“Oh?”
“Do you know how hard it is to find a young, marriageable woman who can play both innocent and wanton? Who’s well-bred enough to serve as my wife, yet young and fresh enough even for my exotic tastes?” He drank straight from the bottle. “After I learned of her indiscretion, I thought about making her my mistress. But her loyal family closed ranks about her. Besides, I have to marry. Why not get my heir on a woman I can enjoy? Especially one who’d be grateful to be my duchess, whose past I could hold over her throughout the marriage. Only think of the possibilities.”
His stomach already roiled enough at the thought of Montfort eyeing Juliet as “fresh enough” for his “exotic tastes.” “But she refused you. It doesn’t sound as if she was all that ‘grateful’ to be offered the position as your duchess.”
He looked sour. “Yes, she was quite the little hypocrite—refused me because of my character. It annoyed me exceedingly.”
“So you retaliated by exposing what you’d discovered.”
“Really, old chap, this isn’t about retaliation. It’s about getting what I want. And what I want is Juliet. I want to punish her for her insolence. Take that lady whore over my knee until she understands the value of a man with a firm hand.” His tone turned cold. “Besides, I can’t allow a mere chit to refuse me. It would set a nasty precedent.”
Sebastian clamped down on his fury. “So you think she’ll have you after you’ve slandered her throughout society.”
“Of course. I’ve got her and her family right where I want them. I’ll let her suffer a few weeks of society’s disapproval and all those men offering her a carte blanche instead of marriage. Then I’ll promise to make the gossip go away. But only if she marries me.” He smiled wolfishly. “I can do it, too. All I need say is that I looked into the matter and discovered she was wronged. The high sticklers will still murmur, but everybody else will believe me, especially once I marry her. And after having suffered a bit, the woman’ll weep with joy to have me offer her a respectable position.”
Over Montfort’s knee. The very idea made Sebastian’s skin crawl. He’d heard enough. He pushed away from the desk. “I suggest you skip the ‘weeks of society’s disapproval’ and go straight to making the gossip go away.”
Montfort laughed. “You always were the gentleman. Though I don’t see why you care about a woman you don’t even know.”
“Actually, I know her quite well. She and her family have been my guests at Charnwood for the last two weeks. Why do you think I’m here?”
The duke’s humor faded, and his eyes narrowed. “If this is some joke—”
“It’s no joke. She’s entertaining an offer of marriage from me at this very moment. I intend to settle the matter while I’m in London. So you might as well give up any hope of having her.”
“You’d marry her even though she’s been with another man?” Montfort said with a sneer. “
You,
the soul of prudery?”
By thunder, he was tired of everyone thinking him a prig. “I’m not quite as dull as you seem to think. You
aren’t the only man who can appreciate the particular charms of a woman like Juliet.”
Montfort pushed away from the bookcase, his face flushing with more than drink. “You sneaky, conniving—”
“Which is why,” Sebastian went on, his tone deadly serious, “I expect you to put an end to the rumors at once.”
“You
expect
—”
“I won’t have my future wife’s good name tarnished by your tawdry insinuations. So here’s what you’ll do. You’ll trot back out into that ballroom and tell your vile friends that you were mistaken about Lady Juliet. And you’ll be completely convincing if you know what’s good for you.”
Every “sophisticated” bone in Montfort’s body trumpeted his contempt. “And what in God’s name makes you think I’ll do any of that? If Knighton couldn’t force me, why do you think
you
can?”
“Because unlike Knighton, I have nothing to lose by taking you on—no wife, no sisters-in-law, no loyal friends, and no family but an uncle who’s eager to see me married at any cost.” Thank God Montfort didn’t know who Morgan was to Sebastian, especially with this latest trouble. “I have no business concern to protect. So you can threaten to drag my name through the mud all you want. My father has ruined the family name so entirely that I doubt you could make it any worse, and even if you did, it wouldn’t affect my life at Charnwood.”
Sebastian stepped close enough to see alarm flicker briefly in the duke’s eyes. “And if you’re foolish enough to wish a duel over this, I’ll have no compunction about killing you, even if it means abandoning my estate and fleeing to the Continent with Juliet.”
Montfort stiffened. “What makes you think you’d win? Granted, your prowess with a pistol is legendary, but if you call me out, I’ll choose swords and—”
“Who said anything about calling you out? I’ll merely insult you so vilely in public that your pride will demand you call
me
out. Then I’ll happily put a bullet through your black heart.” He ran his gaze contemptuously down Montfort’s slender frame. “I might even decide to put it through your tiny prick instead. And I can do it, too, before you even manage to aim.”
Montfort paled. Everyone knew the duke was a horrible shot. And Sebastian was well aware that the man was too proud to endure any public insult for long.
“I see that we understand each other,” Sebastian went on. “You have forty-eight hours to set the gossip to rest. By day after tomorrow, I’d better see everyone in society treating Juliet like the angel that she is. Or I swear I’ll make your life a living hell until they do.”
Without waiting for an answer, he walked to the door and opened it. When he looked back, Montfort still stood frozen, his eyes wide with fright at the idea of having his cock shot off. And publicly, too.
For the first time since he’d entered the library, Sebastian smiled. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s high time I dance with the woman I intend to marry.”
Sebastian left, his plans regarding Juliet having changed greatly. He would not stand in the shadows watching Juliet anymore. He would claim her before the world, and devil take all her foolish conditions. He would marry her
and
protect Morgan—he’d done it before; he could do it again.
But one thing was for certain, he wasn’t abandoning her this time.
Though the wisdom or virtue of one can very rarely make many happy,
the folly or vice of one man often make many miserable.
Samuel Johnson’s
Rasselas,
worked on a hanging by Juliet upon her return to London from Shropshire
N
ot long after her dance with Lord Havering, Juliet returned from the ladies’ retiring room to see her brother-in-law circling the ballroom like a wasp hunting a daisy. Before she could duck back into the hall, he spotted her. He paused in his stride only long enough to pull Rosalind under his wing, then buzzed directly toward her.
With a sigh, she stood waiting for him. Judging from his expression, his talk with Montfort hadn’t gone well. Not that she’d really expected it to.
“We’re going home now,” he said as he approached.
“Why?” Much as Juliet hated moving among people who despised her and whispered about her, she hated even more being run off.
“Montfort is unreasonable,” Griff said. “Though he does seem to be the one who started the rumors, he won’t relent. He’s determined to have you, and he thinks dragging your reputation through the mud will accomplish it. I can stop him eventually, I’m sure, but it’ll require some digging to discover how to get at him. In the meantime—”
“In the meantime,” Juliet interjected, “I shall act as if nothing happened. I’m sorry, Griff, but I shan’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me bury myself away. So you might as well abandon that notion.”
“But Juliet—” Rosalind began.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Juliet said firmly, “I need some punch. My mouth is dry as toast.” With that, she marched off toward the supper room.
Really, this was the outside of beyond. She could strangle Montfort, not only for the gossip, but for sending her family into their protect-Juliet-at-all-costs stance once more. She ought to run away from home again, if only to escape them.
The orchestra struck up a waltz, and across the room she saw Montfort emerge from a hall and look her way. She met his gaze coldly, expecting him to cast her the same supercilious smile he’d been annoying her with all night.
Instead, he glowered at her, then stalked off toward some friends. How very odd. Griff himself had said that his talk with Montfort had come to naught. So why wasn’t the duke gloating like the sly beast he was?
She was so distracted that she didn’t notice the hand touching her elbow until a familiar husky voice murmured, “May I have this waltz, my lady?”
She froze, hardly daring to look, to believe
he
was here. When she did gather the courage to turn around, she
thought her heart would knock loose from her chest, it was pounding so. He flashed her a half smile, as if uncertain of his reception, and every particle of her silly, besotted soul lit up.
“Sebastian,” she breathed.
“You were expecting someone else?” he said with raised eyebrow.
“N-no. That is…well, I certainly wasn’t expecting you.”
His eyes searched her face with a tenderness that made her ache. “Did you really think I’d abandon you twice?”
The words snapped her out of her happy dream. She drew herself up stiffly, not sure what to make of his sudden appearance here. “Actually, I did.”
“Then I have much to make amends for. Dance with me, sweeting.”
She arched an eyebrow in a vain attempt to act nonchalant and sophisticated. “You think dancing with me is a sufficient way to make amends?”
“No. I think dancing with you will reassure me that you don’t hate me.”
He looked so painfully earnest that she couldn’t help but soften. She held out her hand. “I don’t hate you. Not entirely, anyway.”
“Then I’ll try to improve upon your feelings even more.” Tucking her hand in his elbow, he led her to the floor, and a moment later they were waltzing.
She could hardly breathe for the memories. They hadn’t danced together since he’d first appeared in Stratford all that time ago. She’d forgotten how well he danced, how sensuous it had always felt to have his hand resting on her waist and his smoky scent swirling between them.
She examined his face, marking the changes since she’d last seen him. Had he always looked so thin and
weary? Or dared she hope that her absence had affected him as strongly as it had her?
And did this mean he’d decided to tell her family the truth at last?
“Why are you here?” she asked bluntly before she could begin hoping too much.
He gazed down at her with an impenetrable look. “I missed you.”
Vainly she tried to squelch the thrill his words sent coursing through her. “I seem to recall your claiming that since you’d ‘done without me’ for most of your life, you could ‘manage a few more weeks.’”
He winced. “One of my more idiotic statements. Being a man, I’m prone to the occasional blustering. You’ll have to get used to it.”
“Still the same arrogant scoundrel as ever,” she said with a sniff.
“Absolutely.” He moved her smoothly, easily about the floor. For a man who rarely came into society, he certainly danced well. “I’m giving you fair warning, sweeting. I’m here to marry you.”
Despite all her stern self-cautions, her pulse began to race. “I haven’t exactly accepted an offer of marriage from you, Sebastian, and you know it.”
“Ah, but you will. This time I won’t brook any refusal.”
It was getting decidedly harder to restrain her foolish, hopeful heart, but restrain it she must. She didn’t yet trust him. Though she did indulge her urge to stare at him, so fine and handsome in his evening attire. The only way he’d look better was if he were peeling it off one piece at a time to bare that delicious chest and—
“I’ll begin,” he went on, “by making my intentions known to your family tonight.”
“You think to stride in here and marry me, no matter what my wishes.”
“Something like that.”
She wished her insides would stop doing all that premature leaping for joy. “And I don’t suppose you’ve come to your senses about telling my family everything.”
His long, sober silence was her answer.
The leaping for joy stopped at once. She’d known it was too good to be true. “Then we have nothing more to discuss,” she murmured, trying to pull out of his arms.
He jerked her back, managing it so well that she didn’t even stumble. “Hear me out, Juliet.”
“No! You’re still refusing to do the right thing, so—”
“The ‘right thing’ doesn’t involve abandoning my brother for you,” he snapped, “no matter how much I want you for my wife. I can’t risk it—especially now, with this whole mess involving—”
“The pirates,” she finished for him. “I heard all about the Pirate Lord and his new outrage. And I knew you’d respond like this.” She added in a whisper, “I sometimes think I know you too well. That’s probably why you really came to London—for him.”
“No, I came for you. I didn’t hear about the pirates until this afternoon, I swear.”
At least that was some comfort. If he’d come all this way for her after being so firm about how he wouldn’t, then he must care about her a little.
Just not enough. “You know, Sebastian, if your brother was involved with that nastiness, you ought to be handing him over to the authorities, not trying to get him pardoned.”
“He wasn’t involved—I refuse to believe it.” They swept past one of the gossipy Miss Marches, who was straining to hear their conversation. Sebastian cast the woman a pointed glance, then moved them both well away from her. “But I can’t prove it, of course. I spoke to the Navy Board this afternoon. I’d already gone there to prevail upon them to consider a pardon for Morgan even though he hasn’t shown up in England yet. They told me
of the pirates instead. Now the pompous sots are refusing even to consider the matter until the Pirate Lord is captured. They are up in arms over this.”