofa. “Well, on with it then? Is it more pin money you seek?”

Penelope gasped. “You are hor—reprehensible, Jonathan. We are not here to discuss the matter of pin money.” Pause. “Though if you’d care to increase your generousness—”

“Penelope,” Mother said with a pointed frown.

The girl colored. “I was merely saying if he wanted to increase it, we shan’t protest. But, yes, that isn’t the matter for this visit.”

His heart pulled at the change wrought by Juliet on his incorrigible sisters. Horrid stricken from the vernacular. Well, nearly anyway. The girls were making a marked, and impressive attempt. He was Sin no more, but Jonathan to the girls who’d always appreciated a flourish for the dramatic.

Poppy took a step toward him. “You know, Penelope is correct,” she said, as though it pained her to make such an admission.

Time should have taught him to not respond to Poppy’s bait. He quirked an eyebrow.

She sniffed the air. “You smell horr…” She glared at her sisters’ deliberate looks. “I was going to say horrendous.”

Patrina nodded her head once. “I don’t normally agree with Poppy, but you smell as though you’ve been bathing in brandy.”

“Whiskey,” he corrected.

Penelope’s eyes went wide. “You’ve been bathing in whiskey?”

“Have I been…?” Jonathan pressed his fingers against his temples and rubbed. They were giving him a dashed megrim. “No, I have not been bathing in whiskey, I was merely...” He waved a hand. “Never mind, what are you all on about?”

His sisters looked toward Mother. She smoothed her hands along her skirts, and cleared her throat. “We are here about your Miss Marshville,” she said as calmly as if she’d said, ‘I’ve ordered tea and biscuits for refreshments’.

He took a sip of whiskey. “My Miss Marshville?”