The Rake's Redemption (14 page)

By the time the company had sampled potage St. Germaine, the
fruits de mer
platter, and started on the rack of veal, Juliana was wishing for her room. She had the unenviable position in the middle of the table, flanked by George and Lady Grenville, and facing Lord Grenville. She envied her aunt the position at the duke’s right, for laughter could be heard often at their end of the table. No one ignored her precisely, but most often she suffered through Lady Grenville’s boring monologue. Juliana now knew all of Lady Grenville’s connections to the Crawfords, the age and partial history of the Towers, even the size of the stone in the heir’s betrothal ring, which she made sure Juliana realized was larger and more valuable than the one presented to Aunt Sophia.

Lady Grenville had smirked when relating this little tidbit and cast an indulgent eye at Charlotte who was leaning eagerly across the table to talk to George. “Normally,” she informed Juliana, “Charlotte would be taken to task for this indiscretion, but since this a family party, strict social rules can be relaxed somewhat.”

And Juliana mused, it was an opportunity for Charlotte to display her interest in and knowledge of country matters. In fact, she and George were discussing the merits of draining the east four hundred acres near the creek, which divided the Park from the Willows. Never before had she realized how much they had in common.

At least they were enjoying themselves! If Sir Alfred hadn’t been directly across from her, she would have parted the flower arrangement to begin a new conversation, but with him it would do no good—she had never heard him offer an opinion on anything, and Lady Grenville would probably answer her anyway.

She could not see Jules, but she could sometimes hear snatches of his charming banter with the duchess. Only Dominic seemed to share her discomfort. Every time she glanced his way, which was more often than she should, he was wearing that blank look, or worse, a frown. Sometime tonight she must talk to Aunt Sophia. Perhaps if she knew more about this secret, she could find the right direction to reach through the barriers he’d built around himself.

The duchess rose gracefully, waggling her fingers at Sophia. “Come, my dear, we’ll have a comfortable coze while the gentlemen tell their stories.” She waited until Lady Grenville had ponderously risen from her chair, still wiping the remains of the last sweet from her fingers, then led all the ladies into the music room across the hall. At a speaking glance from her mother Charlotte went straight to the pianoforte and exclaimed over it.

“Please feel free to play, Charlotte. It is always delightful to have music after dinner.” The Duchess settled onto the settee, inviting Lady Grenville and Sophia to join her.

Juliana wandered toward the doors overlooking a flagstone terrace. She opened one a crack and breathed in the sweetness of the summer evening. Grateful for a few moments of peace, she collected herself before the men joined them and she would be faced with Dominic’s intrusive presence. Everything reflected him—a snatch of conversation would remind her of words they had shared; the duke would smile and she’d see Dominic’s mouth laughing. She longed to share in the atmosphere of love and security that surrounded Rodney and Sophia, yet knew her own unhappiness barred the way. She felt so alone.

Jules had befriended her in London, but he was no help here. He hung back from the party, almost as if he were waiting for something. Dominic’s brooding presence filtered into all her thoughts, compelling her to look at him, but he would always turn away. Then she’d turn to Jules’s face to find he was watching them. There was nothing there to help her.

The slight breeze lifted a curl at the back of her neck and she turned to watch Sophia. The duchess was happily explaining Crawford wedding traditions. She sighed. Jules had certainly misled her. There hadn’t been a sign that Sophia was resented or unwelcome. Juliana needn’t have come. She could have stayed in London and spared herself.

Footsteps in the hallway roused the duchess to ring for tea. Discouraged and in no mood to deal with Dominic, Juliana signaled to Aunt Sophia that she was going out to the garden for a few moments. She slipped through the doorway and out onto the terrace as the men entered the room.

Walking down a crushed rock path through carefully designed flower beds and neatly trimmed hedges, she could feel the tension drain out of her. The path turned and she decided to follow it to the end. A small cul-de-sac held a marble statue of a shepherd with a lamb curled in sleep at his feet. She sat on the bench and gently ran a finger over the lamb’s head. The stone felt cold. Madame Bretin’s lovely gown was not practical for walking in the cool of an English night. She shivered and placed her palms over her bare shoulders.

“Shall I fetch your shawl?” A deep male voice spoke from the shadows.

She gasped in surprise when Dominic stepped out into the moonlight. A trembling started in the region of her stomach and threatened to overpower her. Now that she was finally alone with him again, the first time since Vauxhall, she was consumed with uncertainty. Follow her heart … she dare not be so bold.

“Thank you, no, I am quite comfortable,” she replied softly, folding her trembling hand into the pleats of her evening gown.

He looked at her bent head, the shadow between her breasts, and, as always, he felt the urge to touch her. Instead he sat on the bench beside her. For a few moments he could sit with her in the peace of this lovely night.

Perhaps, he would even find the words he needed to explain that night at Vauxhall. He had seen the confusion and hurt in her eyes and somehow he must remove that look. For Juliana’s sake, they needed to talk about what had happened between them. Then they both could forget it. The fault had been his. He had lost control, as if he were a lovesick boy. But tonight he had not drunk too much. Tonight he was in control. Tonight it would be all right to sit close like this for just a few moments more.

“We seem to meet in out of the way places, Juliana. You should be more careful where you stroll alone.”

Her head came up abruptly, the look of pain and confusion again in her eyes.

“You have not made it easy for me to thank you … regardless of what occurred between us … I owe you much for finding me that night.”

“You owe me nothing.” His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. “I shouldn’t have touched you that night. You’re too fine, too perfect…” He caught himself. “I do apologize for my advances. Please forgive me.”

Her eyes looked at him in mute appeal.

What did she want from him? To be here in the garden at his own home with her was a fantasy. He never would have believed it could happen, yet here she was and he found he could not bear it. Abruptly he stood to go.

“Dominic,” she reached a trembling hand toward him and stood so that they were close. So very close that her scent filled his senses.

She’s still cold, he told himself, the trembling means she’s cold. Yet he could not resist taking her gently into his arms, even though he knew it was wrong.

“You’re cold, my dear. We should go in.”

Her trembling had transferred itself to him. They stood together for an eternity before he shifted her slowly in his arms so that he could bring his lips down onto her soft mouth. He had to do it. Just one more time he had to feel her melt into his embrace. Fingers gently molding her arms, he kissed her again. A soft sigh, a sweet breath released into his mouth. His kiss hardened and his arms moved lower to encircle her waist.

He was a lovesick boy! Carefully he put her away from him, separating their bodies. If he didn’t stop now, he would carry her into the nearest flower bed and love her as he had been longing to do since they first met.

“We had best return to the others, Juliana. We shall be missed.” He had to protect her from himself. As much as he longed to stay out here in the starry night with her, honor demanded that he return to the safety of the house immediately.

She was dreaming. Dominic wasn’t really here. It was just a dream she had concocted sitting alone in the night. She reached her hand to his cheek and was surprised when he backed away. What had she done now?

He offered her his arm politely and drew her back down the path toward the house. Her fingers rode lightly over his muscle; it was clenched as if a great struggle was going on within him. They both were silent and too soon the lights from the house were visible.

All the party was gathered around the tea tray except George, who was choosing music for Charlotte to resume playing. Jules turned first at their entrance, a glint of steel in his face. He lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.

Sophia’s artless laugh filled the room. “Did you enjoy your walk in the garden? Rodney tells me the grounds here are lovely,” she turned to the duchess, “and all to your design.”

Lady Grenville opened her mouth but the duke, again, intervened. “Dominic, my boy. I wish to discuss Bristol’s and Monmouth’s plan for you to join the House of Lords. Wonderful idea, don’t you think?”

Juliana smiled at the duke’s eager face before turning to Dominic. Swallowing hard, she willed her heartbeat to slow down. “Thank you for the tour of the garden,” she said quite distinctly. “All that fresh air has tired me, I believe I’ll go up to my room now.”

She wanted to be alone to savor the miracle. Dominic had kissed her again. Surely everyone in the room could see it plainly on her face.

Suddenly he stepped to block her path, bending toward her. “Not too tired to ride with me tomorrow.” He spoke so softly that only she could hear. “I promise you a horse worthy of your talent, sired by Bucephalus.”

She was unable to resist his conspiratorial whisper, and the light she saw in his eyes sent shivers of excitement through her. “I’d love to ride with you.”

“Ten o’clock. Don’t be late.”

Juliana slipped out before Lady Grenville could corner her. The tall clock was chiming softly in the hall as she mounted the steps to her chamber. Never before had she felt so many conflicting emotions. Glorious, wonderful delight! He had kissed her again. It was really quite simple. She loved him, when he was with her all was perfect. And he had invited her to ride with him alone. Maybe here at his home, away from the city, he would tell her what had been troubling him. Maybe tomorrow they could resolve all that stood between them. She felt no shame that she desired him so, so much that there in the garden she would have been willing to lie with him among the flowers, if he had asked her. Whatever fear or convention had stopped her at Vauxhall would not stop her again. She was sure of it, sure at last of the rightness of her love for Dominic.

Drifting off to sleep, she remembered Mrs. Forbes. I’m doing it … I’m following my heart … where will it all lead?

The hall clock chimed twelve times and, sighing, Dominic turned away from the windows. Why had he asked her to ride alone with him? Was he trying to prove that he could do the decent thing? That he could be a congenial host. In the daylight it would be easier to be with her—to explain that his high regard for her would remain just that. It could lead to nothing else a gently bred lady might expect. He could not reach out to Will Grenville’s young wife.

Regret for the last ten years darkened his thoughts. Regret for what he had allowed himself to become. Jules, at least, had been right in that.

His hand holding the candlesnuffer shook slightly and he laid it down, the candle still burning. Jules. The brother he had once loved above all others and trusted above all others, until the night he had discovered just how corrupt his family had become. Oh yes, he had tried to eradicate the memory with his own shocking behavior. Jules had called him a fool. Perhaps he had been a young fool, but at eighteen there had seemed to be no other course open to him. Now it was too late.

His course had been chosen. His mind was made up. The pain he felt when he looked at Juliana was nothing to the pain he’d endured for years. His grandparents would have to be disappointed. He found he couldn’t offer for any chit just to please them. Juliana’s softness, her sweet response in the garden pulled at the pain in him and suddenly he wasn’t so sure which pain was the greater.

He was a fool to think that she could overlook the dark secrets of his past, the whispers that would follow her about his reputation. Yet, strangely, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words that would push her away from him forever.

The candle had sputtered out on its own and the room was now dark. Dominic walked through the library doors and confidently shut them behind him.

Fool he might have been. But he was not fool enough to ride alone with Juliana. Tomorrow a groom would accompany them.

“Juliana,” a voice cried out from behind her.

She looked back to the house. George and Charlotte walked purposefully toward her.

“You’re up awfully early m’dear.” George smiled happily at her. “Like to join us?”

“Yes do,” Charlotte offered impulsively. “We’re going to visit the succession houses this morning. Then later we’re going to tour the home farm and have a picnic lunch.”

“I’m sorry but I have other plans.” Juliana shook her head, she knew they would rather be alone anyway.

She watched them walk away. Charlotte pointed at a huge rhubarb plant and gently placed her hand on George’s arm. He laughed at her enthusiasm, then took her hand in his and they walked off companionably.

Juliana smiled to herself, satisfied that all was right with her world. No one would be alone—Rodney and Aunt Sophia, herself and Dominic, and now it looked very much like George and Charlotte.

Sophia and her future mother-in-law were seated next to one another on the periwinkle blue damask sofa in the library of the Towers. Sophia felt very much like the early Christians must have before they faced the lions. The duchess had such a sweet smile but what a tongue! Sophia had actually felt herself blush with embarrassment three times already, but this time Rodney’s mother had gone too far!

“Your Grace,” Sophia said softly, forcing herself to remain calm. “The question of my producing an heir for Rodney has never been discussed between us.”

“It should have been!” the duchess declared. “All I want to know is … is it possible?”

“Yes.” Sophia snapped, completely flustered. “But…”

The duchess held up her hand. “I have said my final word on the subject. Only wanted to know if I’m at last going to have another grandchild. Been quite awhile you know. Dominic is twenty-nine.”

“I should think, Your Grace, that you might be setting your sights on becoming a great-grandmother,” Sophia said brightly, happy to turn the subject elsewhere.

“I have been giving it a great deal of my attention. I thought Charlotte would do. Family connection and all, even if her mother is a horror. Was wrong though,” said the Duchess with a decisive sniff. “Charlotte obviously isn’t interested.”

“And Dominic?” Sophia asked eagerly, curious to know if the duchess was as shrewd as she appeared.

Sophia felt absurdly young when the duchess eyed her sternly. “You know as well as I do where his interests lie. They were both glowing when they came back from the gardens. Haven’t seen Dominic look like that since before…”

Shaking her head, the duchess suddenly looked every one of her seventy years. “I have been quite concerned about Dominic’s matrimonial prospects. He could have had any chit in the
ton
with a snap of his fingers when he was younger. Now … well … I still have some influence. But he’s never shown the slightest inclination. Until this.”

The duchess’s fingers shook ever so slightly when she lifted the gold-edged teacup to her lips and sipped deeply. Sighing, she continued, “Juliana would be a suitable match. Fine family. Beautiful young widow, but it won’t do. Charles saw to that. Soiled goods, that is what Charles would have called her. Disgusting phrase, I know, but one on which Dominic was brought up. His father and mother ruined him for her. God forgive them.”

Juliana pressed herself against the roughness of the stone wall outside the open French doors to the library, her hands clenched to her stomach. She had not meant to eavesdrop, but when she had walked onto the stone terrace, her aunt’s voice linking her name to Dominic’s had drawn her. She had never dreamed that what she learned would drive away the brightness of the sun and the beauty of the day. She was filled with a cold emptiness. Just this morning she had thought this emptiness gone forever, remembering all that had happened in the garden. It had been a miracle—believing Dominic felt something real for her. And now this.

How could his grandmother say this? Soiled goods? Ruined? He was ruined—for Juliana or for any woman? He couldn’t be ruined. They wanted him in the House of Lords. Juliana had seen all the lures cast him in London. So it wasn’t Dominic’s fault. Then it must be hers. Confused beyond bearing, she pushed herself away from the wall and stumbled across the terrace, eager to put distance between herself and the hateful words she had overheard.

Bucephalus pawed restlessly upon the cobbled stable yard when Juliana arrived. Dominic, holding the reins of an ebony mare with a white blaze across her forehead, was turned away speaking to the groom and did not even see her.

Miserable and near tears, the duchess’s words ringing in her ears, something broke inside her. Snatching Bucephalus’s reins from the startled stable boy, Juliana threw herself onto the nervous horse and thundered out of the yard before anyone could stop her. She heard shouts but didn’t let up in the slightest, instead she urged the magnificent stallion out into the Kent countryside.

Bucephalus broke into a crisp, steady gallop that loosened her curls to stream out behind her.

A low wall loomed suddenly in her path, but Juliana felt no fear as the horse obeyed her touch and sailed easily over it. Once she glanced back over her shoulder, but no pursuer was in sight. Later she would face Dominic and apologize for taking his horse. Now she just needed to be alone.

The wind whipped at her face. She left the path, not wanting to meet anyone. Mile after mile she rode through lush fields and glades rippling with high grass and summer flowers. Finally she spied a small stream. Slowing Bucephalus to a walk, she crossed a narrow covered wooden bridge. On the other side, cut in a wide green hollow, was a flat pasture through which the stream wove, deep and slow between clay banks. Rooks cawed by their nests in the big trees along the water. The branches rustled overhead casting downward a light-leaved net of shadows. No other creature was in sight.

The sweetness of the air, the newly washed smell of everything, the thrushes going wild in the hawthorns, conspired to draw her to this peaceful haven. Sliding off Bucephalus’s back, she patted his muzzle.

“What a wonderful animal you are,” she muttered before wrapping the reins around a narrow sapling. She left him grazing in the soft grass and went to sit on the bank. Her hat hung heavily on her neck, so she flung it aside and laid down in the lilies of the valley growing wild under the trees. For only a moment she would enjoy the beauty around her and let it hold at bay all the dark thoughts crowding the edges of her consciousness. She welcomed the warmth of the summer’s day, although it made her feel drowsy. She had barely closed her eyes all night, so now sleep came and with it welcome forgetfulness.

She hadn’t heard him approach. The first she was aware of his presence was his hoarse voice calling her name and his hands roaming freely over her person.

Her eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright in shocked recoil. “How dare you while I sleep!”

Finding herself once more laying in the flowers, but now imprisoned in Dominic’s arms, she felt his hard chest shudder and then, incredibly, heard laughter.

“Why are you laughing?” she demanded, confused, her sleep-numbed thoughts trying to focus properly.

“Asleep!” he sputtered. “I thought the damn horse had thrown you! I was feeling for broken bones. I’ve been searching for you for hours.”

She suddenly focused on Dominic. A lock of his hair had fallen forward, half hiding his face, and the sun, splashing light through the moving leaves, sent sparks of color through the gold. He couldn’t be ruined. He was the wonderful man who had brought her back to life. He had made her face herself and realize she could begin again. Everything, anything could be overcome in the wonder of his arms. Biting her lower lip, she tried to stop giggling in response to the look in his sparkling eyes, but failed and was forced to bury her face in his shoulder as she, too, shook with laughter. They lay together, their mutual laughter and his soothing touch slowly melting the emptiness inside her.

Dominic recovered first and turned his head to look solemnly into her face. They were so close his breath fanned her cheek. His shirt lay open at the throat, a pulse beating strongly in the hollow of his throat. There was a faint moist sheen on his skin. She watched his cornflower eyes slowly darken to navy.

“You should never have ridden Bucephalus, Juliana. He might easily have thrown you. When I saw you laying here I…” he broke off, such a look of concern hardening his features, Juliana’s breath caught in her throat.

“Would it really matter so much to you, Dominic?” she asked quietly. So much depended on his answer. Would it be the glib reply of the rake? Or would it be the answer of the man she had come to love?

He surprised her with a heart-stopping smile. “Matter to me! You have haunted my thoughts night and day for years. Of course, it matters to me!”

Breathing the flower-scented air deeply into her lungs, she laughed joyously. His grandmother was wrong … everything was all right. Nothing was ruined.

He must be as bemused with love as I am, she thought, for I couldn’t possibly have haunted his thoughts for years. We only met weeks ago.

Yet, she too felt as if he had always been there in her heart. And she would obey Mrs. Forbes. She would do what her heart demanded. Turning in his arms, she placed her lips at the spot on his neck where a pulse beat rapidly. He became very still while she worked her way up to nibble on his earlobe before moving across his cheek to his lips. She touched them lightly and then more deeply realizing that this, not the sweet air, was her breath of life.

With gentle hands he moved her so he could gaze down into her dreamy face, his beautiful hand drifting slowly over her body. Bending, he parted her lips in a deep kiss; she was filled with such longing she couldn’t help arching her back to press closer to him. His mouth covered hers again and again, his deft fingers playing in the curls at her neck.

“You’re so soft, love,” he whispered wonderingly.

Juliana had never known what uncontrolled desire was, but she felt it now, like liquid heat flowing through her veins. Lifting her body into his, she sought his mouth, then moaned gently when she found it. He did love her. She could feel it each time he kissed her.

His breath was sweet as he dragged his mouth over hers slowly. “Oh, love … I want you.”

He bent to bury his face in her neck and she gathered him even closer.

“I want you too … I love you. Please … please let us be married soon…” Her breath came in a tattered gasp. “I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

His arms tightened painfully about her, and he became so utterly still it was as if he had even ceased breathing. Then he moved, supporting himself on hands placed on either side of her face and raised himself to look into her eyes. Some strong emotion she didn’t recognize blurred his features.

“Juliana … Juliana, I want you.” His voice was gentle, but it held that same note she had first heard in Mrs. Forbes’s parlor and had never been able to understand. “More than I have ever wanted anyone. But there can be no marriage between us.”

His words struck her like a blow, but she did not flinch, only stared at him for a long moment before finally understanding all that this meant to her.

Mrs. Forbes, you were wrong!

What had she done? She was sunk beneath reproach.

“Will you please move so that I may get up?” she asked in a cold voice, which matched the chill once again causing her insides to shudder. She would never let him know how he had destroyed her with his callous words.

She was released swiftly, her body feeling weightless without the warmth of him pressing against her. Slowly sitting up, she pulled her chemise back into place. Soon the shame and disgust with herself would settle firmly in her soul, but for now she felt strangely detached, even when he brushed her hands aside to finish the fastenings her fingers were unable to accomplish.

Ignoring the hand he reached out, she stood alone. Without looking at him, she walked to where the mare grazed.

“Juliana!”

The pain in his voice made her stop, but it was a moment before she could force herself to turn and face him.

Even through her own misery she responded to the unhappiness and loneliness she recognized on his face. How did he do it? Time and again he could raise her to the heights and then drop her to despair. With but a look he would beg forgiveness—and she would be within an instant of granting it. The gossips were right. He was a debauched rake unworthy of her. This time he had gone too far. He had stolen a part of her honor and she would never forgive him. She twisted the reins in her hand refusing to ask for his assistance.

“You don’t understand, Juliana.” He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “If only I could tell you, you would understand why I do this.”

She felt her mouth twist unhappily as a tear threatened. She backed up into the velvet warmth of the horse. When she was safely in the saddle she answered. “I do understand … I do. It is because I am a widow. The Marquis of Aubrey could never marry soiled goods.”

She thundered off and his protests were lost in the echoing hoofbeats.