Read Online Miss Winters Proposes by Frances Fowlkes - Free Book Online Page B

obligations as a husband. It would be to the betterment of both their interests if he left well enough alone and avoided any sort of prying or conversation that deepened their relationship. And yet…was he not here to convince Winters of their affection for one another? Would he not require details to convince him Benjamin was besotted with Juliet?
    He snatched a spoon off the table and stirred the chocolate, the light-colored mixture releasing its fragrant aroma. “I regret I knew little of Amelia in the time we were together. I do not wish to repeat the offense.”
    “And you seek to remedy this how?” She poured a pitcher of water over her hands and wiped them off on a towel.
    “By asking after your interests. Should Winters query either of us on our deep affection for one another, an honest answer should be given.”
    She gave a reluctant nod. “I suppose that is a ready enough reason as any. What is it you wish to know?”
    Benjamin shrugged. “What of your interests? Do you play the pianoforte?”
    Juliet snorted. “No.”
    “Do you draw? Paint? Sketch?”
    She scrunched her pert little nose. “No, not at all.”
    “Embroider?” he asked, lifting the pot of boiling milk to the table. “Sing? Speak French, perhaps?”
    Juliet shook her head, releasing a fall of curls about her face. She swept them aside and grabbed a whisk for their beverage.
    “No, sir. You already know what holds my interest.”
    “Indeed?”
    “Breeding. I am most fascinated and engaged in the art of breeding. It consumes me.” She cracked an egg into the pot.
    God’s blood.
    “Breeding?” He near choked on his tongue.
    “Of hounds.” Her face flushed a bright shade of crimson. “I am most interested in the breeding of hounds , of course.”
    He really ought not to tease. But the heat rising to the surface of her skin was too endearing, too indicative of health and heat, he simply couldn’t resist asking, “And nothing more?”
    She whisked the creamy chocolate into a froth. Clearing her throat she replied, “The study and history of hound breeding occupies the full extent of my available time. It is why I wish to retreat to Evenrood. Few others find my life’s work acceptable, let alone interesting. Those who do are often old men with no interest in speaking with a woman whom they believe has no comprehension of the topic, despite the physical evidence proving otherwise.”
    “Physical evidence?” Benjamin helped her ease the pot back over the flames.
    Juliet nodded, placing her hand out to rub the muzzle of a lemon-spotted hound. “Cleo is the first of my kennel, born from champions I meticulously selected. No one, however, will acknowledge my work as long as I remain here. They assume, and quite naturally so, her success was born from my father’s hands and not from those of his spinster daughter’s.”
    Benjamin glanced down at the dog nuzzling into Juliet’s thigh. The bitch was lean, muscular, and of perfect proportions for the breed. Like others, she was also a dog he wrongly assumed to be the culmination of her father’s efforts, and not hers.
    Benjamin stirred the milk and frowned. “But even with your departure to Evenrood, people will still miscredit your line’s achievements. As your husband, they will assume they are mine.”
    Ladies did not engage in the masculine art of hound breeding. And while Juliet stood contrary to that line of thinking, he was doubtful anyone would be swayed to believe otherwise.
    She leaned over him, her eyes on the almost boiling contents of the pot. “Not if you are at Darlington Hall, and I am at Evenrood with the hounds.”
    Her sweet and spice-infused scent enveloped him, once again plunging his thoughts down a path of carnal lust and desire. Artemis licked his elbow and Benjamin shook his head, grounding himself in the present.
    “Hounds? You would take the hounds?”
    Juliet stilled his hand and lifted the pot off the flames. “Of course. It is the reason I wish to