Saving Juliette

by Gayle Eden

  Her lips had parted. “My things are—”

  “—In your apartments above.”

  She stood. “How dare you!”

  He arched an arrogant brow. “It’s nearly daylight. I won’t discuss this with you tonight,”

  “Fine. But I will not stay here.” she strode to the door and opened it.

  A maid awaited at the bottom of the stairs. “This way, ma’am.”

  Juliette took several steps and looked back once, to see Monty standing in the door of his study, having drank down most of the brandy he had poured.

  Their eyes met. Hers in battle, and his obstinate.

  “You have made a mistake, Wolford.”

  His lean cheek flexed. “Goodnight, Juliette.”

  She picked up her wet skirts and followed the maid, feeling his eyes on her until she was out of sight.

  * * * *

  The next morning, Monty was still not in a good mood.

  A few hours’ sleep, shave and bath, two coffees, and he grew angrier still with every tick of the clock, until Deme showed himself.

  At a much later than demanded hour, carefree as always, Deme strode in—and headed straight to the decanter. Dressed to the nines and in his snug trousers, black and green embroidered jacket, and signature ruffled shirt.

  Ever the dashing and romantic figure Monty thought with a snort of nonexistent patience. He growled, “Drink well, because you won’t be able to for several days by the time you leave.” Arms folded Monty leaned against the desk.

  Setting the poured brandy down, Deme looked at him; his overlong black curls half in his eyes. He grinned and murmured, “Give over, my friend. Do you honestly believe— if— I was going to tumble Juliette, I would have taken her where I did?”

  “Where did you?”

  Deme turned and shrugged. “To Gray’s Walk. Near the cockpits. A rank little room, with a dirty mattress on the floor, and enough offal to make your boot soles come off.”

  Monty held that green gaze.

  Deme grunted. “I am foxed most of the time, have been for years, but never blind, Monty. I saw the way of it years ago.”

  Monty did his own grunting. “Don’t go that route. You’ll deprive me of an outlet for my temper.” He went to the side table and poured coffee, handing one to Deme.

  His friend took it, sipped and sat down in one of the chairs, holding his hand up as sun arched in the window. “Could you close those bloody blinds? My head feels like a rock.”

  “It is that thick.” Monty pulled the drapes.

  “Stop you’re growling, Wolford. You know I like my face just the way it is.”

  Monty smiled dryly at him. “It’s a pity you were born with such. Gets you by with far too many sins.”

  “I make a much better sinner than saint. So?” Deme drank half the cup of coffee. “Did it work?”

  “Did what work?”

  Deme waved his hand. “My going along with Juliette, of course, and telling Lisette I intended to board a ship with her in the morning?”

  Monty laughed. “Oh. No. I do not give you that much credit.”

  “Fine.” Deme smiled. “But it worked anyway. You came after her.”

  Going behind the desk to sit, Monty placed his cup on the desktop and then leaned back, his eyes somewhere on the ornate ceiling.

  Deme muttered, “Have no use for it myself, love of a woman. My one encounter with it proved it makes men fools. Or rather, that one can make a mockery of it and play others false too easily. I am fortunate with women….They are all fairly willing to please me with no effort at all on my part. But, I hated to see you make the wrong choice.”

  Lowering his gaze Monty said, “To the whole of society, Lady Harrison is perfect for me.”

  “Your society. Not mine.” Deme shrugged. “And Juliette is ten times the woman she is.”

  “Yes. Though few notice it.”

  “I noticed. My family has taken her into the fold, you know. Younguns' are mad for her. Lisette, thinks her a twin spirit or whatever, and m’father says she can sit a horse better than the duchess. And that is saying something.”

  “And you?”

  “I say—she is perfect for you. Not the Marquis. Not the future duke. Just you, Monty.”

  “I cannot believe how sensible you are when sober.”

  Deme grimaced. “Me either. The good thing is, I’ll be foxed by noon and forget the whole thing.”

  “You should forgive yourself for that fiasco with Lady Everling. You were a young and passionate lad, and she was a shrewd woman who cold bloodedly used you to kill off a lover her husband was ready to discover. “

  “I forgive myself, Wolford, for falling for her—not for killing him. In any case, let us not get maudlin. I went to all this trouble to prevent that. Bloody could not stand to be around you of late.”

  Laughing a bit, Monty sighed, “I love her. I love her more than I can explain.”

  Sobering, Deme held his gaze. “What will his Grace say?”

  “Whatever it is, I won’t hear it.” Monty stood. “I’ll be in Scotland.”

  Deme grinned. “I would never think it of you, my sober and respected friend. I rather enjoy the idea of you defying everyone, carrying your bride across the border.”

  “Yes well, dragging may be in order. She’s not in a good frame of mind towards me.”

  “She will be.” Deme stood. They shook hands. “I need to get foxed.”

  Monty met his gaze. “You need the love of a woman, Deme. Someone—to save you.”

  The Marquis laughed and shook his head. Heading for the door, he called back, “I’ll toast your first born, Wolford. Name it after me.”

  A bit later, Monty thought of that as Juliette was shown into the study. She had on a lovely day gown of cream of gold stripe and her hair was half up, half down. She did not sit, but stood instead, by the window. Her posture told him she was in a combative mood still.

  He opened his mouth—

  “His Grace, the Duke of Crawford. Her Grace, Lady Mary.” The butler rushed as he opened the door, the couple already sweeping by him.

  “Monty.” Lady Mary came to him. Monty offered his cheek. She cupped his face and kissed both. To say he was surprised was an understatement. Suspicious, too. Really, Monty did not know what to think.

  He glanced at Juliette, who had turned, and sank into a curtsy.

  “My Dear. I have missed you. You look so lovely.” His mother took her hands and when she rose, embraced her tightly.

  Monty met his father’s steady gaze. Though the duke took off his cape, it was over his arm, hat in his hand, meaning he did not plan on staying.

  Whilst Mary was talking to Juliette, his father came over to him and said, “We’ll be taking Juliette to our residence. You may call on her there, formally. I take it you have a special licensee?”

  Blinking, Monty nodded. He could swear there was a twinkle in his father’s eye.

  The duke further said, “A month should suffice. You will appear at the opera and attend a few gatherings. I have already sent word to Harrison. All is well on that score. At the end of the month, we’ll retire to Crawford, where you will marry before taking up residence at Wolford, as man and wife.”

  Before he could get over that shock, Monty turned having heard Juliette gasp, “No.”

  He met her gaze. “Yes. Trust me, Juliette.”

  Her eyes showing her distress, though the duchess clung to her hand, Juliette rasped, “I don’t understand. What happened? What is going on?”

  Lady Mary said soothingly, “All will be well. Trust us. We love you.” She put Juliette’s hand through her arm. “Come now. We have much to do and little time. You will see Montgomery soon enough. He will be your escort.”

  As his father turned to follow, Monty said, “I need to explain to her—”

  “You shall. Have her things sent over, and Henny, if she is here. We’ll expect you for dinner this evening—and allow you plenty of time with her.”

&n
bsp; When the door closed behind them, Monty could hear the commotion and voices in the hall. He sank into the nearest chair, took a long soothing breath, and released it. She would be his. Juliette. She would be—his wife….

  * * * *

  It was quite a ride over to the duke’s mansion. Juliette was not allowed questions but told to wave and nod prettily to those who passed by, recognizing Lady Mary and the duke in the coach. After arriving, Henny was busy settling them in. Thus, it was early evening before Juliette stopped pacing, biting her nails, and was summoned to meet the duchess.

  In her Grace’s elaborate sitting room, Juliette perched on the edge of her chair, having changed into a formal gown of black silk, falling into the well-learned habit of proper respect and silence around the distinguished woman. That, and the fact she was a nervous wreck, not knowing what in heaven’s Monty had done. What had brought the duke and duchess to his house? They had obviously expected her to be there. Nothing made any sense.

  Lady Mary, her hair done up and perfectly in place, her silver and blue gown of the most flattering cut and design, sat in a chair opposite, her gaze, Juliette thought, assessing in that way that always made her assume the woman was looking for flaws.

  The duchess broke the silence by murmuring, “I am sure you have questions, Juliette. However, I beg you to listen to me a moment, then I think, you will see the answers for yourself. Will you indulge me?”

  “Of course, Your Grace.” Juliette nodded.

  The woman’s expression softened and there was a hint of a smile as she began, “In life, Juliette, there are certain things we assume determine whom we are. Things that decide who we become, because of circumstance. That is an assumption others will always make, and we too do that. We see others as our mirror/ a skewed reflection, but we cannot help it. However, I think you will agree that Monty is not like that. Indeed, he was determined to be more than just heir to a title.”

  “Yes.”

  The duchess nodded. “I was born with the expectations too, though had many disadvantages, according to some. What changed how I saw myself, is that I fell in love with Thaddeus.” Those blue eyes looked over her and then met hers again. “You were born into a tragic situation. It was not your fault, and nothing you could have done would have changed it. Yet you were a survivor, spirited and determined to hope. I do not lie to either of us and profess to have had the deepest insight into what you felt when you came to Crawford. I should have been more attentive. I had raised a son, and boys are so vastly different. However, I should have known—because I too suffered through my years of being sensitive to the opinions of others.”

  “You were very good to me—”

  The woman held up her hand, smiling. “Thank you. I believe so. However, this is not about my failings or your emotions then. This is about the both of us being wiser. If I might give you advice, Juliette, it is to know yourself. The very reason you care for Monty, the reason he is a unique man, is because he learned that. His confidence comes from knowing himself. You must do that also. You do. No matter what demands others or society puts upon you, no matter what wrongs are done or go on around you, you must believe in the woman you are, the woman my son has always had the wisdom to understand and admire.”

  Juliette drew in her breath. “Your Grace. I did not set out to—”

  “I know that. Please, let me finish.” The woman cut her off smoothly, “The thing is, I made the same mistake everyone else did. However, Monty looked deeper. I had expectations for you, for the right reasons, but I wanted the wounds of your childhood healed so badly, I told myself they were. I wanted you happy.”

  “I know that.”

  “But Monty— Monty wanted you happy with yourself. He could always see your wounds.” The duchess stood and walked over to the window, looking down on the street. She added, “You are a spirited woman, Juliette. Very strong. Stronger than those women who will always be malicious and cruel will ever know. Pity them. They are weak. You are not perfect, as I never was either. However, relish that. Revel in the things that make you different. Be proud of what you have come through. You will need that inner strength and that confidence in the future.”

  Juliette stood too. “My lady. I do not understand. What am I doing here?”

  The woman smiled at her. “You are preparing to become the Marchioness of Wolford.”

  Juliette swallowed. Something of the utter shock must have shown in her face, for Lady Mary came to her and hugged her, laughing. “Monty will speak with you after dinner tonight. I am sure it cannot be too much of a surprise…”

  “But the duke—”

  “Loves you. He loves our son. All will be well, Juliette.” The woman released her and held her hands a moment. “We’ve made some mistakes, omissions perhaps. However, we love you. Do you believe that?”

  Blinking tears Juliette rasped. “I do.”

  Mary smiled and released her hands. “And it will be deeper and richer still, as the years pass. We will make a promise, you and I, to always trust each other, speak honestly and to be ourselves with each other.”

  “You’re very much like him… I mean…Monty is, very like you.”

  “He is kind.” The duchess nodded. “And he is strong. But at the core of him, Monty is the best of both Thaddeus and I.”

  * * * *

  Later, Juliette sat at dinner, across from Monty, who looked handsome and relaxed. He had arrived and closeted with the duke for an hour. That man, his Grace, had merely winked at her. Juliette, thinking back on that promise, was still a little fuzzy about what changed his mind.

  On top of all that, was the turmoil of what had not been ironed out between herself and Wolford? He was high handed in this whole business and she did not like it.

  After dinner, the duke and duchess excused themselves and Juliette found herself standing with Monty, in the low-lit sitting room. He stood by the mantle some time looking pensively at her; hand on the back of a chair. Her expression kept blank for the moment.

  At length he said quietly, “I would that nothing that has happened in the past few months occurred as it did. Nothing, save our nights together. I imagine you are quite fed up with my high handedness at this point.” A smile tugged his lips.

  Her brow arched.

  Monty took a few steps, bringing them closer so that she could see his expression clearly. His hand covered hers on the back of the chair. “In some sense, I apologize. In another, you are here and there is every possibility that we shall never be parted again.” His brown eyes searched her face. “I have no desire to deprive you of the tongue lashing you’d like to deliver. However, I need to know, Juliette, have you the desire to be my wife? I do not say, Marchioness, or future duchess, as that is something that comes with the territory. It is not something that matters to me. It mattered to Lady Harrison, because that what her parents wanted and what she wanted. I want to know what you want. Do you want me, Juliette?”

  She swallowed, gazing up at him, her heart pounding hard enough at her ribs to make her light leaded. “How did this happen? What changed your father’s mind? What did you say?”

  “I didn’t have to say it. Everyone knew it. Answer my question.”

  “Yes. I want you.”

  He moved his hand and went round to take her in his arms.

  Juliette realized his strong heart was beating as hard as hers.

  He husked. “My parents would have me escort you for the remainder of the month and then we will wed at Crawford. Is that acceptable?”

  “Yes.”

  He leaned back and cupped her face. “I have something to tell you, but I want to wait. It will be deuced difficult to play the suitor this month, when all that I desire is to be your lover again, to get on with the wonderful life we shall have together.”

  She bit her lip. “How can you be sure—”

  He grinned. “Your passion, your spirit. I am sure.”

  She blinked back tears. “Everyone will say it was a mistake.”

&nb
sp; “Those who matter will know it was not.” He kissed her.

  It had been so long since they had kissed and such an emotional span of time, an emotional day and night, that Juliette clung to him, took from him and kissed him as passionately as he did her. Their bodies aroused and the emotions so near the surface, they heard neither the door opening nor the duke enter, until he cleared his throat.

  Still, Monty held her after lifting his head, waiting for that moment she opened her lashes, the moment he saw everything in her eyes that mattered. He was none too steady when he stepped back, and saw her cling to the chair.

  Turning to his father, he met the man’s eyes, apparently, his own showing many emotions.

  The duke said to Monty, “I respect you all the more, for fighting for what you want.” Afterward, to Juliette. “And though it was unfair of me to extract a promise from you, I do know what it cost you to try and keep it. Forgive me.”

  He cleared his throat again, looked between them, and then waved for his son to leave with a slight grin. “You shall have her for a lifetime. A month of courtship is owed to you both. You will enjoy yourself, dancing at balls and seeing plays together. This time, you will show the ton what Mary and I saw when you were together. How much you enjoy—and belong—to each other.”

  Juliette was too busy blinking the tears out of her eyes to see Monty’s response before he left, but she did catch that touch of affection he rendered his father, and the duke returned.

  * * * *

  Those words were true, despite how hard it was to end the evening with no more than a kiss after knowing each other as lovers. Juliette scarcely noticed anyone else when she entered an assembly on Wolford’s arm, or sat with him during a play and talked or laughed. In addition, their rides in the park, a stroll in the formal gardens, it was as if they were the only two people in the world. It was amazing how easy their friendship was, how interested they truly were in each other’s thoughts, ideas, opinions. Moreover, it was so good to laugh with him, to watch him laugh and be himself, to observe all those things she had admired in him for years.

  At times they had Lisette with them, most of the time the duke and duchess were nearby, but all said, even the fittings and shopping and daily meetings with the duchess scarcely registered. Juliette fell deeper in love with the man who could talk at length about his time in Egypt, recounting to her the more colorful tales and painting vivid pictures of his life there. Moreover, the man who waltzed wonderfully, laughed easily, and who winked at her across a ballroom when he was surrounded by others. That lover in him was breathtaking, the intimate man as fascinating and compelling as the public one.