by Adele Clee
“The sort of man who married a barren woman yet desperately craved a son. The sort who placed society’s expectations over his love and loyalty to his wife.”
The sort who saw servants as commodities, not people.
Juliet squinted at the letter in her hand. “Susan’s writing is poor, but you can feel her distress leaping off the page.”
Devlin focused on the letter that mattered most to him—Charlotte Drake’s confession. The one placed in the kneeler so that the Lord might acknowledge the dreadful part she had played, so that the Lord might offer his forgiveness.
“During her time as mistress of Blackwater, my grandmother hired a tutor to teach the servants to read and write. My mother told me that Charlotte sought to improve the lives of those in her service.” Devlin could picture the beaming look of pride on his mother’s face when she spoke of the lady’s altruism. “Only now do we discover that the woman was a damn hypocrite.”
Juliet pursed her lips. Compassion swam in her green eyes. “Perhaps misguided is a more appropriate word. In encouraging Susan to carry Bromfield’s child, perhaps she hoped to improve the girl’s life. We know nothing of Susan’s background. She might have had an ailing mother in need of medicine. There could well have been five hungry mouths to feed at home. The Bromfields might have paid her handsomely for the child.”
For the first time since meeting her, Juliet’s words lacked conviction. As always, she looked for the good not the corrupt. But one damning piece of information conveyed the reality of the situation.
“Juliet, the girl did not want to give up her child and begged my grandmother for her assistance.”
Devlin blinked to clear the image of a frail girl sent away from Blackwater to live with her abusers. A girl frightened and alone and left with those who cared only for the unborn babe.
“I know.” Juliet sighed.
“She feared for her life,” Devlin persisted, angry that a relation of his could behave so cruelly. “Someone must have taken pity on her there, for how else would she have had the means to send these letters?”
“It’s clear the Bromfields trusted your grandmother. No doubt they hoped she would write to the maid, make her see that her child would have a better life.”
Devlin dragged his hand down his face. Now he knew why the baron risked everything to ensure no one discovered the truth. But there were still too many questions. Questions he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask. Questions that would bring unwelcome answers.
Juliet shivered at his side. She wrapped the altar cloth firmly about her shoulders.
“Let us return to the house,” he said, gathering up the letters. “We can discuss the matter further while nestled beneath the coverlet.”
Juliet’s eyes brightened. “And how might we do that from separate rooms?” Her teasing tone sent his heart pounding.
“I thought that because it’s so cold out, and because I fear the baron might return, that we could sleep together tonight.” He intended to sleep with her every night and hoped she would have no complaint.
“You’re frightened?” She raised a mocking brow. “Frightened of the baron?”
“Of course not. I’m frightened of leaving you alone, of not being there should anything untoward happen.”
I’m frightened of losing you.
“And it would give us an opportunity to discuss the letters,” he added in a logical tone, “an opportunity to converse privately.”
A smile touched her lips. “An opportunity to converse, or an opportunity to dance?”
“Both.”
“Both? But it will soon be dawn.”
Devlin shrugged. Some things were more important than sleep. “After what we’ve learnt, I doubt either of us will sleep tonight.”
“Then let us make haste.” Juliet stood. “You want to talk and dance, and I want you to make love to me again.”
Blood pooled heavy in his loins at the prospect. Her honesty fed his desire. Oh, his wife had a way of making him forget everything else in the world existed.
Devlin stood, too. He took hold of her chin and kissed her once on the mouth. “Do you like the feel of me pushing inside you, Juliet?” After a night of lies and deceit, he needed to hear the truth. He needed the only thing in his life that was real.
“Like it?” she said, a little breathless. “Devlin, I have never felt more complete.” She cupped his cheek. “Surely by now you know what you mean to me.” After swallowing deeply, she gazed into his eyes for the longest time. “I love you.”
The sudden rush of emotion almost choked him.
The power of it almost knocked him off his feet.
How had this magical thing happened?
They should have been wrong for each other in so many ways, yet everything about their relationship felt right—felt perfect.
Devlin kissed her then, with a passion that he’d spent a lifetime saving just for her. “You’re the love I never thought to find. You’re the love I thought denied me. You’re everything to me, Juliet. Everything.”
“Then take me home and show me all that is in your heart.”
Juliet pushed the thin bundle of letters down between her chemise and stays. They hurried back to the house. The rain pelted their faces. The wind whipped at their clothes. The cold air nipped at their cheeks. But still, they stopped on the stone bridge and kissed each other until they were panting, until he could think of nothing other than filling her full.
After hiding the letters under the mattress in her room, they stripped naked and slipped into bed. Devlin covered her body, and she wrapped her lithe legs around him.
“Don’t wait,” Juliet whispered. “I need to join with you now.”
Making love to her had a new meaning tonight. While lust raged through his veins, wild and hot and rampant, his heart swelled to the point it might burst from his chest. The urge to make her understand the depth of his emotions, to speak the truth plainly, pushed to the fore.
“I am in love with you, Juliet.” He came up on one elbow for fear of squashing her. “You captured my heart, took me as your prisoner the moment we met.”
The smile that warmed her face this time was brighter than any he had ever seen. Happiness swam in her eyes. “And despite being intimidated by your size, you intrigued me, Mr Drake.”
“Do I intrigue you now?” he drawled as his hard cock pressed against her thigh.
“More than you know.”
“I love you, Juliet.” Oh, it felt so good to say it.
“I love you, Devlin Drake.” She stretched her hands down to his buttocks, dug her nails into his flesh, urged him to hurry. “Show me.”
A wave of ecstasy swept through him as he entered her body in one long, deep thrust. He had everything he’d ever wanted. The only thing he needed. Her body was used to him now, accepted him with ease.
“Tell me you’ll sleep with me every night,” he said as he withdrew only to enter her again in a slow, sensual slide.
“Oh, I want … I want nothing more than to lie in your arms each night,” she panted.
“No one will ever come between us.” He pushed deeper this time. Harder. “No one will ever tear us apart.” He would throttle the baron if he tried.
“Yes … we will …we will always be together.”
“Always,” he said, trying to ignore the sudden pang in his chest that said their troubles were far from over.
Chapter Nineteen
“You must promise to visit us soon.” Lydia took hold of Juliet’s hands as they stood in the entrance hall. “Having lived with each other for the last five years, it does the men good to spend time together.” Lydia smiled. “And it would give us time to converse privately.”
“I would love to see the old stone circle you mentioned.” At dinner, Juliet had been fascinated to learn of the ancient monument. “It makes one think of druid rituals and dancing naked in the moonlight with flowers in one’s hair.”
Lydia chuckled. “Well, it can be a little cold to
bare all in November. Perhaps it is something we can do when spring comes again.” Drawing Juliet into an embrace, she whispered, “Take care of Devlin. You love him, don’t you?”
“Is it so obvious?”
“The love that radiates from both of you is blinding.” Lydia straightened. “Well, we must be on our way. We have left Ada to train the new maids, and lord knows what chaos we will find on our return.”
“Devlin told me you hired staff without experience or references.” Juliet admired anyone willing to help those in need, anyone willing to give the downtrodden a chance.
It drew her thoughts back to Charlotte Drake. After studying her letter again this morning, it was clear the woman felt remorse, shame even, for having coerced her maid to give up her child.
What happened to Susan?
She did not return to work at Blackwater, and there were no letters to offer clues as to the poor girl’s fate. Juliet had taken the opportunity before breakfast to ask Mrs Barbary if she knew of the maid whose position she had taken. As always, the housekeeper gave the impression she had better things to do with her time than gossip about the past. But she did recall the mistress mentioning the girl’s name on occasion.
“Greystone is a rather unconventional man,” Lydia said, dragging Juliet out of her reverie. Love for her husband radiated from every aspect of her countenance, too. “He likes to help the disadvantaged and relies more on instinct than references when it comes to such matters. As I’m sure they all do.”
One did not need to be a wise scholar to know from where the men took their guidance. “Mr Dariell is an influential friend and confidant. One with a surprising level of insight, and remarkable intellect.”
“Indeed.” Lydia rubbed Juliet’s arm. “Write to me and let me know when you might visit.”
Again, the comment drew Juliet’s thoughts back to the letters. An urgency to make sense of it all held her in its grip. Devlin was of a similar mind too, for no sooner had they waved goodbye to their guests than her husband suggested returning to her bedchamber.
“I must take Rufus out at noon,” she said, glancing at the long-case clock and realising she had half an hour until she needed to be in the stables. “You know as well as I that disturbing his routine will set me back days in his training regime.”
Devlin raised an arrogant brow and smiled. “Will you not surrender to me, my love? Will you not admit that I have won this wager? The dog is wild. Under no circumstances will I let him run amok in this house.”
Juliet would not be deterred. “Rufus knows I come for him at noon and I shall not disappoint.”
“Not even to spend time alone with your husband?”
“Do not try to persuade me to break my oath, Devlin.” She straightened her back. “You must know that when I make a promise, I keep it. Is integrity not one of the qualities you require in a wife?”
“It is one of the many qualities I admire in you.” He captured her chin between his fingers and pressed his lips to hers. Though chaste in its delivery, she felt the tingles all the way to her toes.
“Come,” she said, fighting the temptation to straddle him and soothe away all his woes. “We have half an hour to discuss our theories regarding the letters.”
“A discussion in your bedchamber is exactly what I need,” he teased.
Oh, the thought of slipping into bed next to him sent her pulse racing, but there would be time for amorous activities later. “We must decide what to do with the letters.”
“I’ve thought long and hard about that. We will use them to bribe your father.” The razor-sharp edge to his tone said he was serious. “I’ll not have him interfering in our lives, threatening you. Nor will I tolerate your sister’s vicious tongue a moment longer.”
Juliet glimpsed the dark devil men feared.
“But should we not return them to the church, honour your grandmother’s wishes?” She thought to suggest they burn them, but she could not interfere with his grandmother’s quest for forgiveness. Clearly, Charlotte Drake had kept the letters for a reason.
Then a terrible thought struck her as she recalled her father’s earlier comment.
“Devlin, when I spoke to my father before dinner he said the letters contained incriminating evidence, that Ambrose had confirmed they were in his possession. I assumed he referred to the duel.”
“And now you think he was referring to his illegitimacy?”
Juliet had worn her illegitimacy like a noose around her neck. Over the years, she had learnt to breathe a little despite the constrictions. She knew her place, how many steps she could take before the rope grew taut and rubbed painful welts into her skin.
The baron would never cope with the restrictions, with the direct cuts, with the disdain directed his way. No wonder the lord had taken extreme measures to ensure the truth remained hidden.
“A man with my father’s power and position might escape punishment for partaking in a duel, especially when Ambrose died from an injury to his head.” Juliet took a step closer to her husband and placed her hand on his arm. Touching him banished any anxiety. “But he would suffer greatly if anyone discovered he was the son of a maid.”
A brief silence ensued.
Devlin stared at a nondescript point on the tiled floor as he considered her comment. When he eventually looked up to meet her gaze, she saw sorrow lingering in his obsidian eyes.
“Then in a random twist of fate,” he began with an air of melancholy, “my grandmother’s letters led to Ambrose’s death. I am convinced that news of the baron’s illegitimacy caused him to end his betrothal to your sister.”
“And consequently, led to the duel that brought your brother to the common at dawn.”
“Indeed.”
Fate could be cruel as well as kind—she knew that.
But what should they do with the information? Would her father ever give up his search for the evidence that would ruin his beloved reputation?
“I should take Rufus out,” Juliet said in the hope the cold air might clear the cloud of confusion. “While I’m gone, think about your need for vengeance. Decide whether you truly want to approach my father and tell him what we have discovered.”
Devlin pursed his lips. “I shall be in the study, and will—”
The creak of a hinge drew their attention to the closed door at the end of the hall. Perhaps Juliet imagined hearing the doorknob rattle, imagined the faint patter of footsteps echoing down the stone staircase that led to the servants’ quarters.
“We will discuss the matter upon your return,” Devlin continued. “Somewhere that guarantees privacy.” The beginnings of a wicked grin graced his lips. “Somewhere quiet. Somewhere secluded.”
The tug deep in her core almost forced her to cancel Rufus’ daily outing. But there was nothing like the thrum of anticipation to heat the blood.
Placing her palms on her husband’s impressive chest, Juliet came up on her tiptoes and kissed him once on the mouth.
“I shall not be long. Pray that Rufus doesn’t run away, else I shall have to spend the afternoon looking for him.”
“Trust me. That dog will feel the devil’s wrath if you’re not back here in an hour.”
With a light heart and a skip in her step, Juliet led Rufus from the stables and out along the path that ran parallel to the manicured lawns. She would take him over the stone bridge to the open fields where he could run to his heart’s content. The gardeners forever complained about him digging in the rose beds or watering the shrubs.
The nip in the air stung her cheeks. After cold hours spent in the church the previous evening, she was thankful for the thick travelling cloak draped around her shoulders. Besides, chasing after Rufus would soon warm her bones.
“Rufus!” Juliet stopped walking and waited for the hound to turn and look at her. “Sit, Rufus,” she said, holding her hand aloft as a signal of intention.
For once, the dog did exactly as he was told, and Juliet rewarded him with a pat on the head and a sm
all chunk of dried beef she’d saved from last night’s dinner.
Despite all that had happened with the baron, happiness swelled inside. She wanted to shout, to stand on the stone bridge and tell the world she loved Devlin Drake. Her husband stimulated her mind, invaded her thoughts, her heart, her body. He soothed and excited with his commanding presence, a presence that was as potent as any drug.
She craved his company, his voice, his mouth, his touch.
Oh, Lord!
With a quick shake of the head, she forced herself from her musings.
Poor Rufus. He deserved her undivided attention. How else was she to train the hound and win the wager? Sinful thoughts flooded her mind. What would she ask of her husband should she succeed in her task?
How ironic that fate chose that moment to show her how far she was from achieving her goal.
Nose to the ground, Rufus had sniffed out a scent. He bounded over to the rhododendrons, chewed on something he’d found hidden there before darting off on the hunt. Juliet chased after him, calling his name and issuing commands, but he refused to listen and charged about as merry as a march hare.
“Rufus!”
The hound disappeared from sight.
Oh, the devil!
She had promised Devlin she would be but an hour.
Juliet hurried across the lawn, caught sight of Rufus shooting down the narrow flight of steps leading into the icehouse. There could only be one reason why he would venture in there—the daft dog was chasing a rabbit.
“Rufus!”
The iron gate leading into the icehouse was wide open.
How odd.
With a clawing sense of trepidation, Juliet descended the worn stone steps. One look at the dark, dank tunnel beyond the gate and her stomach quivered. A strange whirring sound sent her nerves scattering. But then hadn’t Devlin said something about it being an unusual design, that a large wooden wheel assisted with drainage?
The dog’s bark echoed through the chambers.
“Rufus! Come here.” Juliet waited, then stepped over the threshold.