"Well, I haven't," Rodney flared indignantly. "Things like this have a way of getting around, you know. I won't have it said at my club that I was turned out on my wedding night."
Now it was Juliette's forehead that knitted in a single vertical line between her brows. A long silence followed. She understood his discomfort. With servants required in every element of a person's life, they tended to know everything, and their present staff was filled with many new and temporary additions who could not be trusted to keep quiet.
It would be cruel to embarrass him, she thought, particularly after his consideration for me. She smiled wanly.
"Well, all right, then. Just for this one night to avoid the gossip."
A glow of pleasure and relief spread across Rodney's features. "Shall I come with you now?"
"No! Wait until my maid has gone. Then come."
"But I could help you."
"Rodney! No!" And with that, Juliette crossed the threshold alone and soundly shut the door.
She was relieved Rodney didn't follow. What had gotten into him? But of course, there was his masculine pride to consider, and after what he had done for her, how could she refuse such a concession?
In a moment, the maid came and helped Juliette remove her gown and slip on a silver nightgown elegantly embroidered with a multitude of white roses. Then, letting down her mistress's golden curls, she brushed them vigorously.
After a time, Juliette dismissed her. "That is enough, Ellen. Thank you and good night."
"And a pleasant night to you, madam."
The maid had no sooner closed the door when there was a discreet knock and Rodney entered, smiling shyly, dressed in pajamas and a heavy burgundy robe.
Juliette had already climbed into bed and sat up clenching a sheet modestly beneath her chin as she peered between the velvet bed draperies. She pointed to a huge over¬stuffed chair in the corner. "I'm not sure it's very comfortable," she whispered. "But I'm afraid it's the best there is."
Indeed the chair was a monstrosity of ugliness. But now, seeing how useful it was going to be, Juliette was glad she hadn't had it removed as had been her first inclination.
Rodney's jaw twitched and his smile faded. "But I thought. . ."
"Please, Rodney!" Juliette said with a note of irritation. "No one will know if you sleep in the chair." He stood staring at her. "Certainly you hadn't imagined anything else!"
Rodney did, not answer, and grumbling words too low for her to hear, made his way to the chair and curled in its large seat beneath a blanket.
He spent the night there, jockeying for a comfortable position before finally dropping off and snoring discontentedly until dawn when he rose cold and cramped and, leaving the room, closed the door behind him with more than necessary force.
That same day at noon, Juliette's elegant white coach, strapped high with trunks and band boxes, headed down Windbury Street
carrying the newlyweds to their country house where a two-week honeymoon was scheduled.
In an hour they had reached the countryside. A bank of low clouds had covered the sun, ruining what had earlier promised to be a sunny day. The clumps of wild daisies did not show their faces, remaining closed in the dim light, and, a lark perched on the high grasses trilled three high notes and three low, over and over in a series of forlorn cries for its mate.
Inside the carriage, Juliette leaned back against velvet cushions, glancing occasionally at Rodney, who had taken the seat on the opposite side of the carriage; his chin plunged into his fist as he gazed absently out the window.
He had not spoken beyond a civil "good morning" in front of the servants, and now he seemed to Juliette like a dejected puppy. She sighed. No doubt he already regretted having married her. Obviously he had deluded himself into thinking that once they were married she would relax the terms of their bargain. But if she had not been sure of her feelings for Rodney before, last night had proven to her she could never have more than platonic relations with Rodney Keiths. It was a fact both of them would have to live with.
She would try to make it easy. She would make no demands on Rodney or ask any questions about his affairs. She glanced at him again. He would be as completely free as she would be. In time it would all be easier. But whatever happened, they were man and wife, and there was no going back for either of them.
It was nearly midnight when, at last, the carriage rolled through heavy iron gates thrown wide by a boy wearing a red uniform, and a small black cap. Huge oaks towered over them like sentinels and the horses' hooves echoed as they trotted along the cobblestone drive.
Inside the elegant manor a series of lights blinked on like eyes from the windows, and lanterns were brought out onto the porch. Rodney helped his bride out of the coach and, with dignity, presented her to the assembled staff who all bowed or curtseyed in turn.
Then, leading her up the steps, he walked inside, not bothering to lift her over the threshold, a fact not missed by the servants, Juliette was sure. And while she hadn't expected it, abandoning the custom made Juliette even sadder.
Rodney did not ask to sleep in her room that night and, after consuming a light meal in silence, he simply went to his own room, squaring his shoulders as he headed up the stairs.
Juliette did not see or speak to him again that night and, the next morning, Juliette found Rodney decidedly absent at breakfast.
There was only Daverson, Rodney's butler, dressed impeccably in gray coat and tails who served her tea.
"M'Lord has gone shooting, madam," he informed her. "He left quite early this morning and has been gone several hours, although I don't expect him to return for several more."
"I see," Juliette said. "Then Daverson, could you have my horse saddled for an hour after breakfast: I think I will go riding."
The butler nodded his balding gray head. "Yes, madam. Very good. I will tell the stable boy. And, madam," Daverson began with another bow. "Should you require anything?
, anything at all, please, don't hesitate to ask. We are all pleased and honored to serve you."
Juliette smiled at the old servant. Certainly he had seen enough to draw his own conclusions about the situation and, during the last two days, he had been extremely efficient and kind, anticipating her slightest whim.
Juliette was grateful. 'Thank you, Daverson. You've been most helpful in every way. It is a comfort to know you are running the household."
Daverson bowed again. "Of course, madam, and thank you.'
He moved off, leaving Juliette alone again in the overlarge dining room where a huge dark clock marked the time with a ticking pendulum that echoed in the empty room.
She felt deserted, although she couldn't really blame Rodney.
Now it was up to her to follow his example and find something with which to occupy herself while they endured this farce of a honeymoon before going their separate ways again.
A ride on High Times seemed the most obvious means of escape and sometime later Juliette found herself cantering over the lush green countryside, the manor receding behind her.
High Times was in blooming spirits, pulling constantly at the bit until finally Juliette released her tight grip on the reins and let him carry them at full gallop over the hills.
The wind whistled past her ears and brought tears to her eyes until at last slowing of his own accord, High Times relaxed into a slower canter.
Several miles passed under the big horse's hooves before Juliette pulled him up on the summit of a grassy knoll. From there she surveyed the valley below, a breeze tossing her blond curls. The meadow was blanketed with orange and yellow poppies and daisies, and the buzzing of busy bees mingled with the bright calls of quail.
To one side, the grassy sea of flowers stretched to meet the blue horizon, and on the other, the meadow terminated after a half mile in a dense forest of oaks and maples.
The invigorating air brought roses blooming in her cheeks, and for the moment, her problems forgotten, she propelled High Times into a trot
that took them down the hill into a narrow valley.
A stream ran there several yards wide and, turning down it, they trotted along its banks where the calls of birds blended with the sound of High Times's hoof beats against the soft earth.
The water bubbled on for a mile or so before picking up speed. The terrain inclined and the stream bed narrowed and deepened. A half mile further, Juliette was forced to pull High Times to a stop as they reached a cliff where the stream spilled over in a narrow splashing waterfall.
Glancing down at the muddy bank, Juliette was surprised to find hoof prints of other horses. From the way the grass was still pressed tightly down in the shape of the print, Juliette knew they had been made only a short time ago.
Suddenly, she felt uneasy, pricked by an inexplicable sense of danger. Her eyes darted around. They could be above her, she thought. Anyone out of the valley could easily escape her notice.
A warning throbbed in her veins and she felt urged to run away even as she tried to restrain the impulse. What if others are here? Certainly it doesn't mean they intend to harm me, she told herself. But even High Times was prancing uneasily and, once given his head, wasted no time in leaping up the steep sides of the valley to the top.
Quickly Juliette looked around, her heart plummeting as, from across the meadow, two men on horseback came galloping toward her.
PART VII
REVENGE
Chapter 42
High Times snorted as he leaped forward, his flying hooves marking the turf as he bolted into a headlong gallop away from the two men.
Over the rolling meadow they went, Juliette's heart pounding. Brandon! Of course. It was he, or perhaps his men. They had come to do whatever it was he planned. Oh, why had she been so foolish not to have taken a groom with her?
In spite of High Times's courage, she knew his energy had been depleted by the previous long gallop and she guessed the mounts of her pursuers were fresh. Leaning forward, Juliette urged the big horse on before looking wide-eyed over her shoulder at the riders closing the distance.
No, she couldn't hope to outrun them. The only possible escape was to reach the trees before they did and lose them there. Another nudge of her spur less heel sent High Times toward the forest, his long strides eating up the distance in a series of extended bounds that soon found her entering the dense growth.
Luckily, there was a path before her, narrow and partly obliterated by fallen leaves but still discernible, and bending low over the horse's neck, she urged him along it. Again Juliette looked over her shoulder, seeing the riders just entering the trees behind her.
The path ahead turned a corner and dropped down into a ravine so she was concealed from their view. At the bottom of the ravine Juliette pulled the big horse to a halt. Then spinning him at a right angle to the path, she sent him along the bottom of the ravine where fallen logs and exposed roots threatened to tangle the horse's legs at every step until they reached a large boulder and moved quickly behind it.
Jumping from her horse, Juliette stepped to his head, holding his soft muzzle cradled in her arms to keep him from calling to the other horses as she waited. The thundering of hooves drew nearer, and in only a moment, the two riders also dipped down into the ravine.
Juliette held her breath, peering from her hiding place and praying for them to continue past. She heard one of them curse as his horse stumbled over an exposed root and, fell to the ground in a confusion of flailing limbs.
From behind the rock, Juliette watched the man roughly haul the horse to its feet. He looked quite tall though his face remained hidden beneath a hat, and she didn't recognize him.
He leapt onto his horse, and to Juliette's relief, both riders continued along the same path, galloping away in the distance. High Times was in a lather of sweat when they finally arrived home and, jumping from the saddle, Juliette tossed the reins to a groom before running up the stone steps and through the massive door.
Once inside, she didn't even acknowledge Daverson's formal "Good afternoon" before asking,
"Where is my . . . my husband?"
"M'lord returned while you were out, madam. But now he is gone again himself. He left word that you should not expect him for dinner. I took the liberty of informing the cook."
"Yes, of course," Juliette said, inwardly frustrated and hurt.
But what had she expected? Surely she didn't imagine Rodney would be at home waiting for her. They hardly had spoken in two days.
"Thank you, Daverson," Juliette said, recovering herself and realizing she must seem like a madwoman.
"Is there something wrong, madam?"
"No, nothing!" she said too quickly.
"Will that be all, madam?"
"Yes. For the moment at least."
"Very well, madam." Daverson bowed stiffly.
In a brief flickering expression, Juliette smiled in return, wondering if she should confide in the servant. What if the men followed her here? No, she concluded after a moment’s thought. Not even Brandon would be so bold. So raising her chin, she turned and with as much calm dignity as she could manage, climbed the stairs to the privacy of her bedroom.
That night, after midnight, when Rodney still hadn't arrived home, Juliette began to worry, and by two o'clock was pacing the floor and nearly driving herself mad with unanswered questions. What could Brandon want from her now? Her marriage to Rodney was supposed to have prevented just such an occurrence. Well, so much for that! But maybe it wasn't Brandon at all.
Maybe they were highwaymen trying to rob her? Would they try again? Well, she would be sure never to ride alone, at least for now. But where was Rodney? Had he been waylaid, or worse? She dared not even think further, but continued to pace until the wheels of a phaeton and the hoof beats of a single horse told her Rodney had arrived.
Having hours ago dismissed the servants for the night, Juliette let him in herself. But even as she opened the door, she could smell the reek of liquor and she didn't need to see his bloodshot eyes or disordered clothes to know he was unscathed except for apparently losing a contest with tremendous portions of Scotch.
Squinting, Rodney peered at her in the dim light and seeing it was she and not Daverson, he swept an arm before himself in a wide courtly bow that mocked her.
"Good evening, Madam Keiths," he slurred, grinning drunkenly. "Or shall I still address you as Miss Thorpe?" He leered up and down her pale lavender dressing gown.
Fear, rage, frustration all collided within Juliette as she stood there, fists clenched at her sides trying to control her temper. "Where have you been? And what do you mean coming home in this . . . this disgusting state?"
Rodney's face twisted in a grimace. He smiled cockeyed as he took her arm, unsteadily propelling her through the hall and into the library before shutting the double doors behind them.
Juliette let herself be led until they were assured of privacy, then, jerking loose from his hold, she silently crossed the room to close the tall windows blown open by the wind that filled the draperies like sails.
Oh, how could he? She thought, trying to control her boiling fury. And when she turned back to Rodney, she found him bending over a decanter of Scotch, gracelessly slopping a portion into a glass, and leaving behind a brown puddle on the table's shiny surface.
"Where have you been?" she repeated. In the lamplight she could see he was even drunker than she first thought.
"With Squire Longsworth," he slurred. "We've been having a little chat, he and I, and I've been telling I’m all about you and me."
Juliette's face darkened. She could only imagine what Rodney had confided in his present condition. No doubt when he sobered up, he would be as mortified as she.
"He says I'm a bloody fool," Rodney rolled his eyes in her direction. "And I . . . I agree with him," he finished, downing the drink with a practiced flick of his wrist that Juliette found even more aggravating.
She stood watching, her arms crossed, all her fear now turned to anger. "I suppose it doesn't m
atter to you that I was attacked today?" she began. "That two men, and I don't know who they were, chased me home."
Rodney paused and sat down heavily as he peered at her through glazed corneas.
"Two men?" he asked stupidly.
Juliette came toward him like a fury. "Yes! I narrowly escaped. And all night I've been worried to death about you. I see that I should have known better!"
Rodney looked blank, appearing not to have heard.
In frustration, Juliette twisted her slipper heel into the carpet and glared at him. "You are disgusting," she said. "If you had any decency you could at least be interested in what I'm telling you. Don't you care that your wife was almost waylaid, or robbed, or even raped today?"
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