Only Marriage Will Do (22 page)

Amiable heard a quiet sob from Lady Honoria. A quick look at Sutton found him entranced by the confession, eyes wide, expression thoughtful. Amiable was appalled to find his own feelings touched by the tale. His wife could charm apples off the trees.

Sutton paused, seemed to get himself under control. “I think I understand, Lady Juliet. As you say, God does take a firm hand in his creatures’ affairs on occasion. Sometimes things that seem disastrous do turn out for the best. I believe your marriage to Mr. Morley is Providence’s way of stepping in to ensure we are on a path that will bring us ultimate happiness.” He turned and raised an eyebrow at the young woman at his side.

She unaccountably blushed, then nodded.

Sutton pulled himself up in his seat. “As is my betrothal to Lady Honoria.”

Amiable stared at Sutton, speechless. The dull dog had a bit of life in him after all.

“What?” Juliet seemed completely dumbfounded at this turn of events. “Honoria, is this true?”

Her friend beamed and wrung her hands. “Yes, Juliet it is. I was afraid you would mind, even though Mr. Sutton told me of your marriage as soon as he had the letter from your brother.”

“No, no, this is wonderful.” Juliet squealed and clapped her hands.

Amiable recovered from his shock and found his manners and his tongue. “My most sincere best wishes for your happiness, my lady.” He stood and went over to grasp Sutton’s hand. “My heartfelt felicitations, Mr. Sutton, on your coming marriage. I hope you find the same happiness Juliet and I possess.”

Dazed, Sutton stood and managed to smile tentatively and return the handshake. “I believe we will, Morley. I believe we will. I do mean what I said.” He gazed frankly into Amiable’s eyes. “I believe the hand of God engineered the entire episode to make certain his children did not fall into folly.”

Amiable nodded his head, his gaze straying to Juliet, who conferred with her friend. “I am not the most religious man, Sutton, but in this case I think you are correct.”

“How did this come about?” Juliet asked, her excitement dying down a little. “How do you know Mr. Sutton?”

The young woman blushed again and glanced shyly at her betrothed. “I met him the day after you were supposed to come to the house. Mr. Sutton came to call on you, and I had to tell him you had been detained. He looked so downcast, I invited him to take tea with Mamma and me. Just to cheer him up, of course.” The last phrase came out rather forcefully. Did she hope to assure Juliet no dishonorable conduct had occurred on her part? “We established we had several mutual friends and Mamma asked Mr. Sutton if he would accompany us to the theatre that evening, since we could not discover where you had gone.”

“Did you send to the house, Honoria?”

“Yes, of course I did. I received a note back from Grayson saying you had been called to your Aunt Phoebe’s home in Derbyshire and had gone there instead.”

“I received the same message, Lady Juliet,” Sutton chimed in. “The next day I sent you a note here at Dunham House and received the same information.” He looked rather perturbed at the memory.

Juliet smiled like a well-satisfied cat. “I wondered what story the servants put about to disguise my absence. I so wanted to cover my tracks, lest Philippe be able to pursue me.”

Honoria clasped her hands and glanced at her friend. “I thought that would be the end of it, but Mr. Sutton called upon me and Mamma later in the week, to thank us for inviting him to the theatre. He had tea again and we fell to talking and discovered we both were passionately fond of gardening.” The girl’s blushing cheeks made her look even guiltier. “So we went out to the garden so I could show him the eglantine.”

“What is an eglantine?” Juliet frowned and cut her eyes toward Amiable.

He shrugged. He had no idea what Lady Honoria was talking about, but his curiosity had been piqued about more than the garden.

“It is a rose bush,” Sutton interrupted, smiling at his betrothed. “Lady Honoria’s mother claims it is a cutting from a rose bush at Knowlton’s Keep, the Braeton’s estate in Sussex, and dates back to the Middle Ages.”

“Oh.” Juliet raised her eyebrows at Amiable. “I didn’t know roses could be so old.”

“It could be one of the oldest roses in England,” Sutton replied enthusiastically.

“It is also called the sweetbriar rose,” Lady Honoria added, just as passionately.

Amiable managed to catch Juliet’s eye and a bubble of laughter flew between them. “I never thought much about roses,” he admitted, smiling at the two horticulturalists. “Except to smell them.” He raised an eyebrow at Juliet, who grinned at him.

“So you discovered a shared interest, Honoria?” Juliet cocked her head, a gleam in her eye.

“Well, yes, we did and Ran…Mr. Sutton continued to call…to discuss the roses, you know,” she added lamely.

Obviously, she and Sutton had become attracted to one another, even before Juliet had jilted him. A weight lifted from Amiable’s shoulders for the first time in weeks.

“Yet you could not, in honor, speak to Lady Honoria of your increasing affection, Sutton?” Amiable wanted this point clear. Sauce for the goose.

“No, of course not.” He sounded appalled, as though he’d been accused of actually doing so.

“Then I am even more apologetic that Juliet feared to write and inform you of our marriage. You and Lady Honoria could have been less constrained in your interest for one another. It does seem as though the hand of God made certain everything would be right in His world, don’t you agree, Sutton?” Even though the episode remained a blot on his honor, he wanted Sutton to admit he too had erred.

“Yes, Morley, I believe all is now as it should be.” Sutton looked askance at Juliet, who had leaned over to seize Amiable’s hand and press it passionately to her cheek. He then gazed back at the eminently suitable, decorous, unadventurous Lady Honoria.

Amiable could almost see the sigh of relief.

The two couples spent another twenty minutes of polite conversation before Lady Honoria rose and bid them farewell. Juliet promised to return the visit in a day or two. Once they had taken their leave, she turned toward him, delight evident in every line of her body.

“Oh, Amiable. I am so very pleased Mr. Sutton and Honoria have developed a
tendre
for one another. It truly does seem as though our marriage was foreordained, don’t you think?” She smiled at him, her love shining in her face.

His heartbeat stuttered.

“I think it the greatest good fortune Mr. Sutton did not see fit to call me out, Juliet. He would have been within his rights.” Now the danger of such a challenge had passed, Amiable found himself more distracted by the sight of Juliet. They had navigated a vast ocean of time and travail since they had last been alone together, not counting last night.

“Not if he courted Honoria while we were still engaged, which is remarkably like what he confessed to just now.” Juliet crowed her triumph. “He could not challenge you to a duel if he was guilty of the same crime.”

Amiable fixed Juliet with a doleful stare. “I daresay we progressed far past any form of courting ever entertained by Mr. Sutton. Did he even kiss you, Juliet?” He shifted from one foot to the other. ’Struth, should he feel jealous or superior?

Juliet grinned at him and moved between his feet until she almost touched him, the seductive scent of jasmine swirling around her. “Believe it or not, Amiable, yes he did. Twice, as I recall.”

A pang—definitely jealousy—shot through him.

“But the fact we kissed is all I can remember of the experience. Whereas, with
your
kisses,” her voice lowered, became huskier, “I can describe every single moment of them.”

He gazed into the beautiful face he yearned to grasp.

“How your lips enfolded me, how you tasted, how your tongue caressed…”

“Juliet.” Amiable peered around, afraid the servants might overhear. Her words had other effects as well. His body had roused, just with her nearness. Her words threatened to make him forget his resolve for them to remain apart. They had been separated for almost a month. By God he was only human. She stood so close, and warm, and willing…

She pursed her lips in a delicate pout, as though daring him to kiss her. “Oh, Amiable.” She fought against tears, her eyes bright with them. “I don’t want us to be apart any longer. Can you forgive me, my dear, for not telling you about Mr. Sutton? Especially as everything has turned out so well for us all?”

So very tempting to take her in his arms and pronounce all forgiven. He couldn’t go back on his resolve, though, no matter how enticing her charms. He hardened his heart and stared unflinching into her eyes. “Your behavior was a gross flaunting of good breeding and manners, Juliet, and as such is totally inexcusable.” Her gaze fell from his and the lurch of his heart told him he could not sustain his anger for much longer. No matter what she had done, he loved her.

She needed, however, to understand how much in the wrong she had been. Granted, the situation with Sutton had solved itself better than he could have hoped, but it could just as easily have ended with bloodshed in a duel. If she would be the mother of his children and guide their lives in the world, she must behave with strict decorum where society’s mores were concerned. Perhaps it would be best if they remained separated for a while longer. The most valuable lessons were often the hardest learned.

Steeling himself, he stepped back from Juliet until they were an arm’s length apart. The shock and misery in her face smote him, but he affected a stern countenance before he met her eyes.

“I am not at all convinced, Juliet, you are in any way repentant for what you did. The fact Mr. Sutton did not choose to challenge me does not entitle you to believe you were in the right in this matter. Had the man been of a different bent of mind, and my aim unsteady, you might very well have ended up a widow ere this time tomorrow. Or worse, St. Cyr’s wife.”

The blush in her cheeks drained away like water through a sieve and his protective instincts sprang to attention. Easier to face a bayonet charge against the French than to resist the primal urge to sweep her into his arms and banish the look of fear that leaped into her eyes.

“Oh, Amiable. Do not even think such things, much less speak them.” Tears brimmed over her lids, making tracks down her cheeks. She clutched his hands like a vise.

“A reality of the times, my dear. You may recall your brother killed two men for your honor.” Her tears increased and he relented. Damn it, he wasn’t made of stone. “We are fortunate it did not come to pass. Here.” He produced a handkerchief and dried her eyes, then slipped her hand through his arm and led her from the room.

“I will return early tomorrow for the meeting with Grimes. He needs to question you regarding your encounter with St. Cyr at the French ambassador’s house.”

Juliet wheeled around, pulling away from him. “You told him about Philippe trying to—”

“No, my dear.” Amiable secured her hand once more. “I would never break a confidence you had entrusted to me.”

“Not even to Duncan?”

“We had a very spirited conversation on the topic, but no. I told him he would have to have the story from you alone.”

She relaxed, drew his arm closer. “Thank you for keeping my secret. Though it will soon be secret no longer.” Juliet sighed but offered no further protest.

Amiable stopped at the bottom of the staircase. “You should rest. Tomorrow will likely be a trying day.”

“Will you not escort me to my room, Amiable?” She smiled at him, lighting a fire in his chest that threatened to burn out of control. Best make a hasty retreat.

“Your pardon, Juliet. Such courtesy may prove imprudent under the present circumstances. I will take my leave of you here.” He raised her hand to his lips and grazed the warm skin. “Until tomorrow.”

“‘Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night ’til it be morrow.’” The sad smile on her lips suggested she accepted his decree they remain apart. Her words, however, filled his ears with her longing for them to be together.

Amiable bowed and left quickly. Valuable though they might be, hard lessons were indeed hard.

Two of the four men in the formal reception room the following morning wore grim faces when Juliet entered on the stroke of ten. Duncan and Amiable acknowledged her with an embrace—too quick for her to truly relish the one from her husband. She alternated between elation that Amiable stood steadfast behind her and sobering fear that she would soon see Philippe. She squeezed Amiable’s hand as she sat down beside him on the Chippendale sofa.

“Can we get on with this, Mr. Grimes?” Amiable’s impatience and, she suspected, fear for her drove his curt question. “I would prefer for my wife to retire before St. Cyr arrives.” He glared at the man and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I see no reason why I cannot take Lady Juliet’s deposition now, Mr. Morley.” The little man shook as he turned to her and bowed.

“Lady Juliet, the questions I am about to ask you will be used to help determine if there are grounds for an annulment of the marriage, if one exists, between yourself and Viscount St. Cyr. These answers may be presented in court, my lady. Therefore you must give me your oath to tell the truth in this matter. Do you so affirm?”

“I do so, Mr. Grimes.” She glanced at Amiable with a wry smile. Nothing but the truth would pass her lips from now on.

A young man seated at a desk a little way apart copied furiously onto a sheaf of foolscap whenever she spoke. Must he do that? What if she misspoke through nerves or lapse of memory? Would the case go ill for her then? She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. They would never be able to prove her married to that brute.

“Very well. Lady Juliet, were you aware of the proxy marriage your brother arranged between you and Viscount St. Cyr?”

“Yes, Mr. Grimes, I was aware of the betrothal and the proxy marriage my brother proposed between me and Philippe.”

“Did you object to this proxy marriage or to any marriage between you and Lord St. Cyr?”