Miss Winters Proposes Read Online Free PDF Page B

your name.” Her gaze lowered to the dark Greek key pattern decorating the edge of the sitting room’s rug.
    He gave her a hand a gentle squeeze, bringing her eyes to the unexpected action.
    “My name is Benjamin, Juliet.”
    Her heart raced at the sound of her name once again spoken in the soft tenors of his voice. Where Frederick often said it with impatience and disdain, the viscount, or rather Benjamin, uttered her name with a caress.
    Horatio’s low growl jerked Juliet out of her musings. She lifted her gaze to see her cousin standing in the doorway, a dark, heavy brow lifted in inquiry.

Chapter Four
    Mr. Frederick Winters was exactly as Benjamin last recalled him, save for the extra gray that now streaked through his light hair. He was still polished and well groomed, still of average height and moderate build. Hell, even the man’s smile was the same, its thin and practiced curves curling over a set of glistening, white teeth.
    “Frederick.” Juliet pulled her hand out of Benjamin’s grasp, her fingers running down the front of her skirt, smoothing the floral muslin of its nonexistent wrinkles. “Lord Colwyn has arrived from town. He comes with news concerning our engagement.”
    “Ah, yes, the engagement.” He peered up at Benjamin with his mint-colored eyes. “To hear it from my cousin, congratulations are in order.”
    Despite his warm smile and courteous pose, Winters’s voice dripped with derision.
    And why should it not? Benjamin’s impending nuptials were a sham, a ruse spawned from the scheming mind of a desperate young woman. Christ. Did he deserve any less than Winters’s scorn?
    Benjamin glanced toward Juliet, her wide eyes begging—no, willing him to publically confirm their arrangement.
    And he would. Because he did not abandon his responsibilities. No matter how ridiculous or unwelcome they were in nature.
    Benjamin stepped forward and forced himself to give the conventional bow. “Indeed. Miss Winters and I are to be married shortly.”
    “Yes.” Juliet nodded so vigorously a strand of copper fell from its pins. “In fact, we are to be married by the end of the week.” Her hands grasped the loose tendril, shoving the curl into place and forcing the hair into compliance.
    All Benjamin could do was stare. Not because he was rendered immobile by the lithe movement of his intended’s arm, as she engaged in an action that was both endearing and exclusively feminine—because he was, dammit—but rather because of the sentence that had spewed forth from the confines of her mouth.
    Was this not the same girl who had, only moments before, admitted to having given the ceremony no consideration? And now, before his person, she declared a date as though she had spoken with the vicar himself?
    “The end of the week?” Winters asked. “This week?”
    Juliet patted the lemon-spotted hound on the head. “Yes, of course.”
    Devil take it.
    “But you never mentioned the need for any urgency before.” Winters’s gaze dipped toward Juliet’s midsection. “Unless of course, there are extenuating circumstances requiring haste.”
    She crossed her arms in front of her stomach, her cheeks blazing red.
    Benjamin did not fault Winters his assumption. Had he not thought the same when she had first sought his assistance? He could, however, dispel the man’s suspicions Benjamin was anything less than moral, and he and Juliet wed for reasons other than those born from lust.
    Benjamin cleared his throat. “We would like to wed before Lord Roughton’s condition declines. Unless you think the uncertainty of his health is not worthy of our consideration?”
    Winters’s eyes narrowed. “Of course not. We wouldn’t want to deprive the man a cause for celebration.”
    “No, I dare say we would not. Especially when Lord Roughton so heartily approved our match.”
    Which was a thin truth, given the word “heartily” implied something beyond the weak smile and nod of affirmation the baron had offered,