Her Secondhand Groom (25 page)

Patrick flashed her a nervous smile he knew she couldn’t actually see. “Just be still.”

She closed her eye for only a second before they both popped open. “Wh―what are you doing?”

Ignoring her question, Patrick lowered his lashes and ran the damp cloth up and down the inside of her leg, wiping away any trace of blood he could see before wetting it again and wiping between her legs. He dropped the linen into the pink-tinged water. “I’m sorry if I caused you any pain,” he said hoarsely, lying down next to her and gathering her in his arms.

Chapter 19

Patrick blinked his eyes open. The lighted street lamps of London shed a low light inside his carriage. In his arms, Juliet still slept. A smile tugged at Patrick’s lips. She was the soundest sleeper he’d ever met. And he should know. They’d been sharing a bed for more than a week now.

He swallowed. This past week had been one of the most emotionally trying weeks he’d ever endured. The more he was learning about his new wife, the clearer it became how opposite she was from his first wife.

Even an idiot knew it was terribly wrong to compare one woman with another, but he couldn’t make himself stop. He’d loved Abigail. Loved her from the moment he saw her picking flowers on the eastern boundary of Briar Creek. She’d worn a pink day dress that had white lace around the hem of the skirt and the cuffs of her sleeves. She’d nearly jumped from her skin when he’d walked up to her. The embarrassed flush that had covered her cheeks when she’d realized she’d been caught picking his flowers had flattered him. Everything she’d done had flattered him.

She had this tendency to look up to him as if he was her knight in shining armor, and though he was a viscount, he rather enjoyed playing the role of rescuing knight in her mind. It suited them both perfectly. She was the sort who always needed rescuing. Frail and petite, Abigail preferred to let others make her decisions. When faced with a problem, she’d come to Patrick for the solution. Whether a trivial concern about the housekeeper’s task or something she considered serious, such as squabbles within her family, she’d always sought his advice and he’d been more than willing to give it to her. More than just an advisor, he’d been her protector. Not physically, mind you. There was no need for that. Both emotionally and socially, he’d often find himself comforting and reassuring her. But he’d liked to do it, and had never complained.

Besides, that was his place, wasn’t it? If she felt out of sorts or uncomfortable, he was supposed to take up for her, and make her feel secure, wasn’t he?

He blinked and a picture of Juliet filed his mind.

His wives were so opposite it was astounding.

Unlike Abigail, Juliet’s small stature and dainty features belied the strong, confident woman who hid underneath. Juliet was bold and unafraid. She didn’t avoid asking his advice because she didn’t wish to bother him, but because most of the time she didn’t need it. At first it unsettled him to be married to such an independent creature. But now he found it rather refreshing.

Just like Juliet herself.

Juliet was everything he’d previously lacked. She had the confidence of a queen, and the air of authority to match. Just because they now shared a bed, did not mean she’d become docile and biddable, either. Quite the opposite, actually. She was still strong-willed and confident, and he wouldn’t have her any other way.

“
What has you smiling like a cat who just spotted the cream?” the object of his thoughts asked.

“
You.”

She sat up. “Me?”

He nodded. “Yes, you. Just thinking about how our time together in bed hasn’t managed to tame you any.”

She scowled. “Was that your plan?”

“
Not at first, but I like a challenge.” He leaned extra close. “And this is one challenge, I’ll get to enjoy every minute of pursuing.”

“
Try all you like, but I’m set in my ways.”

“
Good. I wouldn’t want you to change.” It was true, too. Although it was infuriating to occasionally be put in his place by his wife, it was also one of the many things he admired about her.

“
How far would you say we are from your townhouse?” Juliet asked.

He glanced out the window. “I’d say maybe twenty minutes, thirty if Cruxley takes the alley.”

Juliet rolled her eyes, and groaned. “You know he will. I often wonder if you could have employed a worse coachman.”

“
I’m sure if I look hard enough, I could find one.” He put his arm around her and pulled her toward him.

“
Please don’t.”

“
All right, I won’t, but only if you tell me the meaning behind the cottage you painted a few weeks ago.”

She peered up at him, and snuggled closer. “Hmm, I don’t know if I can trust you with such a secret.”

“
A secret?” he asked, arching a brow. “Now, I must know.”

“
Only if you tell me one of your secrets.”

“
All right. You go first.”

Juliet adjusted herself. “When I was younger, that’s where I’d go to escape from my brothers and sisters.”

“
Is that all? That doesn’t sound like a secret.”

She frowned. “Considering that I didn’t own the cottage, and would just go in and make myself at home whenever I felt like it without the owner’s permission, I’d say it is a rather large secret, thank you.”

He chuckled. “All right, I see your point. But just so you know, Mr. Sayas, the current owner of that cottage, might be upset if you were to go there unannounced now. Especially if you planned to drink his tea and take a nap in his bed.”

She swatted at him playfully. “I know that. I only went because it was vacant and abandoned. If someone had been living there, I wouldn’t have gone. Now tell me your secret.”

“
Hmm, I don’t know that I have one,” he said slowly. “At least none as interesting as yours, I’d not pinned you for a trespasser, Juliet.”

“
Oh, leave off, will you?”

“
All right,” he said with a smile. He racked his brain. He didn’t have any secrets, at least none that anyone would care about anyway. “My mother died from pneumonia.”

“
Pardon?”

He shrugged. “Most people think my mother died giving birth to me, but she didn’t. She died of pneumonia a fortnight after I was born.”

“
Oh.”

“
See, nothing near as interesting as the secret you told me,” he said, squeezing her.

A minute or two passed with nothing but the sound of horse hoofs and carriage wheels breaking the silence. “What of your father.”

He involuntarily twisted his lips. “He took his life a week after my third birthday.”

“
Oh, I’m sorry, Drake. I shouldn’t have asked.”

He waved her off. “It’s all right. The topic was bound to come up sometime.”

She ran one of her slender fingers along the edge of his waistcoat. “Do you remember him?”

“
Not really.” He blinked. “Actually, I only have one memory of him. He was unhappy about something and yelled for my nurse to get me out of his sight.”

“
How terrible.” She pressed a kiss to his chest, branding his skin through the layer of fabric. “Did you get along with your uncle?”

He snorted. “No. He made it a habit of depositing funds into the wrong accounts. When I was thirteen, the schoolmaster at Harrow called me into his office to inform me I was being dismissed from school for lack of payment. When I returned to Briar Creek, I saw the account books and realized my uncle had been stealing from the viscountcy. That’s when I started acting as viscount. It was no longer just a title I held that would one day become my responsibility. That distant day in the future had arrived sooner than expected and it was time to assume my responsibility.”

“
But you were just a boy.”

“
Perhaps to some, yes, but that didn’t matter. There was a duty to the viscountcy and it was my responsibility to make sure it was done.”

“
Do you resent your father?”

“
No. Why?”

She sat up. “If he hadn’t killed himself, you wouldn’t have been forced to forfeit your boyhood for the sake of a responsibility far beyond your years.”

He tipped one shoulder up in a lopsided shrug. “That may be, but I also wouldn’t have the life I have now, filled with the people who mean the most to me.” He pulled her onto his lap. “See, if not for my responsibility to the viscountcy, I wouldn’t have been riding to Ridge Water the day of Marcus’ accident. But as it would happen, I needed to go see the late Lord Sinclair about drainage ditches that day. Before then, I had very few friends or acquaintances, and now I have three close friends who I would have never met otherwise.”

Juliet nodded. “You also have your daughters because of it.”

“
Yes, I do,” he agreed. Part of the reason he married Abigail so young was the pressing reminder he needed to sire an heir. Now, that didn’t matter. His uncle was dead, and, fortunately, the cousin who’d inherit upon Patrick’s death was an honest sort. “You know what else I gained out of the bargain?”

“
Hmm?”

“
You.”

Juliet blushed. “You don’t mean that.”

“
Yes, I do,” he countered, leaning in to kiss her. “I think everything happens for a reason, Juliet. I may not understand the reason yet, but I’m glad it led me to you, nonetheless.”

***

Juliet stared at her husband, too stunned to return his kiss. “I think we’re here,” she forced herself to say.

“
Right you are,” he agreed, peeking out the curtains.

Relieved, Juliet scooted off his lap. He may only be saying such things to gain her favor, but that didn’t stop her heart from wishing he really felt that way for her. Restoring her calm reserve, she allowed Drake to help her from the carriage and show her about his London residence.

While nowhere near as large as Briar Creek with its imposing columns, winding hallways, and stone floors, Drake’s townhouse was still impressive. Two oversized drawing rooms, one blue, one yellow, were positioned near the front of the house on the main floor, with a library, study, and a sizable dining room down the hall. Upstairs, at least six bedchambers were furnished and aired. Five of them held no interest to her, however, as the girls had eagerly gone to stay with Caroline at Watson Estate for the week. Nor did she feel the least bit shy or timid following Drake into the master suite.

“
Are you ready to go see Mr. Nills?” Drake asked as the morning light filtered in through the curtains.

Juliet rubbed her eyes then put on her heavy spectacles for what she hoped would be the last time. “Absolutely.”

“
Shall we walk?” Drake asked after they’d finished breakfast.

“
We shall,” Juliet agreed, tying on her bonnet. The weather was turning and it was rather cold, so she grabbed an extra muffler and wrapped it around her neck.

Drake chuckled. “You look rather fetching dressed like that.”

“
Well, it’s rather brisk out, wouldn’t you say?”

“
Not today it’s not.” He opened the door, and much to Juliet’s surprise, she wasn’t given an instant chill.

“
Odd,” she commented, reaching for the end of one of the scarves she was wearing.

Drake’s hand shot out and stopped her. “Leave them. I’ll enjoy peeling all those layers off of you later.”

A chill ran down her spine at his promise. “Which way, my lord?”

“
To the left, my lady.” He offered her his arm, then they descended the steps. “We’re only a short distance from Mr. Nills’ shop. There’s no reason for us to take the carriage.”

A block later, they were there.

“
You weren’t jesting,” she murmured as he opened the door for her.

“
I rarely do,” he admitted, walking in behind her. “For reasons I have yet to understand, most of my jests are misunderstood.”