“And you weren’t apprised of it?”
“The staff keeps trying to protect me from how bad off things are.”
No wonder she in turn sought to protect them. Zeus marveled at such loyalty—and how it was reciprocated. On the streets, a man would as soon thrust a knife in one’s gullet as remain loyal. Especially with meager pay and minimal rations—the very circumstances he knew her servants had operated under for some time now.
Juliet. Juliet. “Juliet.” Her unexpected acceptance, the way she brushed back his hair, lingering to stroke his jaw, promised to wash away his guilt, every bit as much as the roaring rain buffeting the windows.
“They don’t want me worrying.”
Neither did he.
But if he wasn’t there to protect her, who would? Could he trust another man to always have her interests at heart?
Zeus told his fingers to stop twining themselves within her mussed hair.
“But that matters not,” she maintained. “That test was supposed to be a study of your manners. Not of your stomach’s resilience. What matters is you hated that dreadful scone! Yet you ate it, with a smile I might add, for me.”
She was right. By the time the salty silt crossed his lips, he’d been solely focused on pleasing the enchantress behind the screen. He’d no longer been thinking of Amherst.
One rebellious hand traveled toward a creamy breast. Unable to stop himself, he settled his palm over the mound. “Juliet… My lady…”
“Why would you do that”—she gasped when he kneaded—“if not to please me? Because no matter your parentage, Zeus James Tanner, you’re Quality!”
His mouth and mind were fighting a losing battle. As was his hand which only fondled her more intently. With each desperate word she uttered, she drew him toward her every bit as much as her fingers clasping his cheeks and compelling him to hold her gaze. Every bit as much as her bare foot grazing the back of his thigh, soothing the spot she’d gouged earlier. “Quality? I’m not even—”
“Because you’re honest and true!” An elongated clap of thunder loudly proclaimed how she had the right of it. “You make me laugh ’til my throat aches.”
When he only shook his head against her restraining hold, as if sensing his disintegrating resolve, she boasted, “Number nine broke my leg!”
His hand froze atop her breast. “What?”
“It’s why I had to postpone the remaining interviews. The rotter insisted on bringing his hunting dogs inside. I insisted they be leashed. And they insisted on tangling round my legs when Henry insisted they weren’t welcome.”
His chuckle dried up before it ever emerged. She was so very strong. So damn determined to convince him. When he should be the one convincing her. “Juliet, you’re everything sweet and proper and…I’m everything not.” He watched his weak-willed thumb draw a circle around her apricot nipple even as he put forth one more attempt to persuade her (and maybe his former self?) how very unworthy he was. “My mother was a maid in his household. Letheridge’s. Seduced by the lecher and cast out when his third wife couldn’t stomach having his bastard underfoot.”
She touched his lips, traced them, seduced him to stop. “Zeus—”
But he wasn’t finished. Had to get it all out. “After eight years running free over Amherst, thriving within its walls and on its lands despite his neglect, Mum and I were evicted with only a pittance to salve his conscience—and she with no character or way to find work. I always thought it ironic justice none of his other children lived past infancy. Now I hear myself say that and I realize how cruel and selfish I sound. How just like him.”
“You’re nothing like him. After three years of hiding my true self, I’ve blossomed more this afternoon than I have my entire life. Whatever thoughts you had, they’re in the past now. Let them trouble you no further.”
Oh, the vengeance he’d thought to exact, honing his skills in order to decimate his own father at the gaming tables only to have the old lout stop frequenting London and his clubs just when Zeus amassed enough blunt to bribe his way in. The hate he’d felt, thrived on at the time… It faded now at the compassionate way she continued to gaze up at him—waiting for the rest without judging. Only accepting. “Do you know I came to him five years ago, contacted him through Hastings because he refused to acknowledge me otherwise? Swallowed my self-respect and attempted reconciliation with the ogre who’d cared not whether we lived or died.”
His voice broke on the last word. But rather than feeling shame over the weakness, the way she continued to pet him, to console and encourage, gave him strength.
With her in his arms, he’d faced down his demons. Admitted them out loud. And the world hadn’t come crashing down.
Instead, Juliet lifted him up.
“Mr. Hastings knows the truth?” she asked lightly.
“Of my origins, you mean? He does. And I’m convinced when I presented myself in response to your advertisement, he scoured my references all the more for it.” Her body squirmed a bit beneath his. Zeus ceased torturing her nipple and came onto his elbows, taking more of his weight. Her leg prevented him from going far. “But I was determined to win your lands, never once giving thought to you, to what you’d suffered at Lecherous’ hands or how my tainted lineage might affect—”
“Stop it, my love.” And if that unexpected endearment didn’t halt his very blood. Love? “Do you hear yourself? I cared not to condemn your birth before and I refuse to condemn it now. You are the finest man I’ve met, certainly the only one I could consider taking as husband.”
“Juliet—” She slapped his flank to still the protest.
“Do you want to stay? Do you want to rebuild Amherst together? With…me?” she finished with the strongest hint of uncertainty he’d heard since she’d confessed her inability to read. When he made no move to abandon his position, she continued with more confidence. “We could,
