"I do not believe any show of affection on my part would convince your valet or your lackey, Grimsley, that we are a loving couple."
Julian jerked her into his arms, his eyes angrily boring into hers. "Damn you, Lavender, I will break that defiant spirit of yours. Mark me well, I will not tolerate your sharp tongue."
She dislodged his hands and moved away from him. "I said I would marry you, but I did not say I would kowtow to you, Your Grace."
As if a dam broke, Julian angrily grabbed Lavender and swung her into his arms. "1 have borne your ill humor all day, and I do not intend to listen to it any longer. Whether you like it or not, you are my wife!"
In long strides he was across the room. Before Lavender knew what was happening, he was up the stairs and moving along the passageway of the second floor. He stopped before a door, and with easy grace, turned the knob and entered a bedroom she supposed was his.
A gasp of surprise escaped Lavender's lips when she saw the feast that had been laid out for the two of them. There were several different varieties of fish, beef in a wine sauce, fruits, cheeses, and pastries. Julian, however, ignored the food as he set Lavender on her feet. "Now that we are in the privacy of this room, you can speak your mind to me. But never—and I do mean never—speak to me as you did below, where others are within hearing distance."
"I. . . am sorry," she said, glancing at the bed that was draped in white lace. "It's just that. . . that I have never been married before. I always imagined it would be quite different."
Suddenly all the anger went out of him. "Yes, I can guess that every young lady dreams of the ideal man who will one day sweep into her life and make everything right that is wrong." He reached out and gently touched her golden hair. "Poor Lavender, the men in your life always seem to take everything that is right in your life and make it wrong."
His gentleness took her by surprise and caused her to let down her guard. "I don't know what you mean."
He removed his coat and tossed it across a chair, then he loosened his cravat. "Well, Brainard Thruston for one. He used you for his own gain—and I suppose I must include myself as well."
A spark of defiance still remained. "You will gain nothing from me, Your Grace."
Slowly he pulled her against him. "I have already gained more than I ever thought possible from you, Lavender."
She raised her eyes to him. "Such as?"
A smile lit his eyes. "An heir, Lavender. Someone who will carry on my name."
"What if the baby should prove to be a girl?"
"It will not matter, because if it is a girl you will stay with me until you give me a son."
She shook her head. "I never agreed to this."
"Of course not, the thought just now occurred to me. You will have to understand how important a son is to a man in my position."
"Your Grace—"
"You can call me Julian."
"Your Grace, I am not responsible for giving you a son. You said I should give you a life for a life—that is all I intend to do."
Suddenly Lavender saw his face go ashen and he stumbled to the bed. She gasped when she saw the blood stains on the back of his white shirt. How could she have forgotten that he had been badly hurt such a short time ago? Why had she allowed him to carry her up the stairs?
"You rest for a moment while I ring for Holly, Julian," she said, moving to his side. "I had better rebandage your wounds."
"No," he said, coming to his feet. "1 will go to my own room." He hated the fact that she was seeing him in this condition again. He felt sick, and everything was spinning drunkenly. "I must go," he said, moving quickly to the door.
"Julian, allow me to help you," she said, rushing to him, only to have him push her away.
"Leave me alone. I do not like a clinging female."
His words stung, but still she wanted to help him. "At least let me help you to your bedroom and send for Hendrick."
He shut the door in her face, and she knew he did not want her help. Moving past the table ladened with food, she hastily turned away, fearing the smell would make her ill again. She sat down on the edge of the bed, thinking how fast her circumstances had changed. Had it only been yesterday that she had been condemned to die? Now she was married to the man who only wanted her to satisfy some deep-seated need for revenge.
Lavender looked down at her hands, wishing she had kept Julian's ring to remind her that she was his wife. She was sorry that he was ill, and she knew it was her fault that his wounds had broken open again. If only she had not provoked him. Why had she not remembered about his injury?
She walked to the window, thinking what a strange wedding night this was. Glancing down at the deserted backyard, she knew if she were of a mind to, she could walk away from this house tonight and no one would try to stop her. But, no, she had given her word, and it would not be right to leave Julian when he was so ill.
Besides, she told herself, Julian was her husband, and she would stay with him until after his baby was born. How strange it was to think of herself as the mother of his child. Even though the child was a part of her body, she did not feel as if it belonged to her at all. This child belonged to Julian.
As she stared at the ebony skies, loneliness crept into her soul. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the cooing of a mourning dove. Soon she would be on her way to England and to a life that she could only imagine. How much time would pass before she would be returning to her beloved America? There was still a war raging, and no one yet knew what the outcome would be. Both sides were sure victory would be theirs, but Lavender felt like the war would be never-ending, with no clear winner.
With a sigh, she turned back to the bed, feeling as if she could sleep for a week. The last few days had taken their toll, and she was bone weary. Her head had hardly touched the pillow before her eyes closed. Later when Holly came to remove the food, she found it uneaten and the new duchess alone in the big bed fast asleep.
The candle flickered low as Hendrick finished putting a fresh bandage on Julian's back. "This still looks bad, Your Grace. It needs time to heal. I wish you would reconsider leaving tomorrow. What difference will a few more days make? England will still be there."
"I have an urge to see Mannington, therefore I will not linger in this pest-hole one day longer than is necessary."
"You are always impatient, just as your father was before you," Hendrick observed with a familiarity that only an old and valued servant would dare. "I cannot see what difference one more day will make. The captain of the Monarch said he would wait off the coast as long as you wanted him to."
"Be that as it may, I will be ready to leave at first light, Hendrick. I suggest you find your bed if you want to be fresh in the morning."
"As you will, Your Grace," Hendrick said, giving in. When the duke had his mind set on something, one rarely changed it for him.
After Hendrick left, Julian sat by the window staring out at the darkness. When he had first come to America, all he could think about was revenge. He had not known that a beautiful golden-haired sprite would turn his life upside down. America had offered him much more than he had bargained for. Yes, he had a defiant, blue-eyed, saucy wench for a wife, who would soon make him a father.
16
Lavender was awakened when Holly entered the room and lit a candle. Rubbing her eyes, Lavender slowly sat up. "Is it morning already?" she asked, covering a yawn with her hand.
"Not for another three hours, Your Grace, but I am to see that you are ready to travel within an hour."
Lavender blinked her eyes. This was the first time she had been called by her new title and it sounded foreign to her ears. "Are we leaving for England so soon?" she asked, flinging the covers aside and standing up.
"Yes, Your Grace. Will you wear the wine-colored traveling gown?"
"Yes, I suppose."
"Very good, Your Grace. I have laid everything out for you and will assist you whenever you are ready."
"I am accustomed to dres
sing myself and I will not need you for that, Holly."
The woman looked doubtful. "Are you sure you will not need assistance with the hooks?"
"I am sure."
"Very well, Your Grace. I will go below and fetch your breakfast tray."
Lavender stared after the maid who bustled from the room, wishing she would stop calling her, "Your Grace." She did not want to be reminded of her newly elevated station in life. With a sigh of resignation, she began to dress. Just below the surface panic lurked, and Lavender knew if she thought about her situation, she would give in to that panic.
Her loyalty to her family and her country were being trampled beneath a pair of English boots—Julian's boots. How could she live in a country she detested? How could she be a wife to a man who only wanted her to satisfy his need for vengeance?
It was still dark when Lavender appeared on the front steps. She noticed there were six spirited horses hitched to a traveling coach. The animals were fresh because they were straining at the reins, making it difficult for the driver to control them. She was surprised when a footman hastened up the steps, offering her his arm while he escorted her to the coach. Evidently she was to be given the royal treatment.
When the footman opened the door, Lavender saw that Julian was already seated inside. He acknowledged her with a stiff nod. She sank into the opulent red velvet seat and noticed with delight the shiny brass lanterns that lit the interior. Lavender had never seen a coach that was half as grand as this one.
She was seated across from Julian, and his irritation was evident from the scowl he bestowed upon her. "I suppose I will spend the better part of my life waiting for you to appear. I do not tolerate tardiness in my servants, and I will not have it in a wife. It is unforgivable to keep horses waiting once they have been hitched."
Lavender glared back at him. "What you expect in a servant and what you get from a wife are two entirely different things. You may snap your lordly fingers and everyone else comes to attention, but not I."
Instead of getting angry, his mouth curved into a smile. "I can recall feeling pity for friends of mine who, when overtaken by matrimony, danced to the tunes their wives played for them. Now it seems I have joined their ranks. Are you going to be a fishwife and dictate my life?'
"I. .. no, I don't mean to be. It's just that you can be so overbearing and demanding sometimes." Her chin came up and she gave him a stiff glance. "I do not need a father to tell me what to do."
"You may not need a father, but you sure as hell need a keeper."
She was about to make an angry retort when she saw :he grimace of pain when he settled back into the seat. 'Does your back pain you this morning?"
He gave a fatalistic shrug of his shoulders. "It improves each day."
"I wonder if you should be traveling until your back has had more time to heal?"
"Now you sound like Hendrick. Have the two of you had your heads together?"
She smiled, encouraged by his light mood. "Where is Hendrick? I didn't see him."
"He has gone on ahead to make sure everything goes smoothly when we make a noon stop."
She was reflective, knowing the man she had married would leave nothing to chance. What Julian took for granted, as his due, seemed like sheer extravagance to Lavender. She would never become accustomed to footmen helping her into carriages, or maids laying out her clothing and bringing breakfast to her room. It was a situation that was not to her liking. She had been brought up to take care of her own needs. She tried to imagine what it would be like to have an army of servants with nothing better to do than see to her comfort.
The new day was dawning as the carriage jerked forward, heading for the Carolina coast. "Who does this coach belong to?" she asked, grasping for something to talk about.
"It belongs to a friend of mine."
"Who?"
He smiled, knowing she would not like his answer. "Cornwallis was kind enough to send his personal coach to accommodate us."
Her mouth turned down into a frown. "Oh. How long will we travel today before we reach our destination? I am unfamiliar with this part of the country."
"You are just full of questions this morning, aren't your'
Her eyes searched his. "Do you mind?"
"No, it will be pleasant to have someone to share the journey with so the time will pass more quickly. To answer your question, we should reach the coast early in the evening. There, we will go aboard a ship that will take us to England."
Lavender glanced out the window as streaks of gold and red touched the eastern sky. Suddenly she could feel Julian staring at her, and when she glanced up, his dark eyes seemed to be questioning. "I was told that you have had morning sickness. If you feel the least bit ill, you are to tell me, and we shall stop and allow you to walk around a bit."
Her cheeks became flushed at the mention of her condition. "I am fine."
He moved forward and took her chin between his hands. "Never be embarrassed with me, Lavender. We are going to spend a great deal of time together before we reach England, and I do not want you to feel uncomfortable with me."
His kindness touched her. "I really am fine, Your Gr—Julian. It would seem that I have my morning sickness at night."
He laughed with amusement. "You would. Heaven forbid that you should do anything the conventional way like everyone else."
"Are you saying I am recalcitrant?"
"Extremely so. But then perhaps that is half of your charm. Anyway, you are an obstinate woman. Unlike most females who glory in fainting spells, thinking it makes them appear feminine and alluring. You are strong-willed and not given to swooning."
"Do you prefer women who need a man to depend upon for strength?"
"Not in the least." He smiled. "However, I could hope that you will not draw a rapier on the first one of my guests who chances to cross my threshold. I have seen your swordplay, and you are better than most of my acquaintances."
She was warmed by his compliment and began to relax a little. Maybe it was not going to be so bad being married to Julian. He could be nice when the mood struck him. "Tell me about Mannington," she said. "Were you born there?"
"Yes, just as our son will be born there." His eyes became reflective. "How can I describe Mannington to someone who has never been there? Perhaps I see it with a slightly more prejudiced point of view, since it has been in my family for over five hundred years."
Lavender stared at him in awe. "You must have a feeling of tradition and belonging that the rest of us can only guess at. It must be somehow comforting to know that your heritage will go on in your family for untold generations."
His dark eyes were piercing. "Now that you are a part of that heritage, Lavender, shall I hang your picture in the gallery with Westfields who have been dead longer than your America has been in existence?"
"No, I will never feel a part of your world, Julian. I am as American as you are English. And remember, you have as much as promised that I can leave as soon as this child is born. I intend to hold you to that promise."
His long lashes hid the expression in his dark eyes. "Will you be able to walk away from the child when it is born?"
"I have no feelings for this baby, one way or the other. It just doesn't seem real to me."
Julian turned his face to stare out the window. "Well, there you have it then. You give me the child, and I shall give you leave to go."
Gone was his good humor, and in its place was cold indifference. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, indicating that their conversation was over. Lavender wished she had not spoken so rashly and made him angry with her. When would she ever learn to keep her mouth shut?
As the hours passed, Julian appeared to fall asleep. Lavender realized his back had to be hurting him, but he would never admit it. She watched him covertly, loving the way his black hair swept across his forehead. His long, muscled legs were clad in buff-colored trousers. Her eyes moved across his wide chest, watching it rise and fall with his even breathi
ng. Next she glanced at his face that was so handsome and aristocratic. He was the kind of man who would have distinguished himself even if he had not been born to he nobility.
Finally her eyes became heavy, and she felt herself drifting off to sleep. She was vaguely aware that Julian shifted his weight onto the seat beside her and pulled her head to rest against his shoulder. She felt warm and protected as she nestled her face against Julian's neck. her senses were attuned to the spicy yet manly shaving soap he used.
"Sleep, Lavender," he whispered against her ear. You need your rest."
Later in the afternoon the coach stopped at an inn that was located deep in the woods. Once inside, a matronly woman escorted Lavender to an upstairs bedchamber so she could freshen up. Julian did not join her for the light luncheon that was served in the room, but Hendrick was there directing the servants and making sure Lavender's every need was anticipated. She was told that the coach waited for her convenience, so she hardly tasted the food she ate, fearing that she would keep the duke waiting again.
All afternoon they traveled in silence, making Lavender wonder if Julian was regretting their precipitate wedding. He was aloof and brooding, and she had a feeling he was thinking about his brother.
The huge English frigate loomed out of the darkness, silhouetted against the backdrop of an ebony sky. Julian helped Lavender from the coach, and she stood undecided as he walked down the beach toward the encroaching waves that washed upon the beach. She was very aware that this was the last time for many months that she would stand on American soil. She thought of Chandler and how he would feel when he learned of her marriage to Julian. Oddly enough, Lavender thought her aunt would be more understanding about the marriage than her brother. Chandler would think she had gone over to the enemy, while her aunt would probably think she had married the man she loved.
Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) Page 23