Regency: Rogues and Runaways

The sound of a throat being cleared interrupted him. Millstone stood at the door of the conservatory, his face scarlet. “If you please, Sir Douglas, the dressmaker has arrived with the garments for Miss Bergerine. She’s waiting in the morning room.”

“Oh, how delightful!” Juliette cried, jumping up as if everything was wonderful. “And now you will be able to take me to the theater, and Vauxhall, and all the other places in London I have heard about. Is it any wonder I agreed to marry you, my darling, despite your terrible temper?”

Millstone’s eyes looked about to drop right out of his head.

“You weren’t supposed to say anything,” Drury growled through clenched teeth, as furious and frustrated as he’d ever been in his life.

“Oh!” she gasped, her remorse patently false as she covered her mouth her fingertips. “Forgive me! But I am so happy!”

And then she gave him a hearty smack full on the lips before taking his hand and pulling him toward the door.

The little minx!

“Not a word to anyone about this, Millstone,” Drury commanded as she dragged him away.

“Until we give you leave,” Juliette said with a joyous giggle, as if their secret engagement would soon be common knowledge.

She might feel like a spider in a jar, but he was the one caught in her web.

“Oh, Madame de Malanche, how happy I am to see you!” Juliette cried as they entered the morning room, a very pretty chamber used by the Countess of Granshire, Buggy’s mother, when she wished to write her correspondence or entertain her friends. The walls were papered with a bucolic scene, and the furniture was slender and delicate. Even the writing desk in the corner looked as if it would shatter if someone leaned on it.

Right now, there were piles of boxes on the light blue damask sofa, the chairs and every side table.

“Miss Bergerine!” the modiste replied. “You look radiant today.”

“Because I am so happy!” Juliette slid the captive Drury a coy, delighted smile.

He wanted nothing more than to escape, but he didn’t dare leave Juliette alone with this gossipy woman wearing a dress of the most startling, eye-popping shade of yellow he’d ever seen. Looking at her was like staring at the sun, and just as likely to give him a headache.

“My cousin is delighted with her new wardrobe,” he said, cutting off the voluble modiste before she could say a word. “Juliette, ring the bell for your maid while I pay madame.”

“Of course, my love. But first, madame, I would like to ask you to make my wedding dress.”

Madame de Malanche’s hazel eyes grew nearly as bright as her dress. “You’re getting married? You and Sir Douglas?”

“Juliette, ring the bell!” Drury ordered, glowering.

“Oh, he is such a shy fellow!” she cried, clapping her hands as if amused and charmed. “That is why I love him so!”

“Juliette,” he warned.

Instead of going to ring the bell, however, she ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck. “Am I not the luckiest woman in England?”

Damn her! Did she think she could control this situation? Control him? He’d show her how wrong she was.

“As I am the most fortunate of men,” he said in a low, husky whisper reserved for his lovers alone.

Then he took her in his arms and kissed her as if they were already married and this was their wedding night.

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