by Jenna Jaxon
Amiable rode into view and her heartbeat quickened. Surely, she had never experienced this bone-deep affinity for St. Cyr?
The carriage slowed and the bumpiness of the road increased. They had not arrived at the next inn. Nothing except fields on either side. Puzzled, she lowered the window to call to Roberts. A fat raindrop landed on her nose. She jerked back inside, fished her handkerchief out of her reticule, and dabbed the splash away.
The door flew open and Amiable scrambled in, damp from the sudden downpour.
“Oh.” A thrill raced down her body.
“Your pardon, my lady, but I thought you might be ready for some company.” He laughed and settled himself in the backward facing seat opposite her and Glynis.
“Indeed, sir, I have been ready for company since we left the inn. ’Tis you who have seemed in need of solitude.” She strove for a saucy tone. “I see a cold bath does wonders for your sociability.”
“You have no idea how true your words are, Lady Juliet.”
“Captain Dawson, I believe we should dispense with the formalities. Especially as we are traveling as husband and wife, I insist you call me Juliet. A married man does not need to call his wife by her title and I would be Mrs. Dawson, in any case.” She paused. “Hummm.”
“What, my lady?” So he would cling to formality a while longer.
“I just realized Duncan does still call Kat Lady Dalbury, even at home. How odd. Our parents never did such a thing.”
“Perhaps she enjoys the title.” His tone came out flat and he shifted suddenly in his seat.
She had been right. Something lay between the two of them.
“Then she’d want everyone to use it, don’t you think? She told me as soon as she met me to call her Kat.” She shook her head. “I sometimes don’t know what to make of their marriage.”
“What do you mean, Lady Juliet?” He settled back into the corner of the cushioned seat, arms crossed over his chest, trying to sound as though simply making conversation. Yet the sudden gleam of interest in his eyes gave it the lie.
“You are going to vex me, Captain Dawson, if you call me Lady Juliet again.” They must get beyond the formalities. If they could do that, perhaps they could get to know each other in a friendlier manner. Playful, even. Surely, he knew how to play?
“The marriage came about quite suddenly I understand. Neither one ever told me how they met. I only arrived home the day of their wedding and didn’t know about it at all until just before it took place.”
“When were they married?”
“Early April, the seventh, I believe. Katarina looked like an angel in an ice-blue gown, except rather nervous.” The strangest wedding she’d ever attended, to be sure. “I remarked she looked like she didn’t know where she was or what she did during the ceremony. I don’t think brides should be nervous, do you?” She would certainly never be anxious if he were her groom. “Excited to be sure, starting life anew with the man of your dreams, but not nervous.”
He shifted in his seat and crossed one booted foot over the other. “They married in early April? Katarina and her brother couldn’t have arrived in London before mid-February.” He stroked his chin with restless fingers. “Then it’s impossible they had known each other long.” His voice was so low he might have been speaking to himself. “Even if they met almost immediately after they had landed.”
“Oh, but it must have been an even shorter acquaintance, Captain Dawson.” She emphasized his name, hoping he would take the hint.
He simply stared.
Disappointed, she continued. “Duncan had been in Italy for eight or nine months. After the scandal with the Earl Ferrers and the duels, he had to leave London. He did not return until about the middle of March. So they could only have known each other for about three weeks, don’t you think? It must have been love at first sight.” The thought of her arrogant brother doing such an impossibly romantic thing made her smile. “Duncan would have been smitten with her immediately because of her hair. He’s never been able to resist a woman with auburn hair.”
She stopped, arrested by Amiable’s somber glare.
“Do you know the exact date on which your brother returned, Lady Juliet?” He straightened, speaking each word carefully.
“I believe in the letter he wrote to let me know he had returned, he mentioned he arrived around the sixth or seventh of the month.” Not an odd question, really, although his manner and intensity made it so. “I’m certain it was before the fifteenth, for he said in the letter he would attend our aunt’s masquerade ball on the Ides of March.” She smiled uncertainly at him. His brooding stare made her uncomfortable for the first time. “Perhaps they met there.”
“Indeed, perhaps they did.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the leather cushion, ice in his voice.
Shivers raced down her spine.
“Although the very next day Katarina sent a letter to me accepting the proposal of marriage I had made her before she left Virginia.” His eyes bored straight into her.
She shrank back in the seat, pressed against the cushions with nowhere left to go.
“That’s an unusual reaction for someone who’s fallen in love at first sight, don’t you think?”
Chapter 7
All color drained from her face. He had not been oblivious to Juliet’s not so subtle advances toward him. She might even have cherished hopes of him offering for her. A remote hope at this juncture. If he put together her story with the information in his letter, suspicion that her brother had ruined his beloved Katarina became all but certainty.
Everything the lady had just related to him led him to believe Katarina’s letter to him, dated March 16, had been prompted by an attack on her. Nothing else made sense. The letter, which he had all but committed to memory during the long voyage home, had been tantalizingly vague.
London has proved first tedious and now dangerous. Last night, highwaymen set upon Jack and me while on our way to a ton event. Fortunately, the worst my brother suffered was a blow to the head, from which he seems to be recovering this morning. I, however, have been frightened nearly to death by this attack and long to return to Virginia. When Jack is recovered, I intend to beg him to allow me to sail back to Williamsburg if, my dear, I may now accept the kind offer of marriage you made to me in December. I must admit my feelings for you have not changed, but you told me if I ever had need of you I would only have to ask. I am asking now, dearest Amiable, if you will shelter me with the protection of your name. There are, however, circumstances we will need to discuss, for I will not hold you to your promise unwillingly.
Those few words had raised him to the pinnacle of elation. She had agreed to be his wife; he could think of nothing else during the voyage home. When his sisters had told him of her marriage to the Marquess of Dalbury, the devastation had been brutal.
Now, however, he could see, almost as eloquent as her written words, the ones she had not written. She had spoken of her brother’s wounds but not of her own. If she’d had pistol or sword to hand, perhaps she would have remained unscathed. Then her letter would have been full of her escapade.
Instead, it painted a picture of a Katarina now frightened enough to abandon her beloved brother and seek asylum in Virginia alone. Indeed, terrified enough to ask for the name and protection of a man she did not love. This from a young woman with the courage of a man and the skills and mettle to outwit most. What had she left unsaid? What “circumstances” had she alluded to?
Coupled with her sudden marriage to a man she could have known at the most three weeks, Katarina’s behavior sounded suspiciously as though she had been assaulted. Had she been raped by one of the highwaymen, she might very well have remembered his promise to her and believed he would understand and agree to marry her, which he would have done in an instant. He would wager a large sum these were the “circumstances” she wished to discuss.
So where did Lord Dalbury come into the picture? If Kat had be
en violated on the road, why would she consent to marry a stranger rather than follow her plan to come to him? Why, for God’s sake, would a marquess agree to marry a ruined woman?
Unless the marquess himself had ruined her.
His breath stopped. He stared at the lovely Juliet opposite him as dread descended on his heart and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Katarina had not known the marquess long, yet she had been induced to marry him. According to the man’s sister, she had been reluctant on her wedding day, the marriage itself a sudden affair. All the facts pointed to the abhorrent conclusion that his beautiful, spirited Katarina had been forced to marry her rapist.
He clenched his hands so tightly his nails sank into his palms. Amiable bit back the gorge that rushed into his throat. Why had the first wretched letter from his father been lost at sea? Else, he would have been in London and perhaps could have saved her.
Slowly, he relaxed. He could not be everyone’s knight in shining armor. In truth, he had nothing but suspicions. However it had come about, Katarina had married Dalbury and left the country. As he could do nothing to help her at the moment, he’d leave it alone. For now.
He glanced at Dalbury’s sister. Her bosom heaved and she bit her bottom lip. What had distressed the woman now?
“What is the matter, Lady Juliet? Are you unwell, my dear?” He strove to make his voice express only concern. She was certainly an innocent in the matter. His rage he would reserve for her brother.
“I am very well, Captain Dawson,” she said, though her unsteady breathing belied the statement. “I simply did not know you were betrothed to Katarina.” A sad little smile appeared. “It must have been painful to hear your betrothed had married another man.”
“Yes, I hardly believed it when my sister informed me of their marriage.” The immediate pain had been brutal, though tempered somewhat by the passage of several days. After all, he’d resigned himself to her loss in December.
“Why would Kat do such a thing? Accept you and then marry Duncan. I’d swear she is not hard-hearted.” Juliet came to an abrupt halt, her cheeks rosy.
“Perhaps it is as you say, and they fell in love at first sight.” Such a circumstance was not wholly outside the realm of possibility. For Katarina’s sake, he prayed it was true. He leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on Juliet’s. Warmth streamed up his arm, filled his chest. Disconcerting yet wonderful at the same time. “Ours would not have been a love match. She wanted to return to Virginia and I became the mere means to that end. Of course, I would have married her and made a comfortable life for her.”
Juliet cocked her head and stared frankly into his face. “So why are you here in London, Captain Dawson? Why did you not wait for Kat to come to you?”
Those warm, seductive eyes.
“Please, Juliet.” He squeezed her hand and withdrew. “You have asked me to be more familiar with you. As you pointed out, we are traveling as husband and wife. By all means, use my given name. Amiable.” Although possibly a disastrous decision, he wanted a more intimate connection with her. The die was cast.
“Amiable.” She gave him a wide grin and sat up straighter.
“I suppose I would even now be standing on the dock each day awaiting Katarina, had not the post that brought me her letter also carried one from my father. My older brother had died of a septic wound in January.”
“Oh, Amiable.” She squeezed his hand, then rubbed it lightly. “I am so very sorry.” Her sweet voice, pitched low and soothing, set his pulse racing.
“Thank you, my dear.” Damnation, but she would seduce him with sympathy.
“So you did not know?”
“Father wrote me immediately but the ship that carried the message never arrived. He sent again and I opened it just before Katarina’s letter. I had to leave immediately for England, so I left money for her return journey with my colonel and an explanation.”
“I cannot imagine your grief, my dear.” She leaned forward and grasped his hands, sending that strange heat straight to his heart.
He closed his eyes and cursed silently. With the hurt of Katarina’s loss still fresh and his distaste at the thought of this woman’s brother having taken his place, he did not want to form an attachment to Juliet.
Unfortunately, his wants kept warring with his desires. Their close proximity, the touch of her hands, and her sweet jasmine scent all conspired to set his body ablaze. In spite of his inner turmoil, the carriage had become a steamy cocoon of sensual heat smoldering around them. The presence of her maid made no difference at all to him. Had sheer lust seized him, perhaps? A sexual attraction between a man and a damned fine-looking woman who would likely…
“Was he young?”
The question surprised him out of his reverie. “My brother?”
She nodded, still clasping his hands.
“Pax was two years older than me.”
“Pax? That’s a rather unusual name, don’t you think?” She reminded him of a bird, with her cocked head and shiny eyes.
“Short for Peaceable. Mother christened us all with given names that reminded her of her Quaker upbringing.” Not the easiest names to have lived with.
“Your mother was a Quaker?” Frank astonishment made her voice squeak.
“Yes. It’s an odd story but a romantic one nonetheless. Would you like to hear it?”
“Oh, yes, please.” She released his hands.
He settled back against the cushion. “My father was raised at Cheswyck, our family estate in Gloucestershire. A prosperous neighbor—of the gentry, and very respectable—owned the estate that bordered our property. The landowner’s daughter and my father played together as children. By the time he turned twenty and she sixteen, they realized they never wanted to be apart.” A smile curled Juliet’s lips. He’d suspected she’d love a romantic tale. Now for the dark side of the story.
“Her family, unfortunately, had joined the Society of Friends many years before. If she married my father, she would be an outcast, not only because she married outside the meeting, but also because he would one day hold a title. Quakers do not acknowledge such earthly distinctions. They are anathema to them.”
“Oh, dear. I had no idea they were so strict.” Her eyes had grown wide and round. “Whatever did your mother do? Of course she had to marry him if he was her true love.”
Amiable shook his head. Love didn’t come easily in his family. “My mother prayed long and hard on the matter and came to the heart-wrenching conclusion she must reject my father and remain within her faith.”
“Oh, no.” Juliet gripped his wrist. “She couldn’t reject him.” She sat back, her face puckered into a frown. “Of course not, for you are here.”
He laughed and patted her hands. “When my father came to call on her, to take her away to an Anglican church to be married, she told him she couldn’t go with him. According to my mother, however, the look of devastation on his face wiped away all of her good intentions. They were married that afternoon and lived very happily at Cheswyck.”
“A happily-ever-after ending?”
Her sweet smile made his heart stutter.
“Until about six years ago when she died unexpectedly,” Amiable said and watched her smile fade. “Father has been inconsolable ever since. My sisters wrote me he had begun to take an interest in things again at last. Now, with Pax’s death, he has withdrawn once more.” The harrowed, haunted look on his father’s face had been reminiscent of the one he’d worn when Amiable had come home after his mother’s death.
“You have other brothers and sisters?”
“Two older sisters. Verity, whom we always called Vee, and Serenity, or Reni.” He grinned. “And me. I’m the baby.”
“With so many nicknames, what on earth do they call you?”
“Aim.”
“Aim?” She shook her head.
“Pax thought it particularly appropriate after I went into the army.”
“
I think I will prefer to use Amiable.”
He raised their clasped hands to his lips. “As you will, my dear.”
Her throaty little sigh sent a shiver through him, and he released her hand as if it had stung him. He shifted his lower body in an attempt to find a position that eased the sudden real ache in his groin. A glance at Glynis showed the girl had taken in their exchange. She narrowed her eyes at him, then bent her head and spoke with her mistress.
The presence of a maid for propriety’s sake might be to his advantage in this case. Between Juliet’s obvious regard for him and the thoughts of misconduct she inspired in him, they needed protection from one another. One look at his traveling companion fetchingly turned out in a gown of gold and roses, her sweet face animated in conversation with her companion, and doubts sprouted like weeds. Juliet was tempting in the extreme, no matter what her brother might have done.
Chapter 8
Intermittent rain had kept Amiable in the carriage, Juliet’s virtual prisoner, for most of the afternoon. After careful reflection on her revelations, he renewed his decision to distance himself from her. It should have been an easy enough task, even in close quarters. Their conversation touched on many topics but never returned to the personal. Fortunately, every three hours, horse changes at posting inns gave him a respite from her company.
Between these stops, however, he discovered Lady Juliet Ferrers proved adept at playing cards, esteemed herself a good watercolorist, but denied the ability to garden. When they halted for refreshments, she took her tea with plenty of sugar and milk but refused sweet cake. Her eyes were wide and warm, the golden brown color of autumn leaves, with long, thick, silky lashes.
That he had spent the better part of the past hour of their journey trying to pinpoint the exact shade appalled him. The implication made his stomach sink. His willpower to hold her at arm’s length had waned with the day.