"Only around you, apparently."
A lock of his hair had fallen across his forehead, and like that night he'd slept in the library, she gave into her impulse and reached over to smooth it back. Before she could pull her hand away, he grasped her wrist. And because she wore short gloves, his fingers wrapped around her bare skin.
Juliet had gone too far. She'd allowed her impulses to take over her common sense, and now . . .
"I can assure you, Lady Juliet," he said, still holding her wrist, "that I don't mind your questions."
Lord Locken's hold was loose enough that she knew she could disengage, but she didn't want to. His hand was warm and strong, and the feel of his skin against her wrist sent daggers of heat along her arm.
"Well, then," she said in a quiet voice, "are you going to answer them?"
He turned her wrist over so that her palm was up. Then he leaned over it and pressed a kiss on the inside of her wrist.
Juliet couldn't breathe for a moment, and she was positive her heart had skipped a beat, or two.
Lord Locken lifted his head and met her gaze. In the depths of his eyes, she could see it . . . the same things she felt, the same draw, the same intensity of feelings. Would he tell her he'd changed his mind about Lady Diana and that his father's opinions held no consequence?
No, she thought. He would not. So when he rubbed his thumb lightly over the place on her wrist where he'd kissed, she knew this gesture was his only allowance. Whatever might have been, whatever could have been, was already over.
"Lady Juliet, you can be secure in knowing that any compliments given to you by any of the gentlemen at this house party are indeed sincere." He released her wrist. "Laurence Talbot mentioned how he was impressed with both your intellect and beauty."
Juliet drew her hand away and wished she didn't feel so empty, so bereft. The news Lord Locken had delivered should make her heart soar. Mr. Talbot was a fine man, and he was nice-looking as well. He still had his youth, all his teeth, a full head of hair, wonderful manners, and he didn't smell bad. Juliet didn't know whether to laugh at her inane judgments or cry because the man who made her heart flutter and her dreams sweet had made his intentions clear-for another woman.
"Mr. Talbot is a kind gentleman," she said, lifting her gaze.
Lord Locken simply stared at her, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
"Are you well acquainted with him?" she asked.
He blinked. "With whom?"
"Mr. Talbot."
"Ah, yes." Lord Locken urged his horse forward, and Juliet's moved in accord. "We are distant cousins, on the same side as Lady Diana." They reached a stream, and he let his horse drink, and Juliet's followed suit.
"If you marry Mr. Talbot," he said after a moment, "you and I will likely cross paths in the future. Perhaps at one of our weddings. You might even be cursed with the opportunity to meet my father, should he live that long."
His tone was flat, and she should probably let the subject drop, but she didn't. "Is your father very ill?"
Lord Locken's jaw flexed. "It depends on how you define ill. If you define it based on temper and general drunkenness, then he's been ill as long as I can remember. If you define it based on how close a man is to his deathbed, the physician has given him less than a year. Says he will not make it through another wet winter."
Despite the bitter words about his father, Juliet knew Lord Locken was hurt-she could hear it in his tone of voice. "I'm sorry for his pain and your pain."
Lord Locken reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded letter. "Before you feel sorry for my father's slow progress toward death, maybe you should read his latest letter to his only child."
Juliet stared at the letter in his hands. He wanted her to read his personal correspondence? She took the letter and turned it over. Lord Locken's name was scrawled on the front in a spidery handwriting. She felt his gaze upon her as she unfolded the letter. It was a single page, but there were plenty of words in the same spidery writing, filling almost all the space.
She read slowly, digesting each word of the letter. Halfway through, she wished she'd never laid eyes on the thing. The words were cutting, harsh, and insulting. The Duke of Wycliff clearly held the threat of disinheritance over his son's head. But that wasn't the most disturbing thing about the letter. The duke wrote how he wished he'd never had a son and how he should have disposed of him when he was an infant instead of pretending he cared enough to get Lord Locken educated and set up to enjoy a future he didn't deserve. The worst of it was when the duke called his son a murderer.
The words were sickening, and why Lord Locken kept this vile thing on his person was beyond Juliet's comprehension. She blinked back the burning in her eyes, refolded the letter, then said, "I think you should burn this."
His laugh was dry. "It's a good reminder, eh? Keeps me focused on what I must do."
"Marry Lady Diana by the end of the year?"
"You read the edict yourself." His gaze connected with hers, and in his eyes was a fire she hadn't seen before. "My cousin will become the next Duke of Wycliff if I don't comply. It's been drawn up in the will already, so whether my father is alive or dead, the edict still stands."
How could Juliet argue that? Lord Locken was well and truly stuck.
"I have not shared this letter with anyone, nor will I," he said. "And Lady Diana cannot know the contents. She thinks I'm proposing because I want to marry her."
Juliet stared at him. "And you do not."
"I've thought it a duty, one that I could endure, like so many other things associated with my father's dukedom," he said. "It was a bearable fate I had reconciled myself to. Three weeks ago, all of that changed."
Juliet couldn't look away from the intensity in his gaze. She wanted to urge her horse back from the stream and ride away from Lord Locken so she wouldn't have to hear his next words. On the other hand, she had to hear them no matter how much pain resulted.
"What happened three weeks ago?" she whispered.
"I met you."
Juliet swallowed and looked away. She didn't know how to respond to him. There was nothing she could say, nothing she could do. His father's edict was clear, and Lord Locken had an entire legacy to uphold.
His horse moved back from the stream, bringing him next to her again.
When his fingers touched her chin and lifted it to meet his gaze, she finally looked at him. The regret in his brown eyes mirrored the regret in her heart. Her heart thumped at his nearness, and her pulse raced to think of what possibilities might have been between them if not for the circumstances.
"Juliet," he said. "Forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive," she said.
And when he leaned toward her, his gaze on her mouth, she knew she couldn't allow this one, final thing to happen between them. A kiss from him would never be forgotten, and she didn't want to put him into any jeopardy with Lady Diana. Juliet drew away from his touch, and he dropped his hand.
"You'll be a wonderful duke, and a great father and husband," she said in a shaky voice. "I wish you all the best in your life, Lord Locken."
He nodded but said nothing, only continued to gaze at her in a way that made her regret putting him off.
"And I hope you will burn that letter from your father," she continued. "Nothing he says about you is true, and you don't deserve to ever read such vile words again."
He nodded again, saying nothing.
"Please, Victor," she said, placing a hand on top of his.
He looked startled that she'd used his first name, although he'd taken liberty using hers only moments earlier. He looked down at her hand atop of his.
"Burn the letter," she urged. "Forget your father's words. Marry Lady Diana. Begin anew and make your own life with her." Then she released him and took up the reins. She turned the horse toward home and started riding, cantering at first, then breaking into a gallop. She felt Lord Locken's gaze on her, and she hoped that he would get rid of that horrible letter.
As for her heart, she would be strong. For him. He would see her enjoy the house party. He would have the satisfaction that she could have a happy future, and she hoped that would give him the confidence to have the same.
The days passed with unending glimpses of Lady Juliet mingling with the guests, speaking with the gentlemen, laughing with the ladies. And Victor was forced to watch it all. Why he'd decided to come in the first place was beyond him. Oh. Yes. It was to restore her brother's reputation, because then her own reputation would rise in the process. And he'd invited Lady Diana so that he would not be tempted to throw away his own future over a woman he barely knew.