The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  And if he didn't lose her now, he would. He couldn't help it. Every time they got close, he drove her away. Upset her, hurt her. He couldn't blame her if she turned to another. He would kill himself if she did....

  Blake came in within a quarter of an hour, and reassured her that she and the baby were fine. She was just overtired.

  "You need to go carefully, both of you. No more late nights and long days on your feet at the tea shop. I would recommend a nap every day, and real sleep at night, not the two of you billing and cooing. She'll be fine in a few days, with rest, and I shall look forward to dancing with you at our ball in a fortnight's time."

  Juliet blushed faintly despite her pallor. "Oh um, we hadn't thought to--"

  "We'll be there," her husband said firmly. "I can't keep trying to avoid all the Rakehells forever."

  "Including Matthew?" the dark-haired doctor asked softly.

  Lawrence met his eye without flinching. "Especially Matthew."

  Blake closed his medical case. "In that case, you can both get your rest. Don't worry, I'll see myself out. I do know the way, after all. Love what you've done with the house, by the way, Juliet. I always loved living here, but now it's a real family home. Take care."

  Once the doctor was gone, Lawrence hardly dared look at his wife as she lay on the bed. The dark shadows in his mind brought him back to the horrible times he longed to forget. Did not wish to remember. Ever

  "Can the boys come in for a visit?" she asked softly.

  "Blake said to rest."

  "I'd like to see them. And you can tell their favourite story and for a little while I can pretend that we're a happy family and that you love me.

  "For I do love you, Lawrence. I don't know what you think you've done to not deserve to be happy and cared for, but it's blighting all our lives. I'll go away if you think it will make things easier. As I said, I never expected to be a wife--"

  He sighed, running his fingers through his ebony hair. "I don't know what I want. What to believe."

  "An honest enough answer, I suppose," Juliet said wearily. "But if you really know me so little after all these months of marriage, that you think I could possibly have given myself to another--"

  Lawrence sighed. "I don't understand why you didn't tell me about the baby."

  "Because I want you making love to me in bed every night, on the swing, wherever. I don't want to be some brood mare with no thoughts and feelings of my own. Desires."

  Then she gave a bitter laugh. "But to admit to that brands me a whore in your eyes as well. Anyone else would be glad to have such a devoted and loving wife. You use my love for you as a stick to beat me with."

  He winced at the simile. "I'll just go get the boys now."

  He took one last look at the shadowy room and the still figure of his wife draped in the sheet, and fled.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Nash had seethed the whole time Lawrence had sent him away. Every day brought new reports from Matilda of how things were progressing with their new enterprise. But each day Juliet was more and more ensconced in the business, with her own workers now accounting to her. It was only a matter of time before that fool Lawrence had her inspecting the cargoes...

  Normally he would not have cared less, but it appeared there was a great deal more to the little chit than met the eye. He had dug deeply into her background, trying to find something to use against her. Instead he had been shocked to discover she was one of the top wine traders on the south coast, far too canny for his comfort.

  But he also knew Lawrence's Achilles' heel. He had been furiously jealous when his brother had wed his former fiancee. How much more livid would he be when he found out his wife had betrayed him.

  Alas, though, she behaved very circumspectly, unlike most of the women Nash knew. The worst she could be accused of was speaking to that black bugger Ash Paignton, but he was married now and so busy with his doctor's duties around the district with his wife in tow that he would never be able to make any accusation stick.

  But that was not to say he couldn't plant the seeds of doubt. With that in mind, Matilda encouraged all of her male suitors to go with her to the tea house toward the end of each day, when they knew she would be fetched home in her carriage.

  As a result, Lawrence saw his wife with a different man nearly every evening, as the unsuspecting young woman naively tried to explain to them what they claimed they wished to know about tea.

  By the time Blake's ball came around, Lawrence was in a jealous frenzy at the prospect of other men now having the excuse to touch his wife under the guise of dancing with her.

  His insecurity was made ten times worse by the fact that all of the Rakehells and their wives welcomed her with open arms. He had never felt himself as good as any of them, and burned to think his wife fit into their intimate little circle far better than he did. She was witty, entertaining, and much sought after, though she danced but little.

  Blake's lovely wife Arabella introduced her around to everyone whilst Lawrence hugged a pillar and stared morosely. Philip and Blake tried to draw him out, and even encouraged him to take a turn on the floor with some of the women who were lined up three deep for an introduction to the spectacular-looking Juliet, resplendent in the violet gown with silver tissue Lawrence had had made specially to match her lustrous eyes.

  Juliet was so stunning that even the flirtatious Matilda, trying her utmost to rekindle what had once been between them, did not get more than a passing glance as he watched his wife's dark head while she made her way around the room. She declined to dance repeatedly, Lawrence was relieved to note, but one passing word spoken with Ash, and he felt his face suffuse with colour.

  He stiffened even more, however, when Matthew came into the ballroom with his lovely blonde young wife Althea, and they greeted each other warmly. Still, there seemed a certain strain between the brother and sister, a formality about them that he found odd, until he decided it was all a show for his benefit so that he would not suspect....

  "I wouldn't be at all surprised to discover that Matthew was behind the Han's tea brand undercutting you," Nash said. "Both of them are as false as the day is long. And his wife Althea is a fallen woman by all accounts that he rescued from a brothel and tried to set up to be respectable. I'm sorry to have to tell you all this," Nash said, as if hesitating to impart bad news for fear of upsetting his employer, "but well, you deserve to know the truth about the family you've married into.

  "It's not your fault, of course, sir. You were fresh off the boat from India. How could you possibly know. But you can see what she's like, can't you, sir. I've seen her holding hands with Ash Paignton. That cock and bull story about the servants mismanaging the household affairs and thieving is just to put you off the scent. She's been living it up. Spent hundreds of pounds at a wine merchant's. I rather wondered how she seemed to know so much about it."

  Lawrence's brows knit. "Wine? She did mention it to me once, but I've never seen--"

  "It's bad enough being a whore. But there's nothing worse than a closet toper. Well, it could be worse, I suppose. We know all about the evils of the opium trade. They say Ash and his mother are spice traders. Spice and what else, I want to know."

  Nash had chosen his words carefully. He was sure this was the one thing Lawrence would never, ever forgive. Prostrate with grief over the death of his sons, his uncle, old Simon Howard, had taken to using laudanum to help him sleep. The man had died a pitiful opium addict who had attempted to wean himself from the drug, and ended up overdosing by accident.

  Lawrence watched her narrowly for a time. At length he concluded, "I don't think it's possble. She would be more addled. So would they all. They are all medical people as well. They know the dangers better than anyone. No, I refuse to believe that Martin's step-son and wife are addicts."

  "Still, Juliet is part of that loose set, and therefore not a fit companion for the boys. As for the child, I'll lay you any odds she was breeding before you ever even met. It's un
fortunate, but you had no way of knowing Matthew Dane was still intent on destroying you. However, there's no need to be dragged down any more. She'll destroy herself, and then you'll be free of her."

  "Free?" Lawrence echoed numbly, scarcely able to recall what his life had been like without Juliet in it.

  "All you need is a tiny bit of evidence and a witness, and you can have a divorce, with no one pointing the finger at you. You can marry Matilda, or any other lady of your choosing. If you want a lady, of course," he said with a smirk, ever the skillful deceiver.

  "That Georgina Jerome is quite a handful, but at least she's honest about it," he said almost casually. And would never be clever enough to pose a threat to his budding empire. Even Matilda was getting too close for comfort, and he had never liked his cousin very much anyway.

  Lawrence scowled blackly. "I'll never marry again. Too much trouble. Too little reward," he grumbled, calling himself a liar all the while. "But I might take you up on the suggestion to give the Jerome lass a tumble if I'm feeling suicidal and want to die of the pox."

  He stormed into the refreshment room and tossed back several glasses of wine. As he was drinking the fourth, a florid-looking young man with a receding hairline came in and while he waited to be served, introduced himself.

  "Tobias Parke."

  "Lawrence Howard."

  "Oh, I say. Howard? The tea trader?"

  He nodded. "That's right."

  "Oh, you must just tell me all about India. People tell me it would be the making of me. But the Company isn't what it used to be, and--"

  "No, indeed. But there are plenty of opportunities for someone canny with the energy and ambition to succeed," he said gruffly.

  His wife entered a short time later with auburn-haired Isolde Avenel and Philip Marshall and his lovely blond wife Jasmine. Lawrence thought resentfully how striking they all looked together. Happy too. As if they belonged in the sumptous mansion, while he felt nothing more than an outsider looking in.

  "A quick drink, and then it's my dance, Juliet," Philip said.

  They all nodded to Lawrence, observing their every move with the utmost attention, looking for any sign of aught amiss. They had a spoonful of lemon ice only, with nothing alcoholic, and their conversation was about a proposed new orphanage and public sanitation works in the area which Blake was hoping to start a subscription for.

  The trio finished their refreshments and were about to depart when Juliet turned and stepped close to her husband once more.

  She took his hand and stretched up on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek, heedless of who was watching. "Thank you for bringing me, darling. And letting me speak to Matthew. You're very kind."

  He nodded abruptly, but when he said no more, she stroked his cheek with her gloved hand. The cool of the satin both chilled and inflamed him. But before he could say a word, she gave him a last warm if shy smile, took Philip's arm, and departed.

  Lawrence watched the sway of her hips as she left. She was wearing the violent gown he had bought for her, and looked like a regal goddess. He had to admit he had never seen her look more lovely. But then she looked content, happy even, and he had to admit, her lovely figure was now more voluptuous than ever with the babe she was carrying rounding her gently in all her feminine places.

  "I say, what a wife. You're an awfully lucky chap." Parke licked his lips lewdly.

  Lawrence should have punched him in his drooling mouth, but his resentment at his wife's social success had reached a fever pitch.

  "Do you think so?" he asked coldly.

  "Of course. Don't you? I mean, she's beautiful, witty, elegant, and anyone can see she absolutely adores you. Not a light bone in her body."

  "I'll bet you ten guineas you're wrong," Lawrence growled.

  Parke was a man of the world, but no one had ever proposed such a thing before. "Pardon me? You want to bet me that your wife will be unfaithful?"

  "Try her yourself. That way we'll know for sure."

  Even the loose Parke balked, wondering what game the huge grim man was playing at. "No chance. I say, you're all sheets to the wind or something, my dear fellow." He backed away from him. "You'll be sorry you ever said something so absurd, and blame me."

  "No blame. It will be her fault entirely."

  "I don't--" Then he gasped, his eyes widening. "No, surely not. You’re married to that, that goddess of perfection, and you want a divorce?"

  "She is bound to disappoint me sooner or later. I know what she is, have known ever since we married, though she pretends to be different. Claims she loves me, despite everything." He shook his head. "All women are faithless and not to be trusted. I can't even be sure the brat she's carrying is mine. So you'd be doing me a great favour if-"

  Parke shook his head. He had tried on plenty of women in his day, but the ethereal beauty in the violet and silver gown was just too much even for him.

  As Parke left the refreshment room, a hand shot out from the shadows, grabbing him menacingly by the lapels.

  "Maybe Mr. Howard didn't make himself clear." Nash waved a wad of crisp new banknotes in front of his nose. "This ought to take care of any trouble you'll have to go to. Only just to be on the safe side, don't just converse with her. And she may look like an angel, but I happen to know she likes it rough. The rougher the better. Put on a good show for all the witnesses I'll manage to get."

  "You can't be serious," Parke gasped.

  "Come now, Parke, I've heard all about you from Matilda. I know you're up to the task."

  He gaped. "Surely-"

  "Even hotter."

  Parke shook his head. "I never would have guessed from her looks. Well, it just goes to show you, still waters run deep."

  Nash shoved him away down the corridor. "Off you go for a gallop, and don't forget to lather her hard."

  Parke grew more and more excited as he watched Juliet in the crowd. He could feel his arousal mounting, and wondered what sort of man Lawrence was. Would he be up for a few three or foursomes? Who was the new woman he had lined up for his bed next? Surely not Matilda? She was incredible from what he had sampled before, and her freinds, well…. But none of them were as handsome and strapping as Lawrence Howard. Oh, it would be too delicious. He was certainly a most virile specimen.

  His assistant Nash wasn't bad either, Parke reflected happily as he scurried down the hall on his nefarious errand. They might know all sorts of other interesting women. This evening was turning out a great deal better than he could have ever hoped.

  "Pray come with me to the conservatory for a breath of fresh air, Madam," he said to Juliet as she came off the dance floor with Philip Marshall. "I did so want to ask you about your opinion of Richard III's reign."

  "Oh, er, yes of course, if we can sit for a time," she said, holding her belly.

  Philip interpreted the gesture, and against his better judgment decided to leave her with Parke to go find Blake or Eswara. How much trouble could the little bugger be in two minutes?

  But incited by all Nash had told him, they were no sooner in the conservatory than Parke was on top of Juliet, pressing her down onto the bench as she struggled and tried to scream.

  "No, let me go! What on earth! Let me go! Stop, no, please, the baby, no, please!"

  "I know all about you. Know you like it rough. Pity about the gown, but you've got me so excited I just have to get at your gorgeous tits."

  Lawrence had entered at the far side of the conservatory, the blood pounding in his ears. He was deaf to his wife's cries of pain and terror as he heard his father's words echo in his head: Damn it, I'm going to kill you.

  He came forward now. "No, stop. I didn't mean--"

  He could feel the familiar terror freeze his limbs. Now, as he had so many years before, he bargained with God that he would do anything, be better, reform his life, if only the woman he loved wouldn’t be taken from him.

  Lawrence watched in wide-eyed horror as his wife's bodice of silver tissue and violet silk shredded like wet
paper with the force of his attack. Parke knocked her from the bench onto the floor and began to haul her skirts up.

  "No, no!" she screamed.

  He took another step forward until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He heard the words as if from a great distance. "I saw the whole thing, sir. More than just a criminal conversation by the looks of things. I'll tell your solicitors to proceed with the divorce at once."

  "For God's sake, help me stop him!" Lawrence exploded, frozen in place by a swirl of images each more terrifying than the next.

  "Stop him, sir? But you wanted-- And she evidently wants it too, in more ways than one."

  Juliet's cries for help had gone unheeded in the music-filled ballroom beyond, but Parke found them grating enough to slap her hard, drawing blood.