A Bond of Honour

by Joan Vincent

  "Of course not, my lord. Your wife is most fortunate you choose to be from her. I cannot see how she abides your presence."

  "I have none."

  "Then you are making some fortunate woman very happy by sparing her the odious pleasure,” Lady Juliane replied sharply.

  "Would that I could return the compliment, my lady, but as you travel alone, your husband's wisdom is evident."

  Anger sparked in both pairs of eyes as they confronted one another.

  Lord Adrian was struck with the sudden realization that he wished for nothing but to enfold Juliane in his arms and silence her with kisses. He turned sharply, dropped the hand he had continued to hold, and stalked to the wardrobe.

  Lady Juliane let out a slow breath of relief as he did so and silently left the room.

  * * * *

  "M'lady, what be wrong? Can I help you?” asked Alva, startled by Lady Juliane's entry into her room.

  "Yes, Alva. I left my nightdress here this morning. I think it best that I spend the night here. Lord Adrian is a very light sleeper and I wish for nothing to disturb his rest. We must ensure his complete recovery."

  "Oh, yes, m'lady.” She looked about, uncertain as what to offer Lady Juliane.

  "If you do not mind, I will sleep with André.

  "We have done so before, have we not, André? Perhaps it will keep the nightmares away?"

  "Yes, Mama. But could I not sleep with Papa instead, as I did last night?"

  "No.” She softened her tone. “He must not be disturbed. You toss about much too wildly."

  André nodded reluctant agreement, then wiggled further beneath the coverlets.

  In a short space the cottage grew still, everyone abed. Sleep came quickly to most, the only exceptions being a man who contemplated how a pair of vixen eyes and dark hair that glittered in the firelight could draw him so and a woman who wondered how it was that cool grey eyes and decidedly erratic and ungentlemanly behaviour did not repel but attract.

  As the moon rose higher, sleep claimed even this unsettled pair.

  CHAPTER 10

  The snow was thickly crusted through the past few days’ melting and nights’ freezing. Try though they might, the three stealthy figures could not suppress the crunch of their footsteps as they approached the farm cottage. Making their way to the door outside the kitchen, they huddled briefly to resolve a disagreement.

  Their differences settled, they entered easily as Jove had never installed a lock. Carefully feeling their way, they searched the room. At an unexpected metallic crumple they became as still as statues.

  "Ce n'est qu'un jouet soldat,” whispered the one who had stepped on it and kicked the flattened toy into the fire.

  Two men remained in the kitchen while the third inched his way up the stairs, managing to avoid all but an occasional squeak.

  Pushing open the door of the first room he came to, he warily entered. The moonlight afforded enough light to view the contents of the room.

  A malevolent smile lit his face as he caught sight of André's curls next to Lady Juliane's. Stealing around the bed, he jerked the covers aside and scooped the sleeping boy into his arms.

  Sleep-dazed, André offered no resistance, but the movement of the bed roused Lady Juliane. Seeing the silhouette of the man as he strode around the bed carrying André, she threw the coverlets from her and leaped in front of him. He butted her aside with his shoulder and made for the door.

  "Stop,” Juliane shrieked as she picked herself up and pursued him.

  "Mallatt! Mallatt! Stop him,” she screamed as she lunged at the man mid-stair.

  The thudding of their tumble down the remainder of the stairs, together with André's cries, aroused the household.

  The man loosed a stream of curses as he failed to get a grip on André. The boy had taken a death grip on Juliane in the entangled mass at the foot of the stairs.

  Nightshirt flapping, Lord Adrian ran down the stairs.

  Mallatt and Jove stumbled into the kitchen.

  Routed, the intruders made for the door. The first out let loose a loud whistle and muffled hooves sounded quickly in the yard.

  Ned and Jem pell-melled into the kitchen. All of the men gave chase, but they were not fast enough.

  Meg had lit a candle before the men hurried back in eager to shield their bare feet and scantily clad bodies from the cold night air. Lord Adrian led the pack. He immediately went to Lady Juliane and André.

  The boy was still hysterical despite Juliane's efforts to calm him.

  Kneeling, Lord Adrian tried to take André from Lady Juliane. André howled, but after casting a fear-ladened look, saw that it was Lord Adrian. Relief and trust erased the fear from the boy's features. He let go of Juliane and dove into Lord Adrian's arms.

  By this time Meg had quieted Leora, somewhat diminishing the pandemonium. The others clumped around the three at the foot of the stairs.

  Rising, Lord Adrian held André tightly with one arm and reached out with the other to help Lady Juliane rise. “Are you all right? Did he harm you?” he asked anxiously.

  "No,” she answered shakily. “We were not harmed."

  "What happened?” echoed the others.

  "I don't really know,” parried Lady Juliane. “I awoke to find a man carrying André from the room. I have no idea why."

  "Who could they have been?"

  "His cursing, it be foreign. Be it French?” asked Jove.

  It was as if a knell sounded in the room. Everyone recalled the murdered abigail and postilion. Juliane moved unconsciously closer to André, her fear evident.

  Seeing it, Lord Adrian encircled her shoulders with his free arm. “Mallatt, get dressed and stand guard.

  "Jove, could your sons relieve him during the remainder of the night?"

  "Aye, m'lord. I canna’ understand what they'd be a wantin’ here with yer lad."

  "Probably ransom,” Lord Adrian tossed out, suddenly feeling very protective of the two within his hold. André's trust had gone straight to his heart. Lady Juliane's call to Mallatt for aid instead of him was painful indeed.

  Lady Juliane shivered and stepped closer to him. The earl realised how little everyone wore. “We cannot stand about like this. We will discuss this in the morning.

  "Come, Juliane.

  "Meg, please care for Leora.” He slipped his hand beneath her elbow and guided Lady Juliane up the stairs. At mid-stair he called over his shoulder, “I doubt they will return this night, but keep a close watch."

  At Alva's door, they halted.

  "It would be safest for André to come to bed with me—if you are not afraid,” he said quietly.

  Lady Juliane tried to search his face in the darkness. “No, I am not,” she answered slowly. “Perhaps, that would be best.

  "Do you wish to go with Lord Adrian, André?"

  "Oui,” came the quivering reply.

  "As you wish then,” she said. When she turned to enter Alva's room Lord Adrian's hand stayed her.

  "In the morning we must talk. Have no fear for this night. You and the children will be well protected."

  His earnestness appealed for her trust. It would have been freely given had Juliane not recalled that the rantings of his delirium linked him to things French.

  * * * *

  The entire household slept lightly. Sunrise found all but the children awake.

  Only Lady Juliane kept to her bed. What was she going to tell Lord Adrian? She wished to unburden the entire matter to someone, but could he be trusted?

  If only I could place my faith in him completely, she thought. Why do I have this unreasonable fear? What could they want with André, and who, in truth, are they? The baron? Surely, he would come openly and not try to “steal” his son. Her ruminations were interrupted by Alva.

  "M'lady, beggin’ yer pardon, but his lordship says ye must be risin'. He plans on leavin’ before midday,” said Alva, almost tearfully.

  "Leave before midday? Are you certain he said that?” asked L
ady Juliane, sitting up abruptly.

  "Yes, m'lady. He was a tellin’ Mallatt to get the family's things packed and asked me da about the horses."

  Lady Juliane's heart sank. So, he was eager to get her problems out of his domain. What else could she have expected? He had no reason to be concerned for her or the children. This upset her far more than her fear had done.

  Rising and dressing resolutely, Lady Juliane decided it mattered not. She could proceed ably, as she had in the past, with no need of his or any other man's aid.

  * * * *

  Later that morning Mallatt packed upstairs packing while Lord Adrian supervised the handling of his prime blood horses. Lady Juliane tended Leora with a heavy heart.

  "We be sorry to see ye go, m'lady,” said Meg sincerely as she finished the breakfast dishes. “If ever we can be o’ help, ye know ye be welcome here."

  "Thank you, Meg. You have done so much for us,” Lady Juliane choked out. She bowed her head and a tear dropped onto Leora's gown.

  Meg came to her and engulfed her in a warm embrace. “Now, now. Everythin’ will be fine. Ye'll see. That lord o’ yern truly cares for ye and the wee ones.” She patted Lady Juliane's back. “Ye'll be feelin’ better when ye get to yer home. Tired and overanxious ye be now."

  Juliane managed to free her kerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “Yes, of course,” she sniffed, angry at her weakness. “I am only tired.” There was no need to worry Meg, who could not help her. Someone at the inn would surely have heard of Uncle Thedford.

  At the sounds of steps at the door, the women drew apart.

  Lord Adrian entered briskly. “I will speak with you, now,” he said to Juliane and gestured toward the stairs.

  Knowing not what she would say, that this was inescapable, Juliane went without argument.

  Mallatt looked up from his work as they entered. He noted that Lady Juliane was pale but calm and that his lordship had a determined air about him.

  "You should not be bothering with our things, Mallatt. I will tend to them,” stalled Lady Juliane.

  "I do not intend to be delayed—continue, Mallatt. Now,” he motioned for Juliane to take the lone chair in the room, “we will talk. Why was an attempt made to kidnap André?"

  She looked steadily into his assessing eyes. “I do not know, my lord. There is no reason that I of which I am aware."

  "Are you running from your husband?” he asked coldly.

  "I ... I have none."

  This response drew a lifted eyebrow from Lord Adrian.

  "Please,” she stood up, “desist from these questions. You will be quite free of me when we reach the inn. How soon will we depart?"

  He watched her closely. “I have not yet decided whether I will leave you at the inn. I am certain you are in some sort of trouble. Will you not let me help?"

  His quiet, gentle tone calmed Juliane. If he meant well, he could assist her in finding Uncle Thedford.

  Before she could come to a decision, a clamour caused by the entrance of a crested travelling coach drawn by three teams drew Mallatt to the window.

  Lord Adrian joined him. “Damnation! It's Mother!"

  "Your mother?! I am ruined for certain,” Lady Juliane said and fell back into the chair with a look of utter hopelessness.

  Without acknowledging why, Lord Adrian determined this would not be so. “We shall continue the deception. You and the children will be safe at Trees until I can unravel this."

  "Are you mad, my lord?” Juliane asked blankly.

  "Blessedly so,” he laughed. “This will be fit punishment for Mother for hounding me all these years to marry.

  "Mallatt, we had better get our story. Let me see—we were married in France—perfidity kept me from revealing it. Yes,” he smiled, warming to his theme, “Mother will love having grandchildren.

  "After I have unravelled your mystery, we will leave Trees. Mother will leave me in peace for some time. She may never need to know we never were married."

  "He is mad,” Juliane said to Mallatt.

  "Undecidedly so at times, my lady,” the valet agreed. “Best to humour him. One never knows what turn he will take when one of these spells hits him."

  "Mallatt, finish the packing at once,” Lord Adrian ordered.

  "Juliane, if I see him first, I will send André up. Instruct him to continue in calling me papa. I must go greet Mother before she demolishes our fine friends."

  "Wait, my lord,” Juliane said coldly as he reached the door. “I cannot consent to this. If you will not, I must explain to your mother."

  "Mallatt, put some reason into her head before I return with Mother,” the earl snapped curtly, and departed.

  Lady Juliane turned incredulously to Mallatt. “He does not mean it?"

  "On the contrary, my lady, when he gets that particular look, there is no stopping him,"

  "But to use us to play such a cruel hoax on his mother..."

  "No, my lady, it is your welfare that concerns Lord Adrian. This will not do his mother any harm.” He rolled his eyes expressively.

  "He will explain all upon resolution of your troubles, never fear. Come, would it not be best for you and the children to do as he says?"

  Lady Juliane paced. She could hear upraised voices below. Obviously Lady Tretain had met her match in Meg. Lord Tretain's voice could be heard stilling the others. Then steps sounded on the stairs.

  Wringing her hands, Lady Juliane turned to Mallatt. “Oh, I cannot. It would be too infamous.” She turned to the door and straightened her shoulders.

  Mallatt shrugged ruefully. He truly did not like doing this, but she had left him little choice.

  Opening the door, Lord Adrian grew very concerned as he watched Mallatt gently place an unconscious Lady Juliane on the bed.

  CHAPTER 11

  "What happened?” demanded Lord Adrian, rushing to the bedside.

  "Just a fainting spell, my lord,” answered Mallatt calmly. “You know how overtaxed her ladyship has been these days past."

  "This is what you mean to present to me as a daughter?” purred Lady Tretain snidely.

  Ignoring his mother, Lord Adrian continued anxiously checking Lady Juliane. He found she was not overly warm and pulse normal. She had been getting too little sleep during his illness, but she had appeared robust. Certainly not one to swoon. Glancing up at his valet, he saw his studied unconcern.

  Bending close Mallatt whispered, “You requested I implant some common sense, my lord. This,” he nodded at a small piece of padded firewood lying on the floor at bedside, “was the only variety that presented itself as having a chance for some degree of success.” He nudged the firewood beneath the bed.

  "Lady Juliane carries neither hartshorn nor vinaigrette with her. Mallatt said loud enough for Lady Tretain to hear.

  "Satter,” Lady Tretain said to the abigail who hovered nervously behind her, “fetch my vinaigrette from the coach."

  "Would you happen to have carried any laudanum with you?” asked Lord Adrian, well aware of his mother's constant complaints of ailments. She might never use it, but he knew she believed one must have the necessary props to be assume a successful pose. “I believe Juliane would be better for some."

  Not the thing to do, he thought, but it would be to her benefit. Once they arrived at Trees she will be compelled to confide in me.

  "Ma mère! Ma mère!” André screamed and threw himself on the bed. He shook Lady Juliane with all his might. “Ma mère!” Tears coursed down his cheeks.

  Lady Tretain stared in questioning wonder at his panic.

  "André. André, listen to me.” Lord Adrian took the boy by the shoulders. “Mama has only fainted. Do you hear me, there is nothing wrong."

  André searched Lord Adrian's face. Evidently satisfied in what he saw, he reached out and clung to the earl.

  Holding the boy close Lord Adrian patted him gently on the back. What terrible event had put such fear in the child? He gazed at Lady Juliane. If only she would trust me.


  Lady Tretain could hardly credit the scene before her. The wild tale of her son injured and cared for at a farm cottage with a wife and family, she had easily scoffed at. It was utterly impossible for her son to have been married with children all these years. Why would he have kept the heir from his home?

  But, she thought, the boy does go to him as to a father. If it is not love that lights his eyes when my son looks on that “woman,” I am TOO old. Best I tread warily until I know the lay of things. My intuition to come at once has proven wise.

  "Mallatt, are you finished packing?” Lord Adrian asked curtly.

  "Yes, my lord."

  "Mother, will you allow us to travel with you?"

  "Naturally, my son. When word reached me of your illness, I came expressly to care for you, and I but recently from my own sickbed,” she pointed out. Seeing that this had little effect, Lady Tretain sighed.

  "You will understand I could not be persuaded of the truth of this supposed family.” Seeing her abigail return, Lady Tretain held out a hand. “Give it to me, Satter,” she commanded. “I will attend to it,” she looked at her son. “Is it Lady Juliane?” at his nod, she finished adamantly, “myself."

  Lord Adrian smiled. “Doing it a bit too brown, are you not, Mother?"

  Ignoring him, Lady Tretain held the vinaigrette beneath Lady Juliane's nose. Her son became more annoyingly like his father every day.

  Lord Adrian sat André at the foot of the bed and edged his mother aside when Lady Juliane opened her eyes. “Have the laudanum ready, Mother. I do not wish to have her to become overexcited."

  When the world swirled before her eyes, Lady Juliane shut them tightly. Very slowly she opened them once more. The swirl slowly dissipated. Lord Adrian filled her vision. He looked so concerned that she smiled warmly. Then her head throbbed painfully. She raised a hand to her head.

  "What happened?” Lady Juliane asked uncertainly. Touching the lump that had risen on the back of her head, she remembered what hap happened. Anger flared through her.

  Seeing the sparks in her eyes, Lord Adrian deemed it wise to still them as quickly as possible. “Here, swallow this,” he said and forced a generous spoonful of laudanum into her mouth.