Tis the Season to Be Sinful (3 page)
Getting down to the matters at hand, Juliet located a pair of scissors for cutting the flowers, then strode across the room to the large pantry to find a basket in which to carry them. She sorted quickly through a stack, making her selection, then suddenly froze in surprise.
Voices!
Muffled, yet distinctly male. She raised her eyes to the ceiling, trying to ascertain precisely where the sounds were originating. Were there still servants in the house? But they were supposed to have finished their cleaning yesterday. Perhaps they had found something wrong and returned today to fix it?
Muffled, yet distinctly male. She raised her eyes to the ceiling, trying to ascertain precisely where the sounds were originating. Were there still servants in the house? But they were supposed to have finished their cleaning yesterday. Perhaps they had found something wrong and returned today to fix it?
Knowing she had to investigate, Juliet slowly released her grip on the basket. Leaving it on the shelf, she turned and began climbing the back staircase, pocketing the scissors as she ascended. After a brief hesitation on the landing, she took a deep breath, then moved quietly through the hallway, ears attune.
The sudden sound of rich masculine laughter startled her. It was coming from the study! Without giving it another thought, Juliet marched over and flung the already ajar door wide open. It rattled on its hinges and would have banged loudly against the door frame had she not been gripping the brass handle so tightly.
The two men seated before the fireplace turned at her entrance, abruptly ceasing their conversation. Mouths agape, the pair stared at her in stunned silence. As it was, Juliet was equally shocked, but she recovered her voice first.
“Who the devil are the two of you? And how in heaven’s name did you get in here?” Her breast heaved with indignation, and a dash of fear, yet she could not hold her tongue. “And where in the world did you find the nerve to make yourselves so darn comfortable in my house?”
Chapter 2
The room went deathly silent as the two men exchanged astonished glances. There was a scuffling noise in the corner, and to her dismay, Juliet realized there was a third individual in the room. Hardly knowing what to expect, she craned her neck forward and met the stunned gaze of her land agent.
Biting the inside of her cheek, Juliet managed to stifle a screech.
“Mrs. Wentworth!” Mr. Fowler exclaimed as he rushed to her side.
Juliet blinked. She felt slightly dizzy, as if the air in the room had suddenly been cut off. “What are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly. “I thought you were coming tomorrow to show the manor.”
Looking somewhat chastened, the land agent lowered his head, along with his voice. “I know how anxious you are about leasing the property. That is why I did not inform you of the change in plans. I was hoping I’d be able to bring you good news after Mr. Harper viewed the estate this afternoon.” Mr. Fowler lowered his voice further. “I’m happy to report that he has shown great interest in the property. Great interest.”
Juliet quashed a groan. The first nibble in nearly a year and her blistering rant had most likely put the deal in jeopardy. Surely Mr. Harper’s interest in the property would wane considerably after her scathing outburst. And honestly, who could blame him? What man would welcome a hysterical female as a landlady and neighbor?
“Pray, introduce us, Mr. Fowler,” Juliet whispered, disheartened, but not yet ready to give up.
“Yes, yes, that might help,” the land agent sputtered. “Mrs. Wentworth, may I present Mr. Richard Harper and his secretary, Mr. Barclay.”
The two men rose to their feet. Juliet had no difficulty identifying which man was Mr. Harper, her potential tenant. The cut of his expensive wool suit as well as his air of confidence made him easy to distinguish from his employee. He was the elder of the pair, not young though not quite middle-aged. He was also strikingly handsome.
Juliet smiled. Mr. Harper did not.
Oh, dear.
Oh, dear.
Her hand went nervously to the wisps of hair at the nape of her neck, and she began twirling the strands around her finger. In silence, she studied Mr. Harper. He possessed a chiseled jaw, straight nose, high cheekbones, dark, wavy hair with a touch of silver at the temples, and eyes of such deep, intense blue she could not help staring at them. They were framed by sinfully long, thick lashes that should have softened his face, yet somehow this touch of refinement gave him the look of classic masculine beauty.
His shoulders were broad, his arms well muscled, his height impressive. Juliet was tall for a woman, but he towered over her by almost six inches, making her feel small and delicate, two things she most definitely was not.
“I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, gentlemen,” Juliet said finally in a steady, well-modulated tone. Having read that Americans preferred a more informal manner, she briefly considered offering her hand in greeting. Yet knowing full well she could ill afford another faux pas, she tugged her finger abruptly away from the hair at her nape and pressed her arms firmly to her sides. “I must apologize for my earlier outburst, gentlemen. Obviously I thought you were intruders intent on larceny.”
“Fascinating,” Mr. Harper drawled. “I never would have surmised that the thieves in this part of the country are so skilled they have time to relax and enjoy a drink in the home of their victims before absconding with their pilfered loot. I shall have to remember that if I decide to take up residence in this community.”
His voice was deep and rich with an unusual accent Juliet found pleasing to the ear. If only his words were the same. She felt her hand start to stray up to her neck and forcibly pulled it down. She would
not
succumb to nerves again. “Truly, Mr. Harper, there is no need to worry,” she responded with a light laugh. “Crime is almost nonexistent in this area.”
not
succumb to nerves again. “Truly, Mr. Harper, there is no need to worry,” she responded with a light laugh. “Crime is almost nonexistent in this area.”
“Really?” His brow rose fractionally. “One would hardly assume that to be the case, given your initial reaction when you entered the library.”
Juliet felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. “My panic was the result of an overactive imagination, I fear,” she offered weakly. “And too long living on my own.”
She braced for the next remark, her mouth tightening as she met his gaze.
“Perfectly understandable,” Mr. Harper replied, pulling up a slight smile that actually appeared apologetic. “In any event, I am pleased to meet the owner of such a fine property.”
Touched by his surprising generosity, Juliet relaxed, her heart settling back to a normal beat. His words brimmed with sincerity, renewing her hope that all was not lost. “I am only temporarily in charge of the estate. Highgrove belongs to my elder son. As his legal guardian, I am responsible for maintaining the estate until he comes of age.”
“A grave responsibility,” Mr. Harper observed, taking a step closer to her.
“Yes, and one I take most seriously.” Juliet’s stomach fluttered in a most disconcerting manner and her pulse jumped. If he leased the property, they would become neighbors, running into each other at unexpected times and in unexpected places. Eventually, they might also become friends. Juliet swallowed hard. It was a surprisingly appealing idea.
“As guardian to your son, I assume the very last thing you want is to saddle him with a debt-ridden property,” Mr. Harper offered, his expression sympathetic.
Unexpected tears pricked at Juliet’s eyes. The lack of funds had been her greatest frustration, her single biggest worry since becoming a widow. The last thing she wanted Edward to face was the uncertainty of debt, the worries over money that kept a person awake at night and distracted during the day. “I want only the best for him and his brother and sister.”
“And I have the means to assist you in achieving that goal. The manor house needs considerable work, an expense I assume you cannot undertake?” He lifted a brow, then continued, even though she had not answered. “I, therefore, propose purchasing the estate instead of renting it. That will allow me to renovate and redecorate as I wish, and relieve you, and your son, of any future expenses. In the end, it will be a better bargain for both of us.”
It took a few seconds for comprehension to strike, and when it did, Juliet could not bring herself to fault his logic. Highgrove was a splendid property. Once renovated, it would be truly magnificent. Anyone with taste, refinement, and funds would obviously be interested in owning it.
Juliet slowly shook her head. “The estate is not for sale.”
“You haven’t even heard my offer, Mrs. Wentworth,” he chided softly, his voice taking on a silky, seductive edge. A peculiar warmth curled deep within her at the sound. “I’ll pay you three thousand pounds over the appraised value of the estate. Today.”
The bottom dropped out of Juliet’s stomach. It was a fortune. Even taking into account the liens against the property, she would walk away with a tidy sum. Yet by doing so, she would sacrifice Edward’s inheritance. What a bizarre, cruel turn of events!
Mr. Fowler edged to her side, drawing her away from Mr. Harper. Juliet followed him blindly, her mind still spinning. “I know you did not intend to sell, but the price is more than fair,” the land agent said.
“Is it?” Juliet lowered her voice to a whisper. “If I hold out, I could get a higher price. Or additional offers from other potential buyers.”
Mr. Fowler shook his head. “I think we both know that is very unlikely. Men of Mr. Harper’s means do not come here often in search of property.”
“But there might be others,” Juliet insisted.
“There might, in time.” Mr. Fowler agreed, though his voice was skeptical. “A very long time. Can you afford to wait?”
Juliet barely blushed. There was no point in being embarrassed. It was a small community—everyone was well aware of her strained financial circumstances. Heavens, even Mr. Harper knew of the mortgages.
Still, she could not allow the property to be sold without a fight. The only way she could possibly live with the decision was knowing she had struck the best bargain, especially against such a formidable opponent as this brash American.
Jutting out her chin, she walked back to him. “The estate is my older son’s legacy. It has been passed down through my late husband’s family for generations. Regretfully, it is not for sale.”
“Nonsense, Mrs. Wentworth. If I have learned one thing over the years, it is that everything has a price. Please, name yours.”
His forthright manner might have been annoying if not for the charming way he smiled. And while the sight of that toothsome grin made her remember she was a lonely woman far too long without a man in her bed, Juliet was too wise to let that influence her in any way.
There was also a small part of her that wanted to calmly announce that there were some things that simply could not be bought. Alas, circumstances determined those words would never be spoken.
“I fear you will be shocked at hearing my price, Mr. Harper,” Juliet announced, stalling for time.
“Try me.”
Numbers rumbled through her head, figures so outrageously high they made her dizzy. The idea of being debt free was heady stuff, indeed, but it would come at a great cost. Forsaking Edward’s heritage was not a decision to be made lightly or impulsively.
You could always marry me and get use of the house as part of the marriage settlement. That is an even more intriguing way to solve both our problems quite neatly, is it not?
The ridiculous thought popped into Juliet’s head and she smiled softly at the absurd idea of marrying this imposing stranger. Oh, the idea of a second marriage was not an unexplored topic in her mind, but with no eligible prospects in sight, it was a thought that by necessity was always quickly shelved.
The room went quiet. Uncomfortably quiet. Juliet felt the keen scrutiny of all three men, noting the bemused expression on Mr. Harper’s face, the wide-eyed gaze of near horror on his secretary, the appalled look of embarrassment in Mr. Fowler’s eyes.
The blood drained from her face. Good Lord, she had not simply thought the words, had she? She had actually spoken them aloud!
Juliet blushed to her hairline, wishing the floor would miraculously open so she could slowly sink down and vanish from sight. First ranting at him, and then making a preposterous statement about marriage. Perhaps living too long on her own was truly starting to affect her good sense.
“I, uhm . . . uhm . . .” Juliet cleared her throat and tried again, but words failed her. Humiliated by her blunder, she tipped her head forward in an attempt to shield her face, then realized she was making a ridiculous situation even worse. Obviously there was nowhere for her to hide.
“The estate is an exceptional property, Mrs. Wentworth,” Mr. Barclay muttered nervously, breaking the silence. “Worth any price to obtain.”
Juliet gave the secretary a weak smile, grateful for his attempt at diffusing this awkward moment. Mustering her courage, she risked a glance at Mr. Harper. He was cool and composed, acting as if a marriage proposal from a total stranger were an everyday occurrence.
“I must commend you on implementing such a creative negotiating tactic, Mrs. Wentworth,” Mr. Harper said, his eyes fixed on hers. “Uttering an absurd, comical statement creates a most effective diversion from the issue at hand. I vow I shall remember it the next time I am mired in a stalemate.”
A charming smile broke over his face, and Juliet found herself answering it with one of her own. “I urge caution, sir, before you imitate me or else you might very well find yourself standing before an altar.”
“With one of my male business partners?”
She raised her hands, palms up, and shrugged. “One never knows to what lengths these fellows will go.”
Her remark brought the desired laugh from all three gentlemen and the tension eased. Yet before Juliet could even catch her breath, Mr. Harper was once again pressing his point.
“Selling me the estate and investing the proceeds will provide a far better legacy to your son than a mortgaged, crumbling manor house,” he said briskly.
The pulse in Juliet’s temple throbbed. He was like a dog with a bone, unwilling to part with it under any circumstances. “While I appreciate your sound financial advice, sir, giving it will not lower the price of the estate.”
Mr. Harper cocked a sardonic eyebrow at her. “That might very well be true, but at least now I’ve got you talking about selling instead of leasing. I count that as great progress.”
“Well, yes, perhaps.” Juliet nearly groaned at her ridiculous response. She sounded like a perfect nitwit, but the offer had emerged so unexpectedly she barely had time to consider it. Except that it presented a resolution to a nagging problem. Should she do it?
“I understand there is also a dowager house on the estate,” Mr. Harper said.
Juliet’s chin snapped up defiantly. Without thinking, she stepped forward, fixing him with an icy, determined stare. “That is where I reside with my children. It is most definitely not for sale! Under any circumstances. Is that understood?”
Their gazes met and held for an instant before he nodded curtly. “Then I shall purchase the estate and leave you the dowager house along with five surrounding acres. Is that agreeable?”
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