Page 49 of After the Abduction

“That won’t happen again.” But her high color and shaky tone said otherwise.

Feeling decidedly cheerier, he concentrated on navigating the treacherous paths with the sleigh. He didn’t even mind when Lady Rosalind began a series of impertinent questions about his family and connections, obviously designed to determine his suitability as a husband for Juliet. Since his plans fell in with hers, he was more than happy to oblige her with answers.

But Juliet seemed to disapprove. She constantly attempted—unsuccessfully—to change the subject. Only when they were halfway back to Charnwood did she seize on a suitable distraction. “Look there, Rosalind,” she cried, “what a quaint little cottage. I wonder that we didn’t notice it when we first came this way.”

“The rock face obscures it from the other direction,” he explained. “You’d have to look back to see it.”

“Does it belong to another of your tenants?” Lady Rosalind asked. “I swear, my lord, you have so many tenants. How many exactly?”

When Juliet rolled her eyes, he chuckled. “Actually, that cottage and its outbuilding are no longer inhabited. It used to be the estate blacksmith’s, but he died in my father’s time. His apprentice preferred to join with the smithy in town, so I bought the forge from him. I come out here to do a little gunsmithing, mostly for the fine, small pieces, like the brass for the cartridges and the silver facings.”

“You forge things?” Juliet said. “Why, you truly are Hephaestus!”

“Hephaestus?”

“The Greek God of Fire and the immortal smithy who made weapons for the other gods. He has a forge, too.”

He tried to remember his Greek. “Wasn’t he ugly and lame?”

“Was he?” Juliet smirked at him. “At least he was very good at metalworking.”

“I’m not sure I like that comparison,” he grumbled. He’d been called a lot of things, but ugly wasn’t one of them.

“Don’t mind Juliet—she’s merely provoking you,” Lady Rosalind interjected. “Besides, Hephaestus was married to Aphrodite, so he couldn’t be that ugly, could he?”

That comment softened the blow considerably. Marrying a goddess was his own aim. He glanced over at the still smirking Juliet and smiled to himself.

Smirk all you want, my Aphrodite, but you’ll be my wife one way or the other. And when you are, I’ll make you eat your words. In bed. Where I intend to do a great deal of forging myself.

That thought made him randy enough to be uncomfortable. Fortunately, the rest of the journey went quickly. Less fortunately, by the time they reached Foxglen, his uncle had arisen. Uncle Lew strode out to hail them as the sleigh neared the manor. With a sigh, Sebastian pulled it up.

When Uncle Lew approached to greet them, he glanced meaningfully at the two ladies, then shot Sebastian a questioning look. Ah yes, Uncle Lew didn’t know how things had changed. The last time they’d spoken, Sebastian had sworn to steer clear of Juliet. Now here he was, squiring her about. He’d have to explain later.

“Out for a morning ride, are you? And in such lovely weather, too,” Uncle Lew said with a trace of sarcasm. “I was just on my way over to Charnwood Hall, but the three of you look frozen to the bone. Why don’t you come in for a spot of tea to warm you? I can show off my modest abode, then fetch my horse and ride on with you.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle, but we’ve no time to tarry,” Sebastian said smoothly. “Knighton is probably worried about his wife. We took longer than we intended.”

“Go on then with Lady Rosalind if you must. But I don’t see why Lady Juliet can’t remain with me for a while. I’ll settle for only one of your delightful companions.”

Sebastian groaned. So the blasted fool had finally decided to do as he’d been told the night before last. A pity it was precious little and too late.

“I’m not sure we should leave Lady Juliet without a chaperone,” Sebastian said. “Her family is very particular about such things.”

“It’ll be fine.” Lady Rosalind fidgeted impatiently in her seat. “Your uncle is clearly respectable, and there are servants about, I’m sure. I’d go on alone, but I don’t know if I can manage a sleigh.”

“And I’d like to stay,” Juliet chimed in. “I’d simply adore seeing Foxglen and hearing all your uncle’s tales about you and Morgan.”

Deuce take it, he hadn’t even thought of that. His uncle might let something slip that would rouse her suspicions again. “See here, Juliet—”

“You mustn’t keep Knighton waiting, my boy,” his uncle put in. “We’ll have a lovely little chat, Lady Juliet and I. I’ll enthrall her with tales of our wicked family secrets.”

He shot Uncle Lew a warning glance. Damn the man’s hide—this was not a game!

But his uncle merely winked as he offered his hand to Juliet. Casting Sebastian a taunting smile over her shoulder, she rose and climbed down.

When Sebastian hesitated, Uncle Lew made a shooing gesture with his hand. “Go on, I say! We’ll be fine.”

Devil take them both, they’d left him no choice. Gritting his teeth, he drove on. He would accompany Lady Rosalind to Charnwood Hall, then return immediately to Foxglen. The less time Juliet and Uncle Lew had to confer, the better.