Emily Hendrickson (14 page)

Alexander dropped his hand so it rested on Juliet’s nearly bare hip and sighed with satisfaction. “I do believe he is at last convinced. That nightgown was a stroke of genius, if I do say so.” He gave her an admiring look.

“You planned this?” Juliet demanded in a dangerously quiet voice.

“Brilliant, would you not agree?” He gazed down at her in such a way that Juliet was certain she blushed from head to toe.

“Get out of this room, my lord, before I do violence!”

Chapter 8

“I want you to take that nightgown, wash it, restore it to the chest where you found it, and never bring it out again. Is that clear, Pansy?”

“Indeed, ma’am,” a subdued maid replied.

“And from now on I shall break my fast here in my room. Is that also clear?” Juliet turned from where she had been staring out of the window at the early morning mist that hung over the garden.

“Yes, ma’am” Pansy took the offending garment in her arms, prepared to gently swish it through suds, hang it to dry, then place it back in tissue.

“And I want you to scour the house—as I will—to see if we might find the key to the connecting door. Mind you, Marius must not know what is afoot. After the depths to which Lord Hawkswood descended to achieve our goal, I’d be a fool to change my stepbrother’s opinion. Not a word. Is that also clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Pansy replied with an audible sigh. She hastily slipped from the room as though afraid that Juliet would think of something else to add to her scold.

Alone, Juliet returned to her contemplation of the rising mist. It would be impossible to feel more mortified than she did at this point. How could he? Never mind it attained her objective. Scheming to dress her in that outrageous nightgown no more than a wisp of cobwebby fabric that offered not the slightest protection from his gaze was too much. She wanted to hide, bury herself where he could never see her again, never hear of her again, forget she ever existed, if such a thing were possible.

He had laughed at her!

She wrapped her arms about her as to ward off the memory of his amused laughter at her infuriated demand that he leave the room, else she’d do violence. Had she actually begun to believe he was a kind, gentle man? He was little better than Marius, and that was about the worst there was.

The door opened, and she swung around with alarm only to find that Pansy had returned with her morning meal.

“Your stepbrother is up, ma’am,” Pansy offered while arranging the dishes on a small table Juliet had drawn up near the window.

“Is there any chance he might be leaving, do you think?” Juliet inquired with hope.

“I heard him ask Lord Taunton iffen he was about set to go back to London, and his lordship said he had papers to sign and besides, he liked it here.”

“Good grief,” Juliet said, seating herself on the Hepplewhite chair at the side of the table. “We can only hope that when Lucy Tackley makes her intentions known, Lord Taunton will flee to the city.”

Amazingly enough, she could eat, and she made a good breakfast. Hot tea went a long way to easing anger, even if it crossed her mind that a pot of the substance dumped over his lordship in the adjoining room might persuade him to keep to himself.

She wouldn’t remain in her bedroom, she decided once she’d drained the last of the tea from the pot. It was far too lovely a day to be stuck indoors. She’d potter in the garden for a time. Goodness knew the weeds flourished and required pulling daily, not to mention the dead flowers that needed to be cut. Old Mr. Lumpkin was fine at rough gardening, but delicate things like snipping off flower heads were beyond his ken.

Poking her head around her half-opened door, she could see no one about. Slipping down the stairs and out to her flowers proved child’s play. She concentrated on the main flower bed, tugging weeds, dead-heading flowers, and making the bed tidy when she heard the crunch of steps on pea gravel behind her. Someone approached.

“Good morning, Juliet.” There was a faint question in Lord Hawkswood’s voice.

It was childish not to reply, so she said curtly, “Good morning.”

“Am I to be unforgiven, then?”

She could hear that wretched hint of laughter in his voice, and it firmed her resolve as nothing else might have.

“If you refer to the contemptible incident that occurred last evening, you are correct.” Juliet might speak to him, but she’d not look at the dratted man. That might weaken her determination to remain aloof from him and
that
would never do.

He crossed to stand at her side. She could see her reflection in the high polish of his boots and took a moment to brush her wayward curls from her face. “Go away.”

“Juliet, I am sorry if you are upset, but my stratagem worked. Marius now believes we are truly married. That
is
what you wished, is it not?” he inquired in the silky voice she’d not trust again.

“There ought to have been something else, some other way,” she blurted out in barely repressed rage.

“I gather it is too soon for you to see reason,” he said with a sigh to the top of her gardening hat. “Very well, then. But he is not the only one you must convince.”

Juliet paused, a weed in hand, then made the mistake of glancing up at him. “Who else?”

“The good folk of Woodbury, of course.” He stood there as fresh as a daisy, smiling at her quite as though he hadn’t made a fool of her last evening. She tore her gaze from him with difficulty.

“Why of course?” she countered, staring down at the aquilegia as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Mrs. Tackley knows my grandmother. She mentioned it to me the other evening. Were my grandmother to learn something havey-cavey was going on in this house, she would be down here in a trice.”

“And you’d not want that, I gather?” Juliet asked dryly.

“You have not met her.” What a wealth of insinuation lurked in that remark.

“I do not wish to talk with you. Go away. If any of the women come to call, I shall do my best to look the part you assigned me—a silly, besotted fool..” Juliet resumed her digging, utterly destroying one plant Mr. Wyllard had given her in the process. She was in such a blind passion she didn’t notice the destruction until after Alexander had gone, and then she sighed with vexation.

Eventually the garden was tidy, weeds pulled from the beds to be burned, dead flowers and trimmings wheeled off to the compost pile. Juliet sank back on her heels, surveying the results with satisfaction.

“Beggin’ you pardon, ma’am,” Pansy said hesitantly, “a glass of fine lemonade?”

“Ah, just the thing,” Juliet declared fervently and drained the glass with appreciation.

“His lordship said as how you’d be mighty thirsty after bein’ in the garden all this time.”

“Lord Taunton?” Juliet inquired, knowing the answer before she asked.

“No, ma’am,” Pansy replied, backing away from her mistress. “It was Lord Hawkswood.” If she expected Juliet to hurl the glass at her, she was proven wrong.

“Thank you, Pansy. The lemonade was most welcome,” Juliet said, her temper well in hand by now. “I should like a bath, please. I am all dirty and perspiring. I’ll be up to my room shortly.”

The maid scurried off, looking thankful no fireworks had exploded.

It took but a few moments to put away her gardening tools. Juliet had a short talk with Mr. Lumpkin regarding an area she wished to be spaded for more kitchen garden plots, then hurried up the back way to the first floor and her room, not wishing to see anyone in all her dirt.

Pansy was in the act of pouring water into the copper slipper bath. Juliet pulled off her drab gardening dress, hose, and shoes before pausing to stare at the connecting door. She looked around the bedroom to see what might be pushed in front of it. She hadn’t taken time to hunt for the key.

“Did you ask about the key? Or find it?” she inquired as she tugged a low chest in front of the door.

“No key has been seen in many years, ma’am,” Pansy said, coming to aid her mistress. “Besides, his lordship has taken the others and gone to Salisbury for the day.”

Juliet stopped, looked at her maid, and smiled wryly. “Lovely. I can bathe in peace.”

And it did prove peaceful. She relaxed in the tub, mulling over what had occurred in the past week, culminating in the scene last evening. Mortifying, true, but Alexander had done it—convinced Marius she and Alexander were really wed. Now Marius would go and leave her be, forget about marrying her to Lord Taunton. However, Alexander thought she still needed to placate the ladies of Woodbury. Perhaps it would be necessary for a time, until all danger was past.

Then she sat bolt up. Had there not only been danger for her, but for Alexander as well? How could she have forgotten the woman who aspired to marry him? Then Juliet relaxed once again. Just because Marius had stumbled upon her in this remote village did not mean that woman would uncover Alexander. What was her name? she wondered. More important, what did she look like—slender, blond, blue-eyed, and beautiful? Or perhaps dark-haired with flashing black eyes and a lush figure to tempt a man.

Juliet looked down at the body revealed through fading suds. Rather average, she supposed, as was her hair and face. As her stepbrother had so kindly pointed out, she was not much to look at. She rose from her tub to dry, then dress. She might be tired of her yellow morning gown, but she had little choice, so on it went with slippers to match.

With the men gone from the house, Juliet applied herself to tasks left undone when they were about. She checked sheets again, taking note of what must be replaced.

She was consulting with Cook regarding a dish Lord Hawkswood had requested when Mrs. Bassett bustled into the kitchen to come to a halt by Juliet.

Juliet looked up with a question in her eyes. “Yes?”

“Mrs. Ogleby and Mrs. Tackley have come to call, my lady.”

Juliet thought back to her words with Alexander this morning and nodded. “I shall see them at once. Bring a tea tray after a bit, will you?” She smoothed down her gown, patted her hair, then entered the drawing room with a genuine smile of greeting on her face.

“Lady Hawkswood, how well you look today,” Mrs. Ogleby said, giving Juliet a searching inspection.

“Thank you. Indeed, once the mist cleared, it turned out to be a fine day and I have been in the garden. There is always much to do if one looks for it. And you? I trust both you ladies are fine?” Juliet sank down on a dainty Hepplewhite chair facing the two women.

“Indeed,” Mrs. Tackley said with what passed for a smile on her somewhat dour face.

They proceeded to discuss the upcoming church fete, the coming marriage of the squire’s daughter to the parson, and last, but most interesting, the manor house and its history.

“Did you know his lordship’s mother?” Juliet dared to ask after a while. If they snubbed her question, she’d not take it amiss. Considering what had happened, it could be a touchy subject.

“I did, although never well,” Mrs. Tackley admitted. “She kept herself aloof from the village when she and his lordship were in residence. They only came for a few weeks in summer, you see,” she added in explanation in case Juliet didn’t know this fact.

“She was not as gracious as you, my lady,” Mrs. Ogleby inserted. “Had little to say to us. Of course we were young then,” she added in a likely attempt to justify her late ladyship’s behavior.

“It is a pity, for I believe she missed a great deal in not enjoying your company,” Juliet replied truthfully. They might be curious, but their hearts were in the right place, and she had found them both a comfort in her lonely hours.

“It was a sad day for his lordship when she died,” Mrs. Ogleby said, hesitating before saying anything more with a cautious look at Juliet to see, no doubt, if she knew something of that event.

“She was killed during a storm, I believe,” Juliet offered.

“Aye,” Mrs. Tackley said. “Struck by lightning, poor dear. It was terribly hard for the present Lord Hawkswood, boy that he was then. He must have had a lonely time of it after his mother’s death.”

Juliet wished she might halt the conversation. She didn’t want to feel sorry for Alexander—no more than she already did, that is. “What a pity. I’m not fond of storms, myself. I’m a frightful coward, hiding beneath the covers until the thunder goes away.” She ignored the comfort offered by Alexander. It was best to put that well behind her.

Mrs. Ogleby chuckled. “My girls are the same, shrieking and howling to wake the dead.”

Mrs. Bassett entered at that point, pushing a cart laden with a teapot, cups, and a plate of dainty cucumber sandwiches, plus ginger and lemon biscuits.

Juliet poured out the tea, offering sugar and milk, biscuits and sandwiches, continuing to chat about anything other than Alexander.

The squire’s wife and daughter came to call at that moment, and Juliet greeted Mrs. Otterly and daughter Mary politely, inviting them to partake of the tea.

Within minutes Mrs. Bassett returned with a fresh pot of tea and more sandwiches and biscuits. She bore a proud smile, happy to see her mistress entertaining.

The squire’s wife echoed that thought when she said, “It is so good to see this house occupied again after all these years. We are very pleased you joined our little village society, my lady.”

Mary nodded shyly, but said nothing, and Juliet wondered if she was truly shy or merely tongue-tied at being in the manor with the viscountess.

A noise in the hall indicated others had arrived, and shortly Alexander entered the room, followed by Lord Taunton and Marius.

Juliet turned to face the door, tensing for what was to follow. She pasted what she hoped was a loving smile on her face and greeted them all with equal charm.

“How agreeable to be in such delightful company, eh, Winterton?” Alexander said pleasantly but with an edge to his voice that told Juliet he must have had a difficult day. “Ran into Mr. Wyllard, my dear. He sent his greetings and a plant for you,” Alexander added. “I gave it to Lumpkin to put in the north bed.”

“How nice,” Juliet said with well-concealed ire. How dare Alexander accept the plant, then send it off in the care of Lumpkin, who’d likely plant it all wrong and kill the thing!