He held himself rigid. ‘No more than you did.’
What a fool she had been to hope that this marriage could be better than her last. ‘I wish I had never met you.’
His lip curled. ‘I suppose you would have preferred old Lord Pefferlaw to have won the bidding that night?’
A low blow. She straightened her spine. ‘It might have been a whole lot better than ending up with you. At least I would have known where I stood. At least he wouldn’t have pretended to care.’ At least he wouldn’t have stolen her heart and then walked all over it.
She stalked out where she ran the gauntlet of three hovering footmen and a worried-looking Grindle. They must have heard the anger in their voices, if not the words.
Finally, in her chamber, she gave in to the anger coursing through her veins. And the despair.
She threw herself on to the bed and struck her pillow with her fist. Damn him. All the time she’d had this faint little hope he was beginning to care for her the way she cared for him, that perhaps caring might make a difference to her ability to conceive. What a joke. He cared only for the rights of another woman’s child.
Worst of all, how could she blame him for trying to do his duty by his son? Jeffrey was an innocent in the whole horrid mess.
Reality lay heavily on her chest. They were married and there was no way out.
For either of them. Bleakness filled her heart.
* * *
The old adage, be careful what you wish for, certainly seemed to hold true in Alistair’s case. He’d started off wanting to keep his wife at a distance and now she barely spoke to him. Day by day what little accord they’d found in their marriage was withering on the vine.
And while he’d hedged her about with the footmen he trusted, he’d been riding around the estate day in and day out in hopes of flushing out his enemy.
He handed his reins over to Jaimie, who gave him a look of exasperation, but since the man’s previous admonitions about overdoing things after his accident had gone unheeded, the man merely shook his head and went off to walk the horse out.
Once indoors, Grindle met him with an envelope. He didn’t recognise the seal. Something ornate with a ship in the middle and cherubs blowing trumpets. He did, however, recognise the return address.
At last! Word from Lewis. Now he would know the identity of his enemy.
He broke the seal with his nail, cursing when his own letters, both of them unopened, dropped to the floor. He picked them up and wandered into his study. A quick scan of the note from Lewis’s mother had him grinding his teeth. His first missive had arrived the day after Lewis’s father’s funeral. The same day the man had left the family estate for parts unknown.
He sank into his chair. This was the worst possible news. He wanted to have it out with Luke, but without any evidence, he was handicapped.
He pressed his fingers to his temples. The headaches returned when he was tired. Perhaps he should heed Jaimie’s warnings. Certainly, Julia no longer cared where he went or what happened to him. As he deserved. Indeed, the further he kept from her, the more likely she was to be safe because with Robins out of the picture, he was certain the attacks were primarily aimed at him.
He eyed the rectangular box in the middle of his desk. The hand delivery from a jeweller. He knew exactly what it contained. Rather than open it, he shoved it in the bottom drawer of his writing table.
Wearily he dragged himself up the stairs to change for dinner. Not that there was much point. Julia wouldn’t join him. Since his revelation about Jeffrey, she preferred a tray in her chamber.
If she knew she filled his thoughts for more than half of his waking day and most of his dreams at night, would she feel even a little in charity with him? Likely not.
He hated that she’d turned away from him, but he felt some relief that she knew the truth, even if her hurt did not lessen his determination to do the right thing.
What would he do if she sought solace with another man? His fists clenched at the idea. Marrying her had been utterly selfish. Wrong.
Every day, he fought the urge to seek her out. He’d tried to make himself believe she was no different than all those other women who had merely wanted him for the title and money. That he couldn’t trust her. He tried to hang on to the resentment that had kept him single all these years.
But time after time he found himself picturing her smiles. Remembering how she’d held his head in her lap in that field. Seeing her courage when faced with a murderer and experiencing the fear all over again for her safety. No matter how he wished things were different, wished that he had never met Elise, the past remained set in stone.
Since Robins’s departure there had been no more incidents of laudanum in her drink. He’d had a word with Cook, who ensured no one else put a hand on anything Julia ingested. Only a handful of his most trusted servants, people who had known him since he was a child, were permitted to handle her tray and to guard her night and day.
He’d talked his plan over with Digger privately and she had agreed it was the best way to proceed. Against her better judgement, she’d agreed to say nothing of his worry to Julia. She’d remonstrated, of course. Vigorously. She always did, but in the end she’d given in.
As for the state of their marriage, there was little he could do. There was no marriage. He’d made sure of it by staying away from her.
The gossips among the servants would soon spread the news that the Duke and Duchess were at outs and there were no heirs in the offing.
The hurt he’d caused Julia was a bitter ache in his heart, but hopefully, it would keep her safe from the threat of his brother until he had the proof he needed to face Luke with his crime. Lack of word from Lewis was an unexpected hitch in his plan.
Julia might be safer if he sent her away.
Such a draconian step would end any hope of making a go of what little marriage they had left. He rubbed at his sternum, trying to ease the ache knowing it might be the only answer.
* * *
After breakfast in her chamber, and having ascertained Alistair had left with his steward, Julia descended to the drawing room.
Disconsolately, she stared at her needlework. Another handkerchief for Alistair, to be embroidered with his initials. Was there really any point? But she had to do something to pass the time and the cushions were finished.
It was sad that she and Alistair had arrived at this impasse. Heartbreaking, if she was honest. The few times their paths had crossed these last few days she had the feeling he also was lonely. Perhaps another woman might have reached him. One with more sophistication. Or a less-chequered past. A lump rose in her throat.
And since it was out in the open that he didn’t need a wife, he would no doubt go elsewhere for pleasure. If that happened, she would leave. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
* * *
‘A note has arrived for you, Your Grace,’ Grindle said an hour or so later, offering her a silver salver.
Putting aside her hoop, Julia broke the seal. The note was from Lady Wiltshire. Apparently an emergency meeting of the committee had been called for that afternoon and her presence was required.
At least someone had some faith in her abilities as a duchess. Could she be bothered? She ought to go. It was her duty, after all. Doing something constructive might serve as a distraction from the miseries of her marriage. At least she’d feel useful, since her husband had no use for her at all.
‘Can you have the carriage brought around, please, Grindle?’
‘Most of the staff are off this afternoon, Your Grace. I only have one footman available to go with you. Mr McPherson took one of the horses to the blacksmith, I understand.’
‘One should be enough, surely?’
He looked worried. ‘His Grace asked that two men accompany you at all times.’
>
So she was left housebound? Irritation prickled along her skin. ‘I will have two. John Coachman and a footman.’
Grindle bowed and looked relieved. ‘Yes, Your Grace.’
* * *
At two o’clock she was admitted to the Wiltshire house by a puzzled-looking butler. ‘Her ladyship is in the conservatory, Your Grace.’
‘Julia,’ a female voice said.
She looked up at the imperious note in the voice of the woman walking down the stairs into the entrance hall.
Bother. The last person she wanted to see. Alistair’s stepmother. She was no doubt going to have to explain why Alistair had not called or why Julia had not invited her for tea. ‘Good day, Lady Dunstan.’
‘I apologise for the subterfuge, but I had the feeling I would not be admitted to Sackfield a second time.’ The other woman offered an apologetic smile. ‘Nor was I sure you would answer an invitation from me.’
Julia stared at her. ‘Are you saying there is no committee meeting?’
Lady Dunstan had the grace to look chagrined. ‘Is it too terrible of me? I desired words with you in private. I could think of no other way.’ She glanced at the hovering butler. ‘Come, we will go into the library.’
The butler opened the door to an adjacent room. When Julia stepped inside she was more than a little disconcerted to find Percy Hepple standing beside the hearth with his hands behind his back and a smirk on his lips.
She turned to object, but the door was already closed. ‘You may very well look dismayed,’ the Dowager Duchess said, sadly. ‘My nephew has told me all about you.’
The blood drained from her head. Her knees trembled. She forced herself to remain standing, though the nearest chair looked terribly inviting. ‘I have no idea what you mean. If there is no meeting, I will leave my card for Lady Wiltshire and depart.’
‘I wonder what that dear lady would say if she knew you had posed naked before most of the men in London who then bid on your favours. How dare Alistair bring such disgrace on the Dunstan title?’
Her stomach fell away. She collapsed into the chair.
‘Well?’ the Dowager Duchess said, glaring. ‘Will you deny it?’
Julia glanced at Percy, at the knowing smile on his lips. ‘My past has nothing to do with you or Mr Hepple.’
The woman glanced at Percy and drew in a deep breath. ‘So it is true. What is the matter with my stepson? Offering marriage when he had to know the scandal would ruin us all? For you may be assured, if this dunderhead recognised you, others will, too.’
‘I say, Auntie,’ Percy whined.
Julia pulled herself together. ‘What is the point to this? There is nothing to be done. I am married to Dunstan. If he does not care, I do not see why you should.’ Though if the truth got out Alistair would likely be mortified. And despite everything else, his rescue had been a kindness.
The Dowager flinched. ‘Doesn’t care?’ Her brows drew down. ‘Does my stepson know you are also a criminal? A thief?’
Julia’s heart clenched. ‘How do you—?’
‘My stepson was a confirmed bachelor. The speed of your marriage, the circumstance Percy revealed to me, made me suspicious. I looked into your background. Someone had to.’ Her voice softened, her face expressed sympathy. ‘My poor dear, I don’t blame you for marrying him, given the trouble you were in, but I am worried for you as well as for the family name.’
Julia repressed a start at the change in the woman’s demeanour. ‘You may save your concern.’
The woman shook her head. ‘I don’t suppose he told you he got my son’s wife with child and then fled the country?’
Hepple looked pained. ‘Auntie, you should not say these things about the Duke.’ He glanced around. ‘Or at least keep your voice down. Someone might hear.’
Julia stiffened. ‘I know about Jeffrey.’ It still hurt to think about it, but it had happened long before Julia had appeared in his life. ‘Everyone makes mistakes. He is trying to do the right thing.’
The Dowager glared at her nephew. ‘Percy, leave us. I have things to discuss with Her Grace in private.’
Percy pouted. ‘If you upset Dunstan, he won’t pay my debts.’
The Dowager waved his objection aside. ‘Your debts are a trifle. A mere bagatelle compared to the family’s good name. Go. We will talk later.’
With a huff of impatience, Percy bowed and departed.
The moment he closed the door, the Dowager lowered her voice. ‘My dear, once this information becomes public I fear what Alistair may do. Gossip is already spreading that he is tiring of you.’ She pursed her lips. ‘You would not be the first woman he has cruelly cast aside.’ She shook her head. ‘Though you would be the first wife.’ She patted Julia’s hand. ‘Perhaps you have nothing to worry about, after all. I cannot imagine Alistair going through anything so crude as divorce. Until death do you part.’ She inhaled a sharp breath and her eyes widened. ‘He wouldn’t. Not even he would dare such a dastardly deed.’ Sympathy filled her expression. ‘I am sure of it.’
Chilly fingers walked across Julia’s skin. Her stomach roiled. Her heart clenched. She could not believe it. Would not. ‘What did you mean about him casting a woman aside?’
The Dowager frowned. ‘You did not know that before Luke married her, the woman he got with child was his fiancée?’
‘They were engaged?’ This was not exactly what she had imagined. From the way Alistair had spoken she had assumed he’d had a fling with his brother’s wife, not that he had abandoned her before she was married.
‘If my honourable Luke had not stepped in, I cannot think what would have happened to Jeffrey or his mother. Alistair simply walked out and disappeared.’
‘He returned.’
‘Too late to be of any use. Oh, he promised Jeffrey would inherit, but the man is a rake. As debauched as they come. The title of dissolute Duke is well deserved. How can anyone trust such a man to do the right thing? And... You and he...’ she waved a hand ‘...have not been celibate, I assume?’
‘You can set your mind at rest.’ Bitterness scoured her throat. ‘There can be no children from me. The doctors have confirmed it.’ Admitting being barren left her feeling raw. Useless. Empty inside. Tears welled. She blinked them away.
The Dowager’s expression tightened. ‘Your first husband was a man of declining years. He might have been at fault, not you.’
‘The doctors say not. He has three daughters.’
The Dowager got up and prowled the room. The smile on her face when she turned to face Julia seemed less than sincere. ‘I dread the ton’s reaction when they learn who and what you are. And they will. Alistair will not be able to face down the scandal this time. It is too bad the rest of us will be forced to suffer as well.’
‘Suffer how?’
‘None of us will be able to show our faces in town. This scandal will haunt us for years. We will be lucky if the King does not take an interest and make him forfeit the title.’
Julia’s blood ran cold. ‘He cannot do that, can he?’
‘What the King giveth, surely the King can take away. Whatever the case, Alistair will be persona non grata. All of us will be ruined. Poor Luke. And Jeffrey.’
Poor Alistair, too. For all his faults, he had tried to help her. ‘There is nothing I can do. We are married.’
The Dowager tapped her chin with her forefinger and looked thoughtful. Her face brightened. ‘You could leave the country. Before anyone else has a chance to guess at your identity. I will pay Percy off. Besides, when I explain the damage that would result to his family, he will keep his mouth shut.’
‘Where could I go?’
She shrugged. ‘America. Ships leave from Portsmouth every day at this time of year. I will even give you the money for your fare if you need it.’
&
nbsp; The thought of bringing shame and ridicule down on so many people made her feel ill. She’d known marrying Alistair was wrong. The last thing she wanted to do was cause him harm. She nodded. ‘If I leave, you promise not to tell anyone what you know? You will stop Percy from speaking of it?’
‘Why would I want to bring scandal down on my own head? Of course I promise. Much as I despise his morals, Alistair is the head of my family.’ She touched Julia’s arm. ‘It really is the best for all concerned.’
It was. Alistair didn’t want a proper marriage, so why should she live a lie that could cause innocent people trouble and heartache?
‘I’ll leave right away.’ But would Alistair let her go? Of course he would. Why would he not?
It would make things a great deal easier for them both.
* * *
Alistair opened the front door and somehow managed not to drag his wife over the threshold. When he got her inside, he shut the door with a rapidity that had her blinking.
‘Where the devil were you?’ The question came out more forcefully than he intended. ‘Did you not recall I specifically told you to go nowhere without proper escort?’
‘Why? Am I a prisoner?’
Her words made no sense. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
She stripped off her hat and gloves. ‘I was accompanied. And besides, Grindle knew where I was. I received notice of a meeting of the committee.’
‘Grindle,’ he said, trying not to clench his jaw and to sound reasonable, ‘is visiting his sister, as he does every Wednesday afternoon.’
She frowned. ‘You know it really doesn’t make sense to give all the servants the same half-day off. If you spread them out, you would not find yourself so shorthanded.’
He dragged his fingers through his hair. ‘That is not the point. I asked you to leave the house with a minimum of two footmen.’
‘I had John Coachman and Matthew. Two men. And here I am safe and sound.’
His temper subsiding, he noted an odd note in her voice, a sadness, and peered at her closely. ‘Is something wrong?’
She lifted her chin. ‘What could possibly be wrong? We have barely spoken for days. We might as well not be married.’
Secrets of the Marriage Bed Page 21