Emily Hendrickson (11 page)

“A parson, you say?” Marius said with a frown.

“It would not do for a viscount to wed over an anvil, would it?” Juliet countered.

Marius shook his head. “There is something distinctly fishy about this entire thing. It stinks to high heaven.”

“Indeed?” Juliet snapped. “Then perhaps you will want to leave immediately. I would not wish to think you found our company or our home objectionable.”

“Can’t until Taunton finishes with the estate business. His uncle left him a tidy sum.” Marius gave Juliet a superior look as though to make her think she chose the worst of two bargains.

“Which Lord Taunton will promptly lose at the gambling tables,” Juliet charged.

“No, no,” Marius insisted. “His luck has turned now. Can’t help but make a fortune. Likely to reform and all that, you know.”

“Give me leave to doubt your words,” Juliet replied, turning to Alexander as though to dismiss her stepbrother and his unwelcome inferences.

“I wish to speak with Juliet,” Alexander said quietly but with unmistakable authority. “Be so good as to meet us downstairs in a few minutes.”

There was little Marius could do but agree and leave the room at once.

“Thank you, Alexander. It was difficult, talking with him.”

“When Pansy informed me that Marius had confronted you, I decided I had better intervene. You are a tigress, my pet, but not up to his weight, I think.”

Juliet was delighted that Pansy had not forgotten her as she first believed. Then she considered Alexander’s words. “I doubt I am your pet, but ‘tis true I have never been able to face him down. He was ever the bully.”

“And I doubt he will change. And you are my pet, dear girl.” With those words he returned to his room, not bothering to close the door behind him.

Juliet stood frozen in place while she listened to the soft conversation between Alexander and Randall. Was she Alexander’s dear girl? She doubted that just as she doubted her stepbrother would leave here willingly if he thought he might cause trouble.

“Still here? Come, we will go down together, present a united front so to speak.” Alexander rook her hand to place on his arm, then led her from her room. “You must not permit Marius to intimidate you.”

“I believe I can withstand him now that I have your protection,” Juliet said simply, trembling a little at the thought that one day she would no longer have that protection.

“My dear girl, you unnerve me.”

Juliet chuckled. “Now that I refuse to believe.”

Her eyes were still lit with amusement when they entered the drawing room to find Marius and Lord Taunton awaiting them.

“Dashed good of you to put us up for a bit,” Lord Taunton ventured to say in a burst of speech quite unlike his usual taciturn self. “Uncle left me a packet.”

“I suspect the house will bring a goodly sum as well, should you want to sell it,” Alexander said with suave politeness.

“Know anyone who’d buy it?” Taunton inquired eagerly.

“I may,” Alexander replied thoughtfully. “I shall tell you when I find out more.” And with that Taunton had to be content, for Alexander had spoken with finality.

Dinner was a constrained event. Marius tried to bait Juliet and Alexander at every turn, endeavoring to trick them about the date of their marriage, the manner of their meeting.

Juliet was thankful that she and Alexander had agreed upon most things earlier. Any minor detail Marius dreamed up she subtly referred to Alexander, deciding he had a more inventive mind than hers.

At the meal’s conclusion she left the men to their port, thinking that Marius would find it tough going if he thought to best Lord Hawkswood.

She seated herself at the harp, idly playing a melody she had tried the day before. A glance out the window revealed storm clouds rolling up from the south. It would likely be a wet and wild night, for the storms could be fierce. She shivered, for she had ever been afraid of thunderstorms, and now there was no Miss Pritchard to comfort her. Pansy was little help, for the maid was apt to cower beneath the covers the moment she heard a distant boom, and as for lightning, it was hard to say who was the more afraid of it—Pansy or Juliet.

“Shall we play a duet for our guests?” Alexander asked upon entering the drawing room, bringing Juliet’s gloomy thoughts to an end. He turned to Marius, adding, “That is another bond Juliet and I have—we are both musically inclined. It is most delightful to have such a talented wife.”

Marius gave him a disbelieving look, then crossed to lean against a window surround to stare moodily, first at one, then the other of the pair of musicians.

Unprepared for such a request from Alexander, Juliet fussed with the music for a few moments, then settled on the one piece she felt they both could manage without problems. She gave him a nod, then began her introduction with him easily following her a few bars later.

Lord Taunton settled on the settee, a polite expression on his face, while Marius looked disgusted. The piece of music Juliet had selected was mercifully short. When she had played the last note, Marius promptly shifted his position, walking across to Alexander.

“How about some cards?” he said, obviously not caring how rude he sounded.

Alexander looked to Juliet, who nodded slightly. “If you would enjoy a game, I am willing. My love, do you go upstairs?” he asked in an aside to Juliet.

“Yes, dearest. I shall see you later?” she said with what she hoped was an implication in her voice. It might offer him an excuse for leaving a game he had no liking for.

Alexander hastily stifled a grin and nodded. “Later, my dear.”

As she swiftly left the room, Juliet could hear Marius making offensive remarks regarding the hasty marriage and probable outcome. While she climbed the stairs, she hoped Alexander would have more patience than she would show to her lout of a stepbrother. What a comfort to know they were only related by her father’s marriage.

Papa’s first wife had died shortly after her son’s birth. Her own mama had died of putrid sore throat when Juliet was a small girl, thus leaving Lord Winterton widowed a second time. Small wonder that he had taken himself off on a long journey to Russia on behalf of his majesty’s government. Juliet refused to believe that he was dead. He couldn’t be.

She closed the door behind her, leaning against it with relief when she could no longer hear Marius’ voice. She crossed to her desk, placing her pretty fan atop it, tracing the design on one of the sticks. How thoughtful of Alexander to buy her a present. She’d not have expected it of him. Certainly he was not what she had anticipated. She had thought a rake such as he had been described would be uncaring, conniving, and manipulative. Rather, he was considerate of her, seeming a friend, and mindful of the proprieties involved.

She might argue with him over Mr. Wyllard, but inwardly she had to agree with his reasoning. If Marius thought there was the slightest flaw in their “marriage,” he would do all he would to destroy it and her. The more she considered a marriage to Lord Taunton, the more she was convinced she had done what was necessary, even if it did involve her in a predicament beyond belief.

“There be a storm brewing,” Pansy said as she entered the room, bearing a pitcher of hot water so Juliet might wash before bed.

“I know. I saw the clouds forming off to the south of here. I suppose there will be thunder,” Juliet added in a quavering voice. “You are free to console yourself belowstairs, Pansy.”

“A bit of wine would not come amiss. And that Randall, he is an agreeable chap who is willing to chat for a bit. I’d as soon postpone bed if you know what I mean.”

“As you wish,” Juliet murmured, then said, “Thank you for seeking his lordship’s interference on my behalf before dinner. You well know how my stepbrother can be at times.”

“Aye, more times than I could count,” the maid replied while pouring the water into a basin after helping Juliet from her gown.

Juliet bathed her face and washed off the rest of her body as best she might, given that she had no tub. She had no desire to
demand a bath, knowing the servants had far too much to do with guests in the house.

Donning a fine lawn nightgown edged with pretty lace and properly buttoned up to her neck, Juliet crawled beneath the covers, pulling them over her head when she heard the first rumble of thunder approach. Pansy lit a candle, placing it on the bedside stand before leaving the room.

The storm was slow in coming. Juliet had hoped she might fall asleep before it struck, but that was not to be. What a pity Marius was not likewise afflicted; he would take to his room and leave Alexander free to do as he pleased.

Curling up into a little ball, she whimpered as the first lightning, followed by a crash of thunder, hit close by. Another streak of lightning brought an even greater boom of thunder that brought a faint scream to her lips; it seemed far too near.

“Juliet? Marius mentioned you are afraid of storms.” When Alexander saw the miserable little heap huddled at the top of the bed, frightened eyes peering at him from over the covers, he strode to her side, dropping to the bed to gather her into his arms.

“Afraid? Not I,” Juliet declared, creeping closer to him, seeking his warmth and comfort. “I am utterly terrified of thunder and lightning. I am such a coward, hiding in my bed.”

“At least you are alive.”

“True, but terrified,” she retorted, leaning back to look at him, dark and forbidding in the dim fight of the lone candle. A flash struck again, and she tensed, waiting for the thunder to follow.

“Lightning in particular can be fascinating but deadly,” Alexander said, tightening his hold on Juliet.

She stilled at his words, sensing there was more to them than revealed. “What happened?”

“My mother, unlike you, found storms bewitching. She would go out on the terrace and watch the flashes of light, revel in the crash of thunder, unheedful of the rain.”

“What happened?” Juliet persisted, wishing she might drive the ache from his voice, from him.

“She was killed by a lightning strike.”

Juliet could hear the bleakness in his voice, the pain that still haunted him. She tried to picture the boy who had cared deeply for his mother, that beautiful boy whose portrait hung above the mantel. “How dreadful,” she whispered, snuggling closer to him in an effort to comfort him. “Poor boy. Were you here?”

“Yes, I was here. I found her.”

Juliet considered the implications of those few words. He had come upon his dead mother, probably in tears, devastated at her death, not knowing what to do for her. “The ring,” she wondered aloud.

“I removed it from her finger, placing it in the desk where you chanced upon it. I thought perhaps one day I would want it.”

“Your father?” Juliet ventured to ask, deciding it was best to avoid the subject of the ring for now.

“He had gone out and was late returning home. He was too late to help when he arrived. I’d managed to bring her inside with the aid of one of the servants. I don’t think he ever recovered from her death. She was a very beautiful woman, and he loved her deeply.”

“That is why you are so beautiful,” Juliet said, thinking of the portrait again.

He drew away from her a little. She could sense he was looking down at her, likely with puzzlement at her words.

“You are handsome now, but as a boy you were a beautiful child. I expect you’ll have beautiful children unless you marry some antidote.”

“There is no chance of that,” he said with an odd little chuckle.

She wrapped her arms about him more tightly, wishing she could have been there when it happened, that she could have taken that poor little boy into her arms and comforted him as he needed comfort. Perhaps that was why he was now so self-contained and at times aloof; he’d had to learn to be alone, just as Juliet had learned.

The thunder crashed again, and she buried her face against him, shaking with fright. She’d not pulled all the draperies in her room, wanting to know the worst of the storm even as she feared it. Alexander made a move to rise, but she clung to him.

“Do not leave, I beg you,” she cried softly.

“I thought to close the draperies,” he explained.

“I far prefer to have you at my side. I can close my eyes,” and then winced as a flash of light struck the ground outside her window. “How lucky you do not fear the storm
...
you’d have reason to, you know.”

Alexander gathered her even closer than before, settling down upon her bed and leaning against the headboard to be more comfortable.

“Tell me more about your father,” she demanded, knowing the sound of his voice would keep her fears at bay while the lightning and thunder crashed outside.

“He was a fine man, but seemed to lose heart after my mother died. The men in my family appear to love but once and then with devotion. He never married again and died relatively young.”

“How sad. You lived alone? No brothers or sisters?” she asked hesitantly, unwilling to cause more grief, but wanting to know as much as she could about him.

“Alone,” he said, wrapping his arms about her more tightly as a flash of light warned of another roll of thunder.

“Oh,” she cried as the thunder crashed over the house, seeming to shake its very foundations.

“I’m here, Juliet. I’ll take care of you.”

“I know.” She nestled against him, feeling more cherished than she had in many years. In gratitude she stretched up to bestow a kiss on his neck, welcoming the warmth of his skin revealed by his open shirt.

“Juliet,” he said, and it sounded like a warning.

“What, Alexander? What do you want?”

For an answer he buried his face in her tumbled curls, holding her so close she felt that her bones might break. Yet it was a wonderful feeling, cherished and wanted.

It was a time before the lightning came again, and when it followed, it seemed like the thunder was not directly overhead.

“Alexander, I think it is waning. The storm, that is,” she added when she looked up in his face to see a look she couldn’t interpret.

He didn’t respond, but rather bent to touch her lips with his. It was not a fiery kiss as she had been given before, but instead seemed to be one of promise, a gentle soul-enriching kiss. Juliet responded as a flower to the rain, wrapping her arms about him, wanting to be close to him to comfort, to love, to cherish him as he deserved.