Authors: Hannah Howell
come from a long line of families that suffer in bad marriages. The only ones that work are the ones that are not arranged, the ones where there are more
than bloodlines, lust, and gain tying them together. If there is not, then our
gifts
become curses that leave children without mothers or fathers.”
“Ah, yes, her gift. I find that does not trouble me. I may not ful y believe in such things, but it truly does not trouble me and I do not fear it. I most
certainly would never turn my back on whatever children we might be blessed with just because they had one of those gifts.”
“Considering what we are dealing with now, it might be a good idea if you try harder to believe in Chloe’s gift. Just swear that if she gives you a
warning, you heed it. If you wish to ride in one direction and she tel s you to go in another, do it. She is unerringly right in her warnings and whether you wish to cal it a gift or just simple intuition, heed it.”
“That I can do. If naught else, there real y is no other explanation for how she found me in that al ey just when I needed help.”
“But there wil be no more of those, er, al eys, wil there?”
“I told you—I hold to vows given, even marriage ones. In truth, I find myself questioning the honor of any wedded man who claims to hold true to his
word yet has a string of mistresses. This year past…” He shook his head. “I can only claim some sort of insanity.”
“Understandable. S’blood, the fact that you held to your vows for as long as you did says a great deal of good about you. Most men would never
have done so, not after his wife had taken her first lover. Certainly not after she had borne him a child that he felt was not his. Believe me in this, if I considered you stil married and not just tied by law to someone who wants you dead, I would not be taking this so wel .”
“You mean you would have ensured that my fine, elegant nose was no longer such a handsome thing?”
Leo grinned. “Among other things.” He sighed and glanced at the door. “Now we must decide who is going to tel Chloe that she must be
examined.”
Julian also looked at the door and his heart sank. Making Chloe submit to an examination to prove her purity was not going to make a good start
to their lives together. “It needs to be made clear that it is only for Anthony’s sake, to safeguard his rights as my heir.”
“Aye, for Anthony’s sake she just might do it without kil ing us first.”
Chloe stared at her hands as the carriage eased its way through the crowded street toward the Winglingtons’ elegant townhouse. She was stil too
embarrassed by the exam she had undergone mere hours ago to look at Leo and Julian, who sprawled elegantly on the seat opposite her. Although she
ful y understood the need for proof of her virginity and that she had never borne a child, even agreed with the need for such proof, she hated the fact that both men knew what she had endured that afternoon.
She sighed and looked out the window even though there was little of any interest to look at. It had been humiliating in many ways to be examined
so intimately, the state of her innocence legal y recorded by two physicians and a midwife, affidavits for other men to read if the need arose. Throughout
the ordeal she had continued to remind herself that it was being done for Anthony’s sake. That had not helped al that much, but it had ensured that she
did not flee the room.
And now she had to go to a bal , smile and chat as if al was right with her world. Worse, there was a very good chance that she would see Lady
Beatrice Kenwood, the woman who stil held a legal claim to Julian. How often did a woman meet her betrothed’s wife? she mused. Not that she had yet
agreed to the betrothal. Chloe wondered if she had ever had such a trying day. Only those last, heartbreaking hours at her dying sister’s bedside could be
considered worse than what she had endured and stil had to endure.
Glancing covertly at her two escorts, she surprised herself with an urge to smile. Both men looked as embarrassed as she felt. It had not occurred
to her that the men who had ordered the exam could possibly feel as uncomfortable about the whole business as she did. Strangely, their obvious
discomfort eased her own. It also reassured her that they had only done what they felt was absolutely necessary to protect Anthony’s place as Julian’s
heir. That eased the lingering fear that Julian himself questioned her innocence and had demanded proof of it before he married her.
The one good thing about the whole mortifying business was that it had taken her mind off the Winglingtons’ bal . She heartily disliked such events,
but this one was going to be a lot worse than any other she had ever attended. Julian was about to reveal to the world that he was stil very much alive.
Chloe had no doubt that that would set Arthur and Beatrice after him again. The only question remaining about the result of this plan was just how soon
Julian’s enemies would start hunting him again.
It was also going to be a little awkward to be escorted to a bal by a married man. The fact that Leo was with them would be the only thing that
might diminish the strength of the gossip that would ensue. Tonight al the attention and the talk would concern Julian’s miraculous rise from the dead, but Chloe knew that protection would not last long. Soon someone would recal that she had entered the bal room on his arm, and the conjecture about her
place in his life would begin. She dreaded it.
When the carriage pul ed to a stop, it was Julian who helped her down from the carriage. Chloe was stil not sure that his escorting her into the bal
was particularly wise, but he had insisted upon it. Aside from the gossip it would cause, it stank too much of a chal enge tossed right at Arthur Kenwood’s feet and a wel -aimed slap in Lady Beatrice’s beautiful face. Chloe did not feel afraid, for she knew that Leo and Julian would keep her safe, but she did
not wish to become of too great an interest to Julian’s wife or his uncle. Then she sighed, for she knew there was no escaping that fate. She was a part of al this and even if she had remained at home, Arthur would soon discover just how big a part she had played.
Beneath her hand she felt the tension in Julian’s arm increase as they greeted their host and hostess. The plump Lady Winglington nearly
swooned, but the thought of what a social triumph the night would become because of Julian’s surprise resurrection quickly put some steel in her
backbone. When Julian was announced, the abrupt silence in the room lasted for barely a moment. The noise that fol owed told Chloe it was going to be a
very long night fil ed with questions and rumors. She hoped that noise had kept everyone from hearing her name, but feared she would never be that
fortunate.
Julian looked toward where Chloe stood with his mother and his sister Phil ipa. He had yet to find the words to speak to her concerning the ordeal
she had endured to ensure Anthony’s inheritance. To his surprise, it had proven to be an ordeal for him as wel . Several times he had had to force himself
to just sit and wait, to swal ow the strong urge to race up to her bedchamber and rescue her from the embarrassment she had to have been suffering. His
only comfort during that time had been that Leo had looked to be suffering as much as he was.
It would be easy to just ignore the whole matter, to pretend it had not happened, but he knew that would be a mistake. Julian had no doubt that, at
some point, Chloe must have wondered if he had asked for the exam in order to assure himself that she was pure. That was not a doubt he wanted to let
fester. Especial y since Chloe had yet to openly agree to marry him. He and Leo considered the betrothal al settled, but it would be nice if Chloe actual y voiced her agreement to the arrangement.
“It is good to see you wel . Are you ful y recovered?”
That deep, smooth voice made every muscle in Julian’s body tense with the need to strike out. He turned to face his uncle. Arthur Kenwood was a
handsome man, only fifteen years older than him. The man was fit and strong, had al his hair and a ful set of teeth. He needed no padding at his
shoulders or his calves to make his elegant clothes fit to perfection. In the man’s steel gray eyes Julian only saw questions and a touch of the hurt his uncle tried to make everyone believe he felt.
Clinging to his uncle’s arm and dabbing at perfectly formed tears with a dainty lace handkerchief was Beatrice, his traitorous wife. Julian ached to
do violence to the woman who had left his son to die, and he hated her for that. He had never touched a woman in anger, and he had no intention of
al owing Beatrice to make him mar that record. He had always considered a man who hit women to be weak, no more than a cowardly bul y, and he would
never stoop to that low behavior.
The interest of everyone in the bal room both irritated and amused him. Even before he had sunk into debauchery, the world and its mother had
known what a cuckold he was. They were undoubtedly awaiting some scandalous argument. He did not intend to give them one, but he had no doubt that
Beatrice and Arthur would try their best to give the curious crowd a fine show.
“How could you leave us to grieve for you, Julian?” asked Beatrice in a choked voice, as if the strength of her hurt made it difficult to speak.
“Grieve? Somehow I find it difficult to envision you suffering from such an emotion,” he said and nearly smiled when her beautiful hazel eyes began
to glitter with fury.
Here was the Beatrice he had come to know. The cold, selfish virago hidden beneath the beauty was getting harder for her to hide. That could only
work in their favor.
“Of a certain I grieved,” she said, her voice no longer so soft or trembling. “Despite the humiliations you have heaped upon me this last year, you
are stil my husband.”
He glanced at the low-cut gown of soft green silk she was wearing, a color she knew complemented her eyes, and just quirked one eyebrow. “Ah,
so I am. Mayhap it is I who should grieve,” he murmured and then looked at his uncle. “And am I to kindly thank you for comforting my distraught widow?
But wait, you were already comforting her for being deserted by her cruel, uncaring husband, were you not?”
“You should not jest so, nephew,” Arthur said without even glancing at Beatrice when she hissed in fury. “Show a little consideration for your family,
if you do not mind.”
“No, I do not mind at al , and I have great consideration for them. My mother and sisters understand why I needed to recover from my wounds in
secrecy. They have forgiven me for the deception. Now, if you would both excuse me?” Julian started to turn away but then hesitated for a moment before
looking back at his uncle and his wife. “I forgot. I believe I wil soon return to Colinsmoor. It would be best, I believe, if you, uncle, and you, Beatrice, were no longer there. Or at Kenwood House. S’truth, I want you and any of your people gone from al my properties aside from the one I have deeded over to
Beatrice. A tiny cottage in Kent, I believe. And I shal have my new solicitor send men to be sure that you leave with only what you came with.”
“You cannot throw me out of our home,” snapped Beatrice, casting aside al attempts to act anything but what she was, furious. “What wil the world
think if you cast your wife out into the street?”
“That I have final y come to my senses? Do not distress yourself, Beatrice. I have no doubt that you wil land softly.”
Julian walked away before he said anything more. At the moment the sympathy of the crowd was on his side. His uncle and his wife had not made
many friends. But Julian knew that if he spat out the fury churning inside him, that sympathy could wane. Even those who suspected that Arthur and
Beatrice had had a hand in his near murder and the need to hide as he healed would frown upon his spitting out accusations and threats at a bal . The fact
that he had just thrown both of them out of his house would be readily accepted, for Beatrice had made her unfaithfulness to him common knowledge. That
constant humiliation had been one of the things that had driven him into the stews.
He caught sight of Edgar standing near the doors to the rear garden. Edgar patted the left front of his blue brocade coat and Julian almost smiled.
He knew that beneath that hand, just inside that elegant coat, was a fine silver flask fil ed with excel ent brandy. A drink was just what he needed to rinse the bitterness from his mouth and mind. Julian fol owed his friend out into the torchlit garden.
“I think I expected a lot more fire when you final y confronted them,” said Edgar as he handed Julian his flask.
“Neither of them wanted that.” Julian grimaced and took a deep drink before returning the flask to Edgar. “Beatrice could easily have indulged in a
fine tantrum, but I believe my uncle keeps her on a tight leash. Dear Uncle Arthur does not wish too much attention drawn to him or to any il feelings that exist between us. I am not sure why he should concern himself. The whole of society knows he is my wife’s lover and has been for a long while. None of
them expects us to behave like loving relatives.”
“True, but appearances must be maintained.”
“It wil be interesting to find out what gossip makes the rounds now that I have thrown them both out of my house.”
“They may wel leave the bal early so that they can return to Colinsmoor posthaste and rob you blind.”
“They wil find that difficult, for there is a large group of burly men waiting there for their return. We got word this morning that the servants have
been very helpful in indicating just what belongs to both of them. They may wel find al their baggage already packed and set in the drive.”
Edgar laughed but then grew serious. “Arthur wil be enraged.”