Emily Hendrickson (20 page)

“I must say, you and your blushing bride—if she is indeed your bride—have done well with the house,” Mrs. Shelford admitted, examining the lovely dining room with a critical eye.

Marius might not be of the highest
ton,
but even he knew one didn’t make statements like that about one’s host while at the dinner table. He glared at the pompous old bat and said, “I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head, madam. My stepsister has always been most proper.”

“Well!” Mrs. Shelford gasped indignantly.

It was a good thing that Juliet had not yet taken a sip of her cream soup or she’d likely have choked. “Thank you, Marius. I appreciate your defense of my character.” She shared a look with Alexander, then concentrated on the gentlemen at either side of her. Lord Taunton was lost to Lucy. Harry Riggs was an unknown quantity.

“You do well with the lovely vixen,” he said quietly when the clatter of cutlery on dishes and the hum of conversation made excellent cover.

“Thank you. She does not make me pine for London. I believe I far prefer Woodbury society if she is an example of what the City has to offer.”

“Surely you would not deny us the pleasure of your company next Season, my lady.”

Juliet gave him a speculative look, wondering precisely how much Alexander had revealed to him of their situation.

He said nothing more on that score, and the dinner proceeded nicely. After Marius’s spirited defense of Juliet, Mrs. Shelford remained fairly quiet. Camilla said little, either. When it came time for the women to leave the table, the two Shelford women went eagerly. Camilla conversed about nothing in a polite manner Juliet had not thought possible from her.

It was as Camilla predicted. Rain began later in the evening, sending Lucy Tackley hurrying home before the roads became impassable. The rumble of thunder grew ominously closer. Camilla dropped little hints about requiring comforting, but no one took pity on her, least of all Juliet. Mrs. Shelford could take care of her daughter’s alarums; that was her duty.

Juliet wrapped a shawl about herself with trembling hands, not happy at the thought of facing the night alone. She’d not expect Alexander to comfort her foolish fears again. Besides, had she not told him the next time she would bury her head beneath the covers, poke her fingers in her ears, and sing to herself? As though that would actually help!

The storm was mild as storms go, thunder crashing now and again, but not so fiercely as last time. The lightning seemed not to threaten the house as before. Still, Juliet wished she could remain with others all night, and with reluctance she watched them go to their rooms.

“Time for bed, Juliet,” Alexander said, his voice brisk.

“T know,” she replied nervously. “I am such a little fool, to be so bothered by a little noise. Pay not the least attention to me, Alexander. I shall crawl under the covers and make the best of it.”

He put an arm around her shoulders and led her up the stairs to her room. Inside, candles flickered in the draft from the windows, threatening to plunge the room into darkness at any moment.

They both entered, just in case there was someone about to take notice. Juliet turned to Alexander and said, “Go now, for I intend to go to bed with all speed. The sooner I sleep, the better.”

She was sorry to see him leave, but quickly turned her attention to preparing for bed, donning her all-covering nightgown after hastily removing the satin gown, Pansy having been dismissed after her hard day’s work. Juliet tucked her auburn curls beneath an elegant wisp of a nightcap, then made for her bed.

The connecting door opened.

Alexander entered carrying a small oil lamp, nicely lit, and a book.

Juliet gave him an indignant look. “I didn’t hear a knock.”

“Hands were full,” he answered. “I heard you moving about and decided you must be near ready for bed by now.” He wore a fine brocade banyan over his breeches and shirt. The neck of his shirt fell open to reveal hints of dark hair. Juliet looked elsewhere with effort.

“I want you to crawl into bed while I read to you. After all, you told the group I did precisely that. Now it will not be a lie.”

“Alexander
...
” she began, then dove when lightning struck not far away and a clap of thunder vibrated throughout the house.

“Good girl,” Alexander said with approval. He turned up the flame and began to read passages from Shakespeare, having explained it was the closest thing to poetry he could find on the library shelves.

Juliet closed her eyes to escape the lightning. His voice soothed and drowned out the thunder. How comforting he was, and who would have thought a man termed a rake could be so caring, so considerate of her foolish fears.

He had begun, “Under the Greenwood tree who loves to lie with me,” when a sharp tap came. Before Juliet could leave her bed, Alexander crossed to see who dared to knock at this hour. Juliet slowly followed, curious as to who might disturb the night of a supposedly newly married couple.

“The storm,” Camilla began, then realized that Alexander was not alone, that Juliet—in her nightwear—was at his side. “Oh, you are together.” Camilla looked at Alexander, seeing his banyan wrapped and tied so that only his skin showed at the neck, and gulped.

“What did you expect, Miss Shelford?” Juliet asked in a firm, quiet voice, even though she trembled. “My husband is where he belongs—with me. I suggest you seek out your mother. She is the properest person to comfort you—a single woman.” Juliet had grabbed her shawl, and now Alexander adjusted it with what must appear to Camilla a possessive touch. He let his hand rest on Juliet’s shoulder in a gesture of intimacy.

“What will it take to convince you, Camilla?” he queried dryly. “Dare I suggest you and your mother depart tomorrow for London—or wherever you deem best? I know it must shock you, but Juliet and I would rather be alone—together.” He looked down at Juliet, and she dared to meet his gaze, barely stifling a gasp at the heat she saw therein. “You interrupted us,” Alexander said gently, then shut the door.

“Oh, my word,” Juliet exclaimed softly, allowing a great sigh to escape. “What she must think.”

“Precisely.” He nudged Juliet back to her bed, then resumed his reading.

* * * *

When she woke in the morning, Juliet couldn’t remember what she last heard before she drifted off to sleep. She had a hazy recollection of someone—Alexander—kissing her on her forehead—at least she thought that’s what had happened. She would not ask him.

Somewhere someone was pounding. She could hear voices beyond her window, and from within came the gentle sounds of the house wakening to another day.

“Morning, ma’am,” Pansy said quietly as she entered the room. “Word has it that those two Shelford ladies leave today. Miss asked for her trunks.”

“She certainly travels with a great deal of clothing.”

“Never mind,” the maid comforted, “you have one of the new muslins you brought from Salisbury to wear.”

“There is nothing like a new dress to cheer one up.” Juliet slipped from her bed, ready to be dressed.

“The fete is today, ma’am,” Pansy said after doing up the back of the pretty morning gown. Juliet admired the hemline, which featured a double row of gathered muslin held in place with bands of riband. The fabric was a pretty coral print and rather becoming, she thought.

“There is a great deal of pounding outside. Was there damage from the storm?” Juliet inquired on her way from the room, deciding it might be interesting to have breakfast downstairs today.

“Mr. Lumpkin is building an arbor, my lady,” The maid busied herself about the room, putting it to rights.

Juliet ran lightly down the stairs and out to where Mr. Lumpkin and Alexander stood in debate.

“Good morning, Juliet, my dear. You are just in time to give us your opinion. Think you a simple trellis arbor will do for the vines? Or ought we erect something more substantial?” Alexander gave her his charming smile, extending a hand in greeting.

“I hardly know
...
” she began, then faltered under Mr. Lumpkin’s amused stare. “A simple arbor will do nicely, I believe.” Rather than look foolish, she accepted Alexander’s hand and knew reassurance from its warmth.

“A garden seat of sturdy proportions to hold two is necessary, and trellis work without, I believe,” Alexander said, looking around the spot he’d selected for the arbor. It was a pretty place, close to the garden wall with an excellent view of the perennial beds.

“Alexander—” she began, only to be cut off by him.

“I would like you to see the splendid arbor at the Abbey. It is a trellis sort, but lengthy and covered with pink climbing roses that offer delightful scent come June. Next June we shall be there, just so you may enjoy it.”

“Have you eaten breakfast?” she inserted at last. “I would like to talk with you.”

Alexander paused to give Mr. Lumpkin a few instructions, then left him to his job. Sauntering along with Juliet, Alexander placed his arm across her shoulders and whistled.

“Alexander,” she hissed. He continued to whistle and tightened his hold on her.

Not knowing his reason, she smiled as though this were normal, and bided her time.

“Breakfast, my love?” he said when they entered the house.

There was activity everywhere; maids coming and going, Randall and Pansy up and down the stairs in a rush, Mrs. Bassett mumbling to herself as she bustled along the hall.

“Come with me. There is only one place I know where we can talk.”

“This sounds serious,” Alexander said as Juliet pulled him into the library, then shut the door on all the hubbub.

“It
is
serious. Once Mrs. Shelford and Camilla leave, I believe Marius and Lord Taunton will depart as well. Harry Riggs does not plan to remain long, does he?”

“Harry will leave the moment I give him a clue,” Alexander said, looking wary.

“Then
what are we to do? You go building arbors, and it is time either both or one of us must leave,” Juliet said dejectedly.

“We cannot depart from here immediately.” Alexander said quietly.

“Why not?” Juliet demanded with hope in her voice.

“Mrs. Tackley and my grandmother, for one. If I go and leave you alone here, my dear relative will be here in a trice with probing questions. I doubt you would want that.”

“Er, no,” Juliet agreed, frowning. “You believe we must remain here
...
together
...
for a time?”

“Most assuredly. I have promised Parson Richards to be at his wedding.”

“Alexander, that is not until next month!” Juliet exclaimed.

“Hush. You do not want Camilla to hear you.”

“Oh, bother Camilla,” Juliet said with a sigh.

“Well, she is a great deal of bother, but she can also be a troublemaker. I’d not wish her to return to London bearing tales.”

Juliet bit her lower lip in vexation. “Of course. I quite forgot you must return to Society. It would not do for that sort of gossip to circulate regarding you. Reputations are fragile things.”

“I was thinking of you, my dear.”

“Oh.”

Alexander watched Juliet cross to stare out the window to where Lumpkin worked on the arbor. “I do not wish my wife to be the object of speculation and unkind gossip.”

“But I am
not
your wife,” Juliet replied in a little voice.

Alexander was about to explain their future when the library door opened and Harry Riggs along with Marius entered the room.

“Sorry,” Harry said after a quick look at his friend’s face and Juliet’s back.

She turned, a bright smile on her face. “Only see what Alexander is having built for me—an arbor. I have long wished for an arbor where I might sit on fine days. Remember the arbor at the Hall, Marius?”

He looked confused, then nodded. “More or less. I don’t spend much time at the Hall.”

“You ought to, you know,” she replied. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I have yet to breakfast.” She slipped from the room followed by Alexander’s frustrated gaze.

“The path not as smooth as you might wish?” Harry asked.

“Not at all. Everything is fine,” Alexander said with a glance at Marius.

“I understand the Shelfords leave today,” Harry offered quietly.

“Dashed good thing, if you ask me,” Marius said. ‘

“That old bat questioned my stepsister’s propriety. There isn’t anyone more proper than Juliet. Wildest thing she ever did was run off with you,” he said to Alexander. “Refused to marry Taunton because he was a rowdy good fellow, and look at him now—turning into a dull-wit who can’t talk about anything except being leg-shackled to that Tackley girl.”

“Is that so?” Alexander said. “I fancy he will want to linger here to do a bit of courting. By all means, stay. You are most welcome.”

Marius looked astounded. “That is dashed good of you, my lord. I mean, the way Rob and I charged in here, accusing you of whatnot and now you are offering your hospitality?” He shook his head in amazement.

“The fete is due to begin shortly. I had best round up Juliet, bid the unwelcome guests farewell, and prepare for a busy day.”

“Shall I follow Camilla to make certain she indeed returns to London or wherever she may hide out?” Harry inquired quietly. “She hinted to a good many that she intended to return as your bride.”

“No, I care not where the dratted woman goes as long as she leaves here. Stay on if you like. The more the merrier, or so they say.” Alexander ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of sheer frustration.

Harry gave Alexander a curious look, but said nothing beyond the thought to try the nearby river for trout.

“Not come to the fete?” Alexander demanded, crossing to the door, throwing it open to expose the view of trunks piled high in the entry. “We must celebrate,” he said softly.

Mrs. Shelford made short work of their departure. She bid Juliet a frosty good-bye, nodded severely to Alexander, ignored the other men, then entered her massive traveling coach without further ado. Camilla followed meekly behind her mother.

“Coach suits the old gel, don’t it,” Marius observed.

“Indeed,” Alexander replied, bursting into laughter.