"Apparently you didn't!"
Lawrence stared at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Well, look at you!" Philip said impatiently, sweeping his hand up and down to indicate the fine evening clothes Lawrence was now putting on.
"You never had to sleep in the corridors of the Marshalsea, or sell your body to randy women who wanted to ride you with spurs on. Never had to face ten years of penal servitude in the Antipodes. Fight every day of your life for food, water, safety, your virtue, such as I had left after all that."
Lawrence's eyes widened at his friend's admission of his former life.
Philip continued, "Juliet is an innocent girl! I was a prostitute and labeled a criminal, though I did nothing wrong apart from sell that which was mine to save my family from debtor's prison. And being so naive that I fell in with the wrong crowd.
"You think you have cause to be aggrieved against Juliet? Matthew? My wife's father tried to ruin me, yet I forgave her! I knew she had had no part in what he had tried to do to me and my family. Why can you not see that even if Matthew did cheat you, which he didn't, Juliet knows nothing of this. She couldn't possibly. She was a small child, and--"
"She still spread her legs for me! Who wants to marry a whore?"
Philip's sucked-in breath told Lawrence he had gone too far. His tone was low, but made his outrage all the more powerful. "I'm sick of this double standard, the rake who looks down at sexually independent women. She's young, healthy, and passionate. What's wrong with that? She's heard about you from us, only good things, and you must have, well, sparked each other off. She is not a harlot, and this is not a bordello. I give you my word. As I've told you, we need to go to Tavistock Crescent to clear this up.
"And I was a whore, yet my wife married me. Loves me. You don't have to know me after today, but I would like to try to help you and Juliet out of this hellish muddle."
Lawrence was genuinely mortified at what he had said. He had always liked Philip, admired him. "Philip, I didn't mean--"
He heaved a sigh and shook his head. "The trouble is you don't know what you mean, Lawrence. You still haven't got over that explosive temper of yours, your impetuousness and unwillingness to back down even when you know you've made a mistake. And your suspicious nature is worse than ever.
"But time is pressing onwards. I need to speak to Matthew for a minute, and then you need to come with me around the corner to Tavistock Crescent."
Lawrence raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, then resumed his dressing. "I don't suppose I have much choice, do I?"
"No, I don't think you do," Philip said quietly. "You really don't want to fight me on this."
"All right. You go see Matthew. I'm going to poke my nose into every room in this house and question every servant."
"Just be careful how you phrase the questions, so they don't think you're an utter madman."
Lawrence rolled his eyes drolly. "Very funny."
Philip shook his head and sighed. "Hardly. There's nothing amusing about this at all, Lawrence. I pity you. And Juliet. But I'll do my best to make sure all of this turns out well. "
Philip opened the door to the bathroom a crack, and peered out.
Juliet, clad only in a chemise, jumped and cowered behind her sister-in-law. Her eyes were reddened, her cheeks still damp.
Lawrence had never seen a more moving sight in his life. He would have reached for her if his own fury had not stayed his hand.
He forced himself to tear his gaze away from her, and marched out of the room with the air of a man being led to the scaffold.
"Oh God, he hates me now. Thinks I'm a prostitute! What on earth?" Juliet gasped as soon as he had gone.
"Some men think that after they've had a woman. They don't ever stop to consider that they're the cause of their fall," Althea said mildly.
"But those horrible things he said, and his fury with Matthew. They looked as though they were fit to kill each other."
Althea shrugged one shoulder. "Old family history. I don't know all the details myself. But you need to face the facts, pet. He has compromised you, and could have left you pregnant. You need to think about whether or not you really want to marry him, because Matthew is going to have to press for that."
"Marry him? But Lawrence hates me now."
"He's very angry, but you're a gorgeous and loving woman. How could he hate your beauty and decency?"
Juliet sniffed, seeking some crumbs of comfort from this desperate situation. "He actually did talk about getting engaged, being married, before everything erupted into chaos."
"There you are then." Althea nodded with satisfaction.
Juliet looked up a bit more brightly. "He said he had to go take care of a few unpleasant duties. That when he came back we would talk about our future together. But Matthew came in to look about going riding, and, well, you know--"
Althea sighed, and sat down at the foot of the bed. She patted the mattress, and Juliet joined her. "I may as well tell you, Lawrence was supposed to be marrying Matilda this morning."
"This morning? And yet he slept with me last night? Then he is as debauched as she is!" Juliet gasped in horror. "I could never marry a man like that!"
"To be fair, I don't think he's really that bad. She pounced on him as soon as he came back from India, monopolised him, offered herself as the perfect wife to help him advance his business, by all accounts. It was more of a marriage of commercial interests than a romance, according to the latest on-dit, though how he could have been so fooled by her I have no idea. Why, just last week--"
She nodded. "I know. I've heard all about it. But surely he couldn't have been so deceived in Matilda?"
"I think he was," Althea said pensively. "So you would be saving him from a fate worse than death if you were to marry him. With all of your skills and intelligence, he would have commercial success beyond his wildest dreams. But even better than that, he would have a wife who cared about him, whom he could love."
"Love?" Juliet shook her head. "He hates the sight of me. You saw the way he looked at me just now."
"Like he wanted to sweep you into his arms and kiss your tears away."
"Like he wanted to throttle me with his bare hands for ruining his life," Juliet maintained.
Althea sighed. "To be fair, he's said to be a complicated and somewhat difficult chap. So the truth is somewhere in between the two, I should think. The thing is, can you bear to save him from himself and Matilda? Stand being married to him?"
"If it were only the bedroom part, I would marry him in an instant without a second's regret or doubt."
Althea grinned. "That good, eh?"
"Incredible. I had no idea--"
"But you're saying you know there's a lot more to marriage than that. And there most certainly is." She patted her sister-in-law on the shoulder. "But Lawrence was a Rakehell, good family and background, second son, unfortunate parents, and there was a scandal about his brother and his wife.
"Your aunt Lady Pemberton is going to scream like a banshee when she finds out about this, one way or the other. It's by no means going to be easy, but it could be worse, and we'll all do what we can to help. So I think you're going to have to accept the fact that the two of you must marry if you want to save yourselves from social disaster."
"I don't care for myself. I can go back to Dorset and live as quietly and obscurely as I did before you and my brother were kind enough to try to rescue a poor little country mouse. But I would hate to think of Aunt ruining the poor man for something that was at least half my fault. I could have stopped him. I didn't. I've made my bed, as they saying goes.
"And besides, there's one part of me that really enjoys triumphing over Matilda, snatching away her prize right out from under her nose. She's a virago and trull. She would make him miserable. I can help Lawrence, I'm sure I can."
Juliet lifted her chin proudly, her resolve growing more firm by the moment. "If he can get to know me and find it in his heart to forgive me for whatever he t
hinks I've done wrong, then I think we can have a good future together, even an exciting and happy one."
Althea searched her face, looking for any sign of fear or hesitation. She saw none. In fact, she had never seen her sister-in-law so glowing. At length, she nodded.
"Very good, Juliet. We're all in agreement about what needs to be done for the best, and I agree with you. Marrying Lawrence could well be the making of him, though with typical male pride he'll most likely never admit it. But he is certainly most taken with you."
The blond woman rose from the bed. "So I shall ring for the maid. Choose your best gown, have a bath and do your hair. I'll give you something to wash with which is said to help ward off pregnancy. Our Rakehell friend Jonathan Deveril the vicar is in Town for the blessing of the new addition to the clinic tomorrow. I'll send round to him, tell him to bring the flowers and a special license."
"But Lawrence hasn't agreed--"
"If he values his hide he will."
"Oh please, Matthew can't kill him--" Juliet begged.
Althea patted her hand and soothed, "He won't, I promise. But Matthew isn't stupid. He won't let you be ruined. And whatever happened between them all those years ago, I'm sure there was some misunderstanding. Matthew wouldn't want to see his old friend fed to a wolf like Matilda any more than you would. It'll be all right, really."
Juliet nodded and dried her eyes. "All right." She slipped off the mattress and padded towards her wardrobe to do as her sister-in-law had suggested and find a fine gown to be married in.
Married. To Lawrence Howard. The thought made her heart dance despite her trepidation.
"Very well. I'll get ready and wait for you here."
CHAPTER SIX
Lawrence prowled from room to room. Every single on in the townhouse was exactly the same. Silent. He could see signs of habitation in some of the bedrooms, but all of the toilet articles were masculine, and the few scanty clothes in the wardrobes and drawers and valises suggested a temporary sojourn, not permanent residence.
Only in the room next to Juliet's and the large master suite were there any signs of female inhabitants, and the clothes and underthings were so unobjectionable, plain even, that he felt sordid even looking at them.
Those in the master suite were alongside many masculine personal items of clothing, and there was a much more noticeable number of garments and other more personal items such as books and jewels than in any of the other chambers.
Philip came in and pointed at one stage. "This is my room," he said, indicating the plain room in burgundy with blue accents. "I would invite you to search my pockets and so on, but time is pressing, as you know."
"Well, what is my sentence to be? Duel or marriage? Both equally deadly in the long run, I'm sure," Lawrence drawled.
His companion spread his hands wide. "It's entirely up to you. Matthew has agreed to act on your behalf with Matilda to explain this unfortunate contretemps. You have only to say."
Lawrence scowled. "Damn it, this is bloody blackmail. I won't stand--"
Philip looked at him steadily. "You can walk out at any time. Michael shall act as his second. I hope you'll understand if Blake and I refuse to stand up with you, though Blake is willing to be the doctor in the proceedings if the two of you can't sort this out in a more civilised manner."
"And what does J--" He paused.
Philip raised his brows in inquiry.
"What does the lady say about all of this?" The insulting emphasis on the word 'lady' was unmistakable.
"What do you think she would say? That she doesn't want you killed for something which is half her fault. She's a lovely woman, educated and accomplished. You could do a damned sight worse. In fact, I think Juliet will be the making of you."
"The ruin of me, you mean, just as you all planned," Lawrence accused angrily.
Philip swept his hand around the room and raised it to the heavens. "Look at this house! Do you really think it's a bordello?"
"One of the more high-class ones."
Philip seized his arm.
"What are you--" he exclaimed as his old friend started to drag him out the door.
"Taking you to Tavistock Crescent, of course."
Philip nodded at Matthew in the foyer as they departed.
As soon as they were gone, Matthew fetched his cloak, off to see Matilda. "Michael, can you come with me for moral support? And bring pen and paper, please. I shall fetch all the cash in the safe and be with you presently."
They met in the foyer again a few moments later.
"Darling, I'll be back soon!" he called up to his wife, and headed off on his errand with both a heavy heart, and a swing in his step. Matilda would not be easy, but the delight at her having lost such a prize conquest was just too delicious for words. Now if only he could understand how Lawrence had ever managed to seduce his sister….
Both calls took very little time.
Matthew went to Matilda, and said his piece with Blake standing by.
She blanched, took the money, fuming all the while, and signed the paper he thrust in front of her. Then they headed back to the Square to wait for Jonathan to arrive to perform the ceremony.
After some reluctance on the part of the doorkeeper at 17 Tavistock Crescent to open the portal, a buxom woman with the most impossible shade of red hair came to speak with them.
She stared and stared. When she at last found her tongue she exclaimed, "Bless my soul, if it isn't Philip Harris."
"That never was my real name, Bessie, any more than yours was Cleopatra in your heyday. But I'm short on time and need some answers. Matthew Sampson."
"Oh aye?"
"When's the last time you saw him?"
"Last night. Set up an appointment with me top girl last night for a friend, a last hurrah before his wedding this morning."
"I see." He gave Lawrence a meaning look.
Lawrence scowled back but remained silent.
"So what happened, Bessie?"
"Nothing. He was a no show. Maybe the lad got cold feet. Either that or he ended up jiggling giblets with someone from the club. Matthew waited for a time, then ended up having the rest of the hour to himself.
"Must say it's pretty bad form, though. Every man in London would kill for an hour with her. Normally I only rents her out for fifteen minutes at a time. Keeps them all panting to come back night after night. Her dance card is well and truly filled."
Lawrence stared around him at the dark garish decor and could hear the susurration of sensual sounds in the background, murmurs, laughs, pants, and the occasional giggle or gasp.
"Can we see her now?"
"No can do, not even for pay. She's tied up until noon and I would have a riot on my hands if I told any one of the bucks they had to wait."
"Bessie, for old time's sake. Just one minute of her time, I swear."
"No, no, it's all right. If I could just have a look around?" Lawrence asked.
"Surely, sir. Not seen you around here before. Must be just back from overseas with that tawny weathered look of yours. There are other women you can see besides Belinda, you know. Just go on through and see what strikes your fancy."
Around the room in twos, threes and even fours were a bevy of beauties in various states of deshabille, but rather than looking sultry, they seemed bored and tired, hollow-eyed. Some men still lingered, no doubt to see the beauteous Belinda.
Lawrence hadn't seen so much pink naked flesh since he had viewed the pigsty on the deck of the ship which had brought him home from Calcutta. Not a single one of the women held a candle to Juliet, he had to admit. They all looked so hard, world-weary, and none of their figures could compare.
But the women caught his eye only fleetingly. Lawrence gaped at the full-sized painting of the Dionysian orgy which took up the entire length and height of the drawing room, and was notable for its anatomical detail and the enthusiasm depicted.
Even Philip blanched at the sight. "I say, Bessie, that's enough to put me off my di
nner."
"You always was too squeamish and kind-hearted for your own good. Never did like the trade, though God knows you excelled at it."
"More like the women who pursued me did. But I paid my dues in Australia, and am happily married to a wonderful wife and have superb children."
"And does she know about--"
Philip nodded. "She does, and she loves me all the same."
Bessie heaved a sentimental sigh. "I'm glad you were one of the lucky ones, Philip, really I am. Gives us all hope. Those of us who want to leave, of course. Some of us enjoy it. Not many, though. Can't recall the last time I had a good tail-tickle with someone who knew what he was doing."
The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5 Page 7