"Wonderful. They've all been coming in in droves," Juliet told her, smiling from ear to ear."Thank you and Bryony so much for your help. The Assam is definitely winning out. People love the full body. But they are buying the Darjeeling too for fine company. So both have been successful."
Randall nodded. "So I see. The shelves look as though they've been hit by locusts."
Isolde beamed. "Good, I'm so glad."
"Thank you. You and Bryony. Come sit down and have something gratis, both of you," she offered, as a table emptied.
They thanked her and settled into their seats to read the menu, while everyone else in the tea room tried not to stare at the Earl in their midst.
Despite his internal reasoning, Lawrence was scowling. As soon as he had his wife alone, he declared, "Do you have to tell everyone all our business?"
"This is my business too, or had you forgotten?" Juliet said in clipped tones. "And she helped."
"Yes, and he helped ruin me."
"Don't be absurd," she fired back. "That's not true, and you know it. Randall would have been little more than a child when you left for India. Besides, you're not ruined. Look around you at all you have. Unless you think so little of all this that it counts for nothing with you." She waved her hand around the room, and then placed it flat in the middle of her chest.
"All the more reason to be wary. Because now I have so much more to lose," he hissed.
"That's not going to happen--"
"Why not?"
"Because they're friends. Friends don't stab each other in the back. Do you really think the two Avenel wives have nothing better to do with their time than help their husbands plot against you? And it was Bryony who showed me the Han's tea. She was the one who warned us."
"The better to put us off the scent!" he accused in a bitter tone. "They could all be responsible for—"
Juliet shook her head pityingly. The timing was too perfect to be a coincidence. She was to open her tea shop, Matilda showed up in the neighbourhood, and a new cheap tea started to flood the market to undercut her in Bath and Bristol. But not London?
"Is the Han's tea in London?" she asked him.
"I don't know," he replied, surprised by the question, but thinking it a good one. "I can find out."
"I'll pack for you as soon as we get home."
Lawrence shook his head. "Oh no, I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you tomorrow."
"Pardon?"
"You're looking worn out and I'm taking you home, and you're taking the weekend off," he said, cuffing her elbow possessively and already starting to lead her toward the door.
She started to dig her heels in. "But--"
He continued to tow her by the arm across the room towards the cloak pegs. "You've achieved a huge success thus far. But I will not have you overdoing things. I'm delighted it's all gone so well. However, we're not exactly fighting to keep the wolves from the door."
"No, but to build a future for the boys and our children. I'm glad to do it."
"Fetch your cloak and bonnet. You're coming home now."
She bristled. "Back to ordering me around again? Just trying to coerce me into bed?"
She had not gone into his room since the night they had quarrelled in front of the boys.
He sighed and shook his head. "No, I don't want to coerce or bully you, but surely you must see I want..."
She stepped away from him to speak to a woman trying to catch her attention, and he grew more and more angry.
"I liked it better when I had you all to myself," he grumbled when they were at last alone again.
"Aye, continually naked like a houri at your beck and call. But you're the one who chose not to have a honeymoon, went back to London, went up North. You chose to leave me for weeks on my own with only one note in all that time to tell me you were alive or dead."
"But that was business! I didn't want--"
"And this is business," she hissed. "So please stop shouting in front of all our patrons."
They all looked away politely, but she could see they were all dying to know what the striking couple was arguing about.
He shook his head. "You are not evading me that easily. You're my wife and--"
She heaved a resigned sigh, knowing this was one battle she was not going to win. She reached around behind her back, took off her apron, and went over to the serving counter to tuck it away. She said good night to Sally the chief server. "I'll see you Monday."
"Yes, Miss. Don't worry, it will be fine."
She grabbed her cloak and reticule from the small staff cloakroom, and sat silently all the way home, despite his best efforts to make small talk.
Lawrence realised with an inward groan that he had done it again. He had pulled on his wife's strings as if she were some sort of puppet who did nothing but dance to his will.
"I'm sorry. I lost my temper again, didn't I," he admitted with a sigh.
She stared at him stonily. "Worse than that, you shamed me in front of our patrons, and have treated me with the utmost disrespect. No matter what I say, you disregard it. I'm not allowed to use my own discretion about when I'm tired, when I work, when I sleep, if you choose to let me sleep. I'm not a child, or a possession. I'm a grown woman with my own thoughts, feelings and desires."
"Not if they're for another man!" he rasped.
They had by now drawn up in their own drive. She stepped out of the coach without even waiting for his assistance. The horse took several steps forward, but she caught herself before she fell off the step and shook his hands off her when he tried to help steady her.
"I'm fine! I'm not one of the boys who has to be protected to the point of suffocation. This jealousy and obsessiveness of yours is going to be the death of us both if you don't stop it!"
He went white and slammed the coach door behind him so furiously the whole vehicle juddered.
He was more angry than she had ever seen him and the worst of it was, she had no idea why. Her eyes widened at the glint she saw in them. Grabbing her skirts, she fled to her room and slammed it behind her so hard the noise echoed throughout the house.
Trembling and panting on the threshold of his home, Lawrence looked down at his hands, and realised they were bunched into fists. He counted to ten and willed them to relax, so that they gradually unfolded for him to press them together.
No wonder she had run from him. She must have felt sure he had gone beyond the pale.
He took a deep breath to steady himself. He had to go more slowly. Stop flying off the handle all the time. He squeezed his fingers together. When had he ever just held his wife's hand? Kissed her appreciatively without it being a prelude to something more?
He had supper alone, for the boys had seen the whole altercation from the hall entrance, and were terrified of him once again. Juliet was still locked in her room, the tray he had brought for her left untouched and all his attempts to speak to her through the door met with nothing but stony silence.
He spent another long, lonely night trying to tell himself she loved him. She had said so herself.
He left her to her own devices in the morning, going about her chores as always, though with a wary manner around him that reproached him more than mere words ever could.
At last he could bear it no more. When she moved to go into the library he said, "I rather hoped you might take the rest of the day off to spend some time with a very lonely husband."
"I could try," she said quietly, wary at what new scene was going to erupt next.
He held out his hand. "I have a little surprise for you."
She looked at him so mistrustfully his heart lurched in his chest and he wanted to kick himself.
"Come, it's all right. It's just outside. We can go for a walk. It's a lovely day, so warm you don't even need a cloak."
"The boys--"
"Now we have a house full of well-trained servants thanks to you and the Bath labour exchange. I've told them to keep an eye on them this afternoon. So please come."
He took her hand gently, lacing their fingers, and stepped out the front door. He walked around the house on the small path which led into Millcote Forest.
In a short time they came to a lovely little clearing. The sunlight shone down in small rainbows, and many-coloured butterflies sported themselves along the lush carpet of flowers.
Juliet smiled despite herself. "It's beautiful. Like an enchanted glade. Oh, and look at the swing. The boys will love this."
"And they can of course share it with us. But it's actually for you."
"Me?" she said in surprise.
"Yes, I built it for you. And here. There's even little basket of delicacies left for us by the faeries," he said, leading her a bit further into the arbour to show her a wicker hamper and some spread blankets. "So come, try the swing. I'll push you first."
"Really, this is awfully good of you," she said, her misgivings still clear from her expression.
"Nothing but the best for you, my dear. It's the least I can do considering how much joy you've brought into my life."
She couldn't tell if he were mocking her or not. His tone and demeanour seemed sincere, but the words were so unlike him.
They had by this time stepped into the cool shadowy glade, and his silvery eyes were dark and unfathomable as he gazed down at her. She stared up at him, uncertain what to think, or do.
"Food or swing first?" he asked softly, his breath whispering over her temples.
"What would you like?"
"Ah, no, this afternoon is for your delectation, so all shall be as you wish."
She made so bold as to say, "Well, if that were true, you might have consulted with me about this." She indicated the grove with a sweep of her hand.
He stiffened. "If you don't wish to be here--"
"No, it's not that. Really, it's been most kind of you to think of me, but this surprise seems, well, excessive, I suppose. I don't deserve--"
"You do. Everyone deserves to be spoiled and pampered sometimes. I'm only sorry I never thought of it before. Not very good at this marriage thing," he said with an apologetic smile and shrug.
"Now that's not true. You've done marvelously well considering. In fact, it's I that should be pampering you," she said, a soft light gleaming in her eyes as she thought of the delicious taste of his skin.
He felt himself actually blush under her heated gaze. "Well, some other time, then. My surprise is here now, and we wouldn't want to let the champagne get too warm."
"Champagne?" she said with evident delight. "Oh, no, indeed."
She sat on the blanket with her legs curled under her, and watched as he deftly uncorked the bottle and filled two glasses.
"To every day being a new beginning."
They clinked glasses and drank. Then he looped his forearm around hers, "Let's try it this way, shall we?"
The bubbles tickled her nose and she giggled. A delightfully heady sensation coursed through her veins as she met the warm gaze of her husband. If only he could be like this all the time, happy and tender instead of cold, angry and aloof.
"I would like to try."
She realised with a huge wash of mortification which clouded her features that she had actually spoken her thoughts aloud.
"Oh God, I'm sorry," she gasped, panicking.
Her glass fell from her trembling hand. It fell against the edge of the hamper and broke. She felt close to tears and would have run from the bower had not his huge hand stayed her gently.
He stroked her arm and said quietly, "I'm not angry. I don't blame you. I blame myself. I've been a selfish ass, and I'm truly sorry. I've never behaved so badly in my life to anyone. The fact that you're my wife only makes my churlishness that much more reprehensible. Please come and sit down."
"But I've broken my champagne flute. I've ruined everything," Juliet said, suddenly near tears.
He cupped her cheek, stroking her peachy skin with his thumb. "It can be even more fun for lovers to share a glass. You haven't ruined anything. I know you have reason to fear me, be nervous, but honestly, I mean you no harm. I just want you to relax and let the joy wash over you."
"You 're not angry with me?" she asked timidly.
He hugged her to him as carefully as if she were a newborn. "No, love, I'm not angry with you. I don't think I ever was."
"No, but you've shouted and been so vile and--"
She coloured to the roots of her hair once more and stepped out of the warm circle of his embrace.
"Damn it, Juliet--"
She flinched at the harsh words. He grew even more frustrated with himself, thus rendering his tone still more gruff. "Can't you see--"
Her eyes widened further for a moment before she shrank into herself, cringing one shoulder away from him as though to ward off a blow.
That one small gesture decided things for him in an instant. He wasn't very good with words. Never had been. But for the sake of his marriage he simply had to try.
He stepped back from her so she wouldn't feel so cornered. "Look, Juliet, I'm sorry if I raised my voice. The truth is I'm not a man for fine speeches or sentiments. I just sort of bluster and expect everyone to run and do my bidding. And so many years abroad had made me somewhat less than polished in my manners. A general avoidance of the female sex except for amatory purposes has rendered me even more unfit for civilised company. But I swear to you, Juliet, I really am trying."
She turned to face him. "Trying to what?"
"Trying to tell you I'm sorry. Please, can we sit?"
She gave him a short nod and returned to the blanket, this time sitting cross-legged as she had as a girl. Her pose offered a tantalising peep of her calves and lacy petticoats.
"I know I was furious. I blamed you for what happened, the circumstances that led to our marriage. I mean, you were charming, and I thought it was all worldly banter. We were having a wonderful time together until Matthew walked in. I really did think I had been duped. I mean, your brother and I--"
"I know, he was the last person on earth you would ever wish to deal with. You said so at the time."
"Yes, I did. I had hoped you wouldn't remember."
"I could hardly forget any of the things you said to me that day," she said with a wry grimace.
He sighed and reached carefully for her hand. To his relief, she didn't jerk it away. "I dare say. As I've said, my only excuse is that I was convinced that you were all plotting or scheming against me. It seemed too pat, with no such thing as coincidence. And I'm not always very good at admitting I've made a mistake. Even when I went to the other address Philip had indicated, and found, well--"
"The woman you were really seeking that night," she supplied helpfully.
He blushed. "Yes, just so. Even then, I blamed you in other ways. I can see now though that everyone was right. I couldn't have asked for a better wife and helpmeet. I'm truly sorry that my feeling of loss of control, of entrapment, has led me to take things out on you."
"And the ladybird? Was she as good as everyone said?" she asked in a quiet voice.
He shook his head.
Juliet's heart sank until she heard his next words.
"I don't know, my dear. I didn't stay. I met her, got the whole story from Matthew Sampson and her. Just as Philip had surmised, I got the wrong address."
"Was she very beautiful?"
He shook his head. "She didn't attract me in the least. And even if she is the talk of the Town, I doubt that anything she had to offer could possibly have been as wondrous as what you gifted me with that first night. You yielded up the most precious treasure of your body, but even more than that, your heart and soul."
"And you gave me a gift in return, Lawrence. You asked me to marry you, before Matthew barged in, remember? No one had ever done that. I never dreamed--"
"I'm amazed I ever got to see you in the townhouse."
Her brows raised. "Oh, why?"
"I would have thought the swains would be lined up three deep all around the block for one glimp
se of your pulchritude."
Juliet giggled. "Oh, now I know you're mocking me."
He kissed her hard enough to part her lips with his tongue. "Never, I promise. Now come, drink up and have a strawberry or two. I shall feed them to you. And look, I even have some dipping sauces for them."
"Mmm, chocolate. You thought of everything."
"I tried."
They sipped the wine and shared it, their tongues fizzing with the heady brew as they kissed and nibbled the food and each other's lips.
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