“Tell me,” he said, as his fingers, gentle on her arm didn’t retreat, but rather, held her as he leaned closer. “How did His Grace and your sister, Ophelia, meet?”
Juliet narrowed her gaze. What was he about? He clearly didn’t approve of the match and now he was asking questions. “There was a storm. His Grace arrived at our door, asking if we might shelter him for the evening.”
“That’s right. A storm did blow through the night Chase left. A fierce one.”
She nodded. “It blew out the bridge to the north and—”
“The bridge? Ruined? Is that why Chase stayed?”
Juliet nodded, her head cocking to the side. Her arms crossed as she narrowed her gaze. Was she giving him weapons or helping to explain why nothing was actually amiss? “Yes. My father offered to help His Grace go north. We own a fleet of ships but His Grace refused.”
She watched as Lord Hartwell frowned. “Chase doesn’t like boats.”
“He planned to return to the south, I think but…” She shrugged. Come to think of it, she didn’t know why he didn’t use a ship to leave Seabridge Gate.
Lord Hartwell stopped, pulling her just to the right of the doorway so the crowd passed them by into the salon. Hadn’t anyone noticed they hadn’t entered? His hand was still on her elbow and he stroked small circles through her sleeve. “Is the bridge still broken?”
Juliet shook her head. “No. I believe Lord Crestwood helped repair it.”
“Crestwood?” His brow crinkled. “Repairing a bridge?”
Even she had to confess the behavior seemed odd. The first night she’d met Lord Crestwood, he had been a complete rake, smiling and winking at all her sisters. Even her. Now, he acted like a completely different man. Adrianna and Crestwood had begun by sparring but they’d quickly become engaged and Crestwood hadn’t looked away from her sister since. “He missed his ship to do so.”
Both his brows went up as he stared down at her. “Your home is lovely. Did you say your father owns a fleet of ships?”
She frowned, furrowing her brow. Why the sudden change in topic? “Why yes. He does.”
“That he runs his fleet from Seabridge Gate?”
She gave a small jerk of her chin. “It’s a uniquely protected harbor, which makes it excellent for a business like my father’s.”
He tilted his chin down, giving her a long look. She couldn’t help but notice that his nose was rather straight and fine while his jaw had a decidedly masculine angle. “A most fortunate occupation.”
“Fortune had little to do with it. My grandfather gave this land to my father, his second son.” She narrowed her gaze. What was his game? Whatever it was, she was surely losing, though she couldn’t rightly see how exactly.
“And who is your grandfather?” His fingers tightened just a touch on her elbow and Juliet took a half step back. She refused to give him any more information.
Jerking her arm, she pulled it from his grasp. “He’s the Earl of Seabridge.” Then she gestured toward the door. “It’s time for us to step inside.”
He frowned but turned toward the door. “One more question,” he said spinning back again.
“No.” She shook her head. “No more questions. Not unless you answer some first.”
He made a sound of dissent, deep in this throat. “That hardly seems necessary.”
“Then we have nothing to discuss.” And she made to step around him.
“Miss Moorish.” He reached out a hand, touching her waist with his long, tapered fingers.
She gasped in a breath. Tingling spread through her, which she deftly ignored. She notched her chin and dropped her voice in disapproval. “My lord.”
He removed his hand. “Apologies.”
“I have been trying to decide why you’re asking all these questions. While I still don’t know the answer, I do know I’m done answering them. That is, unless, you’d like to supply some information of your own.”
He drew in a long breath. “Fine. What do you wish to know?”
She raised a single brow. “I’ll meet you on one of the balconies in just a few minutes. For now, we need to make an appearance.”