Love Me True (8 page)

Roddy took a pace back. “So you were in bed alone? That’s not what it looks like.”

“I didn’t sleep with Lucy last night.” He watched his friend carefully. Roddy would eventually discover Clarry’s bedchamber lay close to his. But he didn’t want him to know now before the pair had actually met.

“Well, I see you’re not in much of a talking mood. Perhaps later you can introduce me to your betrothed so we might become better acquainted.” Roddy tossed off a laugh as he headed out the door.

As the door closed Justin cursed. Damn it. He did not need Roddy here at a time like this. Not when the scandal of their hasty marriage remained fresh in everyone’s mind. Roddy would make him the laughing stock of their club within an hour of returning to London. Not for the first time did Justin wonder why they remained friends. Perhaps shared secrets had bound them together, but now perhaps he should drop the acquaintance. Clarry would undoubtedly find it impossible to meet with Roddy again after this.

Justin collapsed onto his bed and rolled over to bury his face in his pillow. Blast it all. He’d always thought his eventual marriage wouldn’t start out well, but he’d never imagined these poor circumstances.

~ * ~

Clarry recoiled from the door in horror. What kind of man had she tied herself to? He debauched servants, had no sense when it came to horses, and worst of all had wagered away her reputation before he’d even married her. She set her hands to her stomach and tried to think. The situation had gone too far to get out of the marriage. Running away wouldn’t accomplish anything but distress. She doubted Lord Justin would care if she disappeared. And the thought of submitting to a stranger the way she had to Lord Justin turned her stomach.

There had to be a way to ruin the bet. There had to. Clarry spun about and then gasped. The duchess. Dear God, how long had she been standing there?

Her Grace’s brow rose haughtily. “Its all rather ghastly, isn’t it?”

“Your Grace.” Clarry fumbled an awkward curtsey. But the duchess caught her elbow and dragged her to her bedchamber.

Clarry couldn’t tolerate another dressing session with Justin’s mother so she turned about and set her hands to her hips. “Can I help you, Your Grace?”

The duchess tapped her finger against her pursed lips. The sudden smile that followed sent a chill racing through her. “No. But perhaps I can help you.”

Clarry held the older woman’s gaze, trying to decide just how the duchess could help. Was she offering to let her escape the wedding?

The duchess settled herself into a chair. “I take it by your expression you did not enjoy the conversation conducted in my son’s bed chamber.”

Clarry nodded, but had to asked, “Which part did you overhear?”

“All of the essentials, I imagine. My son must either stand up and read his poetry to a bunch of wastrels with no appreciation for his art, or you must submit to the dubious honor of spending time alone in Lord Roderick’s company before the wedding. Neither one will please my son. But which form of torture appeals to you?”

“Neither. I’m not acquainted with Lord Roderick.”

The duchess shook her head. “Not worth the acquaintance in my opinion. But Justin is loyal to those he cares for, even in the face of thoroughly reprehensible behavior. I wonder what he knows of Lady Beth?”

Clarry shook her head. She didn’t know who this Lady Beth was but the outcome of whatever had happened didn’t sound good. She hoped the duchess wouldn’t suggest she acquire more information directly from Lord Justin. She didn’t believe sharing would be high on his list of priorities just yet.

“Well, no matter. We’ll get to the bottom of that mess eventually but well after you have shackled my son in matrimony. I’m expecting the duke to return tomorrow or the day after.”

Clarry gulped. “So soon.”

The duchess leaned sideways in her chair to look around her. “Not soon enough if that’s how your bed shall look every morning until the wedding actually happens. You could at least make it appear as if you slept alone. Straighten the bed up a bit, girl, before a servant arrives.”

Clarry whirled about and fumbled with the sheets.

The duchess’s sigh reached her ears. “The servant, Lucy, will be removed to another of our properties today. I will not allow her to cause discord in my son’s marriage before it even starts.”

Clarry set her hands to the mattress where Lord Justin had laid last night and breathed a sigh of intense relief. It surprised her that she might care where her future husband spent his nights, but she was relieved not to have to run into the servant about the Hall. “Thank you.”

Her Grace chuckled quite wickedly and Clarry spun about. “I don’t know if you should thank me just yet, given the circumstances that brought about this union. It’s very likely I’m condemning you to spending all your nights entertaining my son.”

Clarry hurried to smooth the comforter in place. “That is a husbands right, isn’t it?”

The duchess crossed the room and captured her arm. “Never, ever, let me hear you say that again out loud. You have every right to refuse Justin. You must make a place for yourself at his side, not three steps behind as if you were his servant to be used and discarded when you lost your figure. Did your mother’s flight from the district and your father’s temper not teach you anything?”

What she thought of her mother was hardly an opinion Clarry expected the duchess to appreciate. She’d thought obeying the duchess’s son would be one of the strictures. Should she mention she thought her mother lucky to have gone? Clarry licked her lips. “I hardly remember her.”

The duchess pursed her lips, and then they stretched into a knowing smile. “I think you remember more than you let on. Very well, meet me in the green salon directly after you’ve broken your fast. Perhaps you’ll do after all.”

The duchess chuckled and swept from the chamber, leaving Clarry more confused than ever.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Damn it. Where the hell was she? Justin had scoured the Hall from top to bottom and had failed to find his future bride. Had she absconded as her father claimed she might or had his mother removed her without warning? Mother had taken no pains to hide her disapproval of the match. Would she go as far as send Clarry away while his back was turned? He hoped not because as far as he was concerned, Clarry was already his wife. The ceremony—a necessary formality.

He paced Clarry’s chamber, noting her possessions still remained strewn around the room. Her tortoiseshell hairbrush and combs remained exactly where she’d dropped them. He picked one up and turned it over in his hands, then tugged out loose strands of her hair from the bristles.

He missed her.

What a total idiot he’d become. They’d been apart merely a half day and he longed to see her happy still. Acting the part of a love-sick swain came easily to him. After all, he’d loved Clarry for years, even if she’d ignored him. Justin set the comb aside carefully and forced himself to sit and wait. But patience had never been his strong suit.

Restless, he adjusted the cushions, until his hand bumped something solid. He pulled out a book and sat it on his lap. But the stunning sight of it took his breath away. This was his book.
Lightning strike him
—his journal. The one he’d lost months ago and searched for in every place imaginable.

How on earth had it come into Clarry’s possession?

The doorknob turned and Justin shoved the book beneath the pillow again.

“Oh, Lord Justin, I wasn’t expecting you. Did you want something?”

Nervously, Justin stood up and faced his future wife. His tongue thickened in his throat. What did she think of his poetry? Every word penned into that book had been written about her and he wondered if she knew he was the author. Did she recognize herself in those pages? “I, ah, just wanted, to, ah, see if you were well.”

She frowned at him and set her bonnet on a table. “Perfectly well. I’ve just been to call on Lady Ramsbury with your aunt and mother.”

Justin scowled. “You saw my brother?”

“No.” Did her voice tremble? “Just the viscountess. Your mother and aunt insisted I pay a social call with them. They are beside themselves about the baby. I hadn’t heard a whisper that your sister-in-law was with child.”

 
Justin watched Clarry to see how she felt about the news. In all honesty, he couldn’t gauge her reaction. “We learned of it the day he proposed.”

Clarry sighed and settled into the space he’d just vacated. “A month ago.”

The words were spoken in such a hollow tone that Justin winced for her pain. He stared down at the top of her head and wondered what she was thinking. From this angle, he couldn’t see her face well enough to judge whether she was desperately unhappy. He sat close to her side and slid his hand over her clenched fingers. “From what I understand my aunt suspected first. And I knew Tristan had his eye on a woman here. I just couldn’t figure out whom though. He managed to keep Win a secret, even from me.”

“You liked her.” Clarry’s words rang with accusation. “You were often in her company.”

Startled by her reaction, he squeezed her hand. “I’m human, and she is very lovely. But she’s Tristan’s wife now, my new sister, and she’s very much in love with him. They suit each other.”

Clarry nodded then pressed her hand to her temple.

“Are you all right?” He changed his grip and laced their fingers together as naturally as if they were long time lovers.

Clarry shook her head. “I am such a fool not to have suspected how deep their attachment went. I thought if I could just get him alone he would see me differently. See the real me. But I messed that up and now we’re saddled with each other.”

Justin dropped her hand and stood. “Perhaps you’ll grow used to marriage and me in time. I will see you at dinner.”

“Wait. I didn’t mean it to come out that way. I’m just saying that you wouldn’t be in this situation if I’d had all the facts. You’d never have chosen to court me in the first place, let alone offer marriage, if I hadn’t ruined myself.”

Justin stood still. Should he tell her the truth before the wedding or hold his heart close to his chest to protect himself. Yet if he didn’t express his feelings soon he feared he’d burst out with his love at an inopportune time, such as while making love. And that he couldn’t bear because he wouldn’t hear the same sentiments returned. “I would have courted you properly for the whole world to see if you had smiled at me with half the strength with which you do my brother. I envied him, and it’s hardly a secret that you preferred him and his title.”

A lengthy silence followed her short gasp and with no attempt at denial Justin returned to his bedchamber without glancing at Clarry’s face.

~ * ~

Clarry sat very still and willed her heart to slow. Had she just imagined that Justin might once have had honorable intentions toward her? That couldn’t be right. She must have misheard him. He preferred tall women, elegant creatures who’d already had a husband. At least that’s what she’d heard whispered about town often enough. Even Lady Ramsbury fit his type of lover. Whereas Clarry, at five feet two and more flesh on her bones than she cared for, couldn’t be more different. Yet he sounded a jealous man.

Curious, Clarry crept toward the doorway adjoining her room to Justin’s sitting room. All was quiet. Still. So she quickly crossed the room and peeked into his bedchamber. Empty. Dash it all. Now she might never know. As she turned to cross the room she spied his writing desk. The surface was buried under scraps of parchment, strewn every which way about. She straightened a few before one caught her eye.

Her eyes glow hot as embers

Her touch burns my soul

Yet for a taste of her cherry red lips

A man would walk through hell

Thankfully the last line had been crossed out. How terribly mundane. Clarry read another and as she reached the last line she realized something important. Justin’s handwriting seemed familiar. The loops and swirls pricked her memory. They reminded her of —

Her book!

But that couldn’t be possible. Her poet had music in his soul and a greater love in his heart than Lord Justin ever could. The writing must only be similar in style. But still the feel of it was too familiar to ignore. Perhaps he knew the writer well. Yes, that was it. He must have fashioned his own poetry after someone else. It happened all the time. To prove her point she snatched up a sheet, returned to her chamber, and picked up the small pillow on the chaise. The journal of poetry wasn’t there. Clarry frantically searched and let out a relieved breath when she found it at the other end of the chaise.

Her heart stilled. She always sat on the right side of the couch, the journal tucked under the little scatter cushions so it couldn’t be stumbled upon. She’d never leave it closer to the door. When she remembered Justin had awaited her return on this couch recently her heart tumbled over. Had he read the journal while he waited? Read it then hidden it in the wrong place?

Now that she thought of it he had seemed uncomfortable. Did he dislike her reading another man’s pretty words? Idly, Clarry flipped open the book and compared the handwriting. The journal’s lettering flowed neatly across the page, but the scrap of paper in her hand contained a messy scrawl. As she peered at them in turn she did detect similarities. The looping y’s ended with the same flourish. The a’s and e’s matching in height and size.