The Rake's Redemption (9 page)

“Dominic has nothing to do with it.” She shrugged. “I cannot imagine why you ask.”

“Can’t you? I’m not blind. He affects you. I saw it at the inn and again here in London. But never so clearly as when you danced tonight. There was a moment when you both looked so … vulnerable.” Then Sophia had glimpsed it, too, that searing pain and loneliness on Dominic’s face that made Juliana want to cradle him against her breasts to soothe away all the hurt. Lifting her chin, this time she did not flinch from her aunt’s gaze.

“I am not vulnerable to the marquis. I will admit that I found him entertaining at the Blue Boar. And he was kind to us there, but obviously because he had nothing better to do. For you must agree that his behavior has changed since we arrived in London. In fact, I find his treatment despicable. Which only proves that he really is a conceited flirt and a rake. I refuse to let him get away with his shabby treatment of us. I plan to put him in his place!” Folding her hands in her lap, Sophia frowned. “You have surprised me, Juliana.”

“I know it is an entirely unworthy goal I’ve set myself, but do not try to dissuade me, Aunt!”

“No, my dear, I would not think of trying. But my surprise stems from something quite different.” Sophia rose, gathering her gown tightly around her. “ I have seen you infatuated, as you were with Will from the time you were thirteen years old. I’ve seen you glowing with excitement the few weeks you spent together as man and wife. And I’ve seen you totally indifferent to suitor after suitor. But I have never, never seen you so passionate about anyone or anything as you are about Dominic.” At the door Sophia turned back to her, her gray eyes wide and thoughtful. “I think, my darling, you should give serious thought to just where in your life Dominic’s place is. And whether or not he has already a place in your heart.”

Juliana sat stunned as the door closed behind her aunt until a fiery rage ignited within her. With a swipe of her arm she sent the hairbrush flying against the wall. “This time, Aunt Sophia, you are wrong! I won’t forget Will! Not for Dominic! Not for anyone! I promised…”

Memories crowded into her mind: Will with his ebony curls and deep brown eyes, Will, whom she had loved. He had in his shy-boyish way stirred the only embers of passion she had ever known until now. It was a gentle warmth that memories of Will, his father, the Willows, and Wentworth Park brought. Only since she left Berkshire had she felt this restlessness, this yearning for something more.

Shaking her head, she peered at her reflection and lifted her left eyebrow while lowering her right, a trick which had always made Will and her family fall into fits of laughter. She needed to be reminded of those happy, carefree times. She smiled. “Just remember who you are, Juliana Vane Grenville. And what you set out to do. Place George firmly in the bosom of the
ton
. And find a nice comfortable widower so your brother can get on with his own life. Nothing has changed! Nothing!”

She opened her jewel box and took out the gold locket, carefully scanning Will’s likeness. Yes, it was just as she recalled. For one sickening instant she had not been able to see him clearly in her mind. She must never allow that to happen, for she had given her word. Father had taught her well: the Vane word of honor was not given lightly.

The urgency of Rod’s knocking did not cause the door to open with more than usual dispatch. The imperturbable Smithers opened it with no trace of having hurried.

“If you will wait in the small parlor, Mrs. Thatcher will receive you momentarily,” Smithers said as he ushered them into the comfortable room Dominic had visited once before.

Dominic looked at the bountiful flower arrangements and lack of clutter that so clearly represented Juliana’s hand; he was consumed with schooling his demeanor, determined that his carefully cultivated facade would not slip. Once again he was subjecting himself to sweet torment, like a moth battering itself against the window at twilight desperate to reach the candle flame that would consume it. He was many things, but not a coward. That was why he had agreed to the morning call with Freddie, and again today with Rod. His walls of defense were built high and strong, fortified over the years of passionless embrace with many women who had never touched him except physically. This one woman would not breach them and so he would prove to himself. There was enough honor left to him that he knew what he must do.

Sophia found Dominic leaning against the mantel dressed with careless elegance in a chocolate brown coat, whipcord breeches and tan leather boots; while Rodney, splendidly attired in correct morning clothes, reclined uneasily upon a narrow bench, which sagged a little with his weight. He rose with remarkable agility when she entered.

“Sophia…,” Rodney breathed her name once as if it were a greeting, and reaching out, raised her fingers to his lips.

“Your servant, Sophia,” Dominic said to her, a complacent smile hovering at the corners of his mouth.

Sophia sank down upon the settee and Rodney joined her, once again retaining her hand between his large palms. She sighed. “Please excuse my niece for not attending you, but we have an illness in the house.”

“Juliana?” asked Dominic sharply, all trace of satisfied boredom suddenly gone. “Is she ill?”

Sophia hesitated, studying him for a moment. “No. Although she will be if she does not give over some of our nursing duties. It is young Ben, the postboy … perhaps you remember him from the day of the accident, Dominic?”

“Carrot-topped lad? Face full of freckles?”

“Yes. He is Benjamin’s only son. His mother died last spring. Juliana is quite fond of him … as she is of all the children at the Park. Insisted on moving him down to the spare bedroom next to her own, and is nursing him herself. She has hardly slept since he fell ill.”

Rodney stroked her hand, which Sophia found surprisingly soothing. “Has a physician been called?” he asked.

“Last evening. He calls back today. He said all the spots should be out by then. But the fever is still raging … I trust you have both had the measles?”

“Yes, in the nursery. You had them, too, Dominic. I remember you were one big spot.”

A light smile played at the corners of Dominic’s lips and he laughed. “I can’t recall, Uncle.”

“Take my word for it, my boy. Your mother cared for you with just such devotion as Juliana is giving young Ben.”

Sophia saw it again, just as she had in the parlor of the Blue Boar Inn. One moment Dominic was leaning leisurely against the mantel, a self-assured smile on his appealing face, and the next instant there was something in his eyes and a tightness across his lips that she did not understand.

His beautifully shaped mouth curled into a sneer. “Hah! Motherly devotion from Leticia! Surely you jest, Uncle. She was much too busy with her lovers!”

Sophia’s gaze was fixed on Dominic’s face, and she felt the flush creep up her cheeks when she saw his cornflower blue eyes darken to almost navy in disgust. “The black widow did not nurse her children. She destroyed them,” Dominic declared fiercely.

His words hung, echoing like distant thunder on a sultry summer night when the air is heavy and one can feel the power of a storm building all around. Sophia’s face must have mirrored her horror at his words, for suddenly he was staring appalled into her startled eyes, and without a word of regret, he turned and walked quickly from the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

“Damn my fool tongue!” In a rough voice Rodney broke the spell.

Sophia looked at him, trying to gather her thoughts and make some sense of all Dominic had said, and all that had not been said, but that could be read in the shadows marring his face. “I do not understand, Rodney,” she said softly.

“Of course, you do not, my dear. I hardly understand it myself!” His harsh voice betrayed the depths of his feelings, but seeing Sophia’s shocked face his expression softened. “It was nothing you did. It was me. I should never have mentioned his mother. It was my mother that nursed him, of course. Leticia didn’t come near the sickroom for fear she would be infected. Or Jules.”

“Jules?”

“Dominic’s older brother by five years.” Frowning, Sophia shook her head. “Older brother? Then how is Dominic the marquis?”

“Leticia was a widow with a young son when Charles met her. She was French you know. Married the Comte de Saville when she was young. After his death she came here visiting relatives. Charles met her and married her within a month.”

Sophia was silent. There was more here than Rodney was telling. Much more. “She and Charles were happy, I presume,” she probed finally, searching for the right words. “I mean, of course, they were pleased to have such a handsome son as Dominic.”

Shrugging, Rodney lowered his eyes. “Suppose so. Wasn’t that close to my brother at the time, Oxford and then on the town you know.”

She studied his downcast face for a moment before standing and moving to the empty fireplace, staring at it moodily for several minutes. Making her decision, she turned back to him. “I hope I do not speak too frankly when I say that since we have met again I feel that, this time, we may become even closer.”

“It is my fondest hope,” Rodney replied softly, for an instant looking nearly as young as he had twenty years ago.

Going back to the settee, Sophia sank down beside him. “Then I wish to know about Dominic and his mother. Am I being too forward, my dear?”

Grasping her hand, Rodney studied her long, thin fingers, his head bowed. “It is not my place to tell, Sophia, since I do not know it all.”

“I have grown very fond of Dominic and would help if I could. Perhaps you could tell me what you do know,” Sophia ventured.

“Yes. Of course.” His voice firm, Rodney looked at her with great seriousness narrowing his pale blue eyes. “Leticia’s beauty hid her true nature from all of us. If you had seen her, you would understand. She cajoled everyone with her radiant smile and black flashing eyes. She had that French vitality that sparkles and draws you to its flame … But after she produced an heir, she locked her bedroom door against Charles.”

Rodney stopped, but Sophia tightened her grasp on his fingers urging him on. “What a deplorable marriage in which to rear children! But what of Leticia’s relationship with Dominic and Jules?”

“She had very little time for Dominic, although for some reason he adored her. She devoted all her time and energy to her own comforts and those of Jules. Dominic loved his brother. But I always felt he was hurt that Leticia seemed to love Jules more than him.” Rodney shook his head, squeezing her hands a bit tighter. “Not Jules’s fault. It was Leticia who was possessive of him, almost unnaturally so. She called him her ‘little count.’ Perhaps because he is the image of his late father. She would always compare Charles to Jules’s father … and her other lovers.”

“Well,” Sophia stated matter-of-factly, “It is not unknown in the
ton
for ladies to take lovers.”

“Sophia, you don’t understand! She flaunted her affairs in front of Charles. No one was safe from her. Even I…” Rodney looked away, his chubby cheeks crimson.

“Oh, no, Rod!” Sophia moved closer to him, placing her hand over their clenched fingers, trying desperately to keep the shock out of her voice.

She obviously failed, for Rodney’s head shot up, his pale blue eyes wide. “Good God, Sophia, I didn’t … I mean .… there she was stark naked in my bed … didn’t know she was there … ran all the way to the stables and fled to London. Had the devil’s own time explaining my abrupt departure to the duke.”

Sophia was surprised at the relief she felt at Rodney’s confession and at the growing affection he inspired. But she would consider that later. Now she must concentrate on Dominic.

“If Dominic was devoted to his mother, when did he turn against her? When he grew older and saw what kind of person she was?”

“No … it was not until after the accident that he saw her for what she had been.”

Sophia’s insides coiled with fear when she saw the look of pain and dread on Rodney’s face, but she forced him on. “Tell me about the accident.” “Never been fully explained,” he began, his voice sinking to a shadow of its former self. “Leticia was shot by my brother Charles in a drunken rage. Jules was wounded. No one knows how. Then … then Charles … Charles turned the pistol on himself. Dominic was there, but unable to stop it.”

The day had barely edged into evening when Sophia quietly entered the blue bedchamber next to her niece’s. A large four-poster dominated the panels of carved oak painted pale blue and white, and the delicate furnishings upholstered in striped silk placed about the room. Juliana sat on one fragile chair pulled close to the bed.

She was watching the gentle rhythm of Ben’s breathing, his thin chest rising and falling beneath the fine blue cover. Lifting one of his hands that lay palm up, she cupped it against her cheek for a moment before carefully resting it back on the quilt.

Suddenly she looked around and Sophia could see the sheen of tears on her cheeks.

“The fever has broken,” she whispered softly.

Sophia stood beside the bed watching Ben, his freckles and spots so intermingled it was difficult in the candlelight to tell where one began and the other ended. Nodding her head, she placed a large vase of lavender and pinks upon the nightstand. “He’ll be fine now, my dear. But we will be nursing you if you do not eat something. Come with me now. Cook has prepared a light supper for us.”

Juliana rang for her dresser, Maitland, to sit with young Ben, leaving careful instructions that she be called if the boy woke. Then she asked Smithers to send word to the stables that Ben was, at last, out of danger.

Sophia and Juliana entered the informal dining room set with two places, and steaming serving dishes already laid out along the oak sideboard so they could serve themselves just as Sophia had ordered. The warmth from a small fire mingled with the scent of roses.

Juliana sank into a chair stroking a rose petal with a long, thin finger. “More flowers, Aunt Sophia?”

Sophia placed a crest-embossed china plate piled with breast of chicken poached in cream, asparagus, and small carrots in front of her weary niece before going back for her own.

“Dominic sent several bouquets. There are violets in our bedrooms and a gardenia basket in the front parlor. He also sent a basket of strawberries and a pail of fresh cream for our young patient.”

A slight frown creased Juliana’s brow. “How did Dominic know about Ben? Smithers was told to send away all visitors.”

“Smithers is a law unto himself as you very well know. He admitted Rodney and Dominic this morning, and as I happened to be in the upstairs hall I spoke to them briefly. Obviously Dominic felt flowers and fruit would brighten the sickroom.”

“Very generous,” Juliana said thoughtfully. “He has a way of surprising one, doesn’t he? One moment the dashing knight-errant rescuing us. The next a distant stranger, and now this kindness.”

An aching tenderness swelled in Sophia’s breast at the tired, wistful smile on Juliana’s drawn face. She wanted so much for her to be happy! She had begun to think she had found Juliana’s ideal man until this morning. “A way of surprising one?” Oh, yes, Dominic could do that, indeed! She did not tell her niece that with the dozens of flowers, the fruit and the cream, there had been a note. A bold sprawl in black ink saying simply, “Forgive me.”

One week later, Sophia caught sight of the tail end of a nightshirt disappearing up the back staircase. “Ben, what are you doing out of your bedchamber!”

“It be for Miss Juliana,” Ben replied quickly, coming back down the steps. “Scones and tea from Cook. See.”

Sophia examined the neat tray that Cook had obviously prepared for him. “Juliana would never have sent you. Why didn’t she ring for a maid?”

“Fell asleep whiles readin’ me a story. Looks poorly she does. Thought’t might make her feel better. Did it meself,” he said proudly.

Sighing, Sophia admitted she was much too lax with the servants, but Ben’s smiling face flushed with fading measles made her stroke his tousled hair. “That was very thoughtful. But you must stay in bed and get well. Then Miss Juliana will no longer look poorly. Go on now.”

Hurrying from the back hallway, her mind occupied with Juliana, she nearly collided with Smithers.

“Madam, you have a visitor in the front parlor.” Looking down his long nose at her, Sophia self-consciously straightened the bow of her cap.

“Thank you, Smithers.” Deciding she really must take him in hand, she lifted her chin and gave him a frosty stare. “I trust our visitor has a name.”

He sniffed. “It is teatime, so naturally your visitor is Lord Rodney Crawford.”

Sophia found Rodney in the wing chair before the fireplace. He rose when she entered, raising her hand to his lips.

“Sophia, my dear, what is troubling you? Has the boy taken a turn for the worse?” he asked, leading her to the settee and settling in beside her.

“Rodney, you are so kind to be concerned. Ben is making fine progress. It is Juliana who worries me.”

“Never say she’s come down with measles!”

The look of distress on his chubby features brought a great rush of affection into Sophia’s breast. Yes, Rodney would do just fine.

“No, no, it is not her health. It is my plan. How can it work if she never leaves the house?”

Confusion wrinkled his brow. “Don’t quite see…”

“Rodney, dear, I tell you this in great confidence,” she said gently and was rewarded with a worshipful smile. She leaned over the teapot and carefully added two spoonfuls of liquid from a small bottle to Rodney’s teacup before handing it to him. “As you know Juliana was widowed six years ago and has remained at Wentworth Park caring for her brother. For some time I have been most concerned about her future. But until recently I could see no way through my dilemma. Then Juliana gave me my answer. She became concerned that George was not enjoying life so he should become part of the
ton
. Then she decided it was time she found a comfortable widower with children and let George get on with his life. That is when I hatched my plan.”