by Jenna Jaxon
She needed, however, to understand how much in the wrong she had been. Granted, the situation with Sutton had solved itself better than he could have hoped, but it could just as easily have ended with bloodshed in a duel. If she would be the mother of his children and guide their lives in the world, she must behave with strict decorum where society’s mores were concerned. Perhaps it would be best if they remained separated for a while longer. The most valuable lessons were often the hardest learned.
Steeling himself, he stepped back from Juliet until they were an arm’s length apart. The shock and misery in her face smote him, but he affected a stern countenance before he met her eyes.
“I am not at all convinced, Juliet, you are in any way repentant for what you did. The fact Mr. Sutton did not choose to challenge me does not entitle you to believe you were in the right in this matter. Had the man been of a different bent of mind, and my aim unsteady, you might very well have ended up a widow ere this time tomorrow. Or worse, St. Cyr’s wife.”
The blush in her cheeks drained away like water through a sieve and his protective instincts sprang to attention. Easier to face a bayonet charge against the French than to resist the primal urge to sweep her into his arms and banish the look of fear that leaped into her eyes.
“Oh, Amiable. Do not even think such things, much less speak them.” Tears brimmed over her lids, making tracks down her cheeks. She clutched his hands like a vise.
“A reality of the times, my dear. You may recall your brother killed two men for your honor.” Her tears increased and he relented. Damn it, he wasn’t made of stone. “We are fortunate it did not come to pass. Here.” He produced a handkerchief and dried her eyes, then slipped her hand through his arm and led her from the room.
“I will return early tomorrow for the meeting with Grimes. He needs to question you regarding your encounter with St. Cyr at the French ambassador’s house.”
Juliet wheeled around, pulling away from him. “You told him about Philippe trying to—”
“No, my dear.” Amiable secured her hand once more. “I would never break a confidence you had entrusted to me.”
“Not even to Duncan?”
“We had a very spirited conversation on the topic, but no. I told him he would have to have the story from you alone.”
She relaxed, drew his arm closer. “Thank you for keeping my secret. Though it will soon be secret no longer.” Juliet sighed but offered no further protest.
Amiable stopped at the bottom of the staircase. “You should rest. Tomorrow will likely be a trying day.”
“Will you not escort me to my room, Amiable?” She smiled at him, lighting a fire in his chest that threatened to burn out of control. Best make a hasty retreat.
“Your pardon, Juliet. Such courtesy may prove imprudent under the present circumstances. I will take my leave of you here.” He raised her hand to his lips and grazed the warm skin. “Until tomorrow.”
“‘Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night ’til it be morrow.’” The sad smile on her lips suggested she accepted his decree they remain apart. Her words, however, filled his ears with her longing for them to be together.
Amiable bowed and left quickly. Valuable though they might be, hard lessons were indeed hard.
Chapter 25
Two of the four men in the formal reception room the following morning wore grim faces when Juliet entered on the stroke of ten. Duncan and Amiable acknowledged her with an embrace—too quick for her to truly relish the one from her husband. She alternated between elation that Amiable stood steadfast behind her and sobering fear that she would soon see Philippe. She squeezed Amiable’s hand as she sat down beside him on the Chippendale sofa.
“Can we get on with this, Mr. Grimes?” Amiable’s impatience and, she suspected, fear for her drove his curt question. “I would prefer for my wife to retire before St. Cyr arrives.” He glared at the man and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I see no reason why I cannot take Lady Juliet’s deposition now, Mr. Morley.” The little man shook as he turned to her and bowed.
“Lady Juliet, the questions I am about to ask you will be used to help determine if there are grounds for an annulment of the marriage, if one exists, between yourself and Viscount St. Cyr. These answers may be presented in court, my lady. Therefore you must give me your oath to tell the truth in this matter. Do you so affirm?”
“I do so, Mr. Grimes.” She glanced at Amiable with a wry smile. Nothing but the truth would pass her lips from now on.
A young man seated at a desk a little way apart copied furiously onto a sheaf of foolscap whenever she spoke. Must he do that? What if she misspoke through nerves or lapse of memory? Would the case go ill for her then? She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. They would never be able to prove her married to that brute.
“Very well. Lady Juliet, were you aware of the proxy marriage your brother arranged between you and Viscount St. Cyr?”
“Yes, Mr. Grimes, I was aware of the betrothal and the proxy marriage my brother proposed between me and Philippe.”
“Did you object to this proxy marriage or to any marriage between you and Lord St. Cyr?”
She took a deep breath, mindful that her words must be exact and correct. “At the time of my betrothal to Lord St. Cyr I had no objections at all. The prospect of the marriage pleased me. However, at the time my brother proposed the marriage by proxy I had grave reservations about marrying the viscount, although I did not share them with my brother.”
She had not, in fact, shared them with him until last night after Amiable told her of the deposition to be taken today. When she finally told Duncan about the assault at the French Ambassador’s house party, she’d had to listen to him admonish and upbraid her for more than fifteen minutes.
Mr. Grimes blinked, a frown creasing his brow. “You did not tell your brother you had reservations about the marriage?”
“No, I did not. Philippe had given me cause to believe if I told my brother about…about an incident I had with him, I would regret it once we were married. The contracts and settlements had been signed. I believed it only a matter of time before the betrothal would become a marriage. Perhaps I should have asked my brother not to send the proxy, but that would have led to awkward questions I feared to answer.”
“Such as why you were not still a virgin?”
She jumped and spun around in her seat. The oily sound of St. Cyr’s voice made her stomach churn.
Amiable released her hand and put his arm around her.
“That would certainly have been an awkward question, would it not, chérie?”
Cold fury flooded her, washing away any fear. She bolted out of her chair and whirled toward St. Cyr. “How dare you, Philippe? What call do you have to speak such lies about me? I was a virgin until my husband, Mr. Morley—” Juliet stopped, altogether too aware of what she had been saying and in front of whom. She clamped her hands over her hot cheeks.
The scrape of the copyist’s pen boomed in the sudden silence.
Her brother scowled and Mr. Grimes looked almost as red as she must be.
Amiable, his eyes almost black with rage, rose and faced St. Cyr. “You managed to avoid a challenge the last time we met, St. Cyr, but you will not do so this day. Name your seconds, sir, and I will meet you tomorrow morning. This is the last time you will besmirch my wife in my presence.”
“You cannot challenge me…Mr. Morley, is it this time? You cannot challenge me for telling the truth.” St. Cyr smiled, a malicious leer aimed at Juliet. “You must not tell such lies, ma petite. You will get such a reputation.”
Amiable cursed and his muscles tensed. He pulled against her hand and would likely have leapt at the figure leaning in the doorway.
She squeezed his arm to restrain him.
“I do not lie, Philippe, as you so very well know. Glynis will testify she came in before you managed to ravish me.” She should have bro
ught the maid to this meeting, but she hadn’t dreamed of such an accusation being made. Still it would take but a moment to have her fetched.
“St. Cyr, I am forced to call you a liar to your face.” Amiable spoke through clenched teeth now. “I will speak frankly, if I must, and assure you of Juliet’s virgin state when I first took her to my bed. I can attest to it and to the bloodstains upon the sheets. Ample proof of her innocent state.”
“Oh, I have no doubt you believed her to be a virgin, Morley. I also have no doubt I had her virginity more than a year and a half before you even met her.” The Frenchman strolled into the room, a brilliant peacock in scarlet velvet and white lace, and seated himself in a chair perilously close to Duncan.
“After making some inquiries, I have come to believe you first met Juliet on the day of our encounter, in July.”
“This is preposterous.” Amiable stalked over to St. Cyr’s chair, drew himself up, and towered over the Frenchman. “I have bedded virgins before. I know the physical signs and I will swear under oath my wife was a virgin.”
“I regret to disagree with you, but there is, of course an explanation.”
Everyone’s gaze fastened on St. Cyr, hanging on every word. He seemed to enjoy the rapt attention. “She had herself repaired, of course.”
A buzz of conversation erupted at that pronouncement loud enough to have drowned out a fair-sized orchestra. Juliet shook her head and scowled. What did he accuse her of now? She motioned Amiable to her. “What is he talking about?” She hoped he had some explanation to offer. “Repaired? How can a woman repair her virginity?”
Amiable drew her a little away. “Whore’s tricks, though I suppose well-born women may have used it from time to time if they had fallen into folly before their wedding night. I know you would not have done such a thing.” Behind his eyes, however, lurked a shadow of doubt that hit her like a blow.
“I had no idea such a thing even possible until a moment ago, Amiable. Besides, I told you what happened. Glynis entered the room and saw him jump away from me. I swear he did no more.” Juliet shuddered at the memory. Would she never awaken from the nightmare of Philippe St. Cyr?
“When, Lord St. Cyr, did this violation of my sister take place?” Scowling, Duncan stood over top of St. Cyr. “She has told me of your attempted debauchery at the French Ambassador’s party. When else was she ever alone with you?”
“That is the very time of which I speak, Lord Dalbury.” Mock sincerity oozed from St. Cyr’s voice. “The little maid, she interrupted us as we were so sweetly entwined. Juliet then, shall we say, persuaded her she had seen nothing. For if she had seen something, she could be dismissed without a reference and ruined as a lady’s maid.” St. Cyr smiled his cruel little smile and tented his fingers before his face. “Because Juliet would then no longer be the pure English lady, of course she would not stop you from sending the proxy and pressing for marriage. When my papa broke the engagement, obviously she became distraught with the knowledge she had been ruined. So naturellement she would have had herself repaired to fool the next husband.” His gaze fell on Amiable and he chuckled. “You have played the game well, chérie, if he is so adamant he was the first.”
“He was the first, Philippe. Why are you telling all these lies? I can’t…can’t…” She couldn’t breathe. Her knees buckled. Amiable reached out to her and blackness engulfed her.
* * * *
Juliet opened her eyes. She lay on her own bed, Amiable by her side, rubbing her hands, his brows furrowed.
“Thank God.” He squeezed her fingers, then cupped her cheek.
Glynis bounded into the room, a vial of smelling salts clutched in her hand. “Do you still require this, Mr. Morley?” She held the glass bottle out to Amiable.
“No, Glynis. I believe she has come around now. You may leave us.” The maid scurried away as he looked into Juliet’s face, his own frown softening. “Are you all right, my love? Is the child all right?”
Juliet burst into tears and clutched him about his neck. He did believe her. Relief washed through her. Amiable trusted her word over Philippe’s hateful fabrications.
“Juliet?” The anxiety in his voice rose.
She snuffled and tried to stop the tears. “I am all right. The babe seems fine as well. I felt him move a little. I am just glad you believe me and not Philippe.” She panicked again and her eyes bored into his. “You do believe me, Amiable? That you were the first? You do, don’t you?”
“With all my heart, my love. I remember quite well how it went with you that first time. Even without the blood as proof, there were other signs to tell me no one had ever claimed you before. No one will ever convince me otherwise. So quiet yourself, love.” He pulled her into his arms, rocking her gently, crooning in her ear.
“Is Philippe still here?”
“Yes. You do not, however, need to see him again. Grimes can take his statement and then finish yours at another time. You are not to be upset again in your condition.”
Juliet snuggled against him, warm and safe. Even if an illusion, it comforted her just the same.
The door opened and Glynis stuck her head in again. “Beg your pardon, sir, but you had better come back downstairs. Lord St. Cyr is insisting my lady submit to—” The girl blushed. “Oh, it’s wicked, it is, sir. You need to come now.”
Amiable rose reluctantly. “Lay back down, my love. I’ll go handle St. Cyr.”
“No.” She sat up, determined. “I will go, too. Whatever he wants me to do I have a right to know.” Juliet swung her feet over the side of the bed and he helped her stand.
“It will be a miracle if I don’t kill the cur.” He put a supporting arm about her shoulders—a little bit of heaven in the midst of this hell—and led her toward the door.
“You won’t get a protest out of me now. “ She squeezed his waist. “As long as you don’t get caught.”
He laughed as they walked downstairs to the receiving room. The smile wiped from his face and his whole body tensed as they entered.
Her stomach twisted. The hush in the room seemed accusatory somehow. Indeed, every gaze rested on them.
Amiable assisted her into a seat, then sat beside her and pinned Philippe with an icy stare.
Philippe appeared not to care. His look all but undressed her as she sat. “I suppose there is no doubt you have cuckolded me, chérie. When is the little bastard due to be born?”
Amiable shot out of his seat. His hand clenched Philippe’s throat before Juliet could blink. The fear of imminent death on St. Cyr’s face became both stark and real. Duncan rushed in behind her husband, perhaps to stop him but more likely to pull him off and take his place. She’d applaud whichever champion rid her of the odious man.
“If you wish to live long enough to meet me tomorrow morning, St. Cyr, you will keep a civil tongue in your head and say nothing else to my wife.” Philippe had turned a deep shade of red before Amiable threw him back into his chair and returned to her side.
Mr. Grimes took this opportunity to inquire, “As you have admitted your…er…wife’s infidelity, Lord St. Cyr, would you also be willing to seek an annulment from her? You have ample grounds, my lord.”
Amiable shot a look of malice at the solicitor, who paled under the baleful stare.
St. Cyr chuckled softly and shook his head. “If I were so inclined, Monsieur Grimes, would all parties concerned then acknowledge my marriage to Juliet as a valid one?” He rubbed the red marks on his throat.
“No!” Amiable almost came out of his seat again.
“Are you mad, Grimes?” Duncan turned to the solicitor, his face twisted with fury.
She cringed and clamped her hands over her ears at the din.
“I didn’t mean to suggest that exactly.” Grimes tried to rescind his hasty words. “However, if the marriage is found legal, then I wondered if you would seek to separate from Lady Juliet.”
St. Cyr studied the ceiling, seeming to conside
r the question. “If that moment arrives, monsieur, then I will be able to give you an answer. Although, as of right now, I intend to treat my marriage as the true one.”
“You touch her over my dead body,” Amiable growled.
“As will be proved tomorrow morning.” St. Cyr licked his lips. “Where and when? These things were not discussed before dear Juliet fainted.”
“Nor will they be now, gentlemen.” Enough was enough. Juliet stood, indignant toward both of them for treating her as a spoil of war. “No one will fight another duel over me or for my honor. We will find another way to settle this matter once and for all. And Philippe—” She turned on him. She would never be his. Best he understood that in no uncertain terms. “If the courts uphold the proxy marriage, then I inform you now, I will seek an annulment on the grounds I did not consent to the proxy marriage. Not at the time my brother proposed it, and certainly not after your father broke the betrothal.” She took a breath and steeled herself to continue. “Despite everything you have said about our intimate relations, I deny anything of the sort took place and Glynis will attest to the same under oath. Amiable has sworn I was a virgin on our—” She stopped. Dear God. She sent a panicked glance to her husband. She didn’t want to be caught in a lie. “The first time we lay together.”
“‘The first time we lay together,’ Juliet? Not on your wedding night, though?” St. Cyr asked with a nasty smirk.
Of course he would pick up on her omission.
“By, God.” Amiable shouted and tried to launch himself toward St. Cyr but stopped himself when she shook her head.
Time for confession. “Not on our wedding night, no, but the night before it.”
Philippe’s smile grew wider, crueler. “You see, gentlemen, she admits she lay with a man before they were married. Can you doubt she did this once before?”
“Yes, blast you, St. Cyr. I know she did not lay with you. As I said, I have bedded virgins before and know the difference between a woman who has lain with a man and one who has not. Juliet had not.” Amiable’s voice almost cracked with strain. She knew the stress of this interrogation had already cost him a great deal. Pray God he did not break under it and do something they would all regret.