by Gayle Eden
“Will you?”
“Yes.” A muscle flexed in his cheek.
“Yes,” she repeated, reminding herself of what the duke told her. She managed next, “Do you believe that what I felt back then was wrong?”
“No.”
“I touched him too.”
The tanned sinew of his neck flexed.
Juliette eyed it, and then raised her gaze slowly, to touch his again. “My curiosity brings no guilt. My desires do not. This— should not have happened. You and I, standing here on your estate….”
“No.”
She raked her teeth over her bottom lip. “Is it your intent to make me wanton?”
“No. Only to prove you are human.” He shook his head slowly. “That you are beautiful and desirable and lack nothing in comparison to others. You are not powerless, Juliette. Not powerless to give yourself pleasure, to love yourself, or someone else. You make yourself so, by choice, by fear. It’s easier to believe what people tell you or what you perceive they will, than it is to risk everything.” He shrugged.
Yes. That was truth.
Juliette murmured, “We cannot do this, Monty. This game….”
He did not pretend to misunderstand her. “No.”
She swallowed. “I have to find a life of my own. You must find yours—”
He nodded and held her gaze. “I must.”
Juliette whispered, “What do you want me to do?”
He looked intense again, as if he would say something entirely different but delivered, “After I introduce you at Wimberley, and you will find the duke’s family—eccentric and not as formal as the London crowds, likely there will others of rank or consequence around, I will pay a visit to Lord Harrison’s estate.”
She nodded and looked away.
He was saying, “Jahi is known to them, gets on quite well with Deme, Demetrius Willingham, the Marquis of Feildon, and his various siblings. Deme is foxed most of the time, but has wit. In any event, Jahi will escort you to whatever you please whilst I am gone.”
She did glance at him then. “And if I make him my lover instead?”
He locked their gazes. “Then—that is your choice.”
Juliette walked a pace then turned to regard him again. Do not, she thought, do not say it. Verbalize nothing. Yet she heard herself utter, “You don’t care if your friend, a man like a brother to you, has me?”
His face was all sinew. Tension showed around his eyes. He rasped, “At least he loves you, Juliette.”
She swallowed that knot that would never dissolve. “And does Lady Harrison— love you?’
“She doesn’t have to. She doesn’t expect to.” He relayed before she could retort, “I had my freedom, and have it still, to some extent. You know what ton marriages are, there’s no point in us debating it.”
“I see.”
He murmured, “I doubt it. But what I do is irrelevant.”
“Yes.” Juliette summoned her strength and eyed him. “Don’t worry about me, Monty. I will find my way and you yours.”
He was walking slightly behind her, his voice gruff when he uttered, “That’s all that I want for you, Juliette.”
Liar, Liar...
He did not see the tears in her eyes, no one did. Juliette suppressed them until she lay in bed that night. Sleep was illusive. Her thoughts chased around to impossible ends, repeatedly, only to untangle by the time the maid brought her morning coffee.
Head heavy, Juliette dressed in a fashionable light summer gown and her dyed to match slippers, then piled her hair up and secured it with combs.
It was the first of many days she would see another woman in the mirror—because of a truth that was in her eyes—in her body and soul too. It was not something she could hide from herself. Knowledge did that. Juliette decided though, that she could live with it. She would. Moreover, that would be her first real test with acknowledged pain, dealing with it. Since it did not kill her, she had to get on with living.
Chapter Three
Being introduced at Wimberley was a bit like being swept up into a maelstrom. From the moment the coach stopped in the drive, Juliette noticed people everywhere; children running around the circular brick base of a fountain, teens and adults scattered on the lawns, and servants, dozens of them, going this and that way.
She met the duchess, having seen the petite woman in London, still surprised that she had borne six children. That in itself was confusing because half were with the duke, and some were born when they had apparently divorced and wed to others, before living together again. Deme, the raven-curled, green-eyed, heir, was someone she had met in London too. He was not a man one could overlook. There was also James, Adrian and 2 other lads.
One of the girls named Lisette, eighteen, with straight blond hair, took her by the hand, waving off her curtsy with, “We’re at archery in the back lawn. Do you shoot?”
“Yes I—”
“Famous!” She grinned and tugged her along.
Juliette, sometime during that trek, heard the boisterous and robust duke inviting Jahi and Monty to join him in the shade for a drink. she saw another female, dark eyes and hair, a strapping young man that Lisette called Little John, whom she would at some time discern was the baby boy, at fifteen—and not named John, but Judah. She did not ask why they called him little John, but was amused, fascinated. They certainly were a unique family.
In any event, they arrived where a group was gathered and Juliette asked the identity of a female who was steadying her bow—because she wore trousers and all male garb.
“Oh, she’s not a sibling. That is Haven Mulhern, the coachman’s daughter. She has grown up with all of us. Her father is famous at the ribbons, wins all the coaching races. Haven is not bad herself at it.”
Lisette leaned closer to mutter, “Between you and me, Haven is the only thing that has kept that corker head of a brother of mine alive all these years. Deme. Father says, he should thank his lucky stars he did not “tame” her, as Deme oft mutters, or send her off to school. She was tutored with us. If not for her sword arm, and good aim with pistol, Deme’s skin wouldn’t be on his bones.”
Brow arched, Juliette witnessed Haven’s true shot. Though her own hair was red gold, Haven’s was a deep, blood red, the darkest shade Juliette had ever seen. It was also cut to the chin and stick straight—but oddly attractive. She was around five feet and six, and had tawny eyes. Something there, when they briefly met Juliette’s gaze, made Juliette believe that yes—the woman probably had saved the mostly foxed Deme’s life more than once, and that she probably held her own against his famous stinging wit. There was a steady confidence, of knowing oneself, of this is me and like or not, in that look, plus something Juliette caught only a shadow of, before the woman winked and joked with the others.
After that impressive show, and at their urging, Juliette removed her light coat and hat, and stepped up to take her turn. It took focus, given that dogs yapped and people yelled, and that everyone around her was chattering, but she had learned the skill and practiced in the woods many times, so Juliette aimed and shot, an inch from the bull’s-eye.
“Well done!” There were cheers and claps. She stepped away, handing off the bow. “I could have done better.”
“Nonsense. To have hit anything in this racket is an accomplishment.” Lisette took her arm again.
Juliette looked around as they walked. Every time she saw the duchess that day, the woman had some sort of pet in her arms; a cat, a pooch, even a chicken, yet everyone seemed to act as if it was perfectly normal. They were loud, the Wimberley clan, a completely unselfconscious bunch and for the first time in her life, Juliette really enjoyed herself around people. She did not (think) about who or what to be, she just was, and had a great time doing so. It was apparent to her that among them she was not judged and eyed in that take her apart and find her flaws kind of way.
The exception of course could have been Deme, for even in London the Marquis was known as a man who could bite
deep if he was in a foul mood. Demetrius was handsome by anyone’s standards, six feet tall, and given his penchant for brandy it was amazing how fit he was, with naturally tawny skin, long and graceful muscles. All of the duchess and duke’s offspring had handsomeness, good bones and looks, some more than subtle, others striking—but Deme was the sort that made you stare if you were brave enough. Juliette was discreet when she looked at him, thinking to herself that it was a shame his rep was for drinking deeply too. It appeared he had a very loving family, no matter how unique it was put together. Something of a puzzle was Deme….
Juliette observed that he and Monty talked from the courtyard, their laughter ruffling over on occasion, to where she sat with Lisette. The duke put his arm around the Egyptian’s shoulders and appeared to talk his ear off and Jahi seemed comfortable and engaged in return.
Refreshment was spread upon on tables in the courtyards and she accepted the invite to partake, finding herself surrounded by other family members as they shared their meal on plaids and blankets.
Juliette found herself laughing aloud for the first time in company too, unable to help it because what siblings that weren’t wits, were still entertaining and too lively to sit still. After they ate, some game or competition was going on somewhere, and the whole and half siblings teased and romped with each other, older boys wrestling with the younger, the girls chasing each other with the pups on their heels.
Her mind spinning with the new experiences, the enjoyment, by the time they headed homeward. Juliette was resting her eyes when she heard Monty say, “They take some getting used to, but there’s no pretense in them.”
“No,” she agreed. “Lisette has offered to come ride with me.”
“She’s almost your age. Came out late, due to illness in her early years.”
“You’d never discern it.” Juliette thought the young woman looked dewy fresh, healthy and high-spirited.
“No. They could teach society something about living life, the Wimberley’s. Although they have faults and flaws—Deme in particular has his excesses.”
She opened her eyes. “Something of a puzzle that, since he seems to have everything he could possibly want.”
Before Monty could respond Jahi observed, “One is never bored or ignored, around people like that.”
Juliette teased him, “Lisette was certainly flirting with you.”
He grinned and winked. “I flirted back.”
They all laughed.
The following morning, Lisette was there just as promised. Straight hair braided, and her lithe body dressed in a smart riding habit, she looked at Juliette’s trousers and wrinkled her nose. “Had I known you would not be offended I would have worn mine!”
Laughing Juliette said, “Next time do”.
“Oh I shall. I have never understood riding habits. An aunt of mine died because of one?”
“How so?”
“She was only seventeen, father’s sister, anyway, she’d been out riding and got caught in a storm, the wool habit was thick and heavy and the horse stumbled and threw her. She slid over a hill and her long skirts caught as her body twisted—smothered her.”
“Oh, dear lord.”
“Yes. She is not the only one. Our Rector’s mother died from getting her feet caught in her skirts and breaking her neck.”
“Is that really true?”
Lisette crossed her heart. “But if it weren’t. I still would loathe them.”
Juliette smiled.
Regarding that, Lisette said with her own, “I like you. I don’t what it was, but the moment I saw you, I knew I would.”
“And I you.”
“Let’s ride.”
They became friends during that ride—were inseparable for the month that followed—visiting other gentry together, going to the village. Sometimes there were siblings with them, but mostly it was just the two of them, strolling the lands, sitting by streams, sharing some of their secrets, confidences—laughing and finding that they shared a sense of humor. Trading books became a habit, and talking about Lisette’s chaotic childhood. Whatever it was, they were in tune with each other, and confided it was truly the first time either had gotten on so well with someone on every level.
The day came when the Marquis left for the Harrington estate. Juliette, in Jahi’s company, continued her rounds, putting anything else out of her mind. It was not easy, but it was more tolerable because of the duke’s family, and the people they knew, both of consequence and not. It served as a much-needed distraction.
When Monty came home from the Harrison’s, Juliette did what she told herself she would not, and asked casually during dinner, “So, how was your visit? Do you make an offer?”
Monty settled his brown eyes on her for silent moments, and then merely nodded. Shortly he excused himself.
Jahi looked at her. Their eyes held too for a long moment. Juliette trying to calm the chaos of her emotions that being near Monty evoked the questions she had no right to ask, nor no excuse since she told herself her resolve lay in getting on with her own life. In Jahi’s were questions too.
Sobered however, Juliette sat back and blew out a breath. “I’m actually looking forward to the London season.”
“You and Lisette will likely set the town afire.” His smile was crooked. “And, since they don’t mind what the ton thinks of them, the Wimberley’s, neither will you. They can travel in any circles, but the faster set is more their speed.”
She nodded. “I gathered that.”
He shrugged. “I observed, over the seasons that I have been here, that they aren’t so different from the rest of society, the so-called fast set. They simply practice less hypocrisy. They have their affairs openly, and entertain themselves with things frowned upon by the ton. They live their lives without dictates. The price for that is generally not gaining the approval of those who matter, but it is a fair price to pay. Everyone has secrets but it is the rules that matter, or rather the pretense of observing them.”
“I shouldn’t want the duke and duchess to hear anything that would worry them, about me.”
Jahi knew she spoke of her former guardians. “They’re less worried about you, and more about Monty.”
She did not ask what he meant by that. Monty was the duke’s heir. She knew the expectations the duchess and his father had for him.
Jahi finished his wine and sat back too. “You should become my lover, Juliette...”
She arched her brow and tried to laugh. “Jahi. You deserve better.”
He did not laugh. His dark eyes were sultry. “As do you. But neither of us would leave the other in want, as lovers.”
“What do you think Monty would make of that?”
“He’s going to marry the Harrington heiress.”
Looking away from him, Juliette stood after a moment and walked toward the exit doors, standing eventually out in the moonlit gardens.
Jahi joined her, lighting his cheroot. He had discarded his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, holding the cheroot in his white teeth until he was done. Then he walked a bit away from her, obviously watching her as he smoked.
She’d had her hair sheered recently but it could be drawn up with shorter curls around her face. Tonight it was simply back in a twist with combs, the natural curl doing its own style of whisking out here and there. She wore a gown of green silk, sleeveless, and banded with black beads under the breasts.
Juliette felt outside herself somewhat with the conversation, although there had always been an attraction between herself and Jahi. It was awareness on a different level…
“I may return to my homeland—after the season?”
“Why?” She looked at him.
“To become a teacher.” He smiled wryly. “For the orphans and street children. To give them the chance that Monty gave to me.”
Juliette voiced softly, honestly, “That’s a wonderful ambition.”
He nodded and put the cheroot out before coming to her. “I want a night with you,
Juliette.”
Lord, he was so beautiful, so handsome. His desire for her was a heady thing. It had been from the moment she met him.
She confessed off-balance at the open honesty, finding it easier, always, to be so with him. “I lied to protect Peter, to have my privacy. I’m not a virgin.”
He smiled slightly. “I knew that, Juliette. Neither am I, not by a long shot.”
She raked her teeth over her lip on a smile. “It actually feels pleasing to tell the truth of that. It was—uncomfortable, but beautiful in every way. He was a gentle young man.”
“I am glad.” He reached out and cupped her cheek. “We’ve always been attracted, you and I.”
“True.” She flushed a little. “You’re an amazingly handsome man., as long as I have known you, you have been kind, intelligent, very interesting.”
Jahi’s silken hair caught the light as he lowered his head and kissed her. It was sensual, lush, very stirring, as were his nearly black eyes when he lifted his head and regarded her.
Dizzy, affected, she blurted, “How did you…know?”
“I know, because it meant something to you, something powerful in your feminine spirit. You were not sorry for it, only sorry that he suffered as a consequence...”
“I got a note from him. Met him afterwards.” She grimaced slightly, but grinned too. “He was happy where he was, and wanted to assure himself I was not all together ostracized.”
“And that you were not with child?”
“He um…prevented that. It did not last long—the act. Nevertheless, the before and after— he was so considerate to me. So…affectionate. I had a very poor image of myself to start with, and for a while, he made me feel…beautiful.”
Jahi looked over her face. “That is better than a stranger/ husband tossing up your gown and rutting.”
“Vastly.” She was glad of Jahi’s bluntness. He always talked to her like an adult, and with openness.
He put an arm around her, having her against his side and brushing his lips over her brow. Throwing her off balance again—surprising her when he uttered, “You will wait for him, won’t you, Juliette?”