Page 14 of The Diamond's Absolutely Delicious Downfall

In the light of day, at the duke’s breakfast table, it was rather difficult not to feel like a scoundrel. Sitting opposite the young woman who he had made love to all night long, Tobias could not deny that he had certainly entered scoundrel territory.

Except it seemed as if he had the blessing of her family.

He still did not know what to make of that.

Notorious. He had once heard that word used to describe her family. He had to heartily agree, for their situation was surely singular.

Juliet buttered her toast, then spread jam upon it and took a bite. She was clearly hungry.

They had been most vigorous the night before. And he would have kept her in bed for days if he could. He’d never have enough of her.

The thought terrified him. Because he was going to have to let her go.

A footman entered the room with a note upon a silver tray. “For you, Mr. Miller.”

He took up the ivory envelope, broke the seal, and opened it. He stared at the scrawled hand. “Good God,” he ground out.

“What is it? she asked, lowering her toast. “Is something amiss? Has something happened in the United States?”

“No, it is from your brother.”

“Which one?” she asked, dabbing at her lips with a linen napkin.

“The duke,” he stated.

“Has he requested another pamphlet?”

He scowled at the bold black hand and its request. “No, he’s asked me to take you about this week while he’s away. He wishes me to escort you to several balls and the theater.”

“You?” she exclaimed, throwing her napkin down and all but leaping up to come around beside him and read the letter for herself.

“Me,” he groaned. “I’m supposed to protect you from all the rogues and rakes of the ton.”

After witnessing the letter herself, she plunked herself back down on her chair. “It seems rather ironic,” she teased, lifting her teacup in salute.

“I cannot disagree with you there,” he said, folding the missive up again. It grated somehow, the idea that he was supposed to show her off to the men who would lobby to make her their wife.

He did not want her to be anyone else’s.

It had never occurred to him that he might suddenly feel so strongly. He gripped his coffee cup, quite certain that if he was not careful, he would break the beautifully painted porcelain. He stared at his breakfast. A few moments ago, he had been eating quite ravenously. Now, it all felt like it had turned to sand.

The idea that he would have to give her over to someone else…

It felt like poison. He did not know when or how it had occurred, but somehow, in the hours between when she had come to his room and dawn, things had changed.

He no longer felt as if he could merely be some sort of passing lover in her world. No. He wanted more, something he’d never wanted before, and he wondered if he dared try to get it.

After all, Juliet had made it quite plain that she did not want a man like him. She wanted a title, and he would never have one of those. Her brothers had also made it quite plain that if he got in the way of her dreams, he would end up beneath his printing press, and then likely find a spot in the back garden under some of the flowers.

It was not the sort of end he was looking forward to.

“You look as if you’ve eaten something foul.”

He cleared his throat. “Your brother says you are to dance twice with Lord Beamish at the Talbots.”

“No,” she groaned, clunking her cup down in its saucer. “Why Lord Beamish?”

A muscle tightened in his jaw. “Because he asked you to marry him a week ago, and you have not yet replied,” he said through gritted teeth. “How long do you plan on keeping this gentleman dangling?”

Her eyes narrowed. “As long as I possibly can.”

“Why?” he queried, doing his best not to sound rude, but he did not understand. “Surely, you should know whether you want to marry him or not.”

Her mouth tightened, and she straightened in her chair. “I’ve had several offers, and I’m trying to decide which one I can tolerate the best.”

“Tolerate?” he echoed.

“Yes,” she replied. “Tolerate. Are you judging me?”

“Yes,” he replied, knowing it was a risk. But he had to make her see reason, didn’t he? “If one marries, one should do more than tolerate their spouse, Juliet. It is for life.”

“Do your parents love each other?” she challenged.

He winced, but he couldn’t blame her for bringing up something painful since he was questioning her choices. “I don’t really want to talk about them. But the fact is my parents love each other desperately. They are united in their beliefs.”

Her eyes flared. “Oh, really? Forgive me. I confess I’m surprised. There are so few love matches that are successful here.”

He blew out a rough breath. “Just because they don’t like me doesn’t mean that they don’t love each other.”

Her face twisted. “Truly. Please do forgive me—”

“It’s already forgiven,” he said swiftly, hating the pain and emotion beginning to swirl up inside him. “I have no right to question you.”

She paled at those words, as if some secret part of her dearly wish he did have the right. But then she looked away. “My parents also loved each other, and I thought they were singular. Hermia also loves her husband, though we were not entirely certain when they met that it would be a love match. So I suppose it’s possible I could fall in love with my husband over a few years.”

He was silent for a long moment, unable to stop the drumming of his fingers atop the linen cloth. “So, you’re trying to choose the most likely candidate.”

“Exactly.”

“With the best title?” He had no idea why he was being so thorny. He’d known all of this. None of it should matter. Yet this morning it did.

“That is the point of all of this,” she exclaimed as tears filled her eyes. “Do you see? It is the point of being trotted out like a mare. It’s why I have the clothes that I have and the jewels that I do, and I’m made to learn to sit, stand, walk, and talk. That is all I am trained to do, though my education is better than most.”

“Now it is my turn to ask for your forgiveness,” he whispered, longing to take her hand in his. “I don’t know what it’s like to be a lady.”

She laughed at that and wiped her eyes. “You certainly don’t. And I’m glad of it for you. If I could have been born a gentleman, I would’ve done.”

“Though I’m sure you would make an excellent man, I’m glad that you are you.”

She blushed. “If I was anyone else, last night never would have occurred. And I’d deeply regret that.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he returned. “It means I’ve been rather successful in my endeavors.”

She smiled at him as she slipped her fingertips into his palm. “Very successful.”

“Shall we test it?” he growled, pulling her closer to him across the table. “And make certain that I’m still successful?”

Her eyes heated with the promise of pleasure. “How long do we have before my first engagement of the day?”

He groaned. “Not very long,” he said. “But as the poet said, ‘Come and lie with me, and be my love’.”

She grinned at him. “Oh, I would be happy to lie with you all day long.”

And he wished it was true, but he was not certain that she truly meant it.

As he took up her brother’s note, he crumpled the list in his fist and wondered. He wondered if he could truly show her that she was choosing a cold life.

For Juliet was on a dangerous path. He’d seen men choose duty above all else. It was a cold comfort.