The Rake's Redemption (5 page)

“It ain’t that I’m not eager to get to town,” continued Freddie, who had occupied himself ever since they left the Blue Boar in complaining about their abrupt departure. “I can’t think what’s come over you! Told the ladies we were staying and then you up and leave as soon as the Grenvilles arrive. Thought her ladyship would have an apoplexy when you said there was no need for us to stay as you knew she’d wish to convey Sophia and Juliana to London herself!”

Dominic grunted but said nothing more, his attention remaining firmly on the road. In fact, he had had very few words to say in the last several hours.

Not a man to be put off, Freddie glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Juliana is certainly a diamond of the first water. Didn’t realize she was a Grenville. I thought she was a Thatcher like Sophia. Remember on the Peninsula how that young cavalry lieutenant, Will Grenville, talked about her and their land in Berkshire?” Freddie shook his head, smiling. “Brought a few tears to my eyes sometimes, remembering home. Glad I met her before she reached town. Lay you a wager she’ll be all the rage within a fortnight!”

Dominic smiled, but it was strained, not in his usual way at all. “Yes … I feel sure Juliana will take.” His voice echoed the shock gripping him.

Freddie peered at him. “Devil!” he said with great feeling. “Forget about your preference.”

“Which preference do you speak of?” asked Dominic with quiet cordiality. “My unexplainable preference for your questionable company, perhaps?”

“You prefer your women with experience. Safer I guess. But not widows. Can’t understand that! Remember it struck us all as strange when the Duke of Cumberland stuck his spoon in the wall, you didn’t give that delectable widow of his a second glance. Every man in the
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wanted her. She wanted you. And you not interested! Stands to reason Juliana isn’t in your line. A dazzler, but fades besides the Duchess of Cumberland,” said Freddie with brutal frankness.

Dominic was hardly aware of his friend’s chatter, for the truth was finally penetrating through his shock. The warm, vibrant woman he had held in his arms was Juliana Grenville! He had thought the fates had played their last cruel trick on him, but he had been wrong. Oh, yes, he remembered Will and the stories that had brought tears to Freddie’s eyes.

Dominic had been at the slaughter that was Badajoz. He had sat in the oozing mud, listening to the death groans of men spread across the battlefield, captivated by the over bright smile on Will’s face as he had clasped Dominic’s hand.

“Worst battle yet, but one good thing’s come out of it. Think this wound will send me home to my Ju. Can’t wait to see her red mop and take her down to fish again.” He’d risen slightly on one elbow, so far gone he didn’t even realize his legs had been shot away. “She’s beautiful, Aubrey, yet daring. You should have seen her the day she outraced me to the pond and her horse balked, sending her head first into the stream. She rose with the water cascading down her gown and blushed to see me stare at her. God, she was beautiful.” He had slipped back into Dominic’s arms. “Ju, Ju, are you there?” Dominic’s embrace tightened to give comfort, and Will smiled, the mist closing over his eyes.

Dominic had sat for long moments cradling Will, whose company had attacked the enemy’s most heavily defended position, and their charge had helped swing the battle to the English side. But at too deep a price. With horror growing all around him, he had wondered how, so far from home in such a hellish death, Will could have died with the sweet vision of a woman his last thought.

Bright and shining in the dim recesses of his memory, he had kept an image of Will Grenville’s young wife to combat the horror of war and the lingering agony of Culter towers. Only his half brother, Jules, knew the secrets they had vowed to bury along with their parents. In those moments when Dominic had felt his life was changed forever, he had demanded of Jules that neither of them ever marry.

Lately though, his grandfather had convinced Dominic that it was his duty to carry on the line. He had allowed himself to be convinced, for, tainted though he may be, his grandfather’s blood also ran in his veins and that was worth preserving. He had supposed that someday he would find someone he could tolerate and who would be satisfied with only a crown of strawberry leaves, for he believed he had nothing else to give and was no longer fit for any woman who expected more. Juliana had destroyed that belief for a moment. But, of course, she would, she was Will’s Ju. She could bring solace even amidst the horrors of war. To have at last come face-to-face with his elusive memory and know he must in no way reach out to her, was the greatest irony of his ill-fated life.

“Dominic, what the devil is ailing you? Do you agree or not?”

With an unpleasant twist to his firm mouth he finally glanced at his best friend. “Concerning my taste in women? How astute you have become, Freddie. My congratulations.”

Freddie shrugged, completely ignoring his sarcasm. “I like widows myself, they know what to say to a man. Not like those simpering misses straight out of the schoolroom, like that Charlotte Grenville.”

“That Charlotte Grenville, I very much fear, is the distant relative my grandmother has been hinting would make me an unexceptional marchioness.”

“Thinking of falling into parson’s mousetrap are you, Dom?” asked Freddie with a worried glance.

For a fleeting instant a picture of Juliana rose in his mind.

“No!”

“Wouldn’t want to go against your grandmother, the duchess, if it was me. Forceful woman your grandmother. And your grandfather!” Freddie shook his head, shifting restlessly upon the curricle seat. “He’s a match for anyone! Even heard Prinny say he could make him feel like a schoolboy again.”

“Ah, but I have advantages you and the Prince don’t possess, Freddie,” Dominic drawled. “Their graces and I are very much alike.”

The shutters on Mrs. Forbes’s wide kitchen windows were flung back and sunshine left large warm patches upon the stone floor. Sophia placed the last jar of elixir in the willow basket Robbie had provided her with this morning. She turned to Mrs. Forbes, who was sitting before the crackling fire drinking some hot potion from a cup.

“Thank you so much,” Sophia said, her eyes drifting about the kitchen, touching on exotically shaped roots and herbs hung tidily from the ceiling beams, remembering the laughter they had all shared brewing gypsy potions. “We have enjoyed ourselves so here. I shall not forget our visit.”

“I know you will never forget this place, Sophia. It was the beginning of all your tomorrows,” said Mrs. Forbes, granddaughter of a Romany princess.

Surprise took Sophia to the fireplace to stand before Mrs. Forbes. Clearly seen in the merciless sunlight, her strong proud features were alert and so were her shrewd dark eyes, in spite of the lines deeply etched into her face revealing great age.

Sophia met her gaze calmly and smiled. “Are you trying to tell me something? I noticed you did not fully answer Freddie’s question concerning fortune-telling. You simply said your mother did not have the eye … I would almost believe you do possess it.”

Mrs. Forbes’ wrinkles deepened. “Ha! You are a practical woman. You do not believe in the eye, so I will only tell you your real reason for going to London will prosper richer than your brightest dreams. The thread was spun long ago and now you pick it up once again.”

Sophia no longer smiled as a chill played across her skin. There was such a ring of sureness in Mrs. Forbes’s voice that Sophia almost believed the future was hers to see. “I do not understand,” she murmured.

“Of course you do not!” retorted Mrs. Forbes. “You are not meant to. Hurry along now, the others are waiting for you. Your niece will be along shortly.”

Juliana waited until the coachman was attempting to help Lady Grenville into the carriage, with the aid of Charlotte and Aunt Sophia, before she made her way to Mrs. Forbes’s kitchen. She found her in the walled garden pruning the rose bush from which Dominic had plucked her bloom.

Mrs. Forbes looked up when Juliana approached. “I’ve been waiting for you, young miss. Knew you would come to say farewell.”

Leaning over, Juliana brushed the weathered brown cheek with her lips. “You have been so kind to us. I shall never forget this place. Or you.”

Mrs. Forbes’s face changed and a ghost of a smile touched her mouth. “Come, Juliana, give me your hand,” she commanded.

Uncertain, Juliana hesitated before slowly holding out her right hand. It lay on Mrs. Forbes’s thin palm, pink and white and young against the dark aged skin.

A pain in her chest suddenly made Juliana aware that she was holding her breath, and she let it out carefully before Mrs. Forbes lifted her eyes. Juliana was captured in the older woman’s dark gaze and stood absolutely still.

“There are two things you want, Juliana. One you know well. The other you are just discovering. One you shall never have, nor is its loss worth your sorrow. The other shall be yours, although the road twists and turns, bringing pain and tears. Go with your feelings … here…” She placed her left palm over Juliana’s heart. “Not with the rules you know well. And all will be as it should be.”

A large tear ran down Juliana’s cheek. At the same moment, Mrs. Forbes abruptly covered the palm with its fingers and returned the folded hand to its owner. “Be happy. You now have the key.”

Minutes later Juliana climbed into Lady Grenville’s newly painted traveling coach. It was over: their strangely unsettling, strangely exciting time at the Blue Boar Inn. There would be no more adventures on her journey. She would reach London, find a comfortable husband, and establish her brother firmly in the bosom of the
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. That was what she wanted, the plan she and Aunt Sophia had devised. But what else did she desire?

Instantly her thoughts flew to the two sleepless nights she had spent filled with visions of the Marquis of Aubrey. Those moments they had spent in Mrs. Forbes’s garden almost seemed like a dream now, a dream spun by the magic of Robbie’s Romany music. A dream that must be put behind her. The marquis had occupied too many of her thoughts already. She was behaving like the veriest peagoose! It was simply a kiss. Nothing more.

Incurably honest with herself, Juliana closed her eyes, brushing her fingers lightly over her brow before opening her lids wide again. It had been like no embrace she had ever known, she finally admitted. The Marquis of Aubrey drew her to him in a way she had never imagined possible. In Mrs. Forbes’s cozy parlor she had thought he also sensed this thing between them, that in some way he was reaching out to her. But the next instant he had closed himself away from her as surely as if a door had clicked shut between them.

Forcing herself not to think any longer about the marquis, she glanced at her aunt, who appeared to be lost in her own thoughts, her eyes holding a strange brightness. So Juliana turned to look out onto the countryside. Soon they would be in London. Their future lay there. It would be just as she wished, she felt sure, for she was determined the plan would succeed. But, nonetheless, she could not keep Mrs. Forbes’s words out of her mind.

Jules Devereaux, Comte de Saville, intended only to pause for one last glance into the bedroom, but the seductive golden beauty of the woman clearly discernable behind the gossamer hangings of silk drew him closer. She looked like a goddess, long silken limbs, skin of creamy alabaster, dark thick lashes laying like open fans above her sleep-blushed cheekbones, and crimson velvet lips.

On impulse, with two long fingers he pushed back the netting to slip noiselessly onto the ornately carved wooden bed that held his mistress. She stirred him more than he had thought possible so few hours after their long night of love, so he rested his hands on the pillow beside her shoulders and leaned forward to touch her mouth with his own. He felt her lips part hungrily beneath his deepening kiss.

“Jules…” breathed Contessa Marietta Louisa Primavetta, opening heavy brown eyes, which widened when they met his gaze. “What is the hour, Cara?”

“It is nearly dawn. My ship leaves on the tide.”

She cupped his cheeks with her palms, pulling him down to her. Her tongue flicked across his straight mouth curving it into a smile and finally he surrendered, sighing, and rested his head against her breasts. “You are unusually … eager … tonight, my love. I find it delightful, of course,” he mused. “But unlike you.”

“You have never left me for months before, Jules,” she whispered, threading her fingers through his straight dark hair. “Must you truly return to dreary London for that insipid Season?”

Reluctantly leaving the soft fragrance of her body, Jules straightened, taking both her hands between his. “I must go. The time is right for me to repay my brother for the past.”

Her gaze narrowing, she freed one hand to touch the black patch he wore over his left eye. “Your younger brother, the Marquis of Aubrey, is it not? Did he have anything to do with the loss of your sight?”

“Sweet, allow me my secrets.” He pressed kisses into her open palms. “It was my mysterious past and my patch … you thought me a pirate, remember? … that first attracted you to me.”

“But that was seven years ago. And I know little more about your past now than I did then,” replied Marietta candidly. Tilting her head back, she smiled into his face. “You have not been back to England since we met. I know your half brother is your only relative. Do you miss this loved one, Cara?”

Gently he lowered her hands to the covers and rose from the bed. He hesitated a moment, studying her, before reaching down to caress the curve of her cheek with his thumb. “Love for my brother. Yes. Once. But that does not call me back to England. It is something quite different. Something that must be settled between Dominic and me … at last.”

LONDON

Wentworth House seemed small after the vastness of the Park, but Juliana rather liked the cozy front parlor. Her father had decorated it in her favorite colors of rose, blue, and cream only a few months prior to his unexpected demise from an inflammation of the lungs brought about by his stubborn refusal to leave the hunting field during a thunderstorm. It was difficult to believe that two long years had passed, for the holland covers removed from all the furnishings before their arrival, had insured that the colors remained true and everything was dusted and polished to a fine sheen just as if her father himself was in residence continually.

A small fire, for cheer rather than warmth, burned in the grate of the carved marble fireplace before which she sat with an unopened volume of Lord Byron’s poems on her lap. Across the room Sophia lay stretched out upon the sofa. A soft snore parted her lips.

Juliana smiled. Perhaps a nap was just what she needed herself. She wasn’t sleeping well. She had told her aunt it was the strange bed, but when she was completely honest with herself, she knew that was not true. Dreams disturbed her slumber. Dreams of the Marquis of Aubrey smiling at her as he had in the walled garden when he presented her with the rose. Dreams of him again bending over her hand and pressing his lips to the pulse beating in her wrist. Dreams of a stolen moment, his tender kiss. Dreams that assumed nightmare quality when he raised his head to look at her and she found that his wonderful face had changed into a hard, angry mask that chilled her. It was that coldness that always awakened her, for she’d find her bedclothes tossed aside as if in her restlessness she had pushed and kicked them away. Dominic Crawford, Marquis of Aubrey, why did he haunt her?

Abruptly the parlor doors were flung open by Smithers, wearing his habitually sour expression.

“The Marquis of Aubrey and Lord Freddie Liscombe!” he announced in a booming voice, which caused Sophia to jump, her eyelids flying open, and her hands fluttering to her white lace cap which was sadly askew.

The object of Juliana’s thoughts stood seemingly relaxed, smiling with cool civility, framed like a Della Robbia angel within the wide rectangle of the parlor door. He looked magnificent. The cut of his deep blue morning coat displayed to perfection the breath of his splendid shoulders, and its color set off the uniquely rich gold of his hair.

She gazed at him, feeling the tiniest bit giddy, much as she had on her eighteenth birthday when she had partaken of four glasses of champagne. She freely admitted that the lump on her head, sustained in the carriage accident, had had nothing to do with her state of mind at the inn; she was very strangely affected by this gentleman she barely knew, and who had proven by his unconventional behavior that he might not be worthy of her friendship. She found she was holding her breath in anticipation.

His behavior was disappointingly conventional this morning. He greeted Sophia warmly, but only raised Juliana’s fingers toward his lips, managing to miss contact entirely. Dominic stepped back for Freddie to greet her in a like manner, except the pleasant smile that brightened his brown eyes was a great deal warmer than the marquis’s, and his lips pressed gently against her fingers.

“How kind of you both to call. Please be seated.” Sophia said cordially, patting the low cream sofa upon which she was reclining, and motioning Freddie to the rose velvet bench beside Juliana.

“How do you like London, Juliana?” Freddie asked eagerly, sitting forward on the bench at such an angle that she feared he would tumble over.

She smiled easily, “London is splendid, Lord Liscombe. We are quite looking forward to the Season.”

“It can be tedious, Juliana. Of course, all depends on your expectations,” Dominic drawled. “I hope it comes up to yours, ma’am.”

Juliana glanced away from Freddie’s intent face to where Dominic sat on the sofa, one hand playing idly with his quizzing glass. The mouth she remembered as perfect, soft, and persuasive in the garden was curled into a hard derisive smile. All those tender memories tightened inside her, a small rose of perfection closing against the onslaught of night. Obviously he had taken a dislike of her, for how else could she explain this odd behavior? But she was not such a poor-spirited creature that she would allow him to see how much it disturbed her.

Raising her chin, she looked at him with what she hoped was a withering glance, but immediately thought better of it. Instead she deliberately widened her eyes and fluttered her lashes, a simpering miss straight out of the schoolroom awed by the honor he did them by his morning call. “I am sure it will not be a disappointment, my lord,” she replied in what she knew was a languid tone. “It is all a shocking squeeze, of course, but it is delightful to have such new friends as Lord Liscombe and you, my lord marquis.” If Dominic was determined to be rude and boorish, she would show him that she could not be so easily overset. How foolish she was to have even a flicker of regard for him. He was nothing but a conceited flirt! The only explanation for his behavior was that he had found it amusing to dazzle them with his charm at the Blue Boar, thereby adding her to his long list of conquests. And, now that they were in London he no longer chose to so honor them. Well, she for one, would not be so shabbily used!

The marquis’s lips twitched in apparent amusement at her schooled expression of demure delight, but Aunt Sophia was not so affected. She eyed Juliana doubtfully for a moment before the dimple hovered beside her mouth. Then turning to the marquis, she deftly changed the subject. “Is Lord Rodney in town, Dominic?”

His eyes lightened as surprise flitted across his face. “Know my uncle do you, Sophia? Shouldn’t admit it, my dear. He’s the worst reprobate in the
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. The duchess has quite washed her hands of the old boy.”

Aunt Sophia raised her eyebrows in lively curiosity. “Really, Dominic? How intriguing! He sounds more fascinating than he was twenty years ago when I knew him. I look forward to renewing our acquaintance.”

The Marquis of Aubrey stretched his arm lazily across the back of the sofa. “I believe you will have the pleasure of meeting him again at Miss Grenville’s ball Friday next.”

Sophia smiled. “I would hardly expect to find the worst reprobate in the
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at a come-out ball.”

“Quite so, ma’am,” he laughed softly. “However, my grandmother has decreed that my uncle and I both attend as Lady Grenville is in some way connected with the family.”

“I say, that was quite a coincidence Dominic running into his cousins at the Blue Boar,” Freddie chuckled. “Did Mrs. Forbes mix any elixir for her ladyship?”

Biting her lip, Juliana met Sophia’s bright eyes before her aunt replied, “Yes, a potion to curtail her appetite.”

“Does it work?” Freddie questioned eagerly. “My mother could use it. She’s drinking vinegar now because Byron says that’s how he keeps thin. Damn silly if you ask me!”

Nodding her head, Aunt Sophia cast him an understanding glance. “So right, Freddie. Vinegar indeed! But I’m quite sure Mrs. Forbes’s potion would work. Didn’t everything else? However, Lady Grenville chose to leave it behind, saying it was such an obnoxious mixture she wouldn’t feed it to a sow.”

“Oh, I say, I hope Mrs. Forbes’s feelings weren’t hurt.” Such a heavy crease appeared in Freddie’s forehead, Juliana patted his hand.

“Don’t worry. Aunt Sophia put it with our own herb potions and brought it with us. She thought it might come in handy someday.”

“And so it might,” commented her Aunt. “Oh, thank you, Smithers. You may place the tea tray here in front of me. I shall pour.”

Certainly Dominic had been carefully watching a clock tick away the minutes because after one cup of tea and exactly the correct span of elapsed time for a morning call, he rose leisurely from the sofa and bent over Sophia, lightly kissing her fingers. “I trust we will meet again at the Grenville ball and that Uncle Rodney isn’t a disappointment to you.”

“Of course, Dominic, I look forward to seeing you both there,” Sophia returned serenely. “I am sure Juliana shall also be happy to see you.”

Without meeting her eyes, something he had studiously avoided all morning, Dominic sketched a neat bow at Juliana before casting a disgusted look at Lord Liscombe. Much to Juliana’s embarrassment, Freddie was leaning forward on the bench earnestly studying her profile. “Stop making such a cake of yourself, Freddie! It’s time to take our leave.”

“Gammon!” said Freddie, looking not a whit displeased at this reading of his behavior. “Just want to invite Juliana to drive in the park tomorrow. Had to wait until you finished discussing your family tree. Poor Rod! He’s not the worst reprobate in the
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, Old Cripplegate is and you know it! Quite fond of Rod myself and I’m sure Sophia and Juliana will be, too!”

Juliana met the diamond brightness of Dominic’s eyes at last in a brief instant of shared amusement and was more confused than ever. Drat the man! His behavior was totally incomprehensible. One moment he looked at her with an aloof coldness that bordered on dislike, and the next she saw in his eyes a warmth that was quite pleasant, indeed.

For some reason she did not understand he was no longer the same man who had walked with her in Mrs. Forbes’s garden and sat under the stars spellbound by Robbie’s music. Why had he changed? Had she somehow offended him? How? And what could she do to rectify her error? She would like him to be a friend, for London was his world, not hers, and she was a bit frightened of it. She had lived too long in the tranquility of Wentworth Park. She felt she had been drifting aimlessly for the last six years and now the hustle and bustle of the city was quickening her blood, tingling her nerves, opening her eyes again to the world.

“Juliana, Freddie is waiting for an answer,” her aunt firmly reminded her.

How long had she been woolgathering? Hot with embarrassment, she smiled her gentlest smile, the one she had perfected for Reverend Potts whenever she fell asleep during one of his sermons, and turned her eyes to Freddie’s expectant face.

“I would be most happy to drive with you tomorrow. I quite look forward to it!”

“I’m honored, Juliana,” Freddie bowed, his wide cheeks flushed with pleasure.

For once Dominic’s expression was not difficult for Juliana to interpret. He was looking at her like a farmer mulling over what to do about the fox in his fowl yard. It would have been pleasant to match his stare with a cold one of her own, but she somehow maintained her fixed smile of pleasure until the door clicked shut behind them.

Biting her lip, she twirled away, pacing restlessly from the carved mantel to the blue velvet hung windows, to the small, round gilt mirror over the rosewood table. She stared at her reflection. She had been told she was beautiful, but all she saw in the mirror were green eyes in a sometimes too pale face, a nose a bit short for real beauty, and a mouth with a full lower lip. Pulling thick auburn curls first one way and then another, she attempted to change that image but was not pleased with the results.

Sophia subjected Juliana’s back and reflection to a critical survey. “You really are quite beautiful, my dear. There really is no need for concern.”

Juliana gave her a warm smile. “Thank you, love. I shall allow you to flatter me, but…,” she frowned, “but I believe improvements could be made!”

Marching to the bellpull, she gave it a strong tug. Almost immediately Smithers appeared in the doorway. He did not look pleased, but then Juliana had found he never did.