Juliet moved to the doorway and looked out. She should be grateful, and yet when his solicitor posted the banns on Friday and the reverend read them again on Sunday during service, she’d held her breath for he’d given a longer than necessary pause, in hope someone might object. Her heart was torn between wanting to be saved and wanting the man she’d yearned for.
She sighed and glanced down at the small worn prayer book she held beneath the Belgium lace handkerchief, the one item left of her mother’s. “Am I that insignificant that no one bothers to wonder about my safety? Or is it the money which satisfies the bills, that brushes aside queries?”
The door to the chapel opened and the swell of music drifted in followed by the whisper of Mrs. Phelps slippers. “It is almost time,” she said and moved toward her rolling that all too critical glance about her dress. “Not even a veil.” Mrs. Phelps fumed as she brushed her hand down the silk on the back of her gown.
“It is all well,” Juliet whispered.
“Well indeed.” The reverend’s wife harrumphed. “This dress has the humor of a funeral, not a wedding.”
Juliet gazed down at the dove-gray suit. The seamstress in town had tried to revive the gown by sewing a trim of black velvet ribbon along the frayed edges of the sleeves and bodice. It was after all a very functional piece and lent her comfort in this painful setting. “Mrs. Putnam did a fine job redoing this in such short notice.”
“Short notice. It is indecent if you ask me. With no season, those ladies in London will have their talons out, ready to shred you—and you nothing more than a poor, innocent lass,” she clucked. “He knows what he’s taking into a den of vipers.”
“I will be fine.” Juliet watched as the portly woman took a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes.
“Forgive me, Lady Gilbert. I remember the day you were baptized and we stood promising to watch over you.” She sniffed. “Here you stand, forced to give up your name in order to keep your home and marry that rake.”
At least here, she had found some understanding. “It was my choice.” Juliet reached out and took her hand. “True, this was no love match, yet given time, we shall see where it ends. All will be well. In the end, I have managed to do what my father wished, to raise my station, and save my home.”
The reverend’s wife blinked. Her eyes doubted Juliet’s words. “I think more it is him getting a better station. We have all heard the rumors. No one would think ill should you choose to flee.”
“Mrs. Phelps,” she sighed, “I shall not flee. I have given my word.”
The woman straightened her shoulders and nodded. “You are sure then.”
Juliet’s hand found her middle. Beneath her palm, the butterflies calmed as she thought about the man waiting for her. All night long she’d lay in bed expecting the dread to swallow her whole and yet it never came. Deep in her heart, she’d always wished to be carried away by the moment of finding her true love and he stood, by a cruel twist of fate, just beyond the doors. It might be foolish, to hang her dreams upon the filaments of fairy tales, yet Juliet could not stop the flight of fancy her heart seemed bent on taking. “I am. I wish I could tell you why.” She shook her head. “This is right in measures beyond our understanding.”
“Perhaps the hand of God, then.” She smiled and Juliet nodded.
The music in the church stilled. Her heart skipped a beat as the organist fingers flew across a flourish of notes that resembled the trumpets of Joshua’s legions.
“Our signal.” Mrs. Phelps’s head turned to look at the door. “Are you ready?”
Juliet reached up and touched the brooch that lay comfortably beneath the collar at her neck. “I am.” Squaring her shoulders, she waited while the minister’s wife opened the door. Head erect, not looking at her feet, she boldly stepped inside.
Her eyes blinked and adjusted to the shadows. Light filtered in through the colorful panes of glass warming the congregation who stood to watch her walk past. At the altar, Lord Montague stood waiting. Today, he was dressed in a dark coat and matching trousers looking elegant, like the man of her dreams. Light from the window behind the altar danced across his dark hair. Spirits lifting, she seemed to float toward him only to pause as he came down the steps to meet her at the first pew.
Their eyes locked and the lines around his eyes softened and he held out his arm. “Lady Juliet, You have to be the most beautiful bride in all of England.”
Something warm touched her cheeks. She tucked her chin toward her chest and lightly placed her fingers on the fine cloth. His free hand closed over hers and together they took the last few steps to stand before the reverend.
“Lady?” Reverend Phelps questioned her once more.
“I am ready.” She stole a glance to Lord Montague. Her eyes filled with tears. He was handsome and had shown her kindness. If there was a God, then yes, she could grow to love this man, in spite of his reputation and past actions. She turned to face him.
His hands grasped hers over the prayer book with a tighter grip. For a moment, he stared deep into her eyes as though he understood how much she was giving up for his redemption. Landon gave a slight nod, she heard him say, “Begin.”
***
The wedding seemed to take only moments. She barely heard the words Reverend Phelps spoke for the pounding of her blood. A band of gold was thrust into her hand. Her fingers trembled, poised over his and with a strong voice she repeated her vows. The ring slipped easily over his knuckle. Now, it was his time to speak. She listened to his voice as it filled the chapel with the words love, honor, and pledge. One blink and through the brilliance of tears, a thin gold band adorned the third finger of her left hand. Still reeling over the implication, she watched detached as the minister withdrew his stole and laid it over their joined hands.
“With God’s grace and no other objections, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
A thousand butterflies all erupted at once beneath the stays of her corset. Juliet looked up. Would he kiss her cheek or dare he kiss her lips? His grip tightened on her hands. Did he fear she might flee? Her knees trembled. He leaned closer.
“Do not be afraid, Lady Juliet.”
Her lips parted and her tongue dampened the flesh to make ready. She closed her eyes and waited. The warmth of his breath bathed her skin. The caress of his lips on hers, although brief, set her body aflame. Nearly forgetting to breathe, she drew back when the kiss ended and opened her eyes, afraid she might find the moment nothing more than a dream.
Inches away, Lord Montague’s expression mirrored her own. His astonishment appeared genuine. He blinked and gazed at her as if seeing her for the first time.
As Reverend Phelps introduced them to the congregation, Lord Montague stepped closer. A hand upon her elbow, he smiled seductively. “You are an enchantress, Lady Montague.”
The sound of her new name seemed unreal. For so long she had been no more than the Earl of Warren’s daughter, the image of his wife, the reminder of his loss. She’d suffered the looks of pity and managed to hold her head high. Looking out over the assembly, the glances evoked curiosity for the girl who had landed England’s most brash rake. Tonight, she’d be the object of discussion in many homes, but she married befitting her station. Provided security for Holly Grove and those who worked there. In the end, that was what mattered.
He lifted her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. For a moment, she could have sworn every woman in the room uttered a sigh. Her cheeks suddenly possessed fire as he led her down the steps and through the aisle to the applause of the town’s honored citizens.
In the foyer, they signed their names on the wedding certificate and the church registry, all witnessed by Amos Black and Mrs. Phelps. She waited quietly, watching as her new husband collected his top hat and gloves, then made a generous offer to the parish. The price of her soul. Did it weigh as much as thirty pieces of silver?
“My dear?” His brows were drawn together and angled d
own slightly as he studied her.
“Fine,” she said and they ventured into the cool afternoon air. A few lads cheered as he led her toward the waiting carriage.
“I’ll only be a moment,” he murmured and she watched as he moved along the brick wall pressing coins into their eager hands.
Turning, she glanced at the woman dressed in gray who demurely stood waiting beside the carriage door.
“Milady.” She nodded and stood back as Lord Montague returned and helped her into the carriage.
Juliet took her seat. The woman followed, sitting across from her. She waited until her husband settled before the question left her lips. “You are?”
“Helen, milady.” Seeing her confusion she added, “Your new maid.”
The door to the carriage shut with a snap and Amos Black took his seat beside Helen.
“I did not realize I would need a maid.”
“I noticed you were without one at Holly Grove so I asked Mr. Black to see to it,” Landon said.
“Forgive me, milady. It seemed highly irregular for you to ride the long way to London with two men in a coach considering the short time we’ve known you,” the solicitor said.
“I see.” She glanced over at the woman and nodded welcome. “Thank you, Mr. Black, for looking out for my interests; however next time please include me on the selection. I am capable of hiring my own staff.” Dismissing the solicitor, she turned to the woman staring at the hem of her skirts obviously afraid. “Helen, I feel we’ve gotten off to a bad start. I am honored you would join me.”
“Yes, milady,” she replied.
Lord Montague touched the top of the box with his hand, his expression closed off and difficult to read. “Driver, onward.”
***
He was married. Landon looked down upon the band of gold sitting awkward upon his finger. In front of her town, he had promised to love, honor, and to pledge his soul until death. For all the rumors about his rakish ways, he’d proven he was an honorable man. His thumb brushed the cold metal and he recalled the earnest look in her eyes as she repeated her vows. The tears he hoped were raw emotion and not those of regret. When he spoke to her, as they took their first stroll as husband and wife, the blush that tinged her cheeks came naturally without being pinched. A small rushed breath came from his lips. They hardly knew one another and yet the wedding had to be done.
The coach rocked as they rounded a curve in the road. He stared out at the farmland passing by and tried to ignore the steady thump of his heart as the silk of her dress brushed his coat. He wished they could have a fortnight at Holly Grove. There, they would be uninterrupted on their wedding night. He could languish in her arms stroking her velvet thighs that yet remained a mystery to him.
“So, you have never been to London?” Amos spoke, his lawyer’s voice startling him so that he gave a jerk and turned his head to hear her reply.
“No,” Juliet replied.
“You will find it quite dizzy with activity I’m afraid,” Landon said.
She turned to face him. “Will I?”
Amos nodded. “There is always traffic in the street, functions to attend. You will be called upon in the afternoons by the ladies of London eager to meet the spouse of Earl of Broadmoor. No doubt tongues will wag.”
“I am not sure that is a good thing.” Her mouth turned down sourly.
“She is already on to you, Mr. Black.” Landon grinned.
“You jest as if this were a game, not a marriage.”
His chuckled died as swift as it began. “Forgive me, Lady Montague, it was rude of me to laugh. However, my wily friend is correct. Being my wife means that your quiet days are over and you may soon long for your country life. You will soon be exhausted from attending balls, musical evenings, operas, and other functions.”
“I feel at a loss.”
“Do not fret. My mother will be there to help until you gain confidence.”
“Ah, I see.”
“Speaking of the dowager,” Amos began. “Does she know of your—change in fortune?”
Landon shifted in his seat, not wanting to think about those keen blue eyes that would pierce his soul the moment they walked into the house in Kensington. “No, the countess has been kept in the dark.”
“I do say, clever of you.”
“Why is that?” Juliet glanced between the two men.
Landon pinched the bridge of his nose. He did not want to get into this now. He needed a few hours of quiet to plan his attack. Grasping at straws, he said, “My mother will be a bit miffed at not attending our nuptials.”
“Surely, she read the banns.” Juliet’s nervous glance darted back to his lawyer. “Did you not post them in the London papers, Mr. Black?”
“I did, Lady Montague.”
“Then she must have seen them. I shall invite her to your home for dinner this week.”
Not if Mr. Simmons did his job. He had yet to tell his mother about the venture. The last thing he needed was the sharp lash of her tongue before he could whisk his bride to the altar. So, he’d enlisted the help of his valet to keep the matter away from her prying eyes. Landon glanced out the window. “Mother rarely reads the paper. She is often busy with her schedule.”
“Still, we must have her over to smooth the transition.”
Amos raised a brow. Landon sent him a dark look and he erased it from his face.
“The dowager has a set of apartments within my home,” Landon explained.
The coach grew quiet.
“She lives with you,” Juliet said.
Landon nodded.
“I see.” Juliet grew silent, pondering the implications. “Nevertheless, this means I come unannounced,” she said, her voice flat.
He glanced to his left, the dismay evident by the deepening lines around her mouth. His heart twisted for he let her down with in the first hour of their wedded bliss. “My dear.”
She held up a hand. “Let us not speak about this again.” She breathed deeply and the hurt slid from her face as she erected a mask of indifference. “I shall endeavor to make amends.”
Before he could soften the wound, Juliet moved away from his side to stare out the window. A dark cloud descended upon his shoulders. Already he’d learned that his wife despised being taken for granted. Amos opened his mouth to speak, but Landon cut him to the punch with one word. “Silence.” He didn’t need to be reminded of his shortcomings.
Chapter Five
Dusk settled across the rooftops of the city as the carriage pulled to a stop in front of a familiar, white-stoned doorway. He hated to wake her. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder, while his arm encircled her waist, holding her safe. He analyzed the moment. It was a nice weight. Neither too heavy nor too light, maybe best cataloged as perfect. She turned her head and rubbed a cheek across his jacket front. The smell of fresh flowers filled his nostrils, urging his rakish habits to come to life.
The box shifted. Amos scooted to the edge of his seat. With a nod, he departed the carriage, taking with him Juliet’s new maid. For a moment, they were alone. Looking down, he watched her take a deep breath. Gently placing a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her chin and with her mouth exposed, leaned down to kiss her.
Her lips remained passive. Landon increased the pressure and opened his hand to slide his fingers along her jaw. A soft moan followed as her lips began to stir, mimicking his motions. Her body awakened. Juliet raised her hand and rested her fingers along his forearms as he pulled back to watch her smoky lashes flutter, then rise. Confusion clouded the normally translucent color of her blue eyes. Then as quickly as it appeared a blink sent it scurrying away. “We’ve arrived?”
“Yes.”
She sat up and brushed the front of her gown down, then ran a careful hand over her head to make sure nothing was amiss. “I must look a fright.”
“On the contrary,” he murmured, regretting the cold that replaced the warmth near his heart. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you
.” She bent her head and stared out the window. “Every window ablaze, you must burn a lot of oil.”
“It is only because we have returned home. Come. I’m sure you’d like to get out and stretch your legs. Perhaps freshen up before dinner.”
“Yes.”
Landon gathered his things and stepped from the carriage. Across the small walkway, he could see Black introducing the maid to the staff, and then his housekeeper led her inside. Behind him, the carriage creaked; he stepped back and held out his hand as Juliet alighted from the box. He helped her down, then draped her hand over his arm.
“Nervous?” he asked.
“No.”
“Liar,” he whispered and to his delight, she laughed.
“Evening, Lord Montague.” The butler snapped to attention and bowed.
“Simmons, I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Lady Juliet Montague.”
The yard stilled and for a single beat of his heart, Landon heard nothing. Not the whine of gnat, or the chirp of a cricket, just an overwhelming wave of silence that engulfed them.
Simmons recovered first. “Forgive my lack of manners, milady. Welcome to Broadmoor.”
“Thank you, Mr. Simmons. You are quite forgiven. I believe it is I who must tolerate the burden of impropriety, for I have come unannounced.” She cut her glance back toward the man resting his hand against the small of her back. “It seems my husband has a penchant for surprises.”
Landon could see a faint smile turn the corners of his butler’s lips enjoying his chagrin. By god, with one sweet turn of her words, Juliet has won him over.
“Aye, milady, I am afraid he has been like that since a child.”
“And here I hoped I caused his lack of attention.” She leaned closer. A twinge of jealousy scratched his heart as he watched her place a hand upon the butler’s. “One day, you must enlighten me with all his tricks.”
Lord Heartless Page 4