by Heather Boyd
Clarry slid from the bed as he turned away and followed him to the door. She tugged on his arm. “Where are you going after you visit with my father?”
Anywhere but here. He couldn’t escape fast enough. “I shan’t pester you again.”
Although Clarry’s mouth dropped open at his words, he didn’t wait for her to speak. He turned the door handle to gain his freedom and slammed it closed behind him. The faint turning of a lock followed by a muffled sob came to him. Justin clenched his jaw tight as the sobs grew louder then eventually moved away from the door.
Well, what had she expected? Poetry and flowers after entrapping him into a marriage neither of them wanted. Justin’s fury rose again and he stalked for the staircase. He’d take out his frustrations in the sparring room. The thickly padded floor muffled his steps as he crossed the spare chamber. He threw off his coat, waistcoat and even his shirt and cravat. He dragged off his boots so he stood barefoot before the punch bag. Justin danced up to it and swung a punch.
The solid thump gave him some satisfaction. So he hit again, and again, until a fine sheen of sweat broke out over his skin. The sting to his knuckles gave him some measure of peace and when they hurt enough, he grasped both sides of the pigskin bag and pressed his head against the leather while he caught his breath.
“Does that help, Jus?”
Justin turned his head until he could see the doorway. Tristan was leaning against the door jam. “Haven’t you got better things to do, married man, than to pester other people?”
“Your happiness is important to me, brother. And you are not happy about this marriage. I can see only pain in your eyes. No happiness at all. What happened?” Tristan stepped further into the room and planted his feet as if he would never leave until he’d heard it all.
Justin slammed his fist into the bag again. Interfering bastard. The pain felt good so he kept hitting until Tristan caught his arm. “Justin?”
He shook off his brother’s grip. “Mind your own damn business. You have a wife that loves you. Go back to her.”
Tristan shook his head. “Not when you’re this upset. For God’s sake, tell me what the problem is and we’ll fix it.”
“The problem.” Justin threw his head back and laughed. “The problem is that my future wife mistook my bed for yours. We wouldn’t be even getting married if you hadn’t moved to the dower house.” When his brother stared at him in confusion, Justin couldn’t hold back. “She bloody well loves you, you moron. As usual, I’m second best. Not even that in her eyes.”
Tristan’s eyes widened. “But you love her? I know you do.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She got into the wrong bed.”
Tristan shook his head. “Justin, I know you loved Miss Wheaton before. I took great pains never to pay her any special attention. You know that.”
“Well, it didn’t work. She cried the whole way through the wedding and when she had enough liquid courage in her she slipped into your bed. Unfortunately, it turned out to be my bed and now I’m honor bound to marry her.”
“Sweet Jesus. No wonder you’re in a foul mood. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing.” Justin turned on his brother. “Stay away from my future wife, stay away from us both. I’d rather not be reminded that I’m second best.”
“Justin, you are not second best. She’ll see that soon enough.”
“Like our parents have?” Justin snorted. “That’s my future, you see. For all this isn’t an arranged marriage, she’ll grow to dismiss me as father does mother’s love.”
“Your situation is as different as may be from that.” Tristan caught both his arms and wouldn’t let him go. “You can change Miss Wheaton’s opinion of you. I know it. I dare you to at least try.”
Justin shoved his brother back and glared. “Get out before I take my temper out on you.”
Tristan held his hands up in defeat. “Fine. Fine. I’ll inform mother we won’t be joining you all at dinner this evening. Come and see me when you want to talk. My door is always open to you. Night or day, all right?”
Damn Tristan. He always knew the very thing to say to damp down Justin’s anger. As Tristan walked out, Justin pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes. What an ugly mess his life had become. Because of his future wife’s affections, he’d be denied his brother’s company as well. Just when he would need him the most.
~ * ~
Justin strode up the front steps of Clarry’s home and banged hard on the door. He ignored the neighbors peeking around their drapes or loitering in the street. Voices rose in anger from inside the Wheaton house so Justin banged again.
The voices quieted, and footsteps rushed toward the door. A red faced servant peeked around the wood. “Can I help you?”
Justin stood taller. “Lord Justin to see Mr. Wheaton if he has a moment to spare, that is?”
The butler smiled. “Do step in, my lord. I’ll see if Mr. Wheaton is free.”
The Wheaton drawing room was sparse but pleasant. Not as frilly as he imagined the room to be. He crossed to the hearth and stood with his back toward the fire, waiting for Mr. Wheaton to join him. The older man lumbered in moments later, and it was immediately apparent to Justin that Mr. Wheaton was deep in his cups already. His skin had flushed an angry red and his attire reminded him of a man after a night on the town.
Wheaton glared across the room. “What do you want now?”
“I’ve, ah, come to engage Miss Gainsford’s services. I understand that she will likely be without a position now that Claribel is to be my wife.”
“One woman ain’t enough trouble for you now, huh? Gotta strip me of every bit o’ feminine company. Well, ya cant av her. She’s gone already.”
“Already?” Somewhat stunned, Justin took a pace forward. “Did you dismiss her as soon as you returned?”
Mr. Wheaton ignored his approach and fell into a chair. “She flounced out of here on her own steam as soon as she heard what my fool daughter had done.”
Justin didn’t blame her, but he did worry. If Miss Gainsford had fled the house, she had likely had made a rash decision to do so. She might very well be regretting her decision at this moment. He’d better go be certain the woman understood she had a place to go if she needed one. “Ah, well then. I shouldn’t trouble you any longer. Good day to you.”
Mr. Wheaton grunted and Justin hurried out. On the stoop he paused to wonder where Miss Gainsford would go. He didn’t have a clue, but he did know a place to start looking. He swung up on is horse and turned for town.
Devizes was bustling with activity this morning, and he felt every set of eyes turn to watch his passing. The townsfolk likely knew about his imminent marriage. They loved nothing better than to gossip, but he wasn’t in the mood to fall into conversation with anyone. He swung off his horse at the lending library, the one place everyone seemed to gravitate too, and crooked a finger at the blacksmith’s boy loitering along the street.
As the boy took the reins, Justin headed inside the lending library, looking for his new sister-in-law’s father. Mr. Charles Davey peeked around the corner and scowled. “Oh, it’s you. What are you after here?”
“I’ve come in search of Miss Wheaton’s companion. A woman by the name of Miss Bethany Gainsford. I’ve called at the Wheaton residence and was informed that she’d left service there. My future wife would like her to continue in her role as companion.”
Although such a long explanation was hardly necessary, Justin believed he would get more help by being completely honest.
The older man snorted. “Miss Wheaton wants her, you say?”
“Yes, she was afraid her father would turn her out without references. She appears quite right to be concerned.”
Soft footfalls approached from the rear of the building and a young woman appeared. “Miss Gainsford? I am relieved to find you so quickly. I take it you overheard my conversation with Mr. Davey?”
The other woman nodded, but she seemed wary. “Where is Miss Wheaton?
”
Justin hoped his smile encouraged her lagging spirit. “The duchess has invited her to stay at Staplehurst Hall but she was most concerned for your welfare. We would like you to continue in your position as her companion.”
“No, thank you.”
Justin nodded. “We can be on our way as soon as you are ready.”
The little woman looked at him quizzically. “Did you not hear me correctly, my lord? I decline to remain with Miss Wheaton as her companion. I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”
Well, this was quite unlike how he’d expected this to end. As if another disappointment should have surprised him today. “Where will you go?”
Her gaze fixed on Mr. Davey. “I secured a position as housekeeper for Mr. Davey, my lord. I have a roof over my head and a vastly improved position in terms of my duties.”
A housekeeper was a vast step down from that of companion, and the work was considerably more exhausting. Was she addled? Justin felt compelled to give the girl one more chance. “Are you sure? Life at the Hall would be a vast deal easier.”
Mr. Davey chuckled. “Tried to change her mind myself. But she seems concerned I’m on the brink of starvation. But I do need a housekeeper now that my daughter has married. Besides, Miss Gainsford has a fine mind. She may read through the library as time allows.”
Ah. That boon would not come with the position as companion at the Hall. “As you wish, Miss Gainsford, but should you change your mind please come to the Hall.”
“I’ll not need to,” Miss Gainsford insisted.
Seeing that he had come on a fool’s errand, Justin took his leave, collected his horse and turned for Staplehurst Hall. His path today mirrored yesterday’s trip after the wedding, but his mood now was even grimmer. How could he survive a marriage to Clarry when she had no love for him?
The lust he’d roused in her this morning and last night would fade, as all lust surely did until he was the only one clinging to the memory of what might have been. He shook his head to clear his maudlin thoughts. When they were married, he’d return to his work, his second love of writing, and devote himself wholeheartedly to making peace with his soul.
As he left his horse with a groom, he wondered what Clarry would say about losing her companion. He hadn’t known they were particularly close until this morning when she had seemed genuinely concerned for Miss Gainsford’s wellbeing. Yet, Miss Gainsford had no wish to be reunited with her charge. Interesting. But not enough to lift the dark cloud hovering over his head.
Justin strode through the Hall and ignored that the staff quickly looked elsewhere. They would already have combined the events of last night, with the evidence found in his bedchamber this morning. They would know he’d been caught fair and square for seducing a virgin. The smear of blood upon his sheets was damning proof of his guilt.
Justin stopped. Christ, how could he have bedded a woman and not realized her true innocence. He’d thought the hesitation was part of Lucy’s game, but the truth was he’d taken something more important. The night should have been a profoundly moving experience for Claribel.
Justin crossed to a window and stared out at the perfectly clipped grounds. She must think him a beast, a brute that forced himself upon her. Justin banged his forehead against the wood frame. Idiot. And then to compound the problem he’d taken her so swiftly on the sofa in a guest room. She had every right to hate him.
He should have noticed the difference last night. He should have recognized Clarry in the dark. Bothered that he hadn’t, he reluctantly continued on. He would check on her and if she was awake he would apologize and promise to stay away. It was the least he could do. His bedchamber was free of servants when he entered and he poured himself a large brandy.
As the glass reached his lips, voices drifted to him from the adjoining sitting room. Puzzled, he crept to the doorway and listened.
“Now turn around and do that again.”
The Duchess. Justin set his hand to the door knob and turned it slowly. The door opened with nary a sound and he pressed his eye to the crack. Inside, he found his mother and aunt and a very tired looking Clarry, walking up and down the sitting room carpet. What the hell were they up to?
He opened the door wider. As far as he could tell at first glance, there was nothing different about Clarry. But then he noticed how high her breasts rose in her gown and the tiny breaths she took. Justin had a good memory of her endowments but she usually did not flaunt them like that. He stepped through the doorway and cleared his throat to get their attention, surprising everyone including himself.
“Justin, my dear, you shouldn’t be here,” his mother protested.
Justin scowled. “Neither should you. I left instructions that Clarry was not to be disturbed for any reason until she called for the servants. Since she appears as fatigued as when I left, I can only conclude someone disobeyed me.”
“Well,” the duchess huffed indignantly. “I do my best to help and this is the thanks I get.” The duchess gathered her things and stormed out. His aunt’s shoulders drooped in relief and she cast an apologetic glance at Clarry then followed her sister.
Justin locked the door after them and turned to face his future wife. “Did you sleep at all?” he asked softly.
A sigh escaped Clarry. “A little. But it is very hard to ignore the duchess when she is standing over your bed.”
“Forgive me. I had not thought she would seek you out.”
Clarry’s color rose to a bright pink abruptly. Concerned that she might faint from a lack of air, Justin led Clarry back to her bedchamber and toward her bed. He stripped the gown from her body then went to work loosening the corset strings. When he’d half undone the corset, Clarry pulled a gasping breath deep into her lungs.
He stroked his fingers over her exposed skin. “Better?”
“Much better, thank you.”
Since he received no discouragement, Justin continued to touch. “I shall try to prevent her from inflicting such torture on you again. I’ll burn all your corsets if necessary.”
A tired laugh escaped her. “Burning is not necessary. But I’d prefer to draw in a full breath if I could.”
Since Clarry had not yet realized that she stood half naked in his presence, Justin pulled her into his arms. She didn’t resist; she sagged into his embrace with a soft sigh. He set his lips to her throat and pressed soft kisses to her skin. A pleased purr rumbled from her and he glanced at her face anxiously. Clarry stood with her eyes closed, lips parted, face slack. She appeared so sleepy that Justin flushed with chagrin. He should exert a little more effort to care for her if he wished to make this marriage bearable for each of them. Hadn’t he intended not to bother her moments before?
The task might be more difficult than he imagined, but he would do what he could to make this marriage easy for her. Without peeking too much he removed her corset, scooped her up into his arms and tucked her into bed.
Confused, languid eyes blinked up at him. “Do you want to make love again?”
Justin’s skin pricked with heat at her question. He would love nothing more than to please her, but he had never been what she wanted. He brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes gently. She was so very beautiful. Despite the circumstances, Justin didn’t deserve her. “No, I’m going to see to it that you sleep undisturbed.”
Clarry curled into a ball, her eyes fluttered shut. “A pity. I could become used to making love.”
CHAPTER SIX
Clarry leaned against her new bed and stared into the flames leaping in the hearth. What a ghastly day, and what a nightmare dinner had been with the duke and duchess tonight. She’d never felt more uncomfortable in her life. She crawled into bed and opened her book, hoping to block out her situation. Perhaps she could become lost in a different reality for just a bit.
Words of love, devotion and yearning filled every page and her heart soared as she read the well-loved lines of her favorite book of romantic poetry. To be treasured like this was
a dream. No man, living or dead could ever feel for her what this anonymous poet had felt for his lady love.
She traced her fingers over the bold letters, penned so carefully and each page embellished with flowers. It was a lucky day for Clarry to have found this treasure, and even luckier that the small tome had been included with her belongings when her father had sent them to Staplehurst Hall.
He had no use for poetry, or music or even words. The long silences at home were unnerving at times but she’d done her best to find excuses to be from home as often as she could. Clarry closed the book and set it beneath the pillow, where she kept it every night. She’d never be loved like that.
The chamber around her was filled with deep shadows, and the Hall beyond her door had settled down for the night. But Clarry was restless after her brush with the duchess. Her Grace quite clearly disapproved of her, and disapproved of Justin’s plan to marry her. Her displeasure had centered on Clarry, not Justin. It seemed she was to marry the duchess’s favorite son.
Clarry had thought Lord Ramsbury, heir to the great estate around her, would have been the one the duchess favored. But she seemed inordinately fond of her youngest son, and had thrown daggers with her eyes at Clarry whenever Lord Justin had been otherwise engaged in conversation. Only the occasional brush of his hand across her leg beneath the table had bolstered her flagging spirits.
She reminded herself constantly that he was the one she had to learn to live with.
She leaned back and closed her eyes. She’d been such a stupid fool to risk her reputation, to place her faith in the words of a servant about who slept where within this house. Poor Lord Justin, he must be furious with her entrapment. Yet there had been few occasions where she’d sensed true anger. After his initial reaction in his bedchamber, he’d seemed more disappointed with the turn of his life than angry.