Chapter Six

Juliet was no longer dripping, but still quite wet when she and Graham entered her townhouse. Despite her objection, he insisted on driving her home in his phaeton, which he pointed out was certainly proper since it was an open vehicle. Not wanting to spoil the fun for Marigold, she agreed so the carriage could stay there to bring her and Lady Osborne back when the picnic ended.

He gave her his jacket to wear, and wrapped her legs with a blanket he kept in the vehicle. Sitting so close to him as he drove her home was disconcerting. She needed to avoid him if she were to have any peace of mind.

“I believe I asked once before if I may take you on an afternoon ride through the park. Can we set a time this week?” He glanced sideways at her, a certain hopefulness in his eyes.

She pulled the sides of his jacket closer, annoyed at the scent of him on the garment, but the slight breeze from the ride chilled her, so she had no choice. “Very well, since I don’t believe you will stop asking. However, I beg you not to read too much into it. I must marry this Season so Marigold can have her chance next year. ‘Tis Papa’s edict.”

His lips tightened, and his eyes snapped. “I have told you my plans for us include marriage. You seem to be under the illusion that I want something nefarious from you.” He switched the reins to his right hand and covered her hands fisted in her lap with his warm hand. “Not so, sweeting, I do not want you for an affair, I want you for my wife.”

“I don’t trust you.” The whispered words barely made it past her lips.

His head jerked. “What?”

She cleared her throat. “I said, I don’t trust you. You still have not told me to where you disappeared. How do I know you will not do so again?”

“Juliet, I promise you, what took up my time has nothing to do with us. I would never do anything to hurt you.” He studied her, leaving her feeling like a bug under glass. “If it takes the rest of the Season, I will earn your trust back. Just promise me you will not accept any other suitors until I’ve had my chance.”

She turned from the piercing look in his eyes to gaze out at the snug, well-tended lawns in front of the townhouses they passed. She wanted so much to believe him. But her heart kept reminding her that it was still newly healed. Did she want to put herself through that agony again?

***

“Is it raining so hard?” Papa asked as he walked down the corridor, staring at them over the top of his spectacles, an open book in his hand. “Funny, the last time I looked it was quite sunny.”

“No, Papa, I fell in the brook at the picnic.” She sneezed, then smiled warmly at him. Despite his totally unexpected edict about them all marrying in order of their birth, he was such a dear.

“Picnic, you say? Yes, yes, I remember, Lady Osborne went with you. Dreadful things, picnics.” He frowned. “Where was your chaperone when you were playing in the water?”

“I wasn’t playing, Papa, I fell.” Honestly, sometimes he acted as though she and Marigold were still young girls needing constant supervision.

Well, perhaps she did, on occasion.

She glanced at Graham, who was grinning widely. “Lady Juliet attempted to cross the brook while stepping on stones, and she tumbled into the water.”

“Ah, my sweet daughter, the light of my life. How many times have I told you not to do that?”

Her lips tightened at his reprimand, especially when Graham choked back a laugh. “That is precisely what I told her, sir.”

Papa looked at Graham, as if noting his presence for the first time. “Hertford, is it not?”

Graham straightened as if commanded. “Yes, sir.”

Papa’s eyes narrowed. “Weren’t you dancing around my daughter last year?”

Now she choked back a laugh at the uncomfortable look on Graham’s face.

“Sir, I believe you could say Lady Juliet and I spent some time together.”

“Good, good.” He turned to Juliet. “My dear, I think you should go change to avoid an ague.” He nodded toward Graham. “Join me in my library, Hertford. I could use a cup of tea.” He slapped Graham on the back, effectively moving him down the corridor, leaving him no choice.

Juliet climbed the stairs to her bedchamber. She rang for Charlene to help her out of her clothes and bring a hot bath. The damp clothes were giving her a chill, and the bath would be just the thing.

She was a little concerned about Papa inviting Graham for tea. First of all, Papa never drank tea outside of their regular tea in the afternoon, and most times he wasn’t at home for that. Second, she did not like the look in his eyes when he slapped Graham on the back and practically pushed him to the library.

The last thing she wanted was Papa whipping out marriage contracts and Graham confessing that was what he wanted. Even if she did believe him that he was truly interested in marriage, and not simply an affair, she wasn’t sure that was best for her.

There was no doubt Graham could bring her incredible happiness, but then he could also take it away. Vulnerability was a terrible thing, she’d learned. There was no other way to state it than he’d broken her heart. It had taken her months to feel whole again, and she was not about to open herself up to heartache again.

***

“Here, my boy, have a seat.” Lord Pomeroy waved to a comfortable chair near the fireplace. He walked to the bell pull and yanked. He waited patiently by the door until a footman appeared and he ordered tea and sandwiches.

Rubbing his hands together, he joined Graham in the chair opposite the small table between them. “So. A Marquess, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lady Juliet is a lovely girl. Kind, patient, cares for children. She doesn’t run the house as well as her sister did, but she tries hard.”

Graham tried very hard to not laugh out loud. It was obvious what Pomeroy was doing, and he couldn’t help but imagine how outraged Juliet would be to listen to her father tout all her good points when she was trying to discourage him.

“I agree. Lady Juliet is truly a treasure.”

The man’s face lit up. “Yes, yes. I adore all my daughters, you know. My eldest, Lady St. George only married last year. Happy as lovebirds, those two. Does my heart good. They’ve already added a babe to the family.” He stopped speaking when the footman entered with a full tray. After placing it in front of the two men, he left the room.

Pomeroy poured tea for them both, that Graham fixed it to his liking, then placed a couple of small sandwiches and a miniscule pastry on a plate. Since he’d missed luncheon at the picnic, he was quite hungry. Of course, carrying a soaking wet Juliet had also increased his appetite. He laughed to himself. Increased his appetites in more ways than one.

Graham enjoyed his food while waiting for Pomeroy to continue enumerating Juliet’s qualities. Graham, of course, could also throw in passionate, adventurous, and innocently enthusiastic in the bedchamber, but since he assumed he was a better shot than Pomeroy, he didn’t want to make Juliet an orphan.

Pomeroy wiped his mouth with his serviette and leaned back. “Yes, my boy, Juliet is one fine young woman. Would make someone a spectacular wife.” He leaned forward as if imparting a great secret. “Had to light a fire under my eldest last year, or she would never have married. Told them all they had to marry in order of their birth. Scared the living daylights out of Lady St. George. She never intended to wed, hoped to spend her life a spinster, organizing gatherings for strange people, and directing my life.”

So, that was why he’d made that edict to which Juliet had referred. As much as Pomeroy seemed to love his daughters, he obviously wanted some freedom from their directing. Yes, he could imagine having three grown daughters attempting to make life comfortable for him by arranging it precisely the way young ladies thought life for a gentleman should be.

The complete opposite of how a man wanted his life to be. Especially when he’d already done his job as a father, and was nowhere near his dotage.

“I will be honest with you, sir. I have a great deal of respect for Lady Juliet, and hope to spend more time with her over the next few weeks.” All things considered, he didn’t dare get more formal than that.

Pomeroy beamed. Graham could almost see him mentally checking his schedule to see where he could fit in a consultation with a wedding planner. That would be fine with him. Right now, there were simply too many men interested in Juliet.

She was his.

“I’m glad to hear that. If there’s anything I can do to move it along, my boy, let me know.”

He would love to have a push from Pomeroy, but the better side of caution prevailed. He would do well to give Juliet time, and woo her as he had before. Apparently, from Pomeroy’s attitude, he had no notion of the disappointment Juliet had suffered after he had absconded last year.

Pomeroy frowned and looked at him. “Do you like this women’s food?” He waved at the tray of tea and sandwiches, cut so expertly into crust-less squares and triangles. “My daughters tell me it is good for my health. I think it’s good for infants with no teeth.”

Graham choked back a laugh. How did one answer that question when one was a guest in the man’s home?

“Tell you what, Hertford. Let’s have a brandy, and then ride on down to White’s where we can get something substantial to eat. Something that requires chewing.” He jumped up and strode to the sideboard, pouring them both a healthy portion of brandy.

If this was the type of fare that came from the kitchen, Graham was beginning to see exactly why Pomeroy was anxious to see his daughters married. He had indulged in several of the little sandwiches and was still hungry.

He accepted the glass from Pomeroy, who held it up. “To daughters. May you have many, and live to see them all married and settled in their own homes, directing their husbands’ and children’s lives.” He downed the brandy in one gulp. “Now let’s see about getting something decent to eat.”

***

The next afternoon as Graham rode his horse to the Duke of Reading’s home, he mused on the time spent with Juliet’s father the day before. He found the man entertaining, extremely fond of his daughters, but determined to see them set up in their own homes.

He had every intention of removing Juliet from under his care. At least forming a bond with Lord Pomeroy had helped. He only hoped it did not antagonize Juliet. As her father had rightly pointed out, she had numerous good qualities, but he had also found her to be stubborn, headstrong, and determined. Fine qualities also, if they weren’t in the path of his own purposes.

The man at the duke’s door accepted his card and asked that he wait in the drawing room. He followed him upstairs and settled in, waiting to be summoned. Unable to sit, with concerns on how he would find the duke, he wandered the room, memories flooding back from his time spent here.

Once he’d been placed under the duke’s care, following the fire, he’d been sent directly to this townhouse. Even though he’d seen the duke over the years, he was still practically a stranger when the thirteen-year-old boy arrived.

He’d been at school when the fire erupted, burning their London townhouse to the ground and killing his parents. Once the funeral at Hertford Manor was over, he and the duke, along with Amy, traveled to the duke’s estate in Suffolk, where Graham had remained for the rest of the school term that year. Although he had expected to return to Eton when the new term began, the duke decided to keep him at the estate and take his lessons with Amy until he was ready for university. Given how much time the duke had spent in counseling and preparing Graham for his responsibilities, it was the best thing he could have done for his ward.

The Duchess of Reading had not been too fond of having Graham ‘underfoot’ as she put it, but the duke was adamant that Graham needed time to prepare for his new life. Always embarrassed and irritated by her ‘different’ daughter, the duchess spent her time in London, or in Bath. Rarely did she join the family in Suffolk. In fact, Graham only remembered her visiting them at Christmastide each year. The visit would last for only a few days before she again left in a flurry of goodbyes, kisses on her daughter’s head, and a light peck from the duke on her cheek.

He’d always felt sorry for the duke, since he was such a pleasant man, devoted to his daughter, and serious in his responsibilities to his title. But their marriage, like most in the ton, had been arranged for purposes of money, power, and solidifying relationships. However, everyone, including the staff, seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when the duchess departed and life resumed its normal pattern.

His thoughts were interrupted by the return of the butler. “My lord, if you will follow me, the duke will see you now.”

Graham followed him down a long corridor, and up another flight of stairs to the floor where the private family suites were located. He could smell the sick room before he entered. The room was dark, the drapes drawn, even though the day was bright and cheery. He never understood the doctors’ dictates that the sick room must be kept overwarm and dark.

The great Duke of Reading rested on his back, looking shrunken in the huge bed. As Graham grew closer, he noticed one side of his face drooped, as well as one eyelid. His breathing was so shallow for a moment Graham thought he had expired. “Your Grace?”

He opened his eyes, offering a crooked smile, a slight bit of moisture dripping from the side of his mouth. He reached his hand out and Graham took it. Despite his illness, his grip was still as strong and firm as he’d remembered.

The duke tried to speak, but only garbled words came out. There was an attendant there in the room with him. Graham turned to him. “Do you know what he said?”

“’Tis hard to understand His Grace, and sometimes he gets quite frustrated. However, he can write words since ‘tis the left side of his body affected, and he is right-handed. Do you wish me to procure some vellum and a pen?”

“Yes, please.”

Graham pulled up a chair and sat next to the duke. “Your attendant is getting writing materials for you.”

His Grace nodded his head, and continued to grip his hand. He’d known people who had suffered apoplexy, two had died before regaining consciousness, and the other one had lingered for weeks in the same condition as the duke.

He was reluctant to ask about the duchess, but with Amy not able to take care of matters, the poor man was left with no family to help. Graham decided to speak with the duke’s solicitors in the next few days to make sure all was in order.

The attendant returned with the vellum and a pen. The duke released Graham’s hand and began to write. His writing was clear and precise. He finished and held the document out to him.

Take care of Amy.

“I will, Your Grace. Have no fear. I will see that she is well taken care of.”

One lone tear trickled down the man’s face to pool at this mouth. Despite his reluctance to do so, Graham was forced to ask. “Has Her Grace been notified?”

The duke waved his good arm around, and sprouted words totally inaudible, his face growing red with anger. Graham looked toward his attendant with a frown.

“Her Grace was notified the day it happened, my lord. She sent a note that she was quite distraught and would come for a visit in a few weeks, when she felt more at ease.”

Blasted, bloody hell.

Even if she didn’t love the man, he was her husband of many years, and he had been good to her. She also had a vulnerable daughter with no parent to look out for her welfare.

The duke appeared to have exhausted himself with Graham’s visit, so he leaned over the bed and said, “I will leave now, but rest assured I will see that all is taken care of for Amy.”

He nodded and closed his eyes.

As Graham stepped out of the room, the butler waited on the other side. “My lord, Lady Amy has requested you join her in her sitting room.”

In his pursuit of Juliet, he wasn’t aware that Amy had returned from Paris, but he would be glad to see her. He followed the man once again to the other end of the corridor to Amy’s rooms. She sat on the padded window seat, staring out at the garden. The last time he’d seen her, she was several months pregnant, but now she was back to her slender self. She turned from the window as he entered.

Before he took even one step, she ran across the room, and threw herself into his arms. She immediately burst into tears, clinging to his jacket, her slender body shaking with sobs. He put his arm around her and led her to the settee. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. “Here, poppet.”

She felt so much smaller, and fragile than when he’d seen her last. Then she’d been rounder. Once her tears subsided, he put his knuckle under her chin and raised her face to look at her. “What is wrong, Amy? Is it your father? I will see that you are taken care of.”

She shook her head and twisted the handkerchief in her hands. “No. Papa is not well. I am so sad for that, but something else hurts me even more.”

He brushed the strands of hair back from her face. “What is it, sweeting?”

Tears slowly fell from her eyes once more, rolling down her cheeks, dropping onto her lap. “I want my baby. They took it away.”