Emily Hendrickson (26 page)

“Particularly one who was instrumental in introducing you to my grandson,” the old lady retorted with a narrow stare at the bewildered Miss Pritchard.

“Come, you must be wishing for a rest and a change of clothes,” Juliet said quietly with a slight tug on Miss Pritchard’s arm. “Mrs. Bassett must have your room ready and things unpacked by now. I shall have tea sent up to you once you are settled,” Juliet murmured as she hurried Miss Pritchard from the drawing room and up the stairs.

“Juliet,” the former governess whispered when they had reached the upper hallway, “what is going on? I know you far too well to mistake that guilty expression on your face. You are up to something, and I would know what it is.”

“I shall explain everything later. Just say nothing about that meeting. At the moment I shall settle you in your room and prepare for dinner. We dine at London hours, so change and rejoin us when you can.”

The mystified governess entered her lovely room, quite as nice as she had known while at Winterton Hall, and resolved to find out precisely what sort of bumblebroth her charge had plunged into once her governess had departed.

Juliet left Miss Pritchard to settle into her room, returning to her own to change for dinner.

“This is an interesting turn of events,” Alexander said from where he reclined on her bed. He propped himself on one arm while she came to a halt just inside her door, staring at him with horrified eyes. She hastily shut the door behind her. “Alexander,” she whispered, “what are you doing in my room?” Much as she loved him, he was the last person she wished to see at the moment.

“Your father came upstairs with me, and I thought it best to continue the illusion that we are a loving husband and wife. He
knows this is your room.” Alexander lazily rose from the bed and walked over to gaze down at Juliet. “It is quite acceptable for husband and wife to come and go into each other’s rooms.”

“But
...
” Juliet objected helplessly, feeling quite as though she had been captured by the tide of which Helena spoke and even now was being swept out to sea. Alexander ignored her, turning to gesture to several boxes stacked on the far side of the bed.

“Some things came from Salisbury. If I make no mistake, they are from the mantua-maker. Shall I see the new gowns and assist you in choosing one for dinner?”

“Go away,” she cried, upset that he was in her room. That she was secreted in her bedroom with a man not her husband—never mind that she loved the dratted creature—while her father was just down the hall disturbed her dreadfully. If Papa knew the truth, he would be horribly disappointed in her, to put it mildly.

But, she also knew that he would march Alexander and her down the nearest aisle as quick as might be, and she didn’t want that. Not that she didn’t desire Alexander. She did. But she did not want him as a trapped and condemned husband.

Naturally, Alexander ignored her order—such as it was—and opened the first of the boxes, pulling a delicate caramel crepe gown—one that had been exquisitely decorated with embroidery—from the tissue in which it had been protected.

“I need look no further,” he said, holding the gown up against a motionless Juliet.

She, quite unable to resist the magic in those dark eyes, meekly agreed to wear the caramel crepe. Only after he had left, retreating through the connecting door with a wink and recommendation that she not be long, did she toss the lovely new gown on the bed.

Fuming, she marched over to the looking glass. “You do not
look
like an idiot,” she scolded herself. “Pity you are such a silly, craven soul.” Yet, whether she liked it or not, she knew that his wishes would be carried out.

Pansy entered the room, silently going about the job of putting away the pretty new gowns and admiring the one Alexander desired Juliet to wear that evening.

Once Juliet had the gown on and she saw how well it became her, she decided Alexander was right. It was silly of her to cavil at his suggestion. Likely he only meant to bolster her spirits, what with her father, new stepmother, his grandmother, and now her past governess—
a
most skeptical lady—on the scene.

Pansy had completed dressing Juliet’s hair in a rather fetching style with a number of ivory silk roses twined among her curls when another tap came at the connecting door. Not even raising an eyebrow, Pansy meekly departed, leaving Juliet in sole possession of the room.

“Enter,” Juliet said, rising from the chair by her dressing table. “I see you are ready to face inspection,” she said when Alexander joined her.

“As are you, and most admirably by the looks of it. If we stick together as much as possible all through the evening, neither your father nor your ex-governess will have a chance to interrogate either one of us.”

“I suppose she might feel duty bound to inform Father regarding my status,” Juliet reflected. “Yet she would be loyal to me, I believe.”

“Remember, we are as good as married in all eyes.”

“Except yours and mine,” she reminded him bleakly. “I shall have to talk with her sometime, for she will insist upon it. The important thing is to decide what to say.”

“And she will catch you out in a lie, is that it?” Alexander asked with more perception than Juliet would have liked.

“Like Papa, she can tell if I prevaricate.”

“Juliet, have you come to love me?” Alexander asked suddenly, the words darting to her heart like a spear.

Startled, Juliet turned her head slightly, hoping
he
had not the ability to detect her in a lie. “Of course not,” she fibbed.

He took her chin to study her face, for her downcast eyes refused to meet his. “I see.”

“You can see nothing,” she retorted, her eyes flashing up, daring him to refute her.

“I see far better than you think,” Alexander said with a pleased look. “We had best avoid all situations where you could be scrutinized, or it might prove risky.” He escorted her to the hall door, then paused. “The good thing is that I’ll always know when you attempt to hide the truth from me.”

“You are a dreadful man,” Juliet said lightly. But inwardly she decided she had best do as he suggested and not just from Miss Pritchard and Papa, but from Alexander as well.

They were the first down, followed almost immediately by Lord Winterton. Alexander fetched him a glass of claret while Juliet asked for more tales of his travels, figuring it a sensible idea to keep him from inquiring about her.

He would have none of her subterfuge. Looking at Juliet, then Alexander, who had come to place a protective arm about her, Lord Winterton attacked.

“I should like to see the papers—all of them.”

“They are at the Abbey,” Alexander countered.

“Then why are you not there?” his lordship inquired suavely, persistently.

“Because, Papa,” Juliet answered, “Alexander wanted me to see the house his grandmother left him.”

“I believed you two at first, but there is something odd about your arrangement.”

“Odd, sir? In what way?” Alexander dared to ask.

“That is it. I cannot put my finger on it, but Juliet does not look at me with an open face.” Inspecting his daughter’s visage, he added, “You are hiding something, but I’ll be hornswoggled if I can think what it might be.”

With greater relief than anyone could have suspected, Juliet greeted Miss Pritchard when she entered the room.

“I trust I am not too early?” that lady said in polite accents.

“I am most pleased to see you,” Juliet said truthfully. Alexander was correct. With both Papa and Miss Pritchard in the room, neither was apt to attempt an interrogation. Juliet shared a rather warm, meaningful look with Alexander, one not missed by their guests.

Chapter 15

The following morning Juliet had sought refuge in the arbor when Miss Pritchard caught up with her

Looking about her, Miss Pritchard declared, “What a pretty place this is.” She joined Juliet on the bench, examining the needlepoint she had worked on in the slight shade offered in the arbor. “That is by far the nicest you have made. Well done, Juliet.”

“Thank you.” Juliet gestured to the arbor. “Lord Hawkswood had this made. I like it
...
” she said, recalling the love poetry Alexander had read to her not so very long ago before they were inundated with guests. She waited, wondering how long it would take Miss Pritchard to reach the heart of the matter. To stall, she inquired, “What is your Christian name, Miss Pritchard? I cannot believe I have never learned it,” Juliet said with a puzzled frown.

“I do not encourage familiarity from my pupils, Juliet. As a matter of fact, my parents named me Horatia—a dreadful name I would as soon forget.” Miss Pritchard wrinkled a pretty nose in distaste.

“I think it charming. Your parents were well when you left them?” Juliet anchored her needle in the canvas, putting the work aside to concentrate on what must be said
.

“Indeed. Quite able to cope, thank you. I daresay the illness was a ruse to bring me home for a bit. However, I am pleased to be here with you now—even though I shan’t be your governess or companion any longer.”

“That is a matter I wish to discuss with you.” Juliet looked about her to ascertain no one was close by. “I will have need of you before long, and I wish you to remain here until I leave.”

“What is this?” Miss Pritchard asked quietly. “You are married now and will naturally be with your husband—will you not?” she added when she observed Juliet’s expression.

“Do you recall my letter informing you that I was leaving Winterton Hall to avoid a marriage with Lord Taunton? I took Pansy and set out on a hasty journey south as far as Woodbury, where we encountered a bit of a problem.” Juliet explained about the recalcitrant driver of the post chaise, being stranded in Woodbury, the overheard conversation between Mr. and Mrs. Ogleby, and Juliet’s solution to her dilemma.

“Good heavens,” Miss Pritchard inserted into the narrative. “What daring you displayed. Were you not terrified?”

“I was, but then things grew better. Mrs. Bassett was so kind to me, quite mother-hen-ing me to bits. Everyone appeared to accept me as the estranged wife of Lord Hawkswood with no difficulty. I adore gardening as you know and found these overgrown flower beds fertile soil for my talents.” Juliet gestured to the beds overflowing with blooms. “I have been very happy here. I missed you dreadfully, but otherwise it has been an agreeable time.”

“I know you did not meet Lord Hawkswood at my parents’ home—as I overheard—so you could scarcely flee to Gretna from there; how
did
you meet him?”

Juliet briefly explained about Camilla Shelford, concluding, “She is an utterly wretched girl, quite obsessed with poor Lord Hawkswood. Small wonder he sought refuge here—where he hoped she’d not find him. What a good thing I could pretend to be his wife and scare her away, just as he helped me by preventing Marius from forcing me to wed Lord Taunton.” Juliet waited for a reaction and had not long.

“You
pretended
to be his wife?” Horatia Pritchard exclaimed in a whisper, as she did when quite horrified. “Then you are
not
married to him?”

Relieved of her burden of secrecy with one she trusted, Juliet shook her head. “He is a dear man, but desires marriage no more than I do. Please understand, he has been kind and generous to me—protecting me from Marius, defending me from Miss Shelford, standing up to his grandmother when necessary.”

“Good heavens, the offer of all that money from her,” Miss Pritchard said in fainter accents. “He has not
...
that is
...
you are not, that is, my gracious, what a predicament!”

“Alexander has been the perfect gentleman, or at least almost perfect,” Juliet amended, thinking of a few times he had teased her with his behavior, not to mention his smoldering kisses.

“What are you going to do, dear girl?” the former governess inquired in fascinated dismay.

“As soon as my father and Helena and Alexander’s grandmother are gone, he will return to London and I will seek out a remote village where no one knows me. I could take an assumed name, and who would find out? Would you join me? Alexander promised to turn over all my dowry that Marius ordered released.” She frowned. “Oh, dear, that is a problem I’d
not considered. With Papa home again, Marius has no control over my money. Papa will demand to see settlement papers, and most likely the marriage lines.”

“And there are no such things, are there?” Miss Pritchard murmured. “I can see no way out of it; you must marry Lord Hawkswood.”

“That is what he says,” Juliet said with a sigh, leaning back against the arbor, disheartened that her dear governess had no other solution. “But how can I? He left London, determined not to be trapped into an unwelcome marriage. It would be terrible to compel him into that very situation simply because I trespassed on his property, indeed settling in here as though I were truly his wife.”

“You share quarters—at least I have seen him enter your room. How, er, intimate has the situation become?” Miss Pritchard inquired delicately.

“We talk, he has comforted me during thunderstorms—but never with impropriety.” Juliet conveniently ignored being held close in his arms during that first storm as well as a few other things like the rosebud-trimmed nightgown. “I enjoy his company; we share many of the same interests—gardening, poetry, music. But he declared he’d no intention of marrying for years. I do not wish to trap so fine a man, then have him hate me for it the rest of my life.”

“What about that vast sum of money the dowager offered in the birth of your first child? Pansy said it is the talk of the village.” Miss Pritchard folded her hands in her lap while considering Juliet’s dilemma, her eyes trained on a butterfly that drifted over the flowers.

“She will wait in vain,” Juliet said dryly.

“He might well reconsider marriage in view of that money. It is a great sum, my dear. I have observed that for a good many men money will easily compensate for loss of freedom,” Miss Pritchard said, a reflective expression crossing her brow.