The Rake's Redemption (11 page)

Juliana’s light green eyes shone so brightly and her luscious cherry lips were curved in such a delicious smile that Dominic reached out to touch her flushed cheek, but a shrill female voice called his name, stilling his hand.

An open town carriage lacquered in red was stopped, blocking the path in both directions. Dominic and Juliana trotted carefully over to pay their respects to Lady Grenville and Charlotte.

As Dominic bent over her ladyship’s hand, awkwardly extended over the carriage side, Juliana exchanged a fond smile of welcome with Charlotte.

“Dominic, my boy, how wonderful to see you! I received your note this morning. I can’t tell you how happy it made me.” Lady Grenville’s full face actually seemed to glow with pleasure, reflecting the carriage upholstery—red with gold frogging. It matched her unfortunate choice of dress.

“Juliana, we haven’t heard from you and Sophia as yet. Do you join us?” Charlotte asked eagerly.

Juliana looked puzzled. “I am sorry, but I do not understand.”

Charlotte shot her mother a cool look before smiling up at her friend. “Your note must have gotten misplaced. We give a supper party at Vauxhall tomorrow evening. The marquis and Lord Rodney are joining us. I hope you and Sophia are free. Don’t we, Mama?”

“Of course, of course,” murmured Lady Grenville, merely favoring Juliana with a flick of her small, bulgy eyes. “I shall send another note around immediately.”

“Thank you, Lady Grenville. We shall look forward to it,” Juliana said quietly, a slight color rising in her cheeks.

Dominic again had an absurd wish to reach out and touch her. Damn Lady Grenville! The old biddy had never sent the note and Juliana knew it.

“We must take our leave. The horses grow restless,” he said lazily moving away with a nod. He sensed that Juliana was eager to go on, and he had certainly had enough of Lady Grenville’s company, although she had given him another opportunity to further Sophia’s ambitions. Vauxhall with Juliana would fit nicely, all the young bloods would be there. By the end of the week she would be besieged with callers eager to follow in Aubrey’s footsteps. He had seen it happen time and time again. He refused to acknowledge that this thought did not give him the pleasure it should.

He looked at her profile, strength evident in the high cheekbones and fine brow, vulnerability peeping through in her rapidly fluttering eyelashes and slightly pouted mouth. “Charlotte Grenville seems to be quite an intrepid girl for one so young,” he offered blandly. Juliana relaxed her tight grip on the reins and her horse stopped fidgeting. She cast him a glance to see if he was mocking her, but he continued in the same bland tone, “With a Mama like that she must find a need for social facility.”

Juliana smiled in response and he laughed, absurdly pleased that he had been able to bring that curve of delight to her beautiful mouth. “Follow me to the canter.”

They took a side path, now little used, where they could let the horses go. Juliana was warned by only a side glance before he called, “Race me!” and their canter developed into a full-blown gallop. They were flouting convention by racing, but there was no one to witness their rackety behavior.

Juliana laughed, her hair tumbling from under her hat and her riding skirt billowing like a russet sail about her legs. Dominic’s horse seemed to tire and she surged ahead, tasting victory, but in an instant he shot past to win.

Her heart pounded in her ears and her breath was deep, straining her breasts tightly against her well-fitted jacket. Confusion washed over her when she reached Dominic’s side and felt his eyes touch her body and rise slowly to her face.

“Your hair looks magnificent falling about your shoulders, my dear, but it might be in our best interest if you were to pin it back up.” His voice was low and sweetened with amusement.

He reached over and took the reins from her numb fingers. Bucephalus snorted once, blowing gently at the gelding as the two horses nosed each other familiarly. Juliana raised her hands, twisted the fallen coils of hair up, and pushed them under the brim of her hat. The ride had cleared away the cobwebs of confusion and hurt that Lady Grenville had spun. Everything seemed clearer and brighter and easier to understand. Everything except the man before her.

Dominic’s gaze stilled her nervous hands and she lowered them slowly to her lap, her eyes searching his face seeking understanding. Slowly, a quiet contentment, a certainty of feeling filled her. Just like in the Blue Boar Inn garden, she could feel him reach out to her. Then he took one coil of hair, which still brushed her cheek, and curled it around his fingers.

“Your hair is like silk.” She could not breathe while his fingers played inside the curl, his mouth curving slowly at the corners. “I always knew it would feel like this.”

“Dominic, I…,” she stumbled, hardly recognizing the hoarse whisper as her own voice.

Slowly, he unwound the curl from his fingers and let the tips of them lightly trace the curve of her chin. “We should go back now, Juliana.”

She drew a deep, shuddering breath to control her disappointment as once again he shut the door between them. She would never comprehend this man. Just when she felt a breakthrough was imminent, he would withdraw. But this time, she strengthened her resolve. She would find a way to understand him. She had to try, for then she might understand this bond she felt between them.

He relinquished her reins and turned back toward the main thoroughfare.

“Thank you, my lord,” Juliana’s voice strengthened. “A canter was just what I needed.”

He turned to her with his practiced smile, but instantly his pure cornflower eyes were unreadable, and she was surprised to see his hands tighten and pull Bucephalus to a standstill. Caesar moved several steps forward before she pulled him up to cast a nervous glance over her shoulder.

Dominic sat perfectly still, the sunlight spinning a soft halo around his hair and etching clear shadows about his set lips, a haunted look draining all the life from his face.

What have I done now, Juliana wondered, and looked blindly around. All that was visible was a lone horseman. He would have stood out even on the crowded thoroughfare, though, for he was dressed completely in black, relieved only by a snowy cravat and long ruffles at his wrists. She felt curiously uneasy at his approach. Then she noticed the dark riband and eye patch that dominated the left side of his face. His mount drew nearer and passed her as if she were invisible.

The dark man stopped inches away from Dominic and stilled his horse, leaning slightly forward in his saddle. “Ah, The Marquis of Aubrey.” His right eyebrow lifted awaiting a response.

“What are you doing here, Jules?” Dominic asked in low, terse tones.

The dark horse shied, sensing the tension that swelled around them like gathering thunderclouds. Juliana controlled her own mount, which pranced uneasily in place, and held her breath, anticipating some monstrous action between the two adversaries. Old enemies, she judged, maybe the war.

“I’ve been to the Towers to visit their graces. Your grandparents were very welcoming.”

“I told you I never wanted you on my lands again!”

“Ah, but Dominic,” the sneer became more pronounced, “they are not your lands, yet. And the duke was delighted to see me.” He narrowed his eye and spoke very distinctly. “The old boy invited me to make the Towers my home for as long as I want.”

High-strung horses, held carefully in check, circled nervously, assessing each other as warily as the two men that sat them. Jules, in black, exuding practiced charm that couldn’t quite cover a menacing tone. Dominic, in buff and tan, dropping all pretense of conventional manners to threaten quite openly.

Juliana’s nerves tightened her hands. She prepared to thrust Caesar between the two, anything to break the ominous spell these men wove around each other. She knew she was completely forgotten as each stared unblinkingly into the other’s face.

“Stay away from the Towers, Jules. And stay away from my grandparents. That is my final word.” Dominic issued his challenge and Jules laughed softly. “We had an agreement. I expect you to abide by it!”

“Dominic, Dominic,” Jules shook his head disbelievingly. “That was so long ago. And we were so young. Circumstances have changed.”

Bucephalus surged forward and Dominic grabbed Jules’s reins, forcing his horse’s head around. “Nothing has changed!” Dominic bit out. “The agreement stands. Go back to France or wherever you’ve been.”

Jules reached out, plucking the reins from Dominic’s control, sidestepping his horse away from Bucephalus, and suddenly stopped, focusing upon Juliana for the first time.

“Charming. Utterly charming.” He drawled, then turned to Dominic as if expecting an introduction. When none was forthcoming, he smiled mockingly. “My brother has forgotten his manners, my dear. I am Jules Devereaux, the Comte de Saville.”

Juliana sat her horse in shock. Dominic had a brother! How could this be? “Juliana Grenville, monsieur.” She replied as manners demanded. What was going on now was no joyous reunion between brothers, but something quite different. Whatever it was between these two men made her shiver in fear for them.

Jules maneuvered his horse close enough to take her hand. He lifted it to his mouth for a polite kiss, but Dominic forced his horse between them, separating them.

“Don’t touch her!” His face was like frozen granite. “Come, Juliana. It is time I returned you to your aunt.”

He whirled Bucephalus and, giving her no time for good-byes, urged their horses into a trot. Laughter echoed behind them.

“Dominic,” instinct urged her to speak. “I did not know you had a brother.”

“Half brother. His mother was a widow when she married my father. The only blood we share is hers.”

Lady Grenville’s party was seated at a choice table, close in enough for excellent service yet allowing privacy. Still, there had been a growing disharmony throughout the evening. Eugenia had seated Charlotte between Jules and Dominic and, although adroit in the delicate handling of her mother’s faux pas, she definitely was not enough of a buffer for the two men. Juliana watched from across the table, seated protectively, and deliberately away from the eligible men, between Lord Rodney and Lord Grenville.

When the divertissement began after supper, Juliana was surprised that no one else seemed to notice how the air crackled between the two brothers. Although all could see that Dominic seethed with tension, apparently she alone recognized the strain Jules was under, for he appeared every bit the bored aristocrat, twirling his quizzing glass through his fingers. But though Jules seemed as absorbed in the port bottle as the other gentlemen of the party, Juliana had the oddest sensation that he was studying her.

Lady Eugenia’s domination of the conversation was so complete that the rest of the party had fallen into a nearly stupefied silence. So the disquieting feeling grew with no one able to divert the company toward a more pleasant outlook. It was foolish to slip away from the box during one of the intervals, but Juliana had to get away from Jules’s intense regard. And away from Dominic. He seemed so different tonight, not at all the pleasant companion of their ride in Hyde Park. Jules’s arrival as escort to Charlotte and her mother had seen to that.

Her foolish plan to ensnare Dominic in spite, and teach him a long overdue lesson in humility, had been forgotten in the face of his kindness and consideration during Ben’s illness.

She only wished she understood him better, for certainly they would soon be related. Lord Rodney had barely touched his supper tonight, and to a man who so obviously enjoyed his food, that could only mean he was in love or ailing. No one watching him gaze at Sophia would have any doubt as to the cause.

Mingling in the noisy crowd, Juliana eagerly drank in the unfamiliar sights and sounds of Vauxhall. She chose the Grand Cross Walk, which traversed the whole garden and turned onto the South Walk, to more closely examine the triumphal arches. Heady with the freedom she thought she had left behind in Berkshire, she wandered too far. Finally she realized she was quite alone. No other patrons had ventured beyond the last lighted arch. She rapidly retraced her steps, relieved not to encounter any stragglers. But her luck ran out; a group of boisterous young men, who had obviously been dipping at the bottle, blocked the walkway. Quickly ducking down a smaller, less lighted path, she thought to avoid them by circling back to the Grenville box. She knew that being alone at night was unthinkable for a lady of quality and at Vauxhall it was an invitation practiced by the fashionable impures. She could find herself in quite a fix.

Studying the many dimly lit pathways that wove their way through the darkness, she finally decided on a way that should, according to her sense of direction, bring her back to the well-lit and crowded thoroughfare.

This path was narrower, and overhanging branches made it seem very dark. Low bushes caught at her gown, and she had to stop once to untangle a vine that had somehow wrapped itself about her ankle. A few minutes more of wandering this thickly overgrown and dimly lit path forced her to admit she had made a dreadful error. She was not going in the right direction at all. The music was becoming fainter and the lamps were so far apart, she was more often in darkness than in their pools of light.

She stopped, trying to still her ragged breathing, and heard a rustle as if someone was hurriedly pushing aside the closely growing bushes behind her. Forcing herself to turn and look, she bit her lip, stopping a cry of fear, for a large shadow moved through the greater darkness.

Twirling around, she quickened her steps, moving deeper and deeper into the gardens. Heat warmed her cheeks and her breasts pushed against the bodice of her gown, for her breath came in deep painful gasps. Fear of what could so easily occur if she met a man in this dark, out-of-the-way place spurred her on.

Suddenly in front of her, out of the darkness, loomed a ruined temple. Rescue! Slipping inside, she looked around for somewhere to hide herself, but all the ruin contained was a stone bench and piles of dead leaves scattered about the floor. The stone wall seeped cold into her heated flesh as she pressed herself up against it and held her breath. Had she been quick enough? Had her pursuer seen her enter? Even as these thoughts came to her, a tall figure stepped into the moonlit doorway. Juliana’s heart plummeted and for the first time in her life, she knew real terror.

Carefully, she backed several steps before turning to edge deeper into the shadows. She closed her eyes, momentarily relying on her childhood belief that if she couldn’t see, she couldn’t be seen. A pair of strong male arms grasped her waist and she screamed, struggling and kicking desperately at her assailant.

“Juliana, you’re all right now!”

Incredibly through her haze of fear she heard the vibrant voice of the Marquis of Aubrey. Finally realizing that the arms that held her were Dominic’s, she sobbed with relief and twisted around to fall into his embrace.

“Oh, Dominic, I was so frightened. I thought…” Unable to say the words, her voice broke. “I don’t know what I thought.”

Dominic pulled her close, holding her lightly in the haven of his arms. The hammering of her heart began to quiet, but not to its normal pace. And as the fear subsided a more potent emotion filled its place.

Her cheek rested against the soft ruffles of his evening shirt and her hands were curled in fists near his shoulders. Relaxing her fingers until her palms were flat against the warm brocade of his jacket, she pushed herself slowly back until she could look into his eyes. She felt a tensing of his arms across her back.

The air thinned when she took it into her lungs, making her suddenly breathless. Her body felt weightless where it rested along the length of his; weightless yet tingling with sensations. The caress of his jacket beneath her hands, the softness of his shirt pressing her breasts, the hard length of his thighs against hers: there in the dark she experienced touch in a way she had never done before. No, that was not true, she had felt this way once before: in Mrs. Forbes’s garden filled with the echo of Romany music. It was like music: this feeling racing through her blood. She had longed to feel this again—with Dominic.

She remained absolutely still when Dominic raised his hands lightly onto her shoulders. “Don’t be frightened, Juliana.” It was the voice he had used in the garden, full of longing and desire. “Beautiful Juliana.”

Coaxing her closer into his embrace with light urgings of his hands, his lips touched her forehead, her eyelids, the curve of her cheek, leaving a scorching trail on her moist, warm skin before, at last, he brought his mouth down upon hers. Cool and dry, he brushed his lips back and forth slowly until with a moan he covered her open mouth. Out of the darkness and the fear such an aching need filled her that she sobbed aloud.

They melded together. Each finely muscular inch of his body imprinted against her softness, and she felt how much he desired her. Strangely it did not frighten her, instead she felt exhilaration that he should want her so.

Their lips met again in a clinging kiss, deep and passionate, and she was embracing him tightly, as if she couldn’t get close enough.

Whispering her name, his face buried at the side of her neck where her curls lay tangled, his deft fingers loosened the straps of her gown until her breasts were half exposed in the dim light. A thrill shook her as his mouth followed.

“You’re so perfect,” he breathed against her softness.

It was as if in this time and place there were no rules, no promises made, but only the discovery and joy that with this man she could feel as she had never felt before. She wanted it to go on and on.

The crackling of dead leaves crushed under foot, warned her an instant before a man coughed. “Ah, here you are, Juliana. Lady Grenville noticed your absence and sent me to find you.”

Juliana tore herself out of Dominic’s arms and spun around to find Jules lounging against the stone entrance to the temple.

Dominic caught her wrist in a painful grip and pushed her behind him. From somewhere, Juliana’s senses returned, consuming her with shame.

The faint moonlight filtering into the ruin cast a pale aura about each man, causing Dominic’s eyes to sparkle like sapphires and Jule’s to glow with dark embers. The waves of anger from these two brothers pierced through her own deluge of shame and confusion.

“Don’t make this more of a farce than it already is, Jules.” Dominic’s ragged voice was cold and flat, removing the last vestige of softness around Juliana’s heart. “What is this game you are playing?”

Jules shrugged, his thin lips curving. “It is not I who am playing … games, dear brother. I have simply come to chaperon the lovely Juliana back to the box before you are both in the suds.”

His words stung her, but Juliana drew herself up with pride and stepped around Dominic to confront his brother.

“Thank you, Comte. It was foolish of me to slip away from the supper box for a stroll. I am only relieved it was you and the marquis who rescued me,” she continued, determined to diffuse the embarrassing moment. Now, if Jules would only cooperate.

Laughing softly, Jules reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “It is my pleasure. Now, we return to the box and inform the others that Dominic took you on a short tour of the gardens. A bit rude not to include Charlotte, but he’ll be forgiven. I will say I found you and joined in the stroll. Do you agree, Dominic?”

Relieved, Juliana tilted her head to gaze back at Dominic. He had remained perfectly still, his hands in tight fists at his side. He did not look at her, instead his eyes concentrated on his brother. To her dismay his face became the one of her nightmares.

“Mon frère
, this time you are right,” he mocked quietly.

Lady Grenville’s fan snapped shut. Sophia and Rodney, lost in a private conversation of eyes, had stopped paying attention to her monologue some twenty minutes before when Jules had excused himself to greet acquaintances. Charlotte, forced to listen to her mother’s diatribe against Juliana, had retreated to that private place in her mind she reserved for just these occasions.

“Charlotte, let this be a lesson to you.” Lady Grenville’s fan tapped the table, punctuating every word. “I knew we shouldn’t have invited that woman. She’s always doing something to draw attention to herself. Now it appears both Dominic and Jules have gone after her, and you are left here without an escort.”

Without waiting for an answer, she swung around to a figure sitting well back in the shadows of the box. “Well, Sir Alfred? What have you to say to this?”

Whatever reply might have issued from this corner was effectively cut off by Charlotte.

“Mama. Here they are now. And Juliana … seems fine.”

Lady Grenville’s eyes narrowed with displeasure when Juliana approached. Jules had her hand tucked carefully in the crook of his arm and was animatedly describing the pigeons in Venice’s St. Mark’s Square. Very little of Juliana’s composure had returned, but she was struggling to appear as natural as possible. Dominic, as always contemptuous of appearances, paced beside them, anger evident in every muscle.

“Ah, Lady Grenville. Such a lovely outing. Juliana has been delighting me with her observations on the crowd.”

“Where have you…”

“Mama,” Charlotte hurriedly broke in. “Perhaps the Comte and Dominic would like a port after their long walk. Could you get a waiter?”

Juliana sank into her chair between Lord Rodney and the empty space where Sir Alfred should have been, grateful to Charlotte for stepping in so adroitly. She knew Charlotte had not been deceived for a moment and was giving her an instant to recover herself before the full onslaught of Lady Grenville’s questions would begin.

The port arrived and Lord Rodney roused himself to pronounce it very tolerable.

“Don’t toss it down that way, my boy,” he addressed Dominic. “Port should be rolled over the tongue, to savor it.”

“Just so, my dear,” approved Aunt Sophia. She turned to Juliana. “Did you have a pleasant stroll?”

The safest answer was to stay close to the truth Juliana thought. “Unfortunately, I wandered off on a side path and became confused.”

“Hmph! I knew it,” crowed Lady Grenville. “Sophia, you are a lamentable chaperon!”

“But it was quite alright, Lady Grenville,” Juliana added quickly. “Dominic and Jules came and found me before I was quite lost.” She looked at Jules and smiled at his bland expression. Although she tried not to, she couldn’t keep her gaze from Dominic’s face and then wished she could find the strength to look away, for not even in her worst dreams had his face been this hard mask.

Hours later, within the safety of her bedchamber at last, Juliana dropped to her knees beside her bed, laying her cheek against the smooth coolness of the satin spread. Exhausted from the strain of pretending that nothing had changed, when in reality her life had changed forever, she closed her eyes, forcing her mind to go back … back to the past. To Will.

A terrible sadness swelled painfully in her chest. Will … his boyish face … the unruly halo of ebony curls … That last day before he left for the Peninsula he had been so happy. So carefree. He rode away from the Willows eagerly, as if off to a parade.

She had tried to bear bravely the months of worry and loneliness, busying herself between responsibility at the Willows and at Wentworth Park, for their lands marched together. Her only pleasure, her weakness, was to ride beside the stream which divided their land, for it brought back such sweet memories of Will.

Will … who she would never see again. She’d never forget the look on his father’s face when the formal letter from the War Office was delivered by a young officer. Nor ever forget the torment that burned within her when she finally realized Will, who had been part of her life forever, was gone, forever.