“Please, Wivy,” she whispered, not above pleading with her friend to leave them alone, but not wanting him to hear how desperately. After the plethora of unsuccessful interviews they’d conducted the last couple of weeks, after all she’d endured, she’d truly begun to despair of ever finding a potential, decent mate.
It was a miracle she hadn’t canceled the entire scheme. While she’d seriously contemplated abandoning everything a time or two during some of the more wretched interviews, she hadn’t.
And now a man stood before her, his responses nearly so absurdly perfect, Juliet was half afraid to ask him anything else. But ask she must.
Others were dependent upon her.
Even though her melting insides craved for him to be the one, she couldn’t hide from the reality that his last response didn’t bode well. His lack of estate management experience should’ve been the red flag that waved him on his way. But she couldn’t turn loose, not yet. Not of him, nor of her hopes.
Because on so many levels, Mr. Tanner seemed exactly right. Time and again, his at turns baffling and belligerent responses proved he was the first candidate to appeal to her in all areas she’d set forth:
~ cordiality to Wivy and Jacks (An indication, she believed, of how he might treat tenants, children…and a wife.);
~ integrity and candor (She allowed his responses up to this point indicated both. If they also indicated an unwillingness to be led by a ring through his nose, all the better. She needed a man who wasn’t afraid to stand up to those who thought they were better than everyone else.);
~ a willingness to educate females (He’d managed to supply this perfect response without once smirking, earning her undying devotion early on.);
~ a disinclination to pander to whining whelps (She’d added this requirement just last week.);
~ interest and knowledge of estate matters (Grasping at straws, she reasoned Mr. Tanner’s inexperience in this area was offset by his abundance of honesty.);
~ and not most important of all, her mind insisted, but as though staging a mutiny, her body persisted upon disagreeing, it was paramount she found him attractive. Visually riveting. (Which she most assuredly did!).
If Juliet was to barter her future by willingly shackling herself to another man, then, sure as tits trilled and cocks crowed, she wanted to want him. With everything in her.
The low, constant pressure building deep in her abdomen and flittering about her chest told her she wanted Mr. Tanner.
At least clothed, she did.
And that gave her pause. Attired, despite his advanced years, Lord Letheridge had cut a tolerable figure. But once the padded jacket was removed, the contoured stockings peeled away, and his sunken chest and pasty skin revealed, his bare form had repulsed her every bit as much as his repugnant personality.
Therefore, Juliet had two vital qualities to ascertain before deciding whether Mr. Tanner was the spouse she sought: how he appeared unclothed and how he conducted himself as a lover.
The idea of Mr. Tanner, naked and acting the lover toward her? It was more than enough for Juliet to discard all pretense of decorum and steer the interview in the naughty direction she hoped it might take. She swallowed past the knot of nervous excitement the torrid thought brought forth.
“Wivy, you must leave,” she demanded as quietly as she dared. “Please heed me on this.” Then louder, “Olivia, do please tell the remaining gentleman how very appreciative I am he expended himself to such a degree but that I won’t be able to see him today.” Poor fellow, she really should compensate him for his time, but funds were so very low. Cook did make a thumping good scone however. (When they weren’t out of sugar, that was.) “I’m afraid I can’t reimburse his travel expenses, but if you would see he’s served refreshments before he leaves?
“Oh!” Goodness, she’d nearly forgotten her other area of evaluation, not having many occasions to administer it. “And tell Jacks he may bring in the refreshment tray at his convenience.”
Wivy shot her an inscrutable look and muttered, “I like this one but I certainly hope you know what you’re doing.” Then she quit the room, skirting around Mr. Tanner but only after imparting something to him Juliet couldn’t make out.
Hmm. Now what was Wivy about? No matter. Juliet had just gained her goal: time alone with applicant twenty-four. A hitch to her breathing told her she hadn’t been this excited in years.
Juliet smiled. But then she frowned. Her lower half was decidedly uncomfortable. She shifted on her hard chair, attempted to cross her legs—to squeeze out the lingering ache that’d settled there—to no avail. The ache persisted. “Well, now…it’s just me and you, Mr. Tanner.” She shifted again and tried not to sound so out of breath. “Shall we continue?”
He brought one well-muscled leg forward, then stopped. “Not until you tell me how I fare. Talking to an invisible Lady Scandal—”
“Lady Scandal? That’s what they’re calling me?” Of a certainty, scandalous fit how she felt, staring waist-high at his flexing thighs and…um, things centered above and between.
“Aye, but at being denied your actual acquaintance, I’m feeling the bamboozled dupe, thinking I’m here on a sleeveless errand and nothing more.”
When he looked back toward the door, as if contemplating escape, Juliet stammered, “Nay! I’m not trifling with you! To be sure, I find you intrepid and impudent and a host of other things I’m too much a lady to mention.”
“That bad, eh?”
“That good, I fear.”
After emerging into the hallway and instructing a curious Jacks to fetch the tray, Olivia pulled the door shut behind her and turned to look at it, surprise making her reluctant to release the tarnished knob.
Well. That had been unexpected. Leave her charge and bosom friend alone with
