by Kim Bowman
“Yes, your grace.” She scampered off like a frightened bird, her footsteps mere whispers on the polished wood.
Higgins appeared in the drawing room door. “The Duchess of Wyndham has announced she will be departing for Wyndham Green directly, sir.”
Grey’s chest tightened. He should speak with the woman. At the very least convince her not to travel so late in the day… as distasteful as the idea of offering her overnight lodging might be.
He drew a deep breath to check his rage and let it out slowly. “Ask her to come and speak with me please. And see that La—” He let out an exasperated breath. “See that I am not disturbed until I conclude my business with the duchess.”
An indefinable expression crossed Higgins’ normally dour face, but he nodded. “Certainly, sir.”
Grey retreated back into to his study to wait for his stepmother. Chilled despite the warmth of the day, he bent to stir the dying fire. His talk with Mag — he blew out a harsh breath. The confrontation with Juliet would have to wait. A carriage lumbered past. Longing, sudden and fierce, overcame him. To be like Will… able to abandon his heritage… Bile rose, burning the back of his throat, choking with its bitterness.
In short order, Higgins returned with Regina. Her eyes had taken on a haunted glaze. The white lace handkerchief she held had been nearly plucked apart by her nervous fingers. Obviously, she was not in a state fit for travel, and Grey opened his mouth to tell her so when she forestalled him.
“I must return to Wyndham Green — to my daughter.”
“My lady, the hour is late for beginning such a journey. I would fear for your safety.” Grey shifted his gaze to the stack of papers on his desk, intending that his declaration be the end of the matter.
His stepmother had other ideas. “I must find my daughter, your grace. Please understand.” Her lower lip trembled, and beneath the color of embarrassment on her cheeks, she had gone rather pale.
Alarm rushed through Grey. What if she collapsed under the strain of her daughter’s deception? “Regina, are you well?”
With a heartfelt sigh, she cast her gaze to the floor. “No, your grace, I am not at all well. I fear for my daughter’s safety. Moreover, I am mortified that a member of my household staff sought to deceive you so.”
Grey raised an eyebrow. Sought to? She’d fairly well succeeded. Because you allowed it, his conscience pricked.
The log in the fireplace shattered with a series of pops, sending a shower of sparks upward.
Regina apparently took his silence as leave to continue speaking. “I — can you tell me is the girl still here in your home? I can speak to her before I leave, make certain she understands she is dismissed. And I will dismiss her mother upon my return to the country.”
About to take his seat, Grey jerked up short. He’d known so little about the girl who’d pretended to be his stepsister — hadn’t wanted to know — he’d not even considered whether she had family. Had her mother known what she’d been about?
He cleared his throat, unable to stop himself from asking his next question. “So her mother also works for you. And her father?”
“He was a horse trainer in the employ of Lord Price… Annabella’s father. He died… before I remarried and came to… Wyndham…”
Grey scarcely heard her. He turned away and stared into the fire that barely held onto its flame. Pieces of the mystery he’d once called his magpie were rapidly falling into place. Her love and knowledge of horses, her friendliness with his staff…
“If you’ll allow me to take care of the matter, your grace, you will not have to do anything.”
“No!” he said, whirling to face her. “You’ll not dismiss the girl… nor her mother.”
“But, your grace—”
“I did not ask for your opinion, Regina. The matter is closed.” He’d not be responsible for sending the girl and her mother away. “Your daughter’s maid did not carry out this deception without considerable assistance from Annabella herself. Juliet and her mother will remain in my employ at Wyndham Green for as long as they desire.”
“As you wish, your grace.” Regina plucked at the lace on her handkerchief again. “Then I shall be on my way.”
But he’d made up his mind about that as well. “You shall be on your way in the morning. I will have Higgins show you to a room for the evening.”
Her head came up, her eyes showing the gleam of unshed tears. “N-no, please,” she whispered. “I truly don’t want to trouble you…”
“My lady, I shall find it more troublesome to worry about your well being and that of my coachmen should you begin such a long journey so late in the day. I will understand if you prefer to take your supper in your room.”
“Of course, your grace. Thank you.”
Grey ushered his stepmother to the door, praying for a few moments before he met with… her… with Juliet.
The sound of Lucien’s laughter echoed from the drawing room and Grey clenched his jaw. He still had a wedding to see to. Bad enough having one lunatic in the family. But apparently, he was in for a time of it, from what he’d gleaned about Regina’s aunts, who seemed to know a lot more than they let on. Percy waddled along the hallway, heading for the back of the house, his leash trailing behind him. An unmistakable odor followed in his wake and a pond-sized “piddle” was spreading along the wood floor beneath the umbrella stand.
Grey clenched his teeth.
The duchess glanced with longing at the drawing room door but then sighed and followed Higgins up the main staircase without another word.
****
She’d waited, expecting someone to come looking for her. Not Grey. No, he’d never break decorum to run after her. But he’d send for her. Sooner or later.
Yes, he will. And then he’ll toss you out on your backside.
She refused to humiliate herself by waiting for that… couldn’t bear to see the loathing in his eyes directed at her. Breathless, with hands that trembled, Juliet yanked on the door to the armoire. It came open with a soft pop; bits of colorful ribbon and lace fluttered in greeting.
Tears stung her eyes as she laid her hands on several garments, pulling them out so she could pack them. Then she froze and slowly pushed them back inside. These were not her lovely dresses and elegant gowns. The soft undergarments and warm nightdresses did not belong to her. They belonged to Annabella. Just as the life Juliet had been living since coming to London should have been Annabella’s. Not Juliet’s. It was a life she could never so much as dream of.
Just as she had no business dreaming of Grey, of his touch… his kisses with any idea of spending her life with him.
Wetness coated her cheeks, and Juliet wiped the tears away, but more spilled from her eyes. She’d wondered how to confess her deception to Grey, and now, because of the Duchess of Wyndham’s disclosure, she didn’t have to. He knew everything.
Except how much she cared for him.
Not that her love for the man would make a difference. A duke would no more marry a commoner, let alone a servant, than he would wed his horse. A smile crept over her lips, though the ache in her heart remained. He might just marry his horse, she conceded. But he wouldn’t want her.
Juliet shivered at the memory of his hands on her body, touching her in ways no one had, bringing her body alive in ways she’d never known were possible. Awakening her heart…
Although she’d been expecting it, the soft knock on the door startled Juliet. Before she could answer, Emily pushed it open.
“Begging your pardon, Miss.” The girl wrung the edges of her white apron with her hands.
Do you not know I have no privilege? You shouldn’t be addressing me thus? Juliet wanted to scream. But pride kept her back straight and she merely smiled and scrubbed at her face with her hands before she spoke. “Please come in.”
“His grace requests you meet with him in his study.” Emily’s wide dark eyes stood out against the ghastly shade of her pale face.
He requested a meeting?
Wouldn’t he be happier to simply see the back of her? What could he possibly want? To castigate her, no doubt. Oh, she’d experienced that sharp tongue of his when she’d first come to his home. How much worse he must think of her now. His tongue would flay her like a sharp knife. And she’d deserve it all. Then he would put her out of his home.
She opened her mouth intent on refusing the audience, but stopped. Grey wasn’t one to be put off. If he had something to say to her, the duke would only seek her out.
“Please… I need a moment to compose myself. Will you tell his grace I’ll be down directly?” Juliet couldn’t control the warble in her voice from the lie, but prayed Emily wouldn’t notice, or that she’d attribute it to anxiousness.
“Of course, Miss.” Emily worried at her bottom lip as though she had something else to say, but finally she offered only a smile before turning and making her exit.
Tears threatened again, but Juliet blinked them back. Grey’s eyes, when the truth of her betrayal had struck him, would stay with her the rest of her days. His anger had rolled off him like waves, until Juliet believed he would surely reach out and squeeze the life from her. Shame heated her face. She deserved his wrath… his hatred. Her actions had been inexcusable. He had every right to the satisfaction of sending her away. He’d likely dismiss her. She could only pray he would have leniency on her mother.
She should go to him now and beg for that at least. Whatever he chose to do about her, she’d deceived her mother as well. Patricia Baines hadn’t known about any of it.
Mummy would have had the sense to stop me.
Juliet couldn’t make her feet move toward the door. She couldn’t face him, couldn’t bear to look upon the hatred she knew she would see in his eyes. And even if she didn’t see hatred, if by a miracle of heaven he still desired her… He was a duke and she a mere servant. What could he possibly offer? A life as his courtesan? Someone he’d take care of carte blanche in return for certain… favors? A life without children or with children born in shame?
Chills raced along her spine and she clasped her arms around her middle to ward them off. God help her, if Grey offered such an arrangement, she’d surely accept just to be near him for as long as he wanted her. But it could mean his ruin. Best if she simply slipped away rather than face either his hatred or his desire, and pray her actions hadn’t already brought him harm among the members of the ton.
She contemplated the fine clothing in the armoire. She would pack none of it. Far easier to travel without the baggage Annabella had sent her to London with. If the other girl wanted her possessions back, she would have to retrieve them on her own. Sunlight from the window spilled upon the shiny blue gown she’d worn to the masquerade ball.
That had never belonged to Annabella. The masquerade gown and the creamy silk gown Juliet had worn to her first ball had been hers, the lovely rich fabrics chosen at the milliner’s and the garments cut and stitched to fit her… Juliet. Neither gown would ever fit Annabella. Before she could talk herself out of it, Juliet pulled the two gowns from the armoire and carried them to the bed, where she stuffed them into the waiting valise.
The leather bound volume of Shakespeare’s writings lay on the window settee and Juliet experienced a pang of yearning. But that she dared not take with her. It belonged to his grace. Her gaze strayed to the vanity, and the slim wooden jewel box resting against the back lip.
More tears blurred her vision, but Juliet managed to cross the room. She ran a finger over the edge of the polished mahogany. A sob escaped her lips as she picked up the box and raised the lid. The double strand of white pearls seemed to glow in the ambient daylight that filtered in through the window. When she brushed one finger across the pearls they seemed warm, alive. Her neck tingled with the memory of Grey’s gentle touch when he’d fastened them on the first time.
Grey had admitted to knowing she wasn’t Annabella, but he hadn’t said when he’d figured it all out. He must have believed he was giving the pearls — his mother’s pearls — to his stepsister. Not to Juliet. He’d never have given such a gift to a complete stranger. She closed the box and picked it up, cradling it against her chest. The pearls were nice, but even their beauty couldn’t compare to the warmth of his strong arms surrounding her.
With a last fleeting glance around, Juliet seared the bedroom into her memory. All she would have once she left would be remembrances. She picked up the valise, crossed to the door, and pulled it open.
Higgins stood on the other side, his eyes kinder than they should have been. “Are you going somewhere, m’lady?” His words were half challenge, half encouragement. He knew the truth. Just as Emily had known.
“I think we both know you can dispense with calling me that, Mr. Higgins,” she murmured, sinking her teeth into the tip of her tongue to keep from saying too much, for begging the manservant’s forgiveness because she had acted above her station.
“I am sorry, Miss.” He favored her with one of his rare smiles. “If it means anything to you, we all feel you to be a lot like a lady. And… you are… still… a lady in my eye. Will you be leaving us, now?”
“His grace has asked to see me… but I… I just cannot—”
“His grace did not make me aware of that, Miss,” Higgins said softly. “Please, allow me to escort you.” He offered his arm and Juliet took it, accepting the return into her former life with more ease than she had a life among the peerage.
When he led her to the servants’ stairs, a tear escaped Juliet’s eye, but she blinked the rest back. They reached the lower floor and Higgins guided her to the back of the townhouse, then to the servants’ entrance. Juliet glanced up at him in surprise. “You’re not… you won’t make me see his grace?”
“Not if you don’t wish it, Miss. Though I can tell you from my experience, he is a fair man.”
Juliet closed her eyes, savoring the relief coursing through her veins. “Thank you, Mr. Higgins. I shall not forget this. Nor you.” She handed him the mahogany box. “This belongs to his grace. May I trouble you to see to its return?”
He accepted the small case with a soft sigh. “Of course, Miss.” He hesitated briefly, his mouth working soundlessly. “Er… a few of us…” His voice was hoarse, filled with emotion, and he stopped and cleared his throat before he continued. “That is, you’ll need traveling funds.” He took her hand and shoved a fistful of money against her palm, using his other hand to close her fingers around it.
Juliet stared at the currency. “Oh, but I can’t.”
“Please take it, Miss.” He smiled again. “We all contributed. To see you home safe.”
Her chin wobbled. “Thank you,” she whispered, then hastily stepped through the servant’s door before she embarrassed herself further by weeping.
Chapter Seventeen
He stalked to his desk and dropped into the chair, still surprised how angry he’d become when Regina had stated her intent to dismiss Juliet. Of course she deserved to be let go. And he certainly had every right to be infuriated at the girl. She had lied to him, made a fool of him before all of London… Made him love her.
Love her…
No. Grey scrubbed a hand over his face as though to dislodge the notion from his mind. He simply didn’t want to see the chit punished for helping her friend. Most especially not when his actions had caused Annabella to concoct such a plan in the first place. His heart, however…
Dread settled in the pit of Grey’s belly, spiraling up to squeeze his chest as he waited for his summons to be answered. He should have put off his demand for an explanation until he had his anger in check, but nothing would lessen the stinging bite of being lied to.
She’s taking too long.
Restless, he stood again and paced to the window. The draperies remained pulled back to let in the light. He stared through the glass, seeing not the busy street outside but countless images of the past few weeks as they floated through his mind. The breeze lifting Magpie’s hair as she sat atop his devil of a horse… her e
yes flashing fiery frustration as she’d learned to dance… the way her golden eyes reflected the fire racing through his veins…
He squeezed his eyes shut. He had to erase those pictures. But they waltzed across his memory in fine detail. Magpie… parading around the museum with childlike glee as she accused him of paroxysms of fury. She’d thought she’d seen him in a fury? She had no idea the rage he could feel… did feel.
It had been obvious the imposter was not his stepsister. Bore very little resemblance to her, as a matter of fact. And had he not let lust for a beautiful woman interfere with his good sense and judgment, he would have returned her to Wyndham Green and demanded an accounting from her, his stepsister, and his stepmother for their actions.
And those aunts. They’d been quite apparent in their intent that he take an interest in their “niece” almost from the start. He should have sat them down when he’d noticed and inquired as to their motives.
But he’d known. Even from the beginning, he’d been aware he likely would be unhappy with any answers he managed to get, so he hadn’t delved too deeply.
He had no one to blame but himself for being made a fool. She’d woven a spell, set a trap, and he’d tumbled right on in.
Because you wanted to. You wanted her…
But he had made it clear he didn’t believe her to be Annabella for one second. If not from the moment she arrived, certainly from the night of the dinner party he had thrown for her — or rather Annabella. And he had asked her a time or two who she really was.
But you never put any real effort into learning the chit’s identity, did you?
Not even when Jon had confirmed his suspicions had Grey pursued the matter.
You didn’t want to know…
A hackney slipped along the street, moving slower than normal for a hired carriage. Would he be able to do it? Would he be able to put her in a carriage and send her away?
Grey sighed and turned from the window. His face burned at the memory of Regina’s announcement: “This is my daughter’s maid.”