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Authors: Manda Collins

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My dear Juliet,

I am afraid that circumstances have come to a head, and I am no longer able to remain in London. I know this will mean an end to our lessons, but I am confident that you will find someone to take my place. Your talents are such that any musician of sense will take you on without hesitation.

I beg that you will not try to contact me. Your mother will not care to have our acquaintance furthered. Especially given my altered situation. I have seen to it that Alice is well cared for. I will not give you my direction, lest you be tempted to follow me.

Take care of yourself, dear friend, and know that I will always remember your friendship in my time of need.

Anna Turner

*   *   *

Juliet watched as Deveril scanned Anna’s brief note. His expression revealed nothing of his reaction to it. In the firelight, his dark blond hair, fashionably tousled, sparked with hints of gold. He really was a breathtakingly beautiful man. It was not difficult to understand why he had risen to such prominence in the fashionable set. One with such looks and charm would find it easy to win the favor of those who crossed his path.

“She is your music teacher?” he asked, finally looking up. If he noted that her gaze had lingered on him for overlong, he gave no sign of it.

“Yes,” she replied, looking down at her hands, as if searching out spots of dust on her gloves. “She is also a dear friend.”

She did not say that Anna was also the closest thing to a mother she had ever had. Without her, Juliet would never have found the strength to recover from the injuries she sustained to both her body and her spirit on that long-ago spring day.

“What are the circumstances she speaks of? Your worries the other night seemed to hinge on her melancholia. But this sounds as if she is running away from something. Or someone. And why does your mother disapprove of her?”

Juliet wondered how much to tell him. And gave herself a mental shake for telling him anything of Anna’s note at all. He could care nothing for the plight of an impoverished clergyman’s daughter. And yet, there was something about him that told her he did care. He was interested. And having kept Anna’s secret for so long, she found herself wishing to unburden herself of the whole sordid story. A story she had kept even from Cecily and Madeline.

“After my … accident,” she said, looking up from her hands to find his blue eyes fixed upon her face, his gaze unnerving but at the same time exhilarating. “After my accident, my father hired Anna to instruct me on the pianoforte. I had played as a small child, and upon our return to England, I found myself restless. Needing some activity to fill the endless days, and sometimes nights. I could not ride. I could not walk about the countryside, which had once been my greatest joy. And with music, I could find some…” She struggled to find the right word. “Some release for the emotions that haunted me.”

She looked up to find him still watching her. “It was very bad, you see. The accident. And Anna was a godsend. She was kind, and what I needed more, a taskmaster. She insisted I give all my attention to my music. And it worked. Before long, I was playing constantly. Day and night.”

“Which kept you from brooding,” he said quietly. “A smart woman, your Mrs. Turner.”

“The cleverest,” Juliet agreed. “She lived with us and even came to London with us when I was to make my come-out. But the month before I was to make my debut, my mama announced that Anna had been dismissed and that I was to have no more contact with her.”

Deveril leaned forward in his chair. “Why?”

“Mama had accused Anna of casting out lures to Papa. Which was ridiculous. Only later did I learn that one of his friends had importuned her. And…” She blushed. “Anna was in a delicate condition. I was not surprised that Mama would put the entire blame on Anna. And with no family to turn to, and no reference, she was at her wit’s end. I had enough pin money saved up that I was able to care for her until the child was born. Mama didn’t know about that of course. And though Anna objected, she acquiesced for the sake of the child.”

“These are very complicated issues for a young lady to handle on her own,” Deveril said, a frown wrinkling his brow. “What happened to the child?”

“Oh, Anna kept her,” Juliet said, her remembered joy at her ability to help her friend denting her earlier sorrow. “She was able to rent a small house in Hans Town where she teaches the pianoforte to the daughters of tradesmen who wish them to marry into the upper classes. We put it about that she was a widow, whose husband had died in the war.”

“What of the child’s father?” Deveril demanded, standing to lean one shoulder against the fireplace, his fists clenching in anger. “If he importuned her against her will, he deserves to be thrashed.”

“I could not agree with you more,” Juliet returned. “But Anna refused to name the man. Only that he was a friend of Papa’s who had stumbled into her chambers one evening in his cups. I suppose he was looking for a willing chambermaid. Or unwilling as the case may be.”

It was infuriating to know that women, especially those without male relatives to protect them, were so powerless against men with bad intentions. And, like it or not, it was always society’s insistence that the woman was at fault. No matter how dishonorable the man who had forced her was.

Alec was silent. His anger was evident in every inch of his person. Juliet wished that he’d been there when Anna had first confessed her secret. She had little doubt that the man before her would have been able to persuade her music teacher to tell just who had raped her.

“So, now your Miss Turner … or Mrs. Turner,” he said, “is leaving London. Without explanation. Could it be that she consented to this unknown fellow and is running off with him?”

Juliet shook her head. “There is no way she would do such a thing. She was too upset over the whole incident to have been lying. I believe that somehow Mama found out her location and threatened her with exposure if she did not leave town at once.”

“Your mother did bring you the note,” he agreed. “But what of the one the other night?”

“That was brought to me from Anna’s maid, so I know it came directly from her,” she said. “And as for Mama’s bringing the one tonight, I suppose it’s possible that she forced Anna to write it. But I really think Mama’s coming here with the note was just an excuse for her to see what Cecily and I were up to. Mama is nothing if not curious. And she is vigilant about ensuring I draw no attention to myself. The seal on the note was intact, so she cannot have read it.”

“Why is she so determined to keep you from marrying?” Deveril asked suddenly. “I mean to cause no offense but one would think if she is concerned about you bringing shame upon the family that she would wish you married off and away from her as soon as possible.”

He did not mince words, did he?

“She wishes me to marry,” she said. “But the man of her choosing. And since I refuse, she retaliates by ensuring that I do not draw the attention of any other gentleman.”

“Who is the man of her choosing?”

She paused, reluctant to even say the man’s name aloud.

“Turlington,” she admitted.

Deveril’s eyes widened in shock. “I see why you would refuse.”

Lord Philip Turlington was a man of some thirty-five to forty years old, who was well known throughout the
ton
for his artistic endeavors. While handsome enough, there was something about the man that made Juliet’s skin crawl.

“Yes, and do not ask me why she chose him of all people, but for some reason she is determined that I will wed him. If it were not for Papa I would have been married to the man months ago. But as Papa cannot stomach the man, he refuses to grant his consent to the match.”

Alec shook his head. What a coil. He had known Juliet’s situation was difficult, but he was beginning to believe it was nigh impossible.

“And I can guess that Mrs. Turner disliked the idea of your marrying Turlington as well?”

He could not help but think that it was in Mrs. Turner’s best interest for Juliet to remain unmarried as well. After all, if she were no longer able to control her own purse strings then she would no longer be able to supplement Mrs. Turner’s income.

But Juliet got there before him. “Yes, but not because she would lose my pin money, if that’s what you are thinking. Mrs. Turner has earned enough income from her teaching to pay her own way for some months now. Truly she is not the grasping harlot my mother would have the rest of society believe.”

“And now she’s gone—and left her child with someone else.”

Her expression sobered. “Yes. That is what concerns me most,” she admitted. “It is inconceivable to me that Anna would leave her daughter in someone else’s care while she fled the city. Some mothers, yes, but not Anna. This is what disturbed me most about the letter. You see, Anna told me last week that she felt as if she were being watched.”

“How so?”

“Well, she saw the same man—a man who did not belong to her neighborhood—standing at the end of her street. And then she saw him again when she took Alice to the park. She said she felt unsettled. Uneasy. It is not at all like her to imagine such things, my lord. She is prone to overwhelming sadness, it’s true, but never has she imagined things. I believed her about being watched.”

She frowned. “What troubles me most about all of this is that I am powerless to do anything about any of her problems. Now that Mama has found out about the dance lessons she will never let me out of her sight. The only reason she did not demand that I return home this evening is that she was too afraid to cause a to-do before you and the other gentlemen.”

If Lady Shelby’s stunt earlier were what she considered discreet, he shuddered to imagine her in unfettered rage.

Gazing at Juliet, he considered his options. If he offered to assist her, that would mean spending more time with her, which would not be a hardship. Still, he had made it a practice to refrain from spending more time than was necessary with any woman to whom he felt drawn. And he definitely felt drawn to Juliet. For her own safety he should keep as far from her as possible. But it would take a stronger man than he to say no to her in her present state.

But even if he were not worried about his own potential to hurt Juliet, he had to help her for another reason. He suspected that his uncle might have something to do with her friend’s predicament. Not only was the man friends with Juliet’s father, he was also notorious for a propensity to take what he wanted, whether the lady was willing or not. He had no knowledge about his uncle’s whereabouts during the time that Mrs. Turner was accosted, but something about the whole situation made him uneasy.

“Miss Shelby,” he said aloud, “I hope that you will allow me to investigate your friend’s disappeance further. Indeed, I insist upon it.”

“But why on earth should you wish to help me?” Juliet asked, a furrow between her brows. “You have been very kind, of course, but I feel sure you have other obligations that must take up your time.”

He waved off her protestation. “I have a most efficient private secretary to see to my correspondence, and a more than able bailiff to oversee my country house. You will be doing me a kindness to offer an occupation to cure my boredom.”

When she still seemed about to protest again, he took her hand. “Please, Juliet,” he said. “Let me help you.”

“I suppose if you must,” she said, her cheeks pink, “then you must. But I hope that you will not hold me accountable should Mrs. Turner prove to have simply gone to visit friends in the country. I wonder now at my own worries. I am doubtless allowing my imagination to get the better of me.”

“I do not think you are imagining things at all,” Alec said. “In fact, I have come to believe over time that when one experiences feelings of unease there is often a very good reason for it.”

She frowned. “I should think you would have little reason to worry. You are a leader of the fashionable set. You have two lovely sisters who are adored by everyone they meet. And you are a man and therefore have perfect autonomy.”

Taking her hand to lead her from the room, Alec gave a wry smile. “You might be surprised to know what a man such as I may worry over.”

 

Three

“Why are we searching this ladybird’s flat again?” Monteith asked the next morning as he and Deveril alighted from a hackney outside Number 25 Hans Place.

After spending a sleepless night arguing with himself over the wisdom of becoming involved in Juliet’s search for her music teacher, Alec had arisen at dawn to the realization that no matter how inconvenient his attraction to Miss Shelby, he had a familial responsibility to discover if his uncle were indeed involved in her friend’s disappearance.

“For the tenth time, Monteith,” he growled as they climbed the stairs to the door, “she is not a ladybird. She is a gently bred music teacher and we are doing it as a favor to a friend.”

“A lady friend?” Monteith persisted. “Because, Dev, I really cannot see you doing this for another chap. Not that I think you’re disloyal, but the whole
ton
knows about your charm with the fairer sex. Winterson and I were speaking of it just the other evening. You converse with them as if they are reasonable, rational beings. It’s fascinating.”

“God’s teeth, Christian, you’d best not let the Duchess of Winterson hear you speaking like that. She’ll have your guts for garters. And Winterson’s as well.”

“Bah. Cecily does not frighten me,” the ex-cavalryman said, waving away Deveril’s warning. “Though I will admit that she can be a tartar when she’s got the bit between her teeth, she and I have an understanding. I promise not to drag Winterson into trouble, and she allows me to live.”

If he’d been in a better mood, Deveril might have laughed, but his conversation last evening with Juliet hung like a pall over him on this blustery May day. He tried to remember that it was Lady Madeline he was meant to be wooing, but it was difficult when the scent of orange blossoms kept intruding.

“You are serious about this, aren’t you?” Beneath his sunny disposition, Alec suspected that Monteith saw more than he let on. “I can think of only one woman who could persuade you to go out and about before your toilette was completed.”

BOOK: How to Romance a Rake
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