by Brenda Hiatt
“Keep your shoulders back.”
She did her best to comply, uncomfortably conscious that he closely watched her every movement. He was only instructing her in horsemanship, she reminded herself.
“We shall trot now. It may feel a little jarring at first,” he warned.
He had understated the case, Juliana thought. She felt wretchedly awkward as the mare’s motion bounced her around on the saddle. No doubt she looked ridiculous.
“Relax,” he reminded her. “Just sit tall, and let your weight sink into the saddle. Don’t try to lean forward.”
She straightened herself, and took a few more deep breaths. Marcus was right. Sonnet’s movements seemed far less jolting now that she did not try to fight them.
“Good,” said Marcus, and Juliana felt a glow spread through her at the approval in his voice.
After a few more circles, he stopped and turned Sonnet. They trotted in the other direction. Juliana’s confidence rose, and her nerves gave way to a sense of heady excitement. She was disappointed when Marcus stopped the mare once more.
“You really are doing very well,” he said. “Would you like to try to canter?”
“Yes, please,” she said eagerly.
“A slow canter is actually the most comfortable pace for a lady,” he said. “Remember to sit up straight, and keep your head up. Always remember that if you look down, your body may follow.”
Obediently, she kept her head high. Marcus commanded Sonnet to canter, and the mare launched into a gentle rocking pace that nevertheless covered the ground faster than before.
“How is it?” asked Marcus.
“It’s delightful,” she replied, enjoying the motion, and the rhythmic sighing of air against her face with each stride. “Why, it’s just like a waltz!”
Out of the corner of her eye she caught an amused expression on her instructor’s face.
“The rhythm is the same,” she explained. “One-two-three, one-two-three…”
“I should have known you would show great aptitude as a student,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice.
After a few more turns, he stopped Sonnet and then commanded the mare to canter in the other direction. Juliana gave in to enjoyment, and could only feel sorry when he halted the mare.
“I think that is quite enough for today,” he said. “You can give Sonnet a pat to tell her she has done well.”
“Can we not go on a little longer? That is, if Sonnet is not too tired?” she asked, patting the mare’s velvet neck.
He grinned. “Tomorrow morning, you will thank me for stopping now.”
She was not sure what he meant, but followed his instructions and dismounted. Unaccountably, her legs shook as she reached the ground, and continued to do so as Marcus put an arm around her to steady her. It was just the riding, she told herself.
“You may let go now. I am perfectly steady,” she said, somewhat breathlessly.
“Very well,” he said, releasing her.
“Thank you… for the lesson.”
“It was my pleasure,” he replied, putting just the slightest emphasis on the last word.
“Shall I lead Sonnet back to the stables?”
He gave her the reins, and all the way back, she concentrated on leading the mare, and not looking back at Marcus. She’d become almost comfortable with him; she’d almost forgotten that he’d vowed to change her mind about their marriage. Until he’d said the word pleasure…
Suddenly he was Lord Dare all over again. Was she wise to allow him to teach her, to spend so much time together with him? But she had enjoyed herself so much, all she could do was eagerly await her next lesson.
The next morning, she discovered aches where she had not even known she had muscles, and realized Marcus had been wise to keep her first lesson short. With each succeeding lesson, though, she gained strength and skill, under his patient and gentle instruction. After about a week, Marcus’s sister came to watch. Conscious of Miss Redwyck’s critical scrutiny, Juliana took her first tumble. She was unhurt, having fallen on soft turf, and the fact that she treated the mishap with indifference somehow seemed to establish her worth in Miss Redwyck’s eyes.
From then on, it was Lucy and Juliana between them. Lucy even offered Juliana her own spirited mare to ride as soon as she had mastered all she could learn on Sonnet. Marcus was clearly pleased at sister’s change of heart, but Juliana was troubled. It would be so much simpler to leave Marcus if his family did not take such a liking to her.
She toyed with the notion of ceasing their lessons, but found herself enjoying them too much. Once Marcus was satisfied with her seat, he taught her the use of the reins, and began to take her for gentle rides down nearby lanes and pastures, and ultimately, for a glorious gallop up on the wolds.
Meanwhile, Grandpapa had set forth on a positive orgy of spending. Not only for Juliana’s bride-clothes, which entailed several visits to Gloucester’s finest dressmaker, but also on carriages and horses, the hiring of additional servants and the purchase of furnishings for her new home. When Juliana protested at his plans to completely redecorate Redwyck Hall in the latest and most expensive mode, Grandpapa seemed to defer to her opinion. It was only later, when cart-loads of furniture and paintings began to arrive, that she learned he had wheedled from the housekeeper a list of the antiques that had once adorned the Hall, and sent his agents dashing about the country to buy them back from their new owners, or find appropriate substitutes.
When she asked Marcus if Grandpapa’s high-handed behavior offended him, he replied that he could only be grateful. She sensed that his pride was wounded, that he sometimes felt he had done little to merit what Grandpapa was doing for him.
Her own feelings were becoming increasingly tangled. She truly enjoyed being with Marcus, felt a growing bond of friendship with him, even found a guilty enjoyment in his looks and teasing comments. She suspected he did truly desire her, just as he had Mademoiselle Juliette. But it was lust, not love, she told herself. It would be a poor foundation for marriage. They might share a fleeting, grand passion, but then she would have a lifetime in which to regret the loss of her independence.
The morning of Juliana’s wedding, Polly helped her into her new gown, of white silk with delicate blue embroidery about the low bodice, sleeves and hem. For the first time, she would wear her hair uncovered, and it was surprisingly pleasant to see the yellow curls around her face once more. Polly set a dashing little bonnet decorated with more blue flowers on her head, and declared her to be a vision. She thanked Polly, who went into the adjacent dressing room to fetch her shawl.
Juliana took another glance in the mirror, then back at the little writing desk in the corner. There sat two letters: one from Pen, the other from Cat, both in response to those she had sent to them announcing her engagement. On the wall hung Pen’s gift: a watercolor sketch she had made of the three of them sitting together on a hillside.
I wish I could be there with you, Pen had written, but Aunt Mary says she cannot spare me now, at the height of the Season. Juliana could imagine Pen’s disappointment. Of course, it was impossible for Cat to come, although she and her husband had sent a fine oil painting of Ullswater, which now hung in the library, along with an invitation for her and Marcus to visit them after their honeymoon.
Longing for her friends washed over Juliana as she looked back at Pen’s portrait of the three of them. But perhaps it was best they could not come. She had not written to either of them about her true plans, not knowing into whose hands the letters might fall. Pen would disapprove, and Cat would worry. Her own mouth felt dry, and her stomach unsettled, as she contemplated her future. Soon Marcus would have full legal rights over her fortune, and her very person. Would he honor their agreement?
Polly came back to drape a narrow blue shawl around her shoulders, and Juliana reminded herself that Marcus was not one to go back on his word. Over the past weeks, he had behaved with gentlemanly restraint. Once they were married, however, he would su
rely redouble his efforts to change her mind.
The truly frightening thing was that she was not sure she would be able to resist him.
Well-wishers of every station in life crowded the little church in Redwyck. Juliana was glad to see that her decision had brought so much joy. Then she saw Marcus, looking disastrously handsome in a smartly tailored dark blue coat and snowy white pantaloons. She wondered what he would think of her changed looks, and an instant later had her answer in the spellbound expression in his eyes.
His reaction and the solemnity of the occasion almost overpowered her, but she managed to play her part calmly until the point where Marcus accepted the ring from the vicar. Repeating the vicar’s words, he said, “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship…”
She blushed at the warmth in his voice, and had to force herself to concentrate on the rest of the ceremony. Finally, they exited the church, amid much cheering, and Marcus tossed coins amongst the cheering children assembled outside.
A wedding breakfast followed, attended by the vicar and his wife, the Plumbrooks, and a few other local landowners who had not removed to London for the Season. Despite feeling dazed by the impending changes in her life, Juliana smiled and did her best to speak to all present.
Grandpapa smiled fondly throughout, and Mrs. Frisby shed tears of joy over Juliana’s marriage, and sorrow over their separation. Juliana had been relieved to learn that Grandpapa had provided her companion with a very generous pension, which would enable her to live very comfortably in Bath, where she had a few friends.
Grandpapa and Mrs. Frisby were all going to leave soon after the breakfast. Mrs. Redwyck and Lucy were also departing, having accepted an invitation from Lady Plumbrook to join her in London for a month. It was as if everyone had conspired to allow Juliana and Marcus a honeymoon.
Her stomach fluttered again at the thought that she and her husband would soon be alone. Glancing over at him, she felt the full heat of his gaze. It would take all of her resolution to resist him tonight.
Chapter Fourteen
It was late in the day when everyone had finally departed, and Juliana joined Marcus in the dining room for their first meal alone as man and wife.
“Good evening, my lady,” he said, as he helped her to her chair, waving one of the newly hired footmen away.
“Good evening, Marcus,” she replied, trying to sound matter-of-fact.
“It has been a long day. I trust you are not too tired.”
She searched his face, wondering what he implied, but all she could see now was polite concern.
The meal was small but choice, reminding her of the supper they had shared back in his London townhouse. She wondered if Marcus or Mrs. Redwyck had ordered it, for it consisted of many of her favorite dishes. Mercifully, throughout the soup and the duckling, Marcus kept the conversation to commonplace subjects.
Almost too soon, she finished her meal. Looking up, she saw Marcus gazing at her, eyes darkened with desire. An answering warmth spread through her, and she realized she’d been foolish to let him lull her suspicions. Clearly, he thought the time for gentlemanly restraint had passed.
“Must you look at me that way?” she asked.
“There is nothing in our agreement that says I cannot look at you, my darling. Did you know that you took my breath away when you entered the church this morning?”
“I don’t care. And don’t call me darling!”
“You made no rule about that, either,” he said, with a smile. “So I shall say and look as I please.”
He looked into her eyes first. Then his gaze traveled to her lips, her throat, then slowly down to the deep neck of her gown, making her feel just as she had over a month ago, when he had pulled open the bodice of her dancer’s costume.
The terrible thing was that she enjoyed the sensation.
“I shall leave you to your wine now,” she said, and got up from her chair. He might claim the right to look at her, but that did not mean she had to sit there and allow him to seduce her with his eyes.
“I don’t wish to sit alone and drink port, my dear,” he said, rising from his chair. “I have a much better idea for how we might spend the evening.”
She stiffened and raised her eyebrows, but before she could say anything, he continued.
“I thought we could go sit in the library for a while. Perhaps you will indulge me with a game of chess. Your grandfather says you are a fine player.”
She let out an involuntary sigh.
“I would be happy to play chess with you, though I warn you Grandpapa dotes on me so much that he quite exaggerates my skill.”
A cheerful fire burned in the library, warming the room on the cool May evening. Like most of the Hall, the library had undergone a transformation in the past few weeks, its worn rug having been replaced with a thick, richly colored oriental carpet, and its chairs recovered in the same warm hues.
She joined Marcus at a small oak table where a chess set had already been laid out. It was difficult at first to concentrate on her moves, and she made some mistakes, but soon found that concentrating on the game steadied her. She began to play better, challenging Marcus’s considerable skills, though she could not quite recover from her earlier mistakes.
“Do you wish to play again?” she asked, having congratulated him on winning their first game.
“If it would please you. I had hoped I could interest you in another sort of… diversion.”
Though his words were spoken in a cajoling manner, there was a hint of sincere disappointment in his voice that pierced her somehow. She tried to ignore the feeling, and arose from her seat.
“I am not interested in such… diversions, my lord. I think I shall retire now.”
“Please stay,” he said, pleading now rather than teasing. “I truly do wish to talk to you.”
She paused for a moment, then sat down.
“There is something I have been wanting to say to you, for ages, it seems. I could not say it before, for I knew you did not trust me. But now that your grandfather has redeemed the mortgages on my lands for me, and I have nothing more to gain, perhaps you will believe me when I say this. I love you, Juliana.”
The constriction in her heart tightened. She had expected flattery and seduction, but not this.
“Do you believe me?”
“I—I don’t know. No. You are infatuated. You still think of me as Mademoiselle Juliette, some sort of femme fatale. But I am not.”
“No, you are just as lovely, and even more desirable. But in other ways you are one and the same. I see the same kindness you showed for your friend Miss Church, now lavished on my dependents. I see the same intelligence, the same independent spirit…”
She clasped her hands in her lap, trying to hide the tumult his words raised in her head and her heart.
“Juliana, I want you. I want you as my wife, my friend, my helpmate. And my lover. Please, give me back my promise and let me come to you tonight.”
Part of her cried out to yield to his wishes, warring with the other part that screamed caution. The huskiness of his voice brought back vivid memories of the pleasure he had given her that night on his chaise longue. Impossible to think clearly while he spoke to her so!
“No,” she said, forcing the word out past the tightness in her throat.
She got up, and instantly he arose.
“Do you not trust me? Have you not come to care for me, at least a little?”
“I do… like you, Marcus. But I told you, I do not wish for a true marriage. I must go. Good night.”
“Good night, Juliana.”
She left quickly, before she could change her mind. Polly awaited her in her room, wide-eyed with excitement at preparing her mistress for her wedding night. She helped Juliana out of her bridal raiment, and into a lace-trimmed nightgown. After brushing out her hair, she bade Juliana goodnight, telling her with an encouraging smile that she was only to ring for her the next morning when absolutely ready. It was a delic
ate hint that none of the servants would disturb her or his lordship. Once Polly was gone, Juliana slid under the new, luxurious coverlet of her four-poster bed. Alone, just as she wished.
She glanced over to the door that joined her rooms with the earl’s. To maintain appearances, he had had his things moved to that room. No one would know whether he visited her tonight or not. Although Polly might guess, she was too loyal to gossip.
She heard Marcus moving about in the other room, speaking with his valet. She curled up, wondering if what he had told her was the truth. Did he love her, or was he deluding himself and her in order to get what he desired?
What did it matter if he loved her or not? She turned restlessly in her bed. If she were to become his wife in truth, he would expect her to obey him, just as she had promised during the ceremony. She would lose her independence before she’d even had a chance to enjoy it.
Then she remembered what Pen had said about her parents, how they had loved each other and worked together as equals. Could she and Marcus have such a union? The possibility challenged everything that she had previously thought about life and marriage, all the plans she had made so carefully. Did he love her? And did she love him?
How could she be sure of anything, when a wanton longing for his touch turned her mind to jelly?
Marcus was disappointed, but not surprised that Juliana had resisted his advances on the night of their wedding. Knowing how strong-willed she was, he did not despair. He sensed that she cared for him more than she admitted, and that she longed to repeat the pleasures they’d shared over a month ago, as Lord Dare and Mademoiselle Juliette. Perhaps with a little patience, he would learn just why she so dreaded the prospect of a true marriage, and find a way to soothe her fears.
Over the next few days, they continued much as they had before, riding every day, and working together on such humdrum tasks as drafting new tenancy agreements, and making plans for a parish school. Yet somehow it all felt different now that they were alone. Marcus took advantage of their intimacy and began to woo his wife in earnest, using every art he could think of to please, attract and seduce his love, without breaking the rule she had imposed on him.