“That is an excellent idea,” the Duchess of Longleigh commended with enthusiasm.
Although Julianna and many of the Society ladies had traveled in different social circles prior to her departure from England, they had all become friends through their united cause. Julianna was the newest addition to their ranks, but the other women had welcomed her, and she appreciated their kindness and generosity of heart very much. In some ways, returning to London had felt much like her arrival in New York City had: daunting, terrifying, with the fear no one knew her and fewer still would like her.
This gathering of ladies had helped to allay those fears.
However, Julianna was keenly aware of the lies she had told, the distance between herself and Hellie. She had no doubt the other ladies had taken note. Julianna had been one of the last to arrive at the gathering, and no one had raised a brow when the butler had announced her using her new title.
Lady Shelbourne felt like a stranger.
So did Lord Shelbourne, for that matter.
“There is the matter of who shall host next month’s meeting,” Lady Jo was saying. “Julianna and Tilly, the two of you have yet to host. Which of you would prefer the honor?”
The Duchess of Longleigh cast a glance in Julianna’s direction, brows raised, face frozen. Her countenance suggested anything but enthusiasm for hosting the meeting, and Julianna could only suppose it was because of the duchess’s husband, who was a notorious rotter.
“I will host at Cagney House,” Julianna volunteered weakly.
Whilst she had no wish to entertain given the strained nature of her own marriage, the Duchess of Longleigh’s distress was too apparent to ignore. Shelbourne would have to behave himself. Good heavens. Did Shelbourne even have the capacity to behave himself? She would have to hope he would.
Mayhap she could send him to his club?
“Thank you, Julianna.” Lady Jo beamed at her. “That would be lovely of you.”
She smiled weakly, hoping it would be lovely and not a colossal disaster. “It will be my pleasure.”
The meeting continued for an indeterminate span of time, with various topics being discussed. Letters of recommendation from parliamentary candidates, public meetings, the publication of a women’s suffrage calendar, new universities for female students, and various leaflets and other groups such as theirs all received mention. There was much excitement amongst the group of assembled ladies.
By the time the meeting wound to a conclusion, Julianna found herself weary. The prospect of returning home to Shelbourne loomed, calamitous. They had been married for three days. The first day had been tumultuous.
The second, she had taken great care to avoid him following their breakfast, and he had obliged her by taking dinner at his club. After busying herself with getting acclimated to the household and better acquainting herself with the domestics, she had been so tired she had dropped into her bed and fallen asleep before he had even returned home.
This morning, they had breakfasted together once more as they had the others, with Shelbourne being attentive and polite. Almost too polite. Although they had settled into a tentative truce, Julianna knew she did not dare trust him. He had already proven himself dangerous to her heart. She could not afford to soften toward him in any fashion.
The Duchess of Longleigh appeared before her suddenly, rescuing Julianna from the gloom of her thoughts.
“Thank you for saving me from hosting the next meeting,” she said, sotto voce, as the rest of the ladies milled about the sumptuous chamber, chatting.
The duchess’s gratitude took her by surprise. “You need not thank me, Your Grace.”
“Please, you must call me Tilly,” the duchess entreated.
She was flaxen-haired and lovely, with an ethereal beauty that was almost disquieting. Julianna’s every interaction with the duchess thus far had led her to believe the duchess was a goodhearted, compassionate woman.
“Tilly, then.” Julianna smiled. “And you must call me Julianna as well.”
“I believe we shall be friends, you and I,” Tilly said. “The two of us are different, are we not? The rest of the ladies are…”
“Hopelessly in love with their husbands?” Julianna guessed, and then regretted her words.
From the Duchess of Longleigh’s prior statements, she knew Tilly was not happy with the duke. But it was nonetheless forward of Julianna to make the statement.
“Do not look so distressed.” Tilly’s smile was sad, a shadow crossing her patrician features. “You have not offended me in the least. Indeed, you stole the words from my mouth.”
Julianna had taken note of the happy marriages of the ladies in their group. It was daunting, to say the least. Particularly since she was trapped in a decidedly unhappy one, with no hope of it ever changing. There was some relief, she supposed, in finding a kindred spirit. After all, the chill between herself and Hellie aside, Julianna could not properly speak to her friend about Hellie’s own brother. It was too awkward.
“Still, I must beg your pardon,” Julianna felt compelled to say. “I have a…history with Lord Shelbourne, of course, which renders me somewhat jaded. I have no wish to pry. It is merely that I inferred from some of your comments at previous meetings that you and Longleigh are not a love match.”
Tilly smiled wryly. “Do you refer to the meeting where I suggested I would happily watch my husband drown in the Serpentine?”
Yes.
Julianna’s cheeks went hot. She cleared her throat. “Of course not.”
“You are a liar, my dear, but it was for my benefit, so I shall forgive you.” She raised a golden brow. “Truly, there is no need to fret over the state of my marriage. It is common knowledge His Grace makes my life a misery.”
Shelbourne did not make Julianna’s life a misery. He just…hurt her heart. Making love with him again had been dangerous. It made her feel too much, made her long for things she knew she could never have.
“I am so very sorry,” she told Tilly, meaning those words wholeheartedly. “Is that the reason you were hesitant to host the next Lady’s Suffrage Society meeting?”
“Longleigh is out of the country now, thank heavens.” Tilly frowned. “But he does not approve of women gaining the Parliamentary franchise. If word were to reach him that I hosted a meeting at our home…”
“I understand, and I am certain Lady Jo would as well.”
“I am ashamed to admit that I fear him to the other ladies. They all have wonderful husbands, whilst I have quite the opposite. I never should have married him, but I was young and foolish and wanted to please my mother and father.” Tilly sighed, offering her a tremulous smile. “One cannot live in the past, however. We cannot change it, and there is no sense in wallowing in the pain. I am happy to have you join our ranks, for at least I will not be alone.”
“One more ally in London would be most welcome,” Julianna told her newfound friend. “Would you care to join me for tea sometime soon?”
“Tomorrow shall do,” Tilly said.
Well, then.
Julianna smiled. “Tomorrow.”
The more distractions keeping her from Shelbourne, the better.
* * *
Sidney’s daughter was an endless source of amazement to him. She was capable of astounding alchemy, turning even the most mundane act into something tremendous. In all the years Cagney House had been his London home, he had ventured into the small parterre garden only a few times, and never without a drink in hand.
But today, the urge to take the air and show Emily the flowers had been too strong to ignore. He had liberated her from the nursery with the intent of spending some time with her sans the watchful eye of her nurse, who tended to hover about as if she feared he would not take proper care of his daughter. He was more than capable, damn her.
He smiled as Emily made her way down the gravel path toward a clump of daisies along the sculpted boxwood hedges. She plucked one blossom, crumpling it in her fist as she made sounds of
unabashed delight.
“Daisy,” he told her. “Can you say daisy?”
He enjoyed teaching Emily new words. He also enjoyed irritating Julianna by doing so. Therefore, he was doubly rewarded with each new sound she made.
“Pa!” Emily exclaimed, grinning.
Christ, she was adorable. Brimming with vibrancy and energy, her eyes so big in her round little face. He had never been so proud of any accomplishment in his life. This girl—his daughter—was the best thing Sidney had ever done, and he knew it.
She raised her fist and stuffed the flower into her mouth. Petals protruded from her lips, rather reminiscent of bird feathers from the mouth of a guilty cat.
“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, starting forward, forgetting his vow to refrain from using oaths around his daughter. “You mustn’t eat the daisies, poppet.”
Emily chewed. “Bub, bub!”
He hastened to his knees on the gravel before her, captured her small chin in one hand, and swiped inside her mouth with two fingers, removing the wilted, saliva-coated flower.
“What in heaven’s name is going on?”
Julianna’s sharp query rang through the pleasant stillness of the garden.
Of course she would have chosen this precise moment, of all moments, to return from her Lady’s Suffrage Society meeting and find him removing a bedraggled daisy from their daughter’s mouth.
Sidney ignored her, instead extracting a handkerchief from his waistcoat and wiping the macerated blossom on it before making another sweep of Emily’s mouth to make certain he had not missed any petals. His search yielded an additional white sliver of flower.
Emily frowned at him and then her entire face screwed up. Tears welled in her green eyes. Damn, it broke his heart. Broke it so much he almost offered the daisy to her.
“Shelbourne!” Julianna snapped, arriving at his side in a rustle of violet skirts. “What was in her mouth? Why is she crying?”
Hell.
“Don’t cry, poppet.” He used the dry portion of his handkerchief to dab at Emily’s cheeks. “Papa will find you something better than the daisy to eat.”
“She was eating a daisy?” Piercing him with a dagger glare, Julianna whisked their daughter into her arms. “That could make her terribly ill. Were you not watching her?”
He already felt like a villain for making Emily cry—though he’d possessed an excellent reason for doing so. Julianna’s insinuation stung. He rose to his full height, facing her as she clutched their daughter to her in a protective embrace, as if she feared he would steal her away and throw her into a cage of ravenous lions. Of course she would think the worst of him.
And of course she would be so beautiful this afternoon that the sight of her was like a fist to the gut. She was Julianna. When was she not beautiful?
“I was watching her,” he defended himself, rubbing his jaw in an effort to quell some of his irritation. “One moment she was admiring the daisies, and the next she had decided to make one into her luncheon. I removed it before she could swallow it.”
That had to count for something. Who knew children would attempt to eat anything that would fit into their tiny fists? He had rather thought consuming everything in sight was the business of goats, but Emily had just proven otherwise.
“You made her cry,” Julianna accused, murmuring something soothing into Emily’s ear and rubbing her back.
And his heart still hurt.
But that was none of this heartless witch’s concern. She would hardly understand.
“She cried because I took the flower from her mouth. Apparently she was hell-bent upon eating the damned thing and I thwarted her goal.”
“Shelbourne, we have spoken about your language.”
Yes, they had. He had also reached the conclusion that he liked his wife much better when she was kissing him instead of berating him.
“Forgive me,” he muttered.
Emily had calmed down, thank Christ. She sniffled and cast an uncertain glance in his direction. “Pa?”
“Papa is sorry for making you cry, poppet.” He blinked at a sudden burning in his own eyes.
Not tears. Certainly not.
“Is something in your eye?” Julianna asked, frowning at him some more.
Of course she was frowning. That was all she did unless he was making her come. Why the devil did she despise him so? Was he not the one of the two of them who had been wronged, and most grievously at that?
Sidney frowned back at her. “A bit of dust on the wind. Nothing more.”
Damn it, his vision was getting blurry. He was still thinking of Emily’s sweet face crumpled with sadness. He turned away from Julianna and surreptitiously swiped at his eyes with his handkerchief. The last thing he wanted to do was allow her to see him crying like some silly, swooning miss.
“Shelbourne, why is Emily not in the nursery with Johnston?” Julianna demanded behind him.
He tucked away his handkerchief and turned back to her. “I wanted to spend some time with her. I am attempting to undo the damage of the last year, in which she was kept from me.”
If there was an undercurrent of anger in his voice, it could not be helped. He still resented Julianna quite desperately for the abrupt manner in which she had left for America. For staying away for two years. For keeping Emily a secret. For not loving him as he had loved her.
Julianna’s lips thinned. “If you are going to keep her from her nurse, then you must promise to do a better job of watching over her. She could get in all manner of trouble in this garden. What if she had put a pebble in her mouth and choked upon it?”
“She did not.”
“But what if she had?”
He rubbed his jaw some more, irritated with her. Irritated with himself. “What would you have from me, Julianna? My promise that I will never again dare to bring my daughter to the goddamn garden?”
She flinched. “Please. Your language.”
“Yes, yes.” Fury roared, replacing the sadness, and he embraced it. “My language is despicable. I am a terrible father who cannot be trusted to be alone with his daughter in the parterre. I am such a detestable scoundrel that you fled an entire ocean instead of marrying me. The only time you find me moderately palatable is when I am pleasuring you, and the only reason you married me is so you can collect a tidy fortune. That sums it up, I believe. Does it not?”
Her lips parted, moved. She looked stricken, as if she were about to say something but could not find the words.
Had he rendered her speechless? He bloody well hoped so. He was tired of listening to her treat him as if he was an untrustworthy beast when it came to their daughter’s welfare.
“I… Shelbourne, that is not fair.”
“Is it not?” he asked. “I have done everything in my power to ease this transition. I have gone to great lengths to right the wrongs you are responsible for, and yet you continue to act as if I am an outcast in my own home. What more do you want from me?”
What more indeed? He had happily traded one loveless marriage of convenience for another, but there came a time when a man grew tired of paying the price for sins he had not committed. He would own that he should never have been so reckless with her out of wedlock, but he had wrongly believed she had returned his feelings and that she would welcome a match between them. That charmed summer had left him stupid with lust and love, but he had been doing penance ever since.
And he was deuced tired of it.
She was staring at him, silent once more. Emily clapped her hands, amused in the midst of her parents’ mutual enmity. This fighting was not what he wanted. Part of him had hoped they might find common ground in their union.
“Tell me, Julianna,” he persisted. “What more do you want from me, aside from what I have already given you?”
“I am sorry.”
Her contrition took him by surprise, for it was most certainly not what he had expected. But he wanted more. “Tell me, chérie. Just what is it you are sorry for?”
&nbs
p; “For keeping her from you.” She swallowed, then pressed a kiss to their daughter’s brow. “For hurting you. Your actions two years ago were inexcusable, but my subsequent actions were no better. I recognize that.”
“My actions were inexcusable? I asked you to marry me.”
Her smile was sad. “Yes, you did.”
“And yet that was not enough to please you?”
“Oh, Shelbourne.” She worried her upper lip in that same old fashion of hers, the one that drove him to distraction every time. “It was never your proposal of marriage which did not please me. It was everything else.”
Everything else? Just what the devil did that mean? He was about to ask her to expound upon her vague claims, itching to know more, but Julianna’s gaze traveled over his shoulder, her expression shifting. All the emotion clouding her lovely face dissipated as she offered a smile he knew without a doubt was feigned.
“Johnston, there you are,” she said brightly. “I expect it is time for Lady Emily’s nap, is it not?”
Grudgingly, Sidney turned to find the nurse standing on the periphery. “It is indeed, my lady, as long as you are agreeable.”
Julianna flicked a glance at Sidney, then back to Johnston. “We are done here. Your timing is impeccable.”
Sidney watched his wife and daughter walking away, leaving him alone in the garden. In his opinion, the blasted woman’s timing had been quite bloody terrible. But no one had consulted him on the matter, had they?
And that was damn well going to change.
Chapter 14
Dear Julianna,
Last night, I dreamt of you. We were in the temple at Farnsworth Hall and you were my wife. Foolish, I know. Sometimes we dream of the unattainable, other times of our greatest fears, with little ration or reason to these slumbering illusions. It hardly matters. I woke to despair, knowing you shall forever be lost to me, understanding that you will likely forever have a hold upon me, even from afar. You shall always own the greatest piece of my heart.
Lady Wicked: Notorious Ladies of London Book 4 Page 18