Only Marriage Will Do (2 page)

“Jack, no.” Juliet pulled Amiable to a corner of the room and whispered, “Please do not engage him, sir. We can hardly have a scene here without…” She peered over her shoulder.

Totally unconcerned with the challenge he had just been issued, St. Cyr inspected the Watteau on the wall, once again idly twisting his walking stick in his hand. The fool.

“You have no true reason to challenge him.”

“There you are wrong, my dear. Any gentleman has the duty to defend a lady’s honor.” He smiled at her, then turned back to St. Cyr. “May I suggest you apologize, my lord, unless you wish to meet me tomorrow morning?” He pointed his sword tip at St. Cyr’s mouth. “I will be much obliged to cut that offensive tongue out at your earliest convenience.” At last. Action he could take satisfaction in. He’d savor the anticipation of such a meeting.

St. Cyr paled a trifle as he looked from him to Juliet. “Forgive me,
mon ange
,” he addressed her, “for recalling our past intimacies. They should have remained in the memories of just us two.”

“Humph.” He stared hard at St. Cyr. Not the most contrite plea for forgiveness, but nothing more seemed forthcoming. Reluctantly, he executed a slight bow, acknowledged the dubious apology, and sheathed his blade.

“I have no such memories, Philippe.” Juliet spoke in French. “Nor do I want anything else from you except to be left alone.”

“
C’est
impossible,
chérie
. We are man and wife. I will not leave you alone in the care of another man. I insist you accompany me back to my inn.” St. Cyr dove for her hand.

With a strangled cry, Juliet spun around to hide behind Amiable.

“By God, that is enough.” He’d make an end to the wretch this time. “There are laws in England that prevent men from forcing women to marry them.”

“The law says Juliet is already married to me,” St. Cyr said softly and drew a sheaf of papers from his jacket. He waved them at Amiable. “And only to me.”

Blood roared in Amiable’s ears, as though he stood in the heat of battle. He drew his sword and lunged, aiming to skewer the Frenchman through the stomach. “The law will matter not at all if you are dead, St. Cyr.”

St. Cyr grasped the knob of his walking stick and pulled a thin blade free just in time to parry the thrust, then scampered for the door, calling out in English, “This is not the end of this, Juliet. I
will
return with the authorities and make you see reason.”

As the viscount fled the room, Amiable scrambled after him.

“Let him go.” Juliet tugged his arm.

Amiable stopped and the front door slammed shut. “I wish I’d run the blackguard through.”

“No, that would have been a disaster. We’ve had scandals enough of that sort.” Juliet dropped his arm and backed away, her face pasty white. “Thank you so much for your assistance, sir. I am truly in your debt.” She burst into tears and crumpled on the rose and cream sofa, shaking hard enough to make the legs skitter against the wood floor.

Duty still called, it seemed. He eased down beside her, fished a clean handkerchief from his pocket, and handed it to her, then urged her head onto his shoulder. More than one woman had used it as a crying post.

He slid his arm around her shoulders then gazed about the room. Rose chairs and a dainty writing desk bespoke it as the lady’s receiving room. It suited her. However, was this indeed her house? Not if she had married Manning. And where the devil was Katarina? She should be in the midst of this ruckus, yet Juliet had said she was alone.

Her crying lessened into little broken sobs and she sat up abruptly and scooted away. “Oh, I beg your pardon, sir.”

He smiled to reassure her. “Not at all, my lady. It is ‘my lady,’ I assume?”

“Oh, yes. Of course, you don’t know who I am, do you?” She smiled, wiping her tears. “Lady Juliet Ferrers, Mr…er…Lord?”

“Captain Amiable Dawson, at your service.” He inclined his head. “Then you are not married to Jack Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Manning?”

“Oh, no, Captain Dawson. Jack is my brother-in-law. I used his name merely as a ruse to throw Philippe off balance. I am so grateful you came to my rescue just now.” She squeezed his arm. “Just like a knight in shining armor, don’t you think? Only not really in armor. Except for the sword. Would you really have called Philippe out?”

“Do you doubt it, my lady?” He stared into her dark, sinful, intoxicating eyes.

“I suppose not. I certainly wanted to kill him when he brought up the Christmas ball.” She flushed and hastily rose, bringing Amiable to his feet.

“I should have enjoyed removing his tongue after that little indiscretion. However, what he said, Lady Juliet, about being married to him. Is it true?” He should at least find out that much. Then he must ask for Katarina—the damsel in distress he had come to rescue.

“Absolutely not, Captain Dawson. I am convinced Philippe is lying about our marriage. He would never go against the wishes of his father, and his father no longer wished us to wed. Philippe would have cut out his own tongue before he disobeyed the Count de Mallain.” She sighed and paced to the window. “I pray that is still true.”

“Did St. Cyr ask why you still lived at your brother’s house if you were now married?” Such a slip might very well bring the villain running after the lady.

“Yes, he did ask me as soon as I informed him I had married.” Juliet smiled and raised her chin. “I told him our own house had to undergo renovations, and in light of Duncan’s absence, we moved here temporarily.”

“Well done, Lady Juliet.” His admiration for her grew. “What an excellent excuse to explain your, or our, presence here.”

She wrinkled her forehead and her shoulders slumped. “Not so clever, really. My brother and I moved into our Aunt Phoebe’s house while Dunham House underwent refurbishing several years ago. That’s what gave me the idea.” Juliet shuddered. “Unfortunately, my aunt still resided in the house when we stayed there.”

“Do you know why he is trying to perpetrate this fraud on you, my lady?”

“No. I don’t know. Even if such a marriage took place in France, in England it is invalid. I made that perfectly clear to Philippe.”

“Are you sure, Lady Juliet?” He had little knowledge of the laws concerning such things, but it made no sense to go to the trouble and expense of a marriage by proxy if it did not bind the parties by law.

“Yes, my brother explained it to me. The Hardwicke Act made such marriages invalid in England. The proxy ceremony in France, on the other hand, would bind Philippe to me until he returned to England for it to be performed legally.” She turned back to gaze out the window. “By the time my brother sent the proxy to France I didn’t even want to marry Philippe, but I feared telling Duncan. Vicious rumors about me had besieged us for months and he wanted to make the marriage work for my sake.”

“Rumors about you, my lady?”

She hung her head. “Surely you heard them. The
ton
could talk of nothing else last year.”

“I am but lately come from the colonies. We hear very little of London society’s scandals there.” He should not distress her more. “If you would rather not speak of it—”

“No. I don’t mind. Everyone else knows.” She sighed and returned to the sofa. She sat in a rose-colored companion chair and motioned for him to take a seat opposite her. “Over a year and a half ago, Earl Ferrers shot and killed a man. He was arrested and charged with murder. Our family name is the same as his title, although we are connected only through marriage. The earl pled insanity, although it did not save him, despite several genuinely mad family members.”

She stared at him intently then continued. “Several rumors surfaced that I had inherited the Ferrers insanity. My brother called out the man who started them and killed him in a duel. He…” She swallowed hard. “He killed two men for my honor and dueled with others as well. Duncan also suffered horrible allegations.” She shifted in her seat and tried to smile. “So you see, the Ferrers family was hardly a bargain in the marriage mart last year. My brother thought he was acting in my best interest, sending the proxy for our marriage.”

“Did you not wish to marry the viscount?”

She tensed and avoided his eyes. “At that point, no, I didn’t. We had quarreled bitterly just before he left London.” Her voice softened until he had to lean toward her to hear. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she turned her head away. “And he was not always kind.”

Amiable stood it for about five seconds. “My dear.” He rose, gathered her into his arms, and settled her head against his chest again. “I demand the right of a temporary husband to comfort you,” he murmured in her ear. “Stay still with your head just there.”

He slowly stroked the bright hair that had escaped her cap. The blond curls cascaded down over her shoulders, so like the riotous copper beauty of Katarina’s hair. He stiffened at the thought. He must remember his original purpose.

“My lady, can you tell me where I may find Lady Katarina Fitzwilliam? I beg pardon, the Marchioness of Dalbury? I received a letter from her in April and though my sisters informed me she had married Lord Dalbury, I would like to speak with her if I may.”

“You know Kat?” Juliet squealed and stepped away from him. The genuine smile that lit her entire face transformed her from a harried, fearful woman to one of the loveliest he had ever seen.

“Indeed, I have known Lady Katarina for some years now,” he said, enchanted by the change in her. “In Virginia. I was a captain in her father’s regiment for the past five years.”

“She is wonderfully forthright, is she not, Captain Dawson? I have loved her since I met her, which seems an age ago, though really only about three months. I met her on her wedding day, when she married my brother, Duncan.”

His heart lurched, but he set his features to betray nothing save slight interest by his raised eyebrow. He steeled himself for an onslaught of the retelling of Katarina’s marriage, so puzzling given the letter she had sent in March accepting his suit.

Juliet turned her frank gaze on him. “What must I do, Captain Dawson? Philippe will return with those detestable papers and try to force me to accept our marriage. I am only a woman alone here. As I told Philippe, Duncan sailed to Italy only yesterday and is not expected to return until December.”

His stomach plummeted into his shoes. “The marquess has just sailed for Italy? And the marchioness?”

“Of course she sailed with him. He is taking her to study fencing with a Signore Fucile. Kat is apparently quite a good swordsman, or swordswoman.” Juliet frowned and shook her head. “I’d never heard of such a thing.”

“That I can vouch for, Lady Juliet. I fenced with Lady Katarina at least once or twice a week for the past few years. Whenever the regiment returned to Virginia. Don’t say I told you this but she’s better than some of the men in her father’s regiment.” Perhaps all was well, despite the misgivings her letter had given him. “Then I have no hope of seeing her?”

“Not until almost Christmas I believe, Captain. Kat will be all right. I think she and Duncan are starting to get along better.”

“Better?” His question came out sharper than he’d intended.

“Than when they first married, yes. But come.” Juliet stood abruptly. “I will explain more in the carriage.”

“The carriage?”

“Yes, Captain Dawson. I will press you into the role of knight in shining armor once more and beg you to escort my maid, Glynis, and me to my friend Lady Honoria Claypool’s home. I am to stay with her for several days until my Aunt Phoebe arrives in town. Then I will remove to her townhouse until Duncan returns.” Juliet wrinkled her nose. “My aunt is so difficult. Although I do suppose everyone has some such relative, don’t you think? Glynis,” she called to a girl standing unobtrusively in a corner.

“Glynis, please get my light shawl.” Juliet rescued her cap then stuffed her hair underneath it helter-skelter. “Get your things, too. This gentleman will take us to Lady Honoria’s.”

“Yes, my lady.” The girl curtsied then rushed out of the room. Juliet looked expectantly at Amiable.

Although taken aback by her unexpected request, Amiable summoned his manners and bowed to the young woman. “Nothing would give me more pleasure than to escort you, Lady Juliet.”

The girl returned and draped a golden silk shawl around her mistress’s shoulders. “The carriage is ready, Captain Dawson,” Juliet said, raising her chin.

“Of course, my lady.” He offered his arm and, when Juliet took it, pressed her hand into the crook of his elbow. A thrill chased down his arm and he shook off the strange sensation as they moved down the hallway and out the front door, the maid following behind.

Juliet disappeared into the ornate carriage with the team of matched grays. Her dark pink gown flared over her beautifully rounded hips. A flash of white stockings, clocked with tiny rosebuds above her ankles, made him swallow hard.

He had held that loveliness in his arms for a considerable amount of time this morning. He willed the image away and assisted Glynis to sit beside her mistress. Ten years in the army had taught him caution, so he surveyed the surroundings before he joined them. Danger lurked somewhere. Whether inside or outside the carriage, however, had yet to be determined.

Love at first sight. Juliet believed it did occur. That had to be the explanation for this sudden breathless feeling, didn’t it? Simple gratitude for his help in getting rid of Philippe would not cause this peculiar sensation deep in the pit of her stomach, this overwhelming desire to remain in his company, would it?

A knight in shining armor indeed. So protective. That might be the most compelling reason for her tender feelings toward the captain. He made her feel safe—even safer than Duncan did, since he had married. She loved Katarina without question, but her brother’s first allegiance now lay with his wife. The woman Captain Dawson had come to Dunham House to see.

Her heart flip-flopped painfully in her chest. He’d sounded so wistful when he’d realized he had missed her sister-in-law. That tone had boded more than simple acquaintance could account for, she would stake her life on it. Katarina, thank goodness, was beyond him now. So perhaps
she
could help him forget her.