How to Romance a Rake

by Manda Collins

  Lady Shelby, he thought, had much to answer for.

  Fifteen

  They left early the next morning, and as is often the case, the journey back seemed to pass more quickly. Perhaps because Juliet felt easier in Alec’s company. Marital intimacies had a way of dissolving some of the awkwardness that had dogged their interactions before the wedding night. Or day, as it were.

  Seated next to her husband, tucked into the curve of his arm as the carriage swayed, Juliet marveled anew at just how understanding he’d been about her fatal flaw. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, of course. She had no experience in revealing the extent of her injury to bedfellows, after all. And her mama had seen to it that no one outside the tiny circle of herself, Mr. Sankoori, Mr. Bock, and Juliet’s maid Weston knew of it. Even her cousins had been kept in the dark, only being informed that the injury was a permanent one, just not what the injury had entailed.

  Though Juliet had little doubt that the news would shock most of the ton, she also suspected that her mother’s insistence that anyone who knew of it would hold Juliet in contempt was an exaggeration. Certainly her insinuation that no one would wish to marry her as she was had proved false. She still wasn’t sure what had persuaded Alec to rescue her from Turlington’s clutches, but she was grateful to him. Even more so because instead of being angry with her for her deception, he’d focused his wrath instead on Lady Shelby.

  His tenderness of the day before, coupled with his lack of disgust upon learning her secret, had endeared him to Juliet in a way that she had seldom felt for another person, let alone a man. If she were not careful, she’d find herself losing her heart to her own husband. Though on a certain level, she knew gratitude to him simply for accepting her, flaws and all, was understandable, Juliet was also aware that allowing herself to fall too much under her husband’s spell would be a recipe for disaster. They had both entered into this marriage without any illusions about it being a love match, after all. And she sensed that asking Alec for more than he was willing to give would place him in an untenable position. It had only been a few weeks ago that he’d seemed uninterested in marriage at all. Not that she was worried he would be unfaithful to her. He’d promised her his fidelity, and though many gentlemen of the ton made such promises with no intention of keeping them, Juliet knew that for Alec his word was his bond. No matter how he might be tempted, she knew instinctively that he would not betray her trust.

  “What’s amiss?” the object of her speculation asked, frowning down at her.

  She shook her head to clear it. She was being missish in the extreme.

  “I was just wondering about Mrs. Turner,” she said, regretting the lie, but knowing that to reveal her true thoughts would be begging a discussion she simply was not ready to have. “Do you suppose she’s been in touch with Mr. MacEwan at all? I almost daren’t hope for it, given how disappointing each setback has been thus far in our search for her.”

  “I have no idea,” Alec said thoughtfully. “It did seem to me from what her landlady said that he was much in your friend’s company. And if they were engaged to marry I cannot think that she would go so long without contacting him.”

  “That is what I thought about myself, though,” Juliet said glumly. “I thought we were close enough for her to trust me with such news. Though I suppose there were quite a few things she didn’t trust me with. Alice’s parentage, her engagement, her need for funds.”

  “I have no doubt that she trusts you,” Alec said firmly. “But sometimes circumstances make it difficult to tell those we love the truth.”

  “That is certainly something I am familiar with,” she said wryly. “The only people we informed about my injury were those who absolutely had to know. I did not like prevaricating, but circumstances made it imperative. Or so I thought.”

  “From what we’ve learned so far,” Alec said, “it seems very likely that Mrs. Turner is in a very difficult position. And has been for some time. If she is indeed your friend, I think it’s quite likely that she felt she had no choice but to hide the truth regarding any number of things from you.”

  “I fear you are correct.” Juliet sighed. “I do so hate to think of Anna so isolated and alone. I hope that she was able to take Mr. MacEwan at least into her confidence. I think the most disturbing aspect of this entire business has been the fact that we’ve found no one whom she felt safe enough to confide in.”

  A shout from the outriders indicated that they’d entered the grounds of the Mounthaven estate, and within the hour Juliet and Alec were waiting in the Earl of Mounthaven’s best parlor for his personal secretary, Mr. Alistair MacEwan. The earl himself was out of the country at the moment, and the house was quiet in its master’s absence.

  They were joined presently by a ginger-haired young man of sensible dress, who seemed puzzled by their visit.

  “My lord,” he greeted them, “my lady, is there something I can assist you with?”

  “I believe you will not know of me by my married name, Mr. MacEwan,” Juliet said, disliking to ruin his calm, but knowing there was no help for it. “I am the former Miss Shelby.”

  His quizzical expression turned into one of genuine pleasure. “Miss Shelby! Or rather, Lady Deveril, it is a delight to finally make your acquaintance. Mrs. Turner has nothing but good things to say of you!”

  “It is on Mrs. Turner’s behalf that we are here,” Alec informed him baldly. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard that your friend has been missing for the past several weeks?”

  The shock on the young man’s face told them everything they needed to know.

  “I…” MacEwan’s agitation was evident. “What happened?”

  “We are unsure,” Juliet told him. “I received a note from her informing me that she was leaving town for a bit, but she didn’t say why. When Lord Deveril visited her apartments the next day upon my behest it was apparent that she had left in a hurry.”

  “And the child?” Mrs. Turner’s fiancé asked. “Is she gone too?”

  “No, and that is what troubles me,” she said. “Little Alice is being cared for at our house until we learn what’s happened to Anna.”

  “What we need to know from you,” Alec said briskly, “is do you have any notion of where she might be, or whether there might be some reason to suspect foul play?”

  MacEwan shook his head in disbelief.

  “I beg your pardon, but I must sit down,” he said, collapsing into a wingback chair.

  Juliet waved his apology aside. “Have you heard from her, Mr. MacEwan? Anything at all?”

  “Just a brief note last week, telling me that she was quite busy and would be unable to write again for a few weeks.” He paused. “But wait, I thought you said she’s been missing for several weeks.”

  “Then how could she have written you only last week?” Juliet asked aloud.

  “That’s just it,” MacEwan said, “I’ve heard from her several times over the past few weeks. There was no mention of being unable to write to me until last week.”

  “Some of this we can attribute to the slowness of the mail, but if you have letters from Mrs. Turner dating back several weeks, then I think we have proof that she is alive and well somewhere.”

  MacEwan’s eyes widened, as if he’d realized for the first time just how serious the situation was.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said. “After what that bastard did to her before, I thought she was finally through with hardship. I am planning to return home to my brother’s estate at the end of the year to become steward for him. We were going to be married then.”

  “Do not give up hope, Mr. MacEwan,” Juliet said firmly. “I’m not. Anna is as strong a woman as I’ve ever met. Whatever has happened to her, she will come through it.”

  “Might we see these letters you’ve received from her recently, MacEwan?” Alec interjected. “There might be some clue in them that will give us an idea as to where she’s being held. Or who is holding her.”

  MacEwan nodded, a
nd excused himself to search out the letters.

  “This is wretched,” Juliet said once the man had gone. “How on earth will I ever face that man again if we don’t find her?”

  Alec squeezed her shoulder. “It is not your doing,” he assured her, “any of it. If you hadn’t insisted that we begin looking for her, I doubt anyone would even know Mrs. Turner was missing at all. You cannot berate yourself for being unable to work miracles.”

  “I just feel so helpless,” Juliet said, appreciating his support in more ways than she could say. “When the issue is something to do with me, like my injury or my troubles with Mama, at least I have some measure of control. With this, I have no way of controlling any of it.”

  He was about to respond, when MacEwan returned bearing the letters.

  “There are only three,” he said, handing them to Juliet. “And I’ve checked the handwriting and it is definitely Anna’s.”

  With Alec reading over her shoulder, Juliet scanned the missives, which chronicled fictitious anecdotes about the baby, Anna’s students, and various other daily minutiae. In truth, they were rather dull as love letters went, though there were heartfelt farewells at the end of each. In fact, it was the conclusions that had Juliet frowning.

  “Please know that no matter what happens, no matter what separates us, I will always love you.”

  “Does she always end her letters with such declarations?” Juliet asked, disliking to embarrass the man, but needing to know his answer.

  “We both … that is to say,” MacEwan stammered.

  “I do not ask because I don’t believe them, Mr. MacEwan,” Juliet told him, gently. “I ask because it sounds very much like something she would say if she feared never seeing you again.”

  MacEwan blanched. “Not as such,” he said. “We do speak of our affection, of course, but this is more … dramatic than she is normally wont to write.”

  Juliet exchanged a look with Alec, who said, “What’s this here about an artist wishing to paint her portrait?”

  Anna had mentioned it in all three of the letters. In the first, she’d spoken of how flattered she’d been by the artist’s request, and how much she regretted having to deny him. Then in the second, she’d spoken of how she admired the man’s work, which she’d seen in the National Gallery hanging “among England’s finest artists.”

  But it was the mention in the third letter that made Juliet’s heart clench with fear.

  “I regret not agreeing to the request by this fine and gifted artist to allow him to capture my likeness on canvas. What a satisfaction to know that I might serve to warn other women away from the same mistakes I’ve made.”

  “Did this not strike you as odd?” Alec asked the other man.

  The secretary thrust a hand through his now thoroughly disheveled hair. “She is always teasing me about my having taken up with a fallen woman. She knows I don’t blame her for what that bastard did to her. How could I? I think the joking is her way of dealing with society’s condemnation.”

  Since he did not appear to know about Anna’s earlier encounter with Squire Ramsey’s son, Juliet did not tell Mr. MacEwan of it. But given the fact that she’d been victimized not once but twice by men she trusted, Anna’s references to herself as a fallen woman were even more disturbing. “She has always had a dark sense of humor,” she said aloud. “I doubt anyone who has endured what she has could emerge without a healthy sense of the absurd.”

  “But about this artist,” Alec interjected. “Who is he? And why has Mrs. Turner mentioned the fellow in only the letters she’s written since she went missing? If I were to hazard a guess, this artist sounds suspiciously like Il Maestro.”

  Juliet bit back a gasp. The idea that Anna was being pursued by Il Maestro was at once believable and disturbing. Though she had never considered Anna to be a fallen woman, or the like, the more she learned about her friend the more she wondered if her friend thought of herself in those terms. Accepting the offer to pose for the artist who had made a name for himself by painting history’s most notorious fallen women might be empowering for someone like Anna. But it also might be a means of punishing herself in the most public manner possible. The notion sent a chill of fear through Juliet. A chill that no amount of hot tea could warm.

  “Anna told me she’d been approached in the park by a man claiming to be an artist,” MacEwan said. “She never told me his name, but she said that he wished to paint her portrait as part of his next exhibit. But when she told him no, he kept coming back and pestering her to agree. I never heard what came of it, though. I assumed she’d gotten rid of him because the next mention of him was in the letter where she regrets sending him away.”

  “Did you believe her?” Juliet asked.

  MacEwan shrugged. “I have three sisters and I know how apt to change their minds ladies can be,” he said. “I assumed she’d thought more about it and decided she’d made a mistake. So, yes, I suppose I did believe her.”

  “Whether she decided to pose for Il Maestro or not,” Alec said gravely, “I believe this mysterious artist might be the last person to have seen Mrs. Turner before she disappeared.”

  * * *

  Their journey back to London was overshadowed by Juliet’s increased fears regarding Anna’s whereabouts. Her disappearance had been troubling, of course, but behind the worry there had always been a hope, however false, that she had simply taken a trip to see some relative or friend who was heretofore unknown to them. But the interview with Mr. MacEwan, and his revelation about the mysterious artist, had made that scenario seem more and more unlikely.

  They arrived at the Deveril town house in the falling London twilight. And with a prescience known only to superior servants, Alec’s butler, Mr. Hamilton, had the entire household staff assembled almost as soon as his master assisted his new bride from the carriage.

  Though she had known her position as Alec’s wife would involve any number of such formalities, Juliet couldn’t help the knot of anxiety forming in her belly as she took in the assembled men and women to whom she would serve as mistress for the duration of her marriage.

  Her sentiments must have communicated themselves to Alec, because he leaned down and said softly, “We don’t have to do this now, if you don’t wish to. They will all still be here in the morning.”

  But Juliet knew from her years of traveling from post to post with her parents that it was best to establish oneself with the servants from the beginning. If only to ensure that they respected her as their new mistress. Her pride also prompted her to do whatever she could to counterbalance any weakness her physical infirmity might convey to them. Though her will was strong enough, she had found that many assumed her to be a shrinking violet simply by dint of her limp.

  So she gave her new husband a brief shake of the head, and allowed Mr. Hamilton to introduce her to the men and women standing before her. She made sure to repeat each one’s name, and to commit to memory some little detail that would help her remember each of them tomorrow.

  As she moved closer toward the end of the line, Juliet noticed Alec’s sisters, waiting for them just inside the entryway.

  “I am so pleased you’re home,” the shorter of the two, Katherine, an ash blonde with her brother’s blue eyes, said. “Congratulations to both of you. And welcome home, Juliet.”

  And before she knew what to say, Juliet was clasped in an impulsive hug.

  “You might give her a moment to catch her breath, Kat,” Lydia said wryly. “Apologies for my sister, Juliet, but she has the manners of a barn cat.”

  Looking from one to the other of her new sisters-in-law, Juliet found herself surprised but pleased by their warm welcome. They’d known one another for some years since they were both out and active in the social whirl. But even so, they might not have been best happy at their brother’s marriage.

  They were at once recognizable as Deveril’s sisters. Not only did they share their brother’s eye color, but there was something about the underlying bone
structure of their countenances that just seemed … Deverilish. Though neither was as pretty as their brother might be called handsome, they were each attractive in their ways. And there was an animation about their mannerisms that gave Juliet the impression of barely restrained energy. She had little doubt that their brother had been led on a merry dance once he’d assumed their guardianship.

  “Neither of you is particularly well mannered, Lydia,” their brother said with an affectionate grin. “Though it isn’t as if I haven’t spent good money to see it drummed into your featherbrained heads.”

  “Fie on both of you,” Kat responded with a decidedly unladylike snort. “I have been waiting this age to welcome Juliet into the family and there is nothing either of you can do to dampen my enthusiasm.”

  “It is Lady Deveril now, kitten,” her brother returned, “and no one is trying to dampen your enthusiasm. We are simply urging you to restrain yourself a bit. You’ll scare her off, if you aren’t careful.”

  Juliet took in their familiar banter with interest. Her own relationship with her brother was nowhere near as easy as Alec’s with his sisters seemed to be. And since she’d been dreading this meeting given the haste with which she and Alec had been married, she found the scene to be reassuring.

  “Do not scold them on my account, Alec,” she said, holding out her hands to each of her new sisters. “I am grateful that they aren’t scandalized beyond repair at our elopement. In fact, I find their enthusiasm refreshing.”

  She felt him wrap a reassuring arm about her waist as he said wryly, “You say they are refreshing now, but you’ve not been faced with it across the breakfast table before you’ve had your morning tea.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Lady Deveril,” Lydia told her with a grin. “He only teases us so because he is jealous that we command more attention than he does these days. There was a time when our brother was quite the talk of the town.”