Chapter Twelve

Juliet covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a yawn as she climbed into the carriage behind Lady Crampton. Papa settled in next. “Papa, I don’t understand this hurried-up trip to our country estate. I hardly had time for Charlene to pack enough clothes for a week. And why isn’t Marigold going with us? This is all so confusing.”

Lady Crampton patted Juliet’s hand. “Marigold has so many events she is schedule to attend, it would be unkind to drag her away.”

“Then who will chaperone her?”

“Not to worry, my dear. Lady Albright has volunteered to help out.”

Lady Crampton had barged her way into her room last night and told her it was time for her to get out of the house. It seemed she and Papa had planned a trip to Pomeroy Manor for Papa to see to some problem with the estate, and they thought it was a good time for her to take a short trip away from London. Why Lady Crampton was going with them remained a mystery because when she questioned her, she gave some convoluted explanation, and then waved her hand toward her wardrobe and suggested she chose what she wanted to bring with her.

She was certainly happy to get way from London, with all the memories she was trying desperately to forget. And truth be known, she was quite tired of sitting in her room and staring at herself in the mirror. She had even drunk the chocolate Charlene prepared for her earlier, and ate two warm rolls with butter.

She had realized yesterday if she was, in fact, carrying Graham’s child—curse him—she needed to eat. If she could focus on that, and sweep everything aside, she could get through one day at a time. When the time came, she would retire to Elise’s home in the country, have the babe, and then return to her family’s estate with her child, never again to return to London to face the scandal.

“Why don’t you lie back and get some more rest?” Lady Crampton pulled out a blanket and small pillow from under her seat and handed it to her.

“Very well. I am feeling a bit under the weather.” She fell asleep to comforting sound of the carriage wheels and the low murmuring of Lady Crampton and Papa. It almost reminded her of when she was quite young and the family would take trips. Mama always tucked her and her sisters in, and they slept a good part of the trip to the comfort of their parents’ voices.

“Wake up sleepyhead.” Papa’s deep voice stirred her from her slumber. She sat up and stretched. “We’re not there already?”

“No. We’ve stopped to change horses and have something to eat. “

“Good.” She threw the blanket off and sat up. “I’m quite hungry.” She didn’t miss the smirk Papa offered to Lady Crampton. She, on the other hand studied Juliet with narrowed eyes. Certainly, the woman did not guess that Juliet suspected she was increasing?

Once Papa helped her out, she looked around. “I don’t remember ever passing this inn before.”

Papa’s eyes grew wide and he coughed. “We are taking a different road this time. The driver tells me he hears the one we usually travel is in bad shape.” He put his arm around her shoulder and moved her forward, chatting about bad roads, stuck carriage wheels, horses going lame, and a number of other things she did not understand.

The afternoon ride was pleasant, and Juliet’s black mood had begun to life. Not that she was not still angry and depressed. It seemed the more miles between her and London, the more she relaxed. She would enjoy this trip, and put everything else at the back of her mind, to be dealt with later.

It had grown too dim to continue reading her book. She closed it just as the carriage came to a rolling stop. “Are we at the inn?”

“Er, no.” Papa looked toward Lady Crampton. She fidgeted with her skirts, not looking at either Papa or her. Juliet glanced between the two of them. Something odd was going on. She gathered her reticule, and the bonnet she had removed earlier just as the door to the carriage opened. “Good evening, my lord, ladies.”

All the blood left her face, and her eyes grew wide. Graham had opened the door and stood not three feet from her. “Hello, Juliet.”

She reared back on the seat, her eyes flicking between Papa and Lady Crampton. “How dare you! Why have you brought me to this . . . this . . . this person!”

Papa looked as though he wanted to make a dash for it, but Lady Crampton held her ground. She extended her hand to Juliet. “My dear, Lord Hertford wishes you to meet someone, and hear a story he has not been permitted to reveal.” She tilted her head. “Please?”

Another pack of lies? Another way to make a fool of her? Certainly, not. She burrowed herself into the corner of the carriage. “No.”

Graham ran his fingers through his hair. “Please, Juliet. Just give me a half hour. That’s all I ask.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What sort of lies have you told to Lady Crampton and Papa to have them trick me into coming here?”

“He told me no lies because he hasn’t told me anything,” Lady Crampton said. “However, he has convinced me if we all came here, the issue that has been standing between you two will be resolved.”

Juliet snorted. Most unladylike. “And you believe him? I, on the other hand, can’t believe he could fool you as he fooled me.”

“If his story does not correct the situation, not only will we all return home post haste, but I will see that the man is ruined.” Papa narrowed his eyes at Graham. “Is that clear, young man?”

“Yes, sir.” He did not look the least concerned about Papa’s threat. That did give her pause. Papa held a lot of sway in the ton, and if Graham ever expected to have a social life among Polite Society, it was best not to cross the Earl of Pomeroy. He reached his hand out. “Juliet?”

***

Graham breathed a sigh of relief when Juliet moved forward and took his hand. He was still stunned that Lady Crampton had approached him two days ago. She seemed eager to have him redeem himself, and he was relieved when she agreed to his plan. He had no idea how they got Juliet all the way out here, but based on her reaction when she saw him, they had not told her the truth.

She refused to accept his arm, but took her father’s arm instead, with Lady Crampton on the other side of Pomeroy. They all entered the duke’s country estate where Amy and Boyle awaited them.

It had taken some effort on his part to convince Mr. Boyle to agree to this plan. Very protective of Amy, at first he refused, insisting her name would be damaged among the “coxcombs and dandies” in London, which was what her father had attempted to prevent.

When Amy pleaded her case on Grahams’ behalf, assuring Boyle that she had no intention of ever being among the ton again, since her life was with him, he relented. It appeared to Graham’s eyes that there was very little the man could deny Amy. In fact, Graham had planned to tell them as soon as this mess with Juliet was cleared up that they had his permission to marry.

Graham led Lady Crampton, Lord Pomeroy, and Juliet into the drawing room. Boyle stood as they all entered and bowed to the two ladies. Graham took Juliet’s elbow and escorted her to a chair across from Amy. Juliet’s chin rose, and Graham had the feeling she knew who Amy was, just not her relationship to Graham. He had to get the words out quickly before she bolted again.

“Lady Amy, I would like to present to you, Lady Juliet Smith, Lady Crampton, her companion, and Lord Pomeroy, Lady Juliet’s father.” He turned to the three of them. “May I present Lady Amy Andrews, daughter of the late Duke of Reading.”

Juliet’s eyes widened, and he knew he had her attention.

“Lady Amy has a story to tell all of you. It is a tale that began with the duke last summer, but since I promised him I would never discuss it, I have been unable to defend myself against unjust charges.”

Amy reached for Boyle’s hand and he gave her a warm smile. “My lord, my ladies, I am pleased to meet you. For a number of reasons. Graham has been like a brother to me since we grew up together in this very house when my papa became his guardian. I love him, and it would break my heart if something he had nothing to do with, and was merely protecting me, and helping Papa, made him lose his own happiness.”

She stood and walked over to Juliet and sat alongside her, taking her hands in hers. “He loves you very much, my lady. And I know that because he told me so, and Graham never lies.”

Juliet glanced at him, and chewed her lip. She then turned her attention back to Amy, and Amy proceeded to tell her tale in a very adult manner, which pleased, and surprised, Graham. Several times she would glance at Boyle, as if needing his strength, and then take a deep breath and continue. Once she finished speaking, she, Juliet, and Lady Crampton were all patting their eyes with their handkerchiefs.

The men were tugging on their neckcloths, and eyeing the door, looking for an escape.

Juliet drew herself up, and her eyes flashing, turned on Graham. “How dare you not allow these two to marry? And how dare you not leave this very minute to retrieve their child?” She stood and marched over to him. An angel of righteousness.

He backed up when she leaned over him. “Despite the late duke’s desire to protect his daughter, he has done her a terrible injustice.” She poked him in the chest. “If you are the man I thought you were, there will be a wedding this afternoon, and then you will purchase tickets for the next packet out of Dover so Mr. and Mrs. Boyle can go to Paris and get their baby back.”

The room was stunned into silence. After a few moments, Lady Crampton stood and shook out her skirts. “I suggest we all retire to another room” —she turned to Amy— “can we use your papa’s library?”

Amy swung her gaze to Lady Crampton. “Yes, we can use the library.”

“Good. I believe Lord Hertford and Lady Juliet need some time together, and it appears we have two weddings to plan.” What that statement, she turned to Pomeroy with raised eyebrows. He scrambled to his feet and followed her out as she marched to the door like a military commander, with Amy and Boyle falling in behind her. The door closed quietly and he looked up at Juliet.

What did he see in her eyes? Obviously, the story Amy had told would have convinced her he’d done no wrong. But her tirade about him not allowing them to marry may have only put another bee in her bonnet.

Women were difficult to understand under the best of circumstances.

He opened his mouth to speak and she quickly put her finger to his lips. “No. Don’t say anything yet. I am still trying to accept all that I’ve just heard.” She leaned back and smiled at him. “You must admit, it did not look good for you.”

Encouraged by her soft tone and slight smile, he tugged her hand until she fell on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist. “I wanted more than anything to tell you the entire story when I returned this year. But my promise to the duke was sacred, and then before I could ask his permission to at least tell you to clear myself in your eyes, he had a stroke and could not speak.”

“It was quite honorable of you to keep your promise when it would have been so easy to break it and save yourself a lot of anguish.”

He shook his head. “It never occurred to me to do that. One thing the late duke taught me was honor. A gentleman’s word is his honor. Without that, I have nothing.”

Juliet twirled one of the curls that had escaped her topknot and smiled. “The banns have already been called.”

“Yes.”

“Everyone who means the most to us is here, except Marigold and Lady Crampton’s daughters. We could send for them.”

“Yes?” Where was she going with this? Hopefully right where he wanted her to go.

He raised his brows. “And?”

“And we could have a double wedding if Mr. Boyle could get a special license.”

“No.”

Juliet’s face fell. “No?”

“No. He would not be able to obtain a special license. But, as Amy’s guardian, I could petition for one for them.” He broke into a grin that soon had Juliet grinning at him. Right before he took her mouth in a searing kiss.

***

Two brides and two grooms stood before the vicar in the very same chapel the late Duke of Reading had been buried from a few weeks earlier.

After a flurry of activity orchestrated by Lady Crampton, the weddings were ready to proceed. Cook had come through with a wonderful wedding breakfast that awaited the family and few friends who attended the weddings of Lady Amy Andrews, daughter of the late Duke of Reading, to Mr. Francis Boyle, bookseller and farmer, and Lady Juliet Smith, daughter of the Earl of Pomeroy to the Honorable, the Marquess of Hertford.

Lady Marigold, Lady Prudence, and Lady Phoebe had been summoned from London, and Lord and Lady St George from their country estate. There had been a great deal of oohing and aahing over the baby St. George.

Juliet had spent the last few days getting to know Lady Amy, and found her delightful, charming and very funny. Whatever deficiencies she suffered from made no difference to anyone who knew and loved her. And Mr. Francis Boyle saw no shortcomings whatsoever. More than once he stated all he wanted to do for the rest of his life was take care of Amy and their children.

Graham had dispatched a note to the foundling home in Paris, advising them that the baby Lady Agneaux had placed with them last year would soon be retrieved by the child’s parents. No one knew, just yet, if the baby had been a girl or a boy. The parents were excited to discover if they had a son or a daughter. Mr. Boyle had advised them all that he would be happy with either, and planned to have many more.

The last wishes for the happiness of the couples had been offered, and the final bottle of champagne emptied when Graham and Juliet ascended the stairs to the bedchamber they were to occupy for the night. The next day, while the Boyles were headed to Paris, she and Graham would travel to his estate for a few weeks, forgoing the rest of the Season.

Juliet mused that some tales did have happy endings, as Graham closed the door to the bedchamber, turned and moved toward her with a stealth that had her shivering.

She liked shivers.

***

“Two beautiful weddings, were they not?” Lord Pomeroy sat next to Lady Crampton on the settee in the late duke’s drawing room, a half empty glass of champagne in each of their hands. She had kicked off her slippers and tucked her feet underneath her.

“Truly. I am so very happy it all worked out for both couples. They are wonderful young people, and deserve happiness.” She smiled as she stared into the fireplace, a pensive look on her face.

“And you? Do you deserve happiness?” Bloody hell, why did he ask that question? With just the two of them sitting here, things appeared much too cozy for his peace of mind. He’d had his happiness with Florence, all those years ago. Now he looked forward to his daughters all marrying and presenting him with grandchildren to play with, and send home.

“I am happy,” she said softly.

After several minutes had passed and she hadn’t elaborated, he cleared his throat in an attempt to break whatever ridiculous spell had been cast upon him. “Two daughters happily married and one more to go.”

Selina looked over at him. “Yes. I believe Marigold will be ready next year to accept suitors. She’s a lovely girl, and received some attention already this Season.”

“You did a splendid job chaperoning Juliet.” He patted her hand.

She smiled, and he swore she said, “Not quite, my lord.”

They both turned at the sound of Hertford’s shout. “I’m to be a father?!”

The End

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Want to read more Regency romance from Callie Hutton? Turn the page for an excerpt from For the Love of the Viscount, Book 1 in the Noble Hearts series.