by Rose Gordon
Planting a kiss on the top of each of the girls’ heads, Patrick finally understood what Marcus meant, and knew exactly what he needed to do.
Chapter 27
Juliet sighed. She might love spending time with Caroline, but coming downstairs to her dinner tonight had been a mistake. Spotting an empty chair in the corner, she sat down and let her eyes travel from one dancing couple to another. She should have known Caroline’s dinner would end with another impromptu dancing session. Perhaps she could just plead a headache and leave. She frowned. She couldn’t leave. As of earlier this afternoon, she was now a permanent guest of Watson Estate for who knew how long.
Too mortified to explain the situation to her parents and ask them to make room for yet another person in their already cramped cottage, Juliet sought out other lodgings. But all her efforts were to no avail. Everything there was to be rented in the village was owned by one person: Drake. She’d already lived with him as his wife. She could only imagine how beastly he’d be as her landlord. She’d then dressed in the nicest gown at her disposal and had gone to see Mr. Sayas, the owner of the cottage she’d always dreamt of. She’d brought along her bank statement from London, promising to give him that much in cash, then had promised to pay him the rest on a monthly basis. How she’d get the money she wasn’t sure, but she’d get it. Even if she had to sew a dozen dresses a month, she’d get it. She thought Mr. Sayas was actually going to sell it to her, but earlier this afternoon, he sent a note saying unless she could come up with the full amount, he wasn’t interested.
That only left living off the generosity of her friends. And since Drake was more likely to visit Lord Sinclair, the obvious choice was Caroline. Thus her reason for being trapped at another dinner and dancing event hosted by Caroline. Quite frankly, Juliet had no idea why Caroline enjoyed hosting these things so much other than to dance with her own husband. But even that could be done without the guests.
“May I have this dance?” came a familiar voice.
“Lord Sinclair,” she greeted. “Surely you don’t wish to dance with me.”
“Quite the contrary. I do believe I owe you a dance, seeing as how our last dance was interrupted.”
She flashed him a grateful smile. “I’d be honored.”
“Excellent.” He slowly led her to the middle of the floor, and began moving his feet just enough to pass as an attempt at dancing, but not enough to hurt his leg. “How is your mother faring?”
She misstepped. “Excuse me. She’s doing very well.”
He seemed not to mind her misstep, and continued to dance her around the floor. Though his face was hard to interpret through the scars, his eyes were not. Hundreds of questions swirled in those grey eyes of his. Juliet averted her gaze. She knew what he wanted to know; fortunately, he was too polite to ask.
They danced out the remainder of the song in silence, and just as they were about to part, Lord Sinclair stiffened. “What in tarnation is he doing here?”
Before she could stop herself, Juliet’s traitorous eyes swung around to see the he in question. Disappointment flooded her. “Sir Wallace?”
Lord Sinclair nodded.
A burble of laughter welled up in her throat. “Surely you’ve no reason to be jealous of Sir Wallace.” The man was one of the oddest creatures she’d ever met, clothes laundered and pressed to perfection, impeccable manners, and always counting something.
“You’re right, I have no reason to be jealous of the man, but it doesn’t mean I want him to dance with my wife. Will you excuse me, please?”
Juliet shook her head at his retreating form, and whispered. “Who knew he was so possessive.”
“All men are possessive of the women they love,” whispered another familiar male voice at her side.
Chills ran down her spine and she stiffened. “Lord Drakely, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
He stepped in front of her since she hadn’t bothered to turn to face him. “No, I imagine you weren’t,” he admitted. He shoved his hands into his pockets, drawing her attention to his horribly disheveled state of dress. “I was hoping we could talk for a minute.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have any time just now. I was informed a baronet has recently joined this social and I’d like to dance with him.”
He rolled his eyes. “No you don’t. You just don’t want to dance with me and you think by dancing with Wallace you’ll avoid me.”
“No. I think by dancing with Sir Wallace I’ll be able to check baronet off my list of dancing partners, and save the poor man from Lord Sinclair’s jealous wrath at the same time. It’s just an added boon that it provides me with a means of escaping you.”
He scowled. “You can dance with him another time. For now, I’d like to talk to you.”
“But there may not be another time,” she protested, taking a step away from him. “Besides, he needs my intervention now before your friend kills him.”
Drake stepped in front of her, halting her steps. “And what do you plan to do, just go up and ask him for a dance?”
“If I must,” she said, raising her chin a notch.
He laughed. “An iron will and nerves of steel. Well, my dear, have no fear, your services are no longer needed over there.”
Juliet cast a glance over to the corner, and started. Emma was dancing with her husband, and about ten feet away, Sir Wallace was dancing with Edwina, Lord Watson’s sister who was here for the holidays. Against the wall, Lord Watson stood with wide eyes and a clamped jaw, staring at his sister and her dance partner.
“I’d say my plan worked,” Drake whispered, placing his hand on the small of Juliet’s back.
“Your plan?”
He nodded, and took her other hand in his then started dancing to the music. “I knew it would be hard to get you alone, so I brought him to serve as a way to distract your two watchdogs.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to talk to you.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No.”
He sighed. “Juliet, I’ve come to apologize.”
“Surely I misunderstood.” She blinked rapidly. “I could have sworn you said the word apologize, but I know that cannot be, since you’ve never done a single thing in your life for which you needed to apologize.”
He frowned. “You know I have. And I’ve come to make it right.”
“Well, you’re a bit late.”
“No, I’m not,” he countered, pulling her close. “It’s never too late to make things right.”
“For you it is.”
A sharp bark of laughter passed his lips. “Not long before we met, I was at a wedding where I witnessed a man rushing through the doors of a church just as another man was about to take his vows. And do you know who the bride left with and married that day?”
“No.”
“You should. The bride was Emma, the original groom was Wallace, and the madman who interrupted was Marcus.”
No wonder Lord Sinclair was so testy at seeing Sir Wallace talking to Emma. Juliet’s eyes traveled from Lord Sinclair and Emma to Sir Wallace and Edwina. Her attention was abruptly stolen back by her husband when he dropped his head and whispered in her ear.
“So don’t tell me it’s too late, Juliet. I’m a man who believes anything can happen.”
“But it is too late,” she protested, tears pricking her eyes. “You’ve already chosen.”
“Yes, I have, Juliet. And you’re my choice. There are some things I need to tell you. Will you come away with me? I have something I want to show you.”
“No. I have no intention of leaving this house with you.”
He sighed. “All right. Will you join me in another room, please?”
“No. I’ll not be sneaking off into private rooms at one of my closest friends’ homes.”
“What of the room you’re staying in,” he wondered, cocking his head in contemplation.
“H-how did you know?”
He smiled. “I went to see your father earlier today.”
She swallowed. “Oh.”
“Now, will you take me to your room, or do I have to throw you over my shoulder like a ruffian and wander the halls until I find it?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
His eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t I?”
The music stopped playing and she stepped on his toe, whether on purpose or by accident, she’d never tell.
He didn’t seem to notice or care. “Which will it be?”
“Neither,” she said, breaking free of his grasp. “You cannot just come in here and act as if nothing has happened, Drake. It doesn’t work that way.”
He took a step closer to her. “I know that.”
“Are you sure? It seems to me you just expected to come in here and have me fall at your feet, entranced by your mere presence.”
“I didn’t expect that at all,” he countered. “Nor did I want that, Juliet. I know you don’t simper and fawn, and that’s what I love about you. I love that you’re strong and confident. That you don’t let anyone trample over you.” He snorted. “You may lose a battle every now and then, but you’re not afraid to fight and that’s what I love most.”
He took another step closer to her, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Will you take me up to your room now, please?”
Juliet stiffened. The feelings of joy and shock by his open admission of love for her in front of a room full of silent guests were quickly wearing off. Was that it? Did he think everything would go back to the way it was now that he’d confessed his love? What of his feelings for his first wife, and the fact that though he may claim to love Juliet, he’d never have children with her due to his loyalty to Abigail? Was that all just to be swept under the proverbial rug?
As if sensing her hesitation, Drake pulled a folded stack of papers from his breast pocket and tapped them against his empty hand. “How about if you give me five minutes to explain everything I have to say and beg your forgiveness, and if at the end of those five minutes, you’re not satisfied, I’ll sign these, and never bother you again.”
Juliet’s heart stopped. Annulment papers. At one time that’s what she’d wanted more than anything. And now? Now the sight of them made her stomach clench and her head spin. She didn’t want an annulment, but neither did she see how they could have a future together following the hurtful things said last week. Taking a deep breath, she nodded.
Grasping her hand in his, Drake interlaced their fingers. “Lead the way.”
Fighting the blush on her cheeks from leaving the once drawing room, now ballroom in such a manner, Juliet led him down the hall and up to her room.
“Your five minutes have begun,” she announced, closing the door.
“I love you,” he said simply.
She implored him with her eyes. “Yes, I believe you said as much downstairs.”
“Yes, well, it doesn’t make it any less true.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Juliet, it’s because I love you that I do the things I do.”
“You mean manipulate me and try to make my choices for me?”
His nostrils flared. “I wasn’t trying to manipulate you.”
“No?”
“No,” he said. “I―I never meant to hurt you, Juliet, I was just―”
“So in love with Abigail, you felt your loyalty lay with her?” she supplied for him.
He winced. “That’s what this is about?”
“Of course it is. What did you think it was about?”
Color rose in his cheeks. “My use of French letters.”
Her eyebrows snapped together. “What?”
“French letters, cundums, sheaths, they’re all the same thing,” he explained. “You’re not angry I didn’t tell you?”
She pursed her lips and sighed. “No. For as much as I should be angry with you for using them without my knowledge, I can’t fault you that. Had I been wearing my spectacles, I would have known. But since I wasn’t―” she shrugged― “I was at your mercy to keep me informed. And we both know that wasn’t an opportune time to mention it.” Heat rose in her cheeks at the memories of their intimate encounters. Now it made sense why it took him a few seconds to get himself ready for their joining. Usually during those moments she was too lust-fogged or coming down from her euphoric state of pleasure to take note of his brief absence.
“So you’re not angry at me for omitting to mention that I was―”
“No,” she said flatly. “For all your plethora of other faults, I know you’re not a liar, Drake. I know you would have told me had I asked.”
“If you knew that, then what’s the problem?”
Rage built up in her chest at his casual tone. “The problem isn’t your use of French letters exactly, but the reason you were using them.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“No, I’m sure you don’t.” She sighed. “It doesn’t matter, Drake. You’ve already made your decision.”
“And which decision would that be?”
“Your insistence that I not conceive,” she burst out bitterly.
“I thought you said this wasn’t about the sheath.”
“It’s not.”
He eyed her askance. “Are you sure, because it seems to me that we keep coming back to it?”
“No we’re not,” she snapped. “The fact is, you don’t wish to have any more children. Not mine anyway.”
“I never said that.”
“Didn’t you?”
“No. That’s not what I said. I never said anything about not wanting more children.”
Juliet’s mind raced to recall their heated exchange last week. She remembered him saying something about conception, then about his three daughters, but nothing specifically about him not wanting more children. She shook her head. “You may not have said anything about not wanting them, but I know the truth, Drake. You don’t want me to conceive because I’m not Abigail. You might think you’ve grown to love me, and you truly may, but I’m not her and the children I could give you―” She broke off, emotion choking her too tightly to continue.
Drake stepped closer to her. He lowered his lashes and swallowed. “That’s not the reason at all, Juliet. It’s not that I don’t want to have children with you, it’s that I don’t want to lose you.”
“Lose me?”
He nodded. “At first I was afraid to get you with child because I was afraid my girls would lose another mother in childbed. That’s why I bought the French letters. But that’s not why I wore them. By the time we consummated our marriage, something had changed between us and I wasn’t so much afraid of the girls losing another mother, but selfish bastard that I am, I was afraid of losing the woman I love.”
Juliet’s heart softened a trifle and Drake wrapped his warm fingers around her hands. “Juliet, I always thought I loved Abigail, and don’t misunderstand, I did love her and I’ll always have a spot in my heart that belongs to her for giving me Celia, Helena and Kate, but I never loved her the way I love you.” He swallowed, and when he spoke again, his voice was thick, full of emotion. “I was eighteen when I married her. Far too young to know what true love was about. I thought I knew, but it wasn’t until I met you that I realized the difference. With Abigail, I found myself always looking out for her, and with you, I’ve found someone I’m looking squarely in the eye. You’re strong, confident, and far more intelligent than most. But more importantly, you suffer no inability to put me in my place. You’re my equal and I don’t want to lose you like I lost her.”
“Just because she had complications and died during childbirth doesn’t mean I will, too,” she pointed out.
“I know that,” he said softly. A minute, maybe two, passed without a single word passing between them. Finally, Drake took a ragged breath and spoke again. “Juliet, Abigail didn’t have any sort of complication except the one she inflicted upon herself. She didn’t want another child. Truthfully, I’m not sure she wanted any of them—” H
e broke off abruptly, and the glimmer of unshed tears in his eyes nearly broke Juliet’s heart.
“How could—” She closed her mouth with a snap. Though she longed to know his reasoning, she couldn’t find a polite way to ask, and right now, he was too vulnerable for her bluntness.
“How can I know she didn’t want the girls?” he answered for her. He swallowed. “I don’t. It’s only a guess. But a good one, I’d wager.” He twisted his lips. “In a way, Juliet, she was just like Olivia. They were both unbelievably spoiled by their families. Unlike Marcus, I was too foolish to see it. Abigail’s false charm and sly manipulations worked on me, and foolish, besotted lad I was, I indulged her, thinking that was the best way to show my love for her. But all that did was make it easier for her to keep her demeanor hidden.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Juliet, the hard truth is, she was not a good person, but unlike Olivia, she went about hiding it better. Except with Caroline. She detested Caroline for something so silly it’s not worth repeating, but that didn’t stop her from openly treating her poorly.” He exhaled and cleared his throat. “What I’m trying to say is, Abigail was very good at manipulation, but underneath the petite body dressed in clothes that were the height of fashion, was an unloving shrew. I’ll never really know if she loved Celia and Helena; but I know for certain she didn’t want Kate, and the circumstances surrounding her conception do not shed a favorable light on me.” His hands tightened their hold of hers and he looked her straight in the eye. Though his gaze was unwavering, his tone was hoarse as he said his next words. “I didn’t force her, but you’d have thought I had the way Abigail grew to detest me those final months. Finally, she saw her chance to hurt me and took it. She didn’t have any sort of medical complication, she quit, gave up, stopped fighting. Whatever you want to call it, she turned her back on us. On me.”
“You don’t know that,” Juliet said, squeezing his hands back as tightly as she could.
He sneered. “Yes, I do, Juliet. I was there. I was in that room. She had every opportunity to deliver a healthy baby, but she chose not to. She was so angry with me, she chose to lie there and let her life slip away until it was too late. All because she wanted to hurt me for a glib remark I made about her lack of willingness to share my bed in a bout of anger.”