The Seduction (52 page)

He stopped and considered
for a moment before he chose an adjective. How to express his mother's ability
t
ο
thrust unpleasant facts
from consciousness? Impossible for someone like Lord Felton to comprehend.

- distressing
and
therefore
acted
a
s if the marriage h
a
d never t
a
ken place.

- the circumstances that
had torn Gracechurch Abbey apart while he was
in
Italy. Alden could imagine the pain the situation must
have caused.
An
unscrupulous young man
had seduced his
father's
lover. For whatever reason, perhaps even a real love, he had married her, but
no wonder they had kept the marriage secret!

Alden attempted to write the facts
dispassionately.

My
 
brother's wife was α widow named Mrs. Sherwood, who was my father's
mistress. My father discovered their liaison, but did not know of their
wedding. The marriage was legal, but Gregory was killed before he could make it
public. Mrs. Sherwood died in childbed. . .

Giving birth to Sherry. She must have relied on
Alden's mother to secure her baby's rights, thinking that Lady Gracechurch
would want to see her grandchild claim his proper place and title. Instead,
his mother had betrayed Gregory's trust and retreated to the Dower House,
denying the baby's existence.

Thus the child living at Gracechurch Abbey under
the name James Sherwood is, in fact, James Granville-Strachan, my brother's legitimate
son, now revealed to be the true Viscount Gracechurch. Although Gracechurch
Abbey is not entailed, when Jαmes reaches his majority, Ι shall gift
the house and estates to him as the rightful heir. Until that time, Ι
shall remain in residence as his guardian.

Alden stopped. The crux of it: he was not Lord
Gracechurch and never had been. He was merely a younger son once again, an
adventurer, with no long-term prospects other than what he could create through
his own brains and wit. Yet, because it was Sherry, he honestly did not resent
it.

Ι can no longer offer your daughter a title,
and Ι cannot offer our children the inheritance of Gracechurch Abbey. Yet
Ι have come to believe, my lord, that love can conquer all obstacles.
Therefore, once she is free to entertain it, Ι do not withdraw my suit,
unless that is your daughter's own ,wish.

Ι am, your obedient, humble servant, Alden
Granville-Strachan.

He sanded the letter and reread it, before he
folded the paper. He could no longer impress the Gracechurch crest into the red
wax. It was a damned shadowy future to offer an earl's daughter. Yet with
Juliet at his side - if she would have him - he was prepared to face anything.

JULIET WALKED INTO HER FATHER'S STUDY AT FELTON
HALL AND stopped dead. The earl stood at the window, hands clasped behind his
back, staring out. His stout figure, his white wig, were dearly familiar now.
Why had she not attempted a reconciliation years ago?

"Well, m' dear," Lord Felton said over
his shoulder. "Letter arrived from your swain, fellow who's been calling
himself Lord Gracechurch. Better read it."

- been calling himself?

Her mother's portrait hung on the wall. The eyes
seemed to watch in sympathy as Juliet crossed the room to the desk and picked
up the letter. His writing. She sat down and read it through twice.

"Rum business, what?" the earl said.

She closed her eyes, imagining the pain Alden
must have felt to discover all this, knowing what it must have cost him to
decide to give up all claim to Gracechurch Abbey, the home he passionately
loved. Yet it was Sherry who benefited!

Her father turned. "Now what do we do?"

"As soon as Ι am free, we have a
wedding," Juliet said firmly.

Lord Felton stared at her. "You'd take this
fellow with nothing but the clothes on his back?"

Juliet smiled. "Excellent clothes, my lord,
on an excellent fellow. Of course, Ι would."

"Damme!" The earl collapsed onto the
window seat.

She crossed the room to kneel beside him.
"If that letter doesn't prove his worth, what could? Alden will give up
his estates to his brother's child! He doesn't have to. He cannot keep the
title, but
he cou1d keep the property. Instead he will continue to build wealth for
Sherry-"

"Sherry?"

"Little James,
Viscount Gracechurch."

The earl shook his head
as if bewildered. "This child lived at Gracechurch Abbey, even though
Alden Granville-Strachan thought him the son of his father's mistress by a
stranger - a nameless bastard?"

"Sherry was born
there," Juliet said. "Where else should he live?
"

Lord Felton patted her
sleeve
in
silence for a moment,
before he spoke again.

"But your suitor is
left with nothing! He's a well-known rake and gambler. He's broken hearts all
across Europe and England. How can
Ι
let him have my
only
daughter?"

"
Easily,
"
Juliet said.
"
You do as
Ι
have done and say yes."

The earl pushed himself
to his feet. "There is other news, too, m' dear. Better sit down."

She felt the blood drain
from her face at his sudden change
in
tone and sat down
in
the nearest chair.

"George
Hardcastle," the earl said. "
No
way to put this, but to just come out and say it. The
man hanged himself yesterday.
In
all his best clothes.
Left a note."

He thrust out a second
slip of paper.

Don't judge me too
harshly. This is the only
way
out. Hardcastle.

"
You are free now," the earl said.
"There won't have to be a trial. Somehow the chap found the courage to do
the honorable thing. So, now, do you still want this Alden Granville for a husband?
Even if he's
no
claim to
Gracechurch?"

She closed her eyes to
hide her sudden rush of tears.
"Yes
. With my whole
heart."

"Then, after a
decent interval, you may take your new swain, if you wish. But he'd better
prove himself first, what?"

"Prove himself? How
much more can he prove?"

"
He's a fine man,
Ι
won't deny it, but he is still a notorious
rake. Let him wait for you. Let him show he wants
no
other woman. Let him wait a year and a day. If he
still wants you then, if he stays faithful all that time, then he can have
you."

"A
year and a day? That's unfair!"

"
Hah! So you think he can't wait? That if he's
not
in
your bed, he'll find
solace
in
another's?"

"Ι
think it would prove
nothing whether he did or not.
Α
year and a day, Father!
After Mama and Kit died,
Ι
thought
Ι
deserved any chastisement.
Ι
don't believe that any longer.
Ι
know Alden loves me.
Ι
know we'll be happy together. Don't you think
we've been punished enough?"

The earl gazed up at his
wife's portrait.
"
Your mother
only
ever wanted you to be happy. Very well, m'
dear. We'll compromise. Let George Hardcastle rest decently
in
his grave for three months. Pay his memory, however
unworthy, that much respect. Let Alden Granville prove himself faithful
in
the meantime. If he can do it,
Ι
won't stand
in
the way of your wedding. But if he can't, then you
marry this man over my dead body."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

SUMMER SLID
INTO
AUTUMN. FLYING BANDS OF GEESE DREW strange
runes across the sky. Juliet walked to the corner of the pasture by the ruins
of the brick wall, to the spot where she and Kit had once dug for treasure and
buried the lead soldiers. Workmen had filled
in
Lord Edward's pit and spread hay over the bare dirt,
so it would seed new grass
in
the spring, but there
was still a scar there, marring the pasture.

It was three months to
the day that she had heard of George's death, read Alden's letter about his
brother's secret marriage, and accepted her father's demand that they wait.

Had that been a risk?
Α
man so used to sensual indulgence-

Yet
beneath her fretful attempts to find doubt, burned
the bright flame of a far deeper knowledge: how completely Alden must love her
and just what an extraordinary man he really was. She had, for the first time
in
her life, discovered what love truly meant.

And so they had waited,
while every last corner of her soul knew how severely she missed him.

In accordance with her
father's wishes, Alden had not visited, but he had written every day: sending
news of Sherry, of her cats, of the improvements he continued to make at
Gracechurch Abbey for the benefit now of his brother's child - along with more
personal, private messages for her alone.

And then, that last
witty, incisive touch, so typical of him: at
the end of every letter he wrote out a chess move, to
which each day she responded with a move of her own. So that as the weeks had
passed, at Gracechurch and at Felton Hall, two sets of chessmen reflected one
pattern, one game, one heart.

Yet one of Alden's
letters had made her sit down, heart pounding.

Ι
received
a
visitor yesterday. Mr. Dovenby
arrived
on horseback. We have
become friends of
α
kind, though the
mysterious Dove does not seem
to
make friends very readily. Did
Ι
ever tell you that he h
α
d
already
contrived pl
a
ns
to
destroy the duke's son,
that he h
α
d his own re
a
sons for vengeance, when
Ι
first
asked
for his help? We owe him
a
great debt, Juliet, but
his re
a
sons for h
a
ting Lord Edward
a
re his own
and
he keeps his own
counsel. When
Ι
pressed him, he would s
a
y only this: that if he ever thought he could
fall
in love with
a
lady,
it
would have been you.
How
c
a
n
Ι
blame him?

Why did that strange
admission affect her at all? Robert Dovenby was one of the few men she had
ever met who had
not
looked at her as if she were something he had the
right to devour. She knew now how vital a part he had played
in
allowing her and Alden to find each other, that he
had almost been her guardian angel, yet she knew nothing else about him.

She knew only this: all
her woman's intuition had told her that she would not see much of Mr. Dovenby
in
the future. Now she knew why.