“Do you see him?” Cordelia demanded, unhappy with her mask because the eyeholes had been cut too small. “He promised to join us.”
Lord Fisken would be difficult to find among the thousands of people in attendance. The revelers were a mix of masked merrymakers, members of the lower class and the fashionable. The latter did not seem to care that they were mingling with their inferiors. Amusements and strong spirits were enjoyed by one and all.
“In this throng, the sensible approach for Lord Fisken would be to search for us near the orchestra.”
When Cordelia did not agree, Juliana glanced back at her. The poor thing was still struggling with her exotic mask. “Here, permit me.”
Juliana repositioned her sister’s mask. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Hurry, my girls,” their mother implored, quickening her pace. “Do you not hear the music? We are late!”
“Maman, there is no cause for haste,” Juliana said, her voice rich with laughter as the marchioness revealed a goodly portion of ankle to anyone curious enough to watch the harried quartet. “Music is for one’s ears, not eyes.”
“I will tolerate none of your cheek, Juliana.” Her mother gave her an exasperated look. “Poor Lord Fisken will think that we have abandoned him.”
Dear heaven, Juliana silently mused, spare her the misery of fretting mothers and anxious sisters in love. They entered the Grove; the twinkling lights of the pavilion and music beckoned. Beneath the colonnades, people sampled their supper boxes and washed their meal down with punch or wine.
“Thank goodness,” Lucilla muttered, relieved that she and her family had arrived at their destination slightly ruffled but relatively in one piece.
Juliana closed her eyes and savored the music. It flowed through her and was as heady as wine to her senses. Music was something that she understood. It humbled and awed her and brought comfort to those who despaired.
She opened her eyes as the final notes of the piece waned. There was a brief pause while the musicians shuffled papers and readied their instruments. Amid the laughter and the low din of hundreds of conversations, there was anticipation in the air.
“It appears we have not missed Miss Povey’s performance, after all,” Juliana said, not really addressing anyone in particular.
Her mother placed her hand on Juliana’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. This prompted Juliana to turn her head to the side and kiss the older woman’s fingers.
The orchestra began to play.
Juliana’s head snapped upright at the first familiar notes. This was her sonata! With her hand over her mouth, her brilliant green gaze shifted from Lucilla, her mother, and Cordelia.
This was Juliana’s composition that she teasingly had named “Passion.” She had composed it solely for the pianoforte. However, someone had altered her arrangement so the fluid notes of a violin and flute blended harmoniously with the pianoforte.
The beauty of the piece overwhelmed her.
When the trio had finished, everyone applauded with such enthusiasm, Juliana could no longer fight back her tears.
“Maman,” she sobbed, removing her mask. “How is this possible?”
Lucilla and Cordelia removed their masks. There were joyful tears in their eyes, too.
The marchioness untied her mask. “Your beautiful music was meant to be shared, my girl. Oh, how proud your father would be!”
Juliana gave her mother a fierce hug. “How did you manage it? Who did you bribe?”
Lady Duncombe pulled back from their embrace laughing. “No one. I wish I could take the credit. Nevertheless, I was only responsible for getting you here in time for the performance.”
“And you saw how well that went,” Cordelia teased.
Juliana’s forehead creased in puzzlement. “Then who? Lord Kyd?”
The marchioness waved her hand in a careless gesture. “Granted, he had his hand in this business. Still, there is another . . .” She let her words trail off as she nodded shrewdly at someone who was standing just beyond Juliana’s shoulder.
No, it could not be . . .
Juliana whirled around, her heart in her throat at the slightest chance she might be wrong.
Dressed magnificently in black, Sin tugged the black velvet mask from his face. His hazel green eyes flared in fierce pleasure as he noticed that she had worn his brooch this evening. Extending his bent arm, he said huskily, “Care to walk with me beneath the stars, my bewitching lybbestre?”
Chapter Twenty-eight
A SPEECHLESS JULIANA was a small wonder to behold. However, Alexius did not expect the lady to remain docile for long. With Lady Duncombe’s blessing, he had tucked Juliana’s arm into the crook of his arm and led her out of the Grove.
“I do not understand,” she said finally, her voice cracking with emotion. “Why did you do it?”
Privacy was elusive along the main walkways, so Alexius tugged her off the path lit by variegated lamps and into the shadows a small, narrow copse of elm trees provided.
Alexius wiped the tears on her cheeks away with his thumb.
“There, there, love, I did not mean to make you cry,” he crooned, and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “You have shed enough of them on my behalf.”
Juliana shuddered. “If you did this out of pity—”
“Not pity,” he said, cutting off her accusation. “I did this—I know about your business venture with Lord Kyd.”
“How could you?”
Alexius smiled at her outrage. It was a sign that his lybbestre had recovered from her shock and was ready to engage him as his equal. He wanted to win her fairly.
“I am Kyd’s silent partner in his publishing venture.”
“What?”
The lamps from the walkway provided enough light for Alexius to glimpse Juliana’s disbelief. She gave him an unladylike shove. Laughing, Alexius stumbled back against the trunk of an elm tree.
“How could you?”
He gently folded his hand over hers and held it over his heart. “How could I not? I know little about composing, but your music was meant to be heard beyond your mother’s drawing room. Forgive me for not truly understanding until now what it meant to you.”
“This is unlike you,” she said, shaking her head. “This is another one of your games—”
Alexius seized her by the shoulders and spun her about so that her back was pressed against the trunk of the tree. “You are correct. I do want something from you. I would give away my fortune and title to claim it. I want your forgiveness.”
“Sin—”
“Not Sin,” he said bitterly. “Sin was taught selfishness from the cradle. It is all he ever knew until he glanced up and saw you in the Lettlecotts’ hazel tree. He would tell you pretty lies, and manipulate you until you gave him what he craved.”
He bowed his head, lightly touching his forehead to hers. “However, Alexius loves you. He longs to hold you in his arms each night. He will fight your battles, and grant all your unspoken dreams.”
Alexius traced the arch of each eyebrow with featherlike kisses.
“Granted, Sin is as much a part of me as Alexius,” he said, slightly amused by his flaws as much as he was about his tarnished virtues. “Nevertheless, neither side can be whole without you. If you will have me, I wish to marry you.”
“Oh!”
It was not the response Alexius had conjured in his mind.
She hiccupped and reached for her reticule, realizing belatedly that she had dropped it when she saw him in the Grove. Most likely her family had retrieved it.
Alexius retrieved a handkerchief from the inner pocket of his coat and handed it to her. “You cannot forgive me,” he said dully.
She grimaced, looking as tormented as he felt. “My lord, it is not so simple.”
“It never is, my dear cousin,” Lord Duncombe said, pressing the muzzle of his loaded pistol to the back of Sin’s head.
Juliana watched in horror as Sin slowly straighte
ned. He would have stepped away, in a noble attempt to protect her from the discharge of her cousin’s pistol, but she grabbed Sin’s hands.
Mute fury burned in Sin’s hazel green eyes. How-ever, Juliana shook her head and would not release him.
Lord Duncombe chuckled at their silent deadlock of wills. “Juliana has a stubborn streak that can oftentimes be troublesome, can it not, Sinclair?”
Without taking his gaze from Sin’s head, her cousin said, “Be a good girl, and move away from Sinclair. That is such a lovely dress. If I grow impatient, I would not want to muss it with your lover’s blood and gore.”
“Heed him,” Sin said tersely, his eyes willing her to comply.
Reluctantly Juliana let go of Sin’s hands and took several steps to the right.
“Not too far, Cousin,” Lord Duncombe scolded. “You will be unhappy with the outcome should you think to run for help.”
In the distance, fireworks exploded overhead. The spectators cheered with each salvo, drowning out the orchestra. The walkway was empty; the shadows reaching across the pebbled path reminded her of spectral fingers. Even if Juliana could have cried out to a passerby, her cousin would discharge his pistol and Sin would be dead.
Juliana licked the dryness from her lips. “Cousin, I beg you to end this madness. Lower the pistol, and I—I will leave with you.”
“No!”
She ignored Sin’s guttural outburst.
“You asked for the family’s forgiveness.” She cast a nervous look at Sin. “You have it. Please.”
Lord Duncombe sneered. “I doubt your lover will be so generous. Sinclair and his friends have been scouring London for me, though I have managed to elude them for more than a week.”
Sin crossed his arms. Juliana silently marveled at his composure. Though he was noticeably enraged, one would never guess that he was concerned that he had the barrel of a pistol aimed at his head. “Who helped you? Stepkins?”
“Lucilla’s Mr. Stepkins?” Juliana asked, grateful that her sister had swiftly recovered from her loss.
“Stepkins is a Bow Street runner,” Sin told Juliana. “Or was. Magistrates tend to frown upon kidnapping and murder.”
“Enough!”
Juliana visibly flinched at her cousin’s thundering order.
“How I eluded you and your friends is not important,” he said, digging the barrel of the pistol into the back of Sin’s head. “Juliana, come to me. Regrettably, Sinclair is about to face his demise at the hands of a footpad.”
“No!”
For the first time, Lord Duncombe stared at her, his face twisted with hurt and disbelief. “Do you love him so much that you are willing to die in his stead?”
Juliana somberly nodded. “Yes.”
Her cousin’s eyes flared at her insolence. A growl rumbled in his throat as he redirected his aim at Juliana’s horrified face.
Sin did not hesitate.
He slammed his arm skyward, altering Duncombe’s aim. Juliana covered her ears and screamed as the pistol discharged harmlessly into the air.
Or so it had seemed.
Her cousin’s face went white and he staggered back a step. Sin plucked the pistol from the marquess’s hand before he thought to use it as a club. Lord Duncombe collapsed in Sin’s arms.
Juliana started as she realized that they were not alone. Three men seemed to rise up from the shadows. They were Sin’s friends: Lord Vanewright, Lord Sainthill, and Lord Chillingsworth. Clutched in Chillingsworth’s lowered hand was a pistol.
“Did I kill him?”
Sin crouched down and lowered the injured marquess to the ground.
“Time will tell.”
“I will find a constable,” Lord Vanewright volunteered. He set off down the walkway at a brisk pace.
Lord Chillingsworth did not seem to care one way or the other if her cousin perished. He pointed the pistol in Sin’s general direction. “Christ, Sinclair, I thought you were planning to talk the bastard to death.”
Sin glared up at his friend. “I was keeping him distracted so one of you could knock him out before Juliana taunted him into shooting her.”
Sin’s angry gaze narrowed on her. His expression softened. “So you love me.”
Juliana almost choked on her tongue. The man was an arrogant beast to tease her after everything they had been through. Overcome with a nauseating wave of dizziness, she brought her hand to her head and swayed.
“Catch her!”
There was nothing Juliana could do to prevent the cloying blackness from swallowing her.
Chapter Twenty-nine
IT HAD BEEN a difficult night for everyone.
With her hand on the balustrade, Juliana slowly climbed the stairs as feelings of uncertainty threatened her newly won composure. It had been humiliating to awaken to the acrid scent of hartshorn as her frantic mother wafted her favorite silver oblong-shaped vinaigrette under Juliana’s nose.
A large crowd had gathered around them. The curious came to see the dying man. Though to be fair, there were some who just wanted to help. There had been familiar faces, and sober ones of authority. In the confusion, her mother and sisters had bundled Juliana into a coach with the assistance of Sin’s friends.
No one seemed to know Sin’s whereabouts.
Hours later, when a constable had knocked on the front door of her family’s town house, Juliana had to accept the fact that Sin was deliberately distancing himself from her and her family. As she thought about those frightening minutes when her cousin aimed the pistol at Sin’s head, she realized that Sin and his friends had set a trap for Lord Duncombe. The outcome had not gone according to plan.
Juliana padded silently down the hall until she reached the bedchamber. She raised her fist to knock and then lowered her arm until her fingers closed around the latch. The battle she was about to initiate would not be won by fairness.
She opened the door and stepped into the dark interior.
“You should be in bed.”
It was hardly the welcome she expected or deserved; however, Juliana was willing to make allowances. She stepped back into the hallway and retrieved one of the lit lamps.
“Good evening, Sinclair,” she said brightly. “Thank you for inquiring after my health.”
She set the lamp on the table beside Sin’s bed.
The marquess cursed under his breath and rolled away from her. Juliana pursed her lips as she watched as he stood and wrapped a sheet around his waist. She had not considered that he slept naked in his bed.
“Juliana.” He sat on the edge of the mattress and held out his hand. She joined him on the other side of the bed and placed her hand within his, trying not to wince at his bone-crushing grip. “Are you hurt?”
She gave him a lopsided smile. “Only my dignity. I have never swooned in my life, and I found the experience rather mortifying.”
Juliana had hoped to make him smile. Strangely, her small attempt at humor only seemed to make things worse.
The gloom of the bedchamber cast Sin’s face in shadows. There had been a time when she would have backed away from his forbidding expression.
“Your cousin is dead.”
“I know,” she said softly, and sat down on the mattress beside Sin. “A constable came to the house.”
Sin’s exhale was a weary sigh. “There will be an official inquiry. However, I doubt the magistrate will hold Frost responsible. After all, the man did save both our lives.”
Juliana silently agreed. She was not certain that she would ever like Lord Chillingsworth, but she was grateful for his timely assistance. “Did you think that I would blame you?”
Sin played with one of her blond curls. She had not bothered pinning up her hair, because she knew he liked it best when it was down.
“The plan was to lure Duncombe out of hiding. I had expected Duncombe would follow us. The loaded pistol pressed to my head was unforeseen.”
Juliana curled her fingers over her lips and giggled.
Si
n pushed her onto her back and braced his arm against the mattress to prevent her from sitting up. “The swoon must have addled your brain if you find any of this unpleasant business humorous.”
She looked up at him with tears and haunting images of the incident swimming in her green eyes. “I found nothing amusing about my cousin’s desire to shoot you. Or me.”
Her heart had stuttered painfully in her chest when Lord Duncombe had aimed the pistol at her head.
“Hush; banish what might have happened from your thoughts,” Sin said, affectionately brushing the errant strands of hair from her face. “You are not responsible for your cousin’s actions.”
“Neither are you.”
His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to one side as he realized she had neatly maneuvered him toward the point that she wanted to impress upon him. “You think you are so clever.”
“I have learned from a master. I have been studying your technique for weeks,” she said cheekily.
Some of the shadows faded from his eyes. Sin untied her cloak, and what she was wearing underneath had him swearing. “Christ, what possessed you to wander the streets of London in your nightgown?”
“Oh, do not be so prudish,” Juliana admonished, shrugging off her cloak. “The cloak covered me from head to ankle. Hembry did not even notice my attire when he opened the door and let me in.”
Her nonchalance pricked Sin’s temper. He pulled her up so that she was sitting on the back of her heels. “If word of your mischief gets back to your mother, she will lock you in your bedchamber for a month.”
Juliana bit her lip to hide her smile. Her beloved rogue was sounding awfully like an irate husband. She tipped her chin in a haughty fashion. “Not if you marry me, Alexius.”
Sin froze at her declaration.
Brazenly she pulled off her nightgown and tossed it onto the floor.
All Night With A Rogue Page 24