by Carla Kelly
‘Do you still wish to marry again, Lizzy?’
‘Me? No. I thought I wanted to. For years I fantasised about being married to Lord Andrew, but he fell in love with Charlotte and I realised I’m not a person who needs the love of a man in my life. Skeffington most certainly did not love me, but he did leave me wealthy which allows me the freedom to never have to marry again.’
‘But you are telling me I should marry Lord Montague?’
‘Yes, to avoid ruin. Your life will be easier as his wife. You will not be shunned by Society.’
‘I’d rather remain in Bath away from Society.’
‘But Society travels, as do words. It will not take much time before your neighbours in Bath hear of how you were compromised at the Ashcrofts’ ball. What then?’
‘I do not care what people think, Lizzy.’
‘What about the men you will meet who will think you are agreeable to lewd encounters? If you do not marry Lord Montague, men will assume you are eager to become a mistress. I have seen it happen, Juliet.’
‘Lizzy...’
‘I will never force you to marry him. My marriage was forced upon me by our father. I had no false ideas Skeffington would fall in love with me. He was looking for a young wife to bear him an heir. When that didn’t happen, he had no further use for me. I did not have a marriage based on love. I had thought I would find happiness with Lord Andrew, but I wasn’t the woman who captured his heart. It still hurts when I see him with Charlotte. It reminds me of what I will never have. I’ve come to realise there are some people who find love and there are those of us who do not. If you do not love Lord Montague, you will survive. It does not mean that our lives are empty. We learn to fill it with other things.’
‘You mean like shopping?’ Juliet smiled as she reached for another clove.
Lizzy bumped her shoulder against Juliet’s. ‘Never underestimate the euphoria that comes from wearing a beautiful new dress or a lovely pair of new shoes.’
‘I will remember that should I find myself with as large an income as yours.’ It was nice to smile. It felt like she never would again after leaving the Ashcrofts’ ball.
Lizzy scooped up the new leaves she had pinched off and put them in her bowl. ‘Charlotte has made enquiries with Lord Andrew about his brother. Lord Montague is independently financially solvent and does not spend an inordinate amount of time at the gaming tables.’ She picked up another dried stem. ‘Juliet, you need to think about your future. Lord Montague can guarantee security. You will be able to manage your own home and you may even have children.’
It was hard to look at Lizzy. Juliet didn’t want to think about her future. She didn’t want to think about what it would be like to spend the rest of her life attached to Monty, knowing he did not love her. The scent of cloves and oranges filled her lungs as she took a deep breath.
‘You found something about Lord Montague you liked once,’ Lizzy continued. ‘Marrying a man you like is infinitely better than marrying a man for love. Do not marry for love. Look what it did to Charlotte when Jonathan was killed. Do you want that much pain in your life? I certainly do not. Marry someone who you can have a cordial relationship with. If you can look at him and not be repulsed with the thought of him touching you, you will be better off than most.’
Lizzy painted a bleak picture of marriage. At one time Juliet expected to marry for love, but Lizzy was right. Love was for the fantasies of the young debutantes with their eyes fixed on the stars. The reality of life was much different. Love caused nothing but pain. When Charlotte’s first husband, Jonathan, died during the Battle of Waterloo, her sister had been despondent for years. It was only recently, when she met Lord Andrew, that she had come back to life. Who would want to suffer like that over love?
She glanced into Lizzy’s bowl and gave it a sniff. ‘What did you put in there?’ she asked wrinkling her nose.
‘Mint.’
‘And what else?’
Lizzy gave a slight shrug. ‘Whatever that was,’ she replied, motioning to the remainder of the bunch of herbs she had taken down.
‘Those are bay leaves.’
‘Do they not go well together?’
‘Smell them.’
‘Oh, bother, you know I’m not very good at this. I don’t have the nose for making pleasant combinations that you and Aunt Clara do.’ Lizzy pushed the bowl away and wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Juliet, I know you. I know how you think. You cannot run away every time you have a problem.’
‘I realise that.’ Her sister knew her well enough to know she was considering asking Aunt Clara to go away with her again.
Lizzy reached below the table and brought up another bowl. ‘Do you think Lord Montague is in love with Miss Fellsworth?’
Juliet pushed a clove too far into the orange again. Now they were not all even. ‘Oh, Lud!’ She tried to pick it out with her nail. Monty’s feelings towards Miss Fellsworth were not something she wanted to consider. It was too painful to think that he had found love with someone else while she had not. She didn’t want Monty back in her life and she hated the fact that she didn’t want him in Miss Fellsworth’s life either. Why should he marry for love, if she wasn’t able to?
She would marry him—and she would do it just for spite.
Chapter Three
Juliet might be the first woman in all of Kent, and probably all of Britain, who needed to sit in the middle of her wedding for fear of passing out. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the vicar from continuing with the ceremony and she was still marrying the lying Lord Montague Pearce sixteen days after a stuck door sealed their fate.
‘Perhaps if you put your head to your knees,’ her sister Charlotte whispered in her ear from where she was crouched next to her.
Juliet glared into her sister’s green eyes. She knew Charlotte was trying to be helpful, but she would not make more of a spectacle of herself than she already had. When her legs grew weak as the vicar asked her to take her vows, Andrew quickly slid a nearby chair in the ornate drawing room behind her so she could sit. At least one of the men in the room was concerned she might crack her head open on the parquet floor as she eventually lost consciousness.
‘A glass of wine?’ Charlotte suggested with growing concern.
‘I drank some earlier,’ Juliet whispered back. ‘And he is still next to me. It didn’t make him go away.’
The man in question stood a few feet away beside her, his athletic frame stiff with his hands clasped behind his back. The formal black tailcoat and trousers Monty wore had fitted both their moods perfectly. The only thing missing was a black armband to signal the death of any future happiness either of them might have had if it weren’t for this wedding. Neither one wanted to be there, so she shouldn’t have been surprised at the lack of concern from the man she was about to marry, who kept his gaze fixed on the portrait across from them of the gentleman that hung over the fireplace—but it still stung.
Once more she was reminded that Monty never really cared for her. He certainly didn’t love her and had made that quite clear when he refused to run away and elope with her.
There was a time she would have given anything to stand beside him with both their families in attendance as they exchanged vows to bond them to each other for the rest of their lives. Now, she wondered if she might welcome her groom dying prematurely from an accident, like tripping on someone’s gown at a ball and falling face first into the punch bowl to drown. It would save them both from a lifetime of misery.
She suspected at that very moment he was once again regretting his attendance at the ball a fortnight ago. At least she knew she was. If she had known that retiring to the library that night to avoid seeing Monty flirt with the beautiful diminutive heiress would have led to this forced marriage, she would have continued to endure the gossip freely given to her about them and the speculation that he was considering off
ering for Miss Fellsworth’s hand.
Even the threat of losing consciousness in the middle of her wedding ceremony had not changed the fact that she still was going to have to marry him. And at Christmas! Not only had he ruined her life, he had the nerve to ruin her favourite holiday, as well!
With one more deep breath, Juliet stood and looked over at Andrew. ‘I am feeling better,’ she lied, considering her legs still felt a bit like jelly. ‘You may take the chair away now.’
‘You’re certain?’ he asked with true concern etched on his brow.
Her request finally drew Monty’s attention away from the portrait and he shot his brother a pointed look. ‘She said you can take the chair away.’
Ignoring his brother, Andrew looked once more at Juliet as if gauging her stamina before he removed the chair, its delicate construction appearing more so in the hands of his imposing form.
Father Vincent cleared his throat and scanned the prayer book over the wire frame of his glasses. ‘Now, where were we?’
‘The ring,’ a chorus of voices said in unison from their various family members who stood around them in Winter Hall, Montague’s ancestral home in Kent that belonged to his brother Gabriel, the Duke of Winterbourne, and his wife, Olivia.
‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Father Vincent turned to Monty and raised his grey bushy brows expectantly.
What if he truly had wanted to marry Miss Fellsworth? What if they would live the rest of their lives together with him hating her for preventing him from marrying the woman he really loved? What if he planned to continue to meet with Miss Fellsworth in secret even after they were married?
She should not have relinquished the chair!
Monty must have placed the gold band near the first knuckle of his pointer finger when Juliet’s world had begun to spin. Now he was rubbing her wedding band with this thumb and appeared hesitant to relinquish it, which she was beginning to think was fine with her. He could keep it if he liked it that much.
‘The ring, my lord,’ Father Vincent said, gesturing towards it with his prayer book.
* * *
Monty looked down at the ring and wondered what would happen if it magically got stuck on his finger. Would they have to go through with the ceremony? If they needed to fetch a new ring, he might have time to escape and put this all behind him.
It was time for her to recite her vows to be his wife. He had dreamed of hearing her say those words once—however, today he would be overjoyed if divine providence struck her mute. There was little luck of that happening. He stared down at the ring on his finger. He had eagerly purchased it at Rundell & Bridge the first time he proposed—even before she had accepted and thrown her arms around him in her excitement. Once they had parted ways, he should have sold it back to the jeweller. It was one of those tasks you know you need to do, but always find excuses not to. Who could have imagined that some day he would be placing it upon her finger?
Monty met the expectant eyes of the vicar before looking at his bride, who probably should still be sitting in the chair that Andrew had taken away. She was as pale as the soft white-muslin gown she was wearing. He prayed he wouldn’t be the first man whose bride fainted in the middle of their wedding ceremony. Even though they were standing with just their family around them, he was certain word would somehow get out through the servants or during a night when the vicar imbibed in too much altar wine.
Turning to face Juliet, he removed the ring from his finger and pushed aside his thoughts of it rolling across the drawing-room floor. Suddenly, she shoved her hand behind her back and leaned close to his ear.
‘We need to talk,’ she whispered to him.
‘Now?’
‘Yes, now,’ she whispered back impatiently. ‘Before you put that ring on my finger, there is something we need to discuss.’
He stepped back and shifted his glance between her and the expectant vicar. ‘Lady Juliet and I will be but a moment,’ he said to the man. Ignoring the questioning looks from those around them, he took Juliet by the hand and led her out into the corridor, closing the door behind him.
She wrapped her arms around her waist and began pacing in front of him. He waited for her to stop, wondering what she could possibly have to say to him now that she couldn’t have said to him in the last few days. Finally she stopped in front of him.
‘I can’t do this to you. I thought I could, but I can’t.’
‘What are you doing exactly?’
‘Marrying you, of course.’
‘Of course.’ He rubbed his lips to prevent himself from uttering the curse that was about to come out. ‘Juliet, you were the one who said in your letter to me that aside from arranging where we would live and your financial settlement, there was nothing we could say to one another that we had not already said. I respected your wishes. And now...now you want to talk?’
‘Do you love her?’
It took a moment for his brain to process her question. ‘Love who?’
‘Miss Fellsworth.’
‘Miss Fellsworth? Why do you think I love Miss Fellsworth?’
‘There had been talk about the two of you at the ball.’
‘Do you always believe the gossip you hear?’
‘You were going to meet with her in the library. You were having an assignation with her.’
‘For a kiss. I was to meet her that night for a kiss. Just because I wanted to kiss her does not mean I am in love with her.’
She pushed him.
‘What was that for?’
‘I am well aware you kiss women you do not love. You do not have to remind me of that!’
Would there ever be a time that Juliet would let his actions of the past remain there? Her mere presence was a constant reminder of how much he had hurt her. It wasn’t something he was proud of. It wasn’t something he had ever wanted to do. While he had fancied himself in love with her for a few days, he had come to realise it was just heated passion for a woman he was very fond of. Nothing more. Logic told him that he barely knew her.
‘Juliet, what is it you are trying to say to me that couldn’t wait until after we recited our vows?’
‘I can’t marry you. I won’t be responsible for coming between you and Miss Fellsworth. I know Society dictates that we marry, but I won’t do it if you are in love with her.’ She put her hand on her stomach and seemed to be trying to steady her breathing.
‘Do you need to sit? We could find another chair for you,’ he said, looking around the corridor.
‘I do not need to sit down. I need you to go in there and tell the vicar we will not be getting married while I go and lie down...in my room...if I can find it in this massive house your family calls a cottage.’
Rubbing her brow, she turned to leave him, but he pulled her back gently by the arm. ‘I am not in love with Miss Fellsworth,’ he said in a reassuring tone.
Her amber-coloured eyes searched his. It was evident when she realised that he was telling her the truth because her expression softened. ‘Are you certain you have no wish to marry Miss Fellsworth?’
‘I’m certain.’
They stared at one another, both unsure what to do next. They were alone in the corridor, standing close enough to one another that he could smell her faint lavender scent. He had always wanted to get her into bed to find out if that scent originated from her skin or her clothes.
Thinking of her in bed caused his gaze to drop to her lips and he remembered that time he had kissed her...the only time.
They had crept away at the Tinsleys’ party to meet in the walled garden. That entire day he’d had a strong yearning to touch her, to feel her skin and breathe her in. Propriety kept them apart. He had managed to brush his hand against hers while they stood beside one another and listened to Lady Humphrey discuss the benefits of spending time in the country with the cleaner air, when he let his fingers
gently caress hers which were hidden in the folds of her cerulean-blue dress. That one small touch was enough to inflame his entire body and he was able to quietly convince her to meet him in the walled garden one hour later.
No other kiss had compared to the one they shared that day. And he had made it his quest to kiss as many women as it took to find someone who could give him that same experience. Not one of those other kisses ever came close.
Just as he considered kissing her once more, she took a step back. The rise and fall of her chest let him know she had felt that pull that had always been between them, as well. She knew he had wanted to kiss her and, for the briefest of moments, he thought she might have wanted him to.
‘I still do not like you or forgive you for what you did.’ She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.
‘I know.’
‘Oh, very well, come along, Monty, if we have to get married, we might as well do it now.’
There was a time that he thought the beautiful creature before him, in the white-muslin gown with the blue-satin ribbon under her breasts, was the most romantic person he knew.
He didn’t think that any more.
* * *
When they returned to the drawing room, Juliet repeated her vows clearly and without hesitation. Within minutes after that they were married and Monty knew his life would never be the same.
His brothers shook his hand. His mother kissed his cheek. And his new wife accepted hugs from her two sisters, her aunt and Olivia. His nephew Nicholas ran from the room as only a six-year-old could, Monty wishing he could do the same.
How was he to spend the rest of his life with a woman who did not like him? How could he think of consummating this marriage knowing how she felt about him?
‘I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a bride look so ill,’ Gabriel said in a low voice, as the three brothers watched the women chatting together on the other side of the room.
‘Who could blame her?’ Andrew joined in. ‘She is being forced to marry him.’ His lips rose into a teasing smile.