by Jenna Jaxon
Her homecoming, therefore, had been a bleak affair. She found herself back in her accustomed rooms, just as she had left them in July but somehow colder, less inviting. Glynis had been waiting for her. Duncan had insisted upon sending for her. So now, Juliet sat before the dressing table while Glynis fussed about her hair, styling it for dinner.
“There you go, my lady.” She put the last pins in place. “You may not feel well, but you look a treat. That sky-blue gown becomes you, though it seems to be getting awful snug. Are you sure we can’t lace you a bit tighter?” She pulled at the fabric to adjust the fit.
Juliet shook her head and stared at her hands. “I thought Duncan had told you, Glynis. I am increasing.”
“Oh, my lady.” Glynis jumped back then put her hands on her hips. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you, even though you sent me off to home. Did the captain…did he…” The girl flushed bright red as she searched for the words.
“He married me is what he did, Glynis.”
“Oh, well, my lady.” She laid her hand on her bosom and a smile touched her lips. “Then all’s right, isn’t it? Was that why you sent me off?” She picked up a dark blue wool shawl and draped it around Juliet’s shoulders.
Juliet nodded. “I suppose so. Although all is not right at the moment. He doesn’t want to see me now because I sent you off and didn’t tell him the truth, and…and other things.” Her eyes watered. Why could she not stop this infernal weeping? “I don’t think I’m going down to dinner. I just can’t. Please tell the marquess and marchioness I am not hungry.”
“But, Lady Juliet…” Glynis looked into her face and ceased speaking. She slowly removed the shawl and laid it across the back of a chair. “As you wish, my lady.” She left the room, shaking her head.
Juliet took a deep breath then dried her tears one more time. By now, she had run quite low on handkerchiefs. She must find something else to think about.
Restless, she wandered the room trying to discover some diversion to take her mind off her wretched situation. She pulled a thin volume of poetry from the bookshelf, but love poems held no interest for her now. Rather something more spirited, perhaps, to engage her fully. Ah, Richardson’s Pamela. She’d read the novel several years before, delighting in the trials and eventual triumph of the pert maidservant. Just the thing.
She brought the candle close and settled down in her favorite chair. Pray God she could concentrate on this book and not let her mind wander to more unpleasant topics. She had reached the end of the first page when the door opened and Glynis entered.
Juliet looked up at the interruption and smiled. The girl raised her eyebrows but resumed tidying the room without comment. Juliet returned to her book.
Quiet descended as Glynis bustled around picking up discarded clothing. “You know you need to keep up your strength, my lady.”
A short-lived quiet. “I am fine, Glynis.” The maid returned to her work, but Juliet had little hope of reading now. She raised the book, determined to focus on the perils of a different maid.
Several moments later, the girl broke in again. “For the little one. You may not be hungry, but I’ll bet you he is.” She fixed Juliet with a stern eye. “I think you’d best go right on downstairs and eat for him, my lady.”
Juliet sighed and closed Pamela. She might as well go down. She would get no peace from the maid until she did. “I suppose I should think of the child. Thank you, Glynis. I…thank you.”
“You’ll be fine, my lady,” the girl said, fitting the shawl around Juliet once more.
The girl was right. She had to consider her baby first now. Juliet left the room and started downstairs. Even if her babe’s father did not want either of them, she wanted this child. She would have to take very good care of herself so her son or daughter would be born healthy and strong. And loved. She would love him enough for two parents if she had to. Her hand stole down over her very rounded abdomen. My baby…
She entered the dining room with a slight smile on her lips, the first one in days. “Good evening…”
The words died on her lips. Duncan and Katarina were at opposite ends of the great mahogany dining table. In the center, across from her accustomed place, sat Amiable.
Her heart stuttered then took off racing. She clutched the shawl. Couldn’t speak a word. She stared at her husband, unsure if he was actually there or if she dreamed.
Both he and her brother had risen at her entrance. Duncan called for her place setting to be returned, then escorted her to her chair.
Once seated, Juliet gazed across the table at Amiable, drinking in every bit of him as one dying of thirst gulps water. She wanted to drown in the sight of him.
“I asked Amiable here tonight, Juliet, so he can inform us of the progress made with the solicitor and the marriage certificate itself. Tomorrow we will pay a visit to St. Cyr.” Duncan sneered as he said the name. “I want him to explain this whole debacle to me, if he dares. Also, I want to find his father. If Mallain is still against the marriage, he will be more than willing to aid us in proving it invalid.”
She paid no attention to her brother’s words. Sitting so close, looking so handsome in brown velvet, Amiable distracted her completely. They were into the third course yet she’d no clue what she’d eaten. He had not spoken to her, indeed had glanced at her but once. When he had looked her way, however, she’d made sure to smile her prettiest, although it seemed to have no effect.
“So Grimes has had no luck with contacting the witnesses listed on the certificate?” Duncan asked as a servant cleared the final dishes.
“He sent letters to France as soon as you put the document into his hands in late September but has heard nothing yet. It is unfortunate both witnesses were French.” Amiable finished his glass of wine. His gaze slid to Juliet, making her catch her breath.
“That is rather intriguing.” Duncan rubbed the stem of his wineglass between finger and thumb. “Because the servant and guard I sent with the proxy were English, sent specifically to witness the marriage. They should have done so, regardless of the clandestine nature of the ceremony. Yet St. Cyr used his own people. I wonder why?”
“Have you questioned Betsy and Campbell, Duncan?” Juliet found her tongue for the first time. “They told me quite a lot about what went on in Philippe’s father’s household. I never believed the marriage to be valid because, according to them, Philippe could not have cared less whether we married or not.” Her comments were rewarded when Amiable turned his head to her, a considering look in his eyes. Her mouth went dry and her mind went blank.
“I will speak to them first thing in the morning. An excellent idea, my dear.” Duncan’s enthusiasm sounded perhaps a trifle overdone, but she shot him a grateful glance.
“Perhaps I should be present too, Duncan.” She might as well press her advantage. “I might think of something it would not occur to you ask.” Duncan nodded his head, and her confidence began to return. She would fight for her marriage and prove Philippe a fraudulent husband, despite what Amiable might think of her.
“Do you think you can find the woman who stood as proxy, Duncan?” Katarina asked. “She would certainly have useful information.”
“If she could be persuaded to tell the truth.” Amiable aimed a pointed look at Juliet. “That’s what I find most frustrating. Any of these witnesses may have been paid to say what St. Cyr wants them to.”
“With that in mind, I am going ahead with an additional plan of attack.” Her brother reared back in his chair. “First, I will begin proceedings to have the marriage annulled, in the event it indeed proves to be valid. I am sure, under the circumstances, some type of impediment can be found.” He looked pointedly at Juliet’s stomach. “There are several reasons why a marriage may be considered null. Consanguinity is a primary one, but alas, we have no common ancestors. There are others, of course, that we will explore. In addition, we will attempt to verify that the marriage contract is a falsified document. I wi
ll call on Grimes tomorrow as well and light a fire under him to get this settled.”
Juliet stretched her legs and rubbed her face. Lord, she was tired to the bone. She sat straighter to disguise her weariness with all the legal maneuverings.
Duncan glanced from his brother-in-law’s inflexible face to her own, seeming to weigh them both, then leaned forward and pinned Amiable with a stern eye. “Morley, my sister is in too delicate a condition to have to endure this strain. Should anything happen to her or the child due to stress or worry over this situation or your treatment of her—”
“Duncan.” Juliet blistered him with just the one word. She sent a glare of reproach toward her brother. “Threatening Amiable will hardly lessen my distress.”
Katarina rose with a pointed look at her husband. “I fear I am somewhat stressed and fatigued myself, Duncan. Will you assist me to bed, please, instead of going off to sip brandy with Amiable? I am sure he will not mind spending time with his wife after such a long separation.” Her eyes sent Amiable a message, sharp though wordless.
For better or worse, they were being left alone.
Chapter 21
To Juliet’s consternation, Amiable rose when Katarina did and grazed her cheek as he said good night. She left the room on Duncan’s arm, and her husband turned back to her, standing so straight he seemed at attention. What in God’s name would he do?
She waited for him to approach her, to speak, to do something to break this horrible silence. Her tongue seemed to have swollen in her mouth, so she couldn’t utter a word if she tried. Her gaze dropped to her lap to contemplate her clasped hands, the only safe haven.
With measured gait, Amiable walked past her toward the fireplace. Minutes passed with just the crackle of the fire and the lonely sough of the fierce wind outside. It seemed they were to be in for some stormy days.
Convinced her husband had no intention of speaking to her, Juliet raised her head to find him studying her in silence. He stood straight, arms crossed over his chest, his chin lowered to stare down his nose at her. Her heart thudded like a tight drum in her chest. She managed a small, nervous smile.
It was not returned.
So be it. She must try to make amends. With resolute determination, she gathered all her courage, all her remorse, and rose. Quietly she came to stand before him, head bowed.
“Amiable, I cannot tell you how sorry I am I hurt you. Sorry…” She swallowed hard. The confession wanted to stick in her throat. “Sorry I lied to you about Glynis and did not tell you about Mr. Sutton.” She risked a peek at him, but his expression had not changed from that devastating look of contempt.
“I know I should have told you of my betrothal, but the settlements had been signed less than a week before. I didn’t think of myself as betrothed. With Duncan’s departure, followed by Philippe’s appearance, frightening me half to death with his assertions about the marriage, Mr. Sutton didn’t enter my head at all. Then you were so kind and wonderful, so I just, well, forgot him.” She stared at him, misery eating her.
“I wonder how long it will take you to forget me, Juliet.”
How could he think such a thing? “I could never forget you, Amiable. I love you, with all my heart, all my soul.”
He lifted the corner of his mouth into a sneer. “I wonder if you offered the same sentiment to St. Cyr or Sutton? Perhaps to both?”
“Oh.” Tears welled from her eyes. “I have never said such a thing to anyone else, not even to Philippe. How can you be so cruel as to doubt my love for you?”
“Rather ask how I could be so foolish as to believe a word you say, my dear.” His eyes glinted icy as sleet. “I wonder if you have ever told me the truth about anything?”
Juliet sobbed and sank into a chair. She could not bear the suspicion and disdain in his voice. Even worse, she had put them there. The hard lines that now seemed etched into his face accused her further.
“If you remember, my dear, almost the first words I heard from your lips were a lie to St. Cyr, calling me the Earl of Manning and your husband.” He loomed over her, menace in his velvety soft voice.
She recoiled, then peered at him through her tears. “I had to. As I recall, you played a part along with me.”
“Ah, but I was coming to the rescue of a fair damsel.” He drew a chair near her and sat down.
“And I was protecting myself from that brute.”
Amiable’s eyebrows rose. He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed. “A brute? Apparently your previous encounters with him were not so unpleasant.”
“I suppose that depends on whether you consider rape unpleasant. I must say I do.”
“What!” Shock at her words wiped away his confident air. “He did not rape you, Juliet. If any man knows that, I do.”
“No, he did not succeed,” she admitted. “However, the last time I saw him before he left England, he tried to force me.” She stared at him, defiant. Did he think he knew the whole story? She would disabuse him of that forthwith. “We were at a house party given by the French Ambassador. I consented to go into my room alone with him.”
“Huh.”
Wretch. “We were betrothed.” She shot him a withering look. “I thought him a gentleman. Kisses led to…other things, but he wanted even more, so I told him no, not until we were wed.”
She closed her eyes and the terror, the pain came pouring back. “He said he had the right. Because of the betrothal, I could not refuse him. He grabbed my handkerchief out of my pocket and shoved it into my mouth. He tied my hands with my fichu. I fought him, but he pushed me against the wall…”
Like it was yesterday, she felt her back slammed against the solid wall, his hot breath on her neck, his fingers pinching her breasts. She shuddered and opened her eyes. With them closed, she could still see Philippe. “You may think he’s weak, but he’s not. He pinned me there, tied my hands to a wall sconce. He pulled up my skirt…” She sobbed.
“And what happened?” Amiable leaned forward to catch her every word.
“Glynis came in with a dress she had cleaned. She screamed and he backed away.”
“You did not tell your brother?” Amiable’s lips pressed so tightly together they were white.
“No.” She wiped at her face, a useless gesture. “Philippe told me if either Glynis or I said a word, or if I tried to stop the marriage, he would put it about we had…that he had ruined me and no man would ever marry me. After Mallain broke the betrothal, Duncan’s antagonism toward Philippe and his father convinced me I didn’t have to worry about a reconciliation. I thought it all over. Then, Philippe appeared in London in July, and I panicked. I thought he would try again to…I would have done anything to escape him.” Juliet looked at Amiable sullenly. “I suppose you believe that now.”
“If I can believe anything you say.”
How dare he? She’d bared her soul and he’d trampled it. Juliet shot to her feet, bringing him to his. Terror and tears fled, replaced by anger. “Glynis will confirm it, if you still doubt me.” She stalked to the fireplace, anywhere to get away from him. “If you recall the morning we met, you saw me frightened out of my mind. That was not a lie. I cannot think what he will do to me or to the baby if that marriage is valid.” She placed her hand protectively over her abdomen. “He will not want—”
“He will not touch my child.” Amiable spoke with absolute finality. “Whatever else happens, I can promise you—”
She grasped her belly. A thump from within, more powerful than any other she’d experienced. Good Lord.
“Juliet?” Concern shadowed his face, which had lost some of its color. “What is wrong? Is it the baby?” He reached her in one stride, eased her down into a chair, dropped to his knees, and took her hands. “Tell me, love, what has happened?”
She stared at him, wonder in her heart. “The baby, Amiable.”
“Is it coming?” He blanched and gripped her fingers tighter.
She shook her head and gu
ided his hand to her abdomen. “There. Can you feel him? He’s kicking me.”
Amiable blew out a breath. He drew it in again but stopped, a look of rapt amazement dawning on his face. “I can feel him.”
“I have felt little fluttering before, but not like this. Oh, Amiable. He lives. Our child lives.” Her eyes welled with tears. At such a horrible time, the miracle of life stirred within her. What a blessing they could share this moment, the three of them together.
“He or she is strong.” His voice hushed in awe. His gaze moved from her stomach to her face, and she thrilled to see a softening there. He withdrew his hand and stood.
“You must rest, my dear. This has been an exhausting day for you. Let me see you to your room.” He offered his arm.
She rose in a trance. He’d used endearments she’d never expected to hear from his lips again. He also seemed pleased with the child. Most wonderful, though, he’d offered to escort her to her room. Happiness washed over her like a wave. She wound her arm through his, unaware of anything except Amiable beside her until they reached the upper landing.
“Which way to your room, Juliet?”
She indicated the corridor to the right and glided along, squeezing his arm gently to assure herself he was real. They stopped before the door to her chamber and she reluctantly released him.
“Thank you,” she murmured with sudden shyness. To her amazement, he lifted her hand. Heat rushed through her body at the velvet touch of his lips.
“Good night, Juliet. I will see you tomorrow.” He released her fingers and with a nod withdrew. He retreated along the hallway, and she admired every stride until he turned the corner. Once he disappeared from sight, she entered her room on weightless feet. The future now held more promise than she’d expected when she’d left it. Pray God tomorrow proved an even better day.
* * * *
Amiable departed Dunham House, reeling at both Juliet’s revelation about St. Cyr and the feel of his child’s presence beneath his hand. He entered his carriage and gave the order for home. Juliet’s woebegone face surfaced before him, as it had ever since he had left the north almost three weeks before. Those weeks had served to clear his mind, to help him focus on his supposed wife’s numerous sins, and had solidified his goal to have her marriage to St. Cyr proved valid.