The music played on for another half hour at least, and Julienne determinedly resisted the urge to return to the window to see if her Romeo had remained as well. But even as she punched her pillow in frustration, some wistful, foolish part of her wished that Dare's pretense of being her suitor were real.
The weather turned stormy the next day, and the company was forced to remain indoors. When out of boredom someone suggested they stage an amateur theatrical, Dare scotched the idea, saying there wasn't enough time remaining in the week to do justice to a play and that it wouldn't be fair to the actresses present, since for them, a theatrical resembled work.
And furthermore, he added laughingly, Miss Laurent disliked the notion of amateurs mangling the words of her beloved playwrights.
They settled for pantomimes and charades and recitations of poetry. Privately Julienne was grateful to be spared, although being employed might have helped distract her from Dare's proximity.
Fortunately the storms passed quickly, and by the following morning, the sun ended the guests' enforced confinement. That afternoon, most of them elected to play pall-mall-a game where a ball was driven through a ring on a swivel-on the side lawn, but Julienne chose to explore the gardens instead.
There were formal paths delineated by stately flower beds and neatly trimmed boxwood hedges, as well as meandering walks that led through more natural foliage toward a birch wood in the distance.
To her delight, Julienne stumbled upon a small copse-a boxwood thicket really-that secreted a rose garden. Here the foliage had been left artfully wild.
The charming disarray reminded her of the overgrown rose garden where she and Dare had once held their lovers' trysts. It was too early for roses to bloom, but she could almost smell the sweet scent. In one corner sat a stone bench, while the center held a marble statue of entwined lovers.
Julienne sank down on the bench and turned her face up to the sun. For a moment she was nineteen again and painfully, wildly in love… foolishly dreaming of becoming Dare's wife.
She had never expected to be his wife or his lover. When he first arrived in Kent, she had wanted nothing to do with him, for she had no desire to become the prey of the notorious rake. She knew Dare saw her merely as a diversion and a challenge-because she was unimpressed by his title and could hold her own with both him and his haughty cousin.
Certainly she never dreamed he would ask her to become his countess. Under ordinary circumstances there was only one kind of future for a rakish nobleman and a young female shopkeeper-and it did not entail marriage.
She did her utmost to resist Dare, but gradually his outrageous charm and persistence wore her down, and she fell head over slippers in love with him. In retrospect, Julienne could see that her heart hadn't stood a chance once Dare set his sights on her. It was his proposal of marriage, however, that had finally compelled her to believe his professions of love, and to give him her virginity along with her promise to wed him.
Yet all too soon the romantic dreams she had cherished lay splintered and broken at her feet, along with her heart.
From the moment she'd first learned of his grandfather's threat to disown him, she realized she couldn't wed him. She couldn't allow Dare to sacrifice his future for her sake, knowing that he might someday come to rue his rashness, fearing he might hold her to blame…
She shuddered at the agonizing memory and bowed her head, suddenly swept by a wave of loneliness that seemed to flood her very soul.
It was some moments before she regained control of her emotions. She should return to the house, Julienne scolded herself, where she wouldn't be assaulted by bitter memories best left in the past.
When she rose to go, however, she found Dare standing at the entrance of the secluded garden, leaning indolently against the hedge. For an instant, her heart leapt with joy, but she strove to quell it.
His own expression was enigmatic as he nodded toward the wild tangle of rosebushes that covered much of the copse. "I grew rather fond of roses that summer, so I had this planted when I took up residence here."
Her heart wrenched at the thought of Dare wanting some keepsake of their wondrous time together, so she was glad to have her attention diverted by distant exclamations of glee as one of the guests scored.
"I should join the others," she said, glancing toward the garden entrance.
"Fleeing so soon?" Dare drawled as he pushed away from the hedge and sauntered toward her.
"There is no point in our being together. Riddingham isn't here to see."
"But he will know that we're both missing, and his jealousy will be aroused. The more his emotions are engaged, the greater likelihood that he will make a slip and show his hand. Stay a while."
Reluctantly Julienne nodded, but she moved away from Dare, a little farther along the path. Her whole being throbbed with an awareness of him.
Dare took the seat she had vacated. "Is there a reason I find you here alone? You don't care for the entertainment I've provided?"
Julienne shrugged. "I suppose I'm not accustomed to a life of leisure. All your guests do is play."
"That is the general idea of a house party. And I should think you need a holiday, as hard as you work."
"But I enjoy my work."
"What do you find so enjoyable about it? I would have judged you too pragmatic to play make-believe."
The seriousness of his question caught her off guard, but she pursed her lips thoughtfully, willing to give him an honest answer. "It's interesting to delve into a role. To become someone else for a change."