A Scandalous Charade (22 page)

When she turned the corner toward her room, Hugh was standing before her, blocking her way. “I thought you might want to go for a walk, Jules.”

Her night only wanted for this! She narrowed her eyes to little slits. “Hugh St. Claire, I have been as polite as I am able, but my patience has worn thin. I don’t want to go for a walk with you. I don’t want to reminisce with you. I don’t want you to touch me. In fact, I’d prefer not to see you at all. Have I made myself quite clear?”

His blue eyes seemed black in the dimly lit hall, but he nodded curtly. “I believe I understand you perfectly well. Very sorry to have bothered you.” Then he brushed past her and disappeared around a corner.

Juliet took a deep breath. She hated being here, seeing these people. And she just wanted to go home, sleep in her own bed, and never leave London again.

***

Juliet stayed in bed the next two days, blatantly refusing to leave. It was a bit childish on her part, but the only place she seemed safe from her relations was sequestered in her room.  She didn’t read. She didn’t sleep. She didn’t eat. She just laid there and felt sorry for herself.  And she missed Luke more and more.

Finally on the third morning, Althea breezed into her room with a steaming pot of tea. “Papa says this will help you feel better.”

Nothing could do that. Juliet forced a smile to her lips and sent her cousin away. The she rolled over on her side to look out the window. Two skylarks had been chirping all morning long, and their cheerful song was the only thing that lightened her heart. Just as she was about to doze off, Georgie blazed through her door without even knocking.

“All right.  This has gone on long enough. Out of bed.” When Juliet grumbled and refused to move, Georgie stormed over to the bed and threw off the counterpane. “Honestly, Juliet, this isn’t like you. I’ve never known you to just…give up like this.”

“I don’t feel like it, Georgie. I just want to be left alone.”

“Well, you’ve had that for two days. I will not allow you to continue this sulking over Luke Beckford, of all people. So get up and get dressed.”

Then Georgie pulled her to the edge of the bed. When Juliet’s feet found the floor, she frowned but stood up and made her way to the wardrobe. She selected a jonquil colored muslin and stomped over to the changing screen. Heaven forbid Georgie catch site of her bruise again.

She slipped out of her nightrail and thought she heard something fall in the room, but she paid it very little attention.  “I don’t know why you can’t just leave me be. I didn’t want to come here in the first place and you well knew it. So don’t blame me, if you don’t like the way I spend my time here, Georgie.” She continued in that vein until she pulled her day dress over her head.

Then she stomped back around the changing screen and screamed.

Georgie lay motionless on the floor next to a spilled cup of tea.

Juliet raced to her sister’s side, turning her over. Georgie’s pulse was rapid, more rapid than it should have been. Juliet continued to scream for help, and soon her uncle and cousins stood in the doorway, looking at the scene before them.

Pale, Hugh stumbled backward. “I’ll fetch Dr. Perkins.”

Althea touched Georgie’s head and declared it clammy. Juliet could only watch in horror as Uncle Albert picked her sister up and laid her on Juliet’s bed. “What happened?” he demanded.

“I—I don’t know. I went to change clothes and when I stepped back around the screen she was just lying there.”

Uncle Albert grunted, barked at Althea to clean up the spilled tea, and left the room without another word.

~ 16 ~

Juliet sat by the bed, holding Georgie’s hand in her own and smoothing her sister’s hair from her forehead. She couldn’t remember ever being so frightened in her entire life. One moment her sister was fine and mothering her, and the next… Juliet shook her head and tried to force away unwelcome thoughts.

“Come on, Georgie. Wake up.”

“F—Fin,” Georgie barely muttered.

Thank God! Juliet felt her heart leap in her chest. Now, if only she’d open her eyes. She ran her hand down Georgie’s throat, and panic seized her all over again. She couldn’t find her sister’s pulse. It had been racing before. She must have the wrong spot. She touched under Georgie’s jaw, down the base of her neck, but there was nothing.

Juliet grasped her sister’s wrist and pressed two fingers to her pulse point. Still there was nothing. “No, no, no, no! Stay with me, Georgie. Come on, wake up.”

But she didn’t wake up. And her chest didn’t move. And her pulse didn’t start beating again.         

By the time Hugh arrived back at Prestwick Chase with Dr. Perkins, Georgie’s body had long since turned cold. Juliet was hysterical, and the old country doctor adamantly administered a dose of laudanum to calm her nerves.

***

Juliet awoke in an unfamiliar room. She blinked into the darkness, her mouth as dry as cotton. Where was she? Struggling to push up on her weakened arms, she collapsed back to the bed.

Then she took a deep breath and managed to push herself up from the spot. She spied a pitcher on a small table and poured a glass of water, which she gulped down.

She gradually gathered her wits about her, and recognized the small chamber as Georgie’s room. Which must mean that Georgie was still in her room. An overwhelming desire to see her sister set in, because she couldn’t believe that Georgie was gone. It was all just a terrible dream.

She opened the door and ran smack in to the wall of Hugh St. Claire’s chest. She almost screamed, but he placed his finger over her lips. Juliet fumed with anger. She would not be accosted by her own cousin! She beat at his chest with all her worth.

“Shh!” he hissed softly. “Don’t fight me! I’m trying to help you.”

She hit at him anyway. She couldn’t think straight. Her mind was a jumbled mess, and Georgie… Dear God, Georgie was dead! How had such a thing happened? It was unfathomable.

Images of her sister’s cool, lifeless body still lingered in her mind. She doubted they would ever leave. Tears streamed down her face, and she realized that Hugh was shaking her.

“You’ve got to get out of here, Jules. It’s not safe for you.”

She blinked up at her cousin. “What?”

His mouth was drawn up tight, and he hauled her back into Georgie’s chambers. He thrust a small bag into her arms. “Have you got money?”

Juliet peered into the bag and found clothes. Boy’s clothes.  Her mind couldn’t keep up and she stared blankly at an old pair of buff-colored breeches.

“Have you got any money?” Hugh’s voice brought her back to the present.

Did she have money? “Yes, of course.” She had a small bag of coins in her reticule.

“Good, because I don’t. Now, listen, Jules. Put those on.” He pointed to the bag in her hands. “Then make your way to the stables and take Thor. He’s not much anymore, but he’s the fastest fellow out there.”

She just shook her head. What was he talking about? “You’re not making any sense.” And her mind was still foggy from the laudanum.

With an anguished sigh, Hugh tucked a loose strand of Juliet’s hair behind her ear. “I didn’t know, Jules. I swear to you, I didn’t know.”

“For me?” Juliet felt even more limp, and she hadn’t known that was possible. Georgie had died in her stead? That couldn’t possibly be true. No one would do such a thing. Georgie was…Georgie was the only person who had ever cared for her. Their father didn’t care about any of them, and the same could be said for their step-mothers, for the most part. But Georgie…she had kept them all together and loved them. And she couldn’t really be dead! It wasn’t fair.

“Put the clothes on, Jules.” He pointed her to the changing screen and turned his back on her while she did as he asked. “He always felt the title had been ripped from him by Edmund, that it was his birthright. I think you know that. But as the years passed, what he cared most about was money.  Your money. He felt it should have been your mother’s dowry. That it belonged to the St. Claire family, not you alone.”

“I told him that wouldn’t work. But, well, he was convinced that you’d been compromised in London, and that I had a fair shot of winning you. That no one else would have you.”

How in the world had he come to that conclusion?

“Keep dressing,” Hugh bit out, as a blush settled on his cheeks and he turned around again.

“Why would he think such a thing?” Juliet pulled the boy’s shirt over her head and began tucking it into the waistband of her pants.

“That you’d been compromised or that I could win you?”

Through the screen, she saw his shoulders sag as he asked the question, and she shrugged. “That I’d been compromised?”

He took a deep breath. “Althea has been eavesdropping on your conversations with Georgie.” Hugh turned around to face her again. “Tell me, Jules, that this man—this Luke—didn’t hurt you. Althea said you had bruises.”

She flushed a deep red. She could feel it on her face. “I slipped, Hugh. Luke would never…” She was going to say that Luke would never hurt her, but that would have been a lie. It was just that the wounds he left, no one could see with their eyes.

“Are you done?” he asked anxiously.

Juliet pulled on a jacket that was too large, though it hid her shape remarkably well. Then she stepped around the changing screen, her stockinged feet padded across the ancient rug. “Where am I to go like this?”

He handed her an old pair of boots. “Somewhere safe. You have friends you can go to? Somewhere he can’t find you? To this Luke, perhaps?”

The last person in the world she could go to was Luke. “Somewhere he can’t find me?” she repeated numbly.

“He’ll kill you, Jules. And with Georgie gone, there’s no one to keep him from taking control of Edmund and your fortune. Edmund is your heir, isn’t he?”

Juliet’s lungs seized as that horrible thought engulfed her. Then Hugh stepped forward and steadied her with his arm. “Take Thor into Derby then you can catch the mail coach all the way to London. It’s the fastest way. I’d go with you, but… Well, then he’d know I helped you, and my life might as well be over.”

Juliet found herself nodding, though she’d never felt so completely lost before. Hugh handed her a cap. “Keep your curls hidden. No one will be looking for a boy.”

Again she nodded, as numbness stole over her body.

“I’ll throw the counterpane over some pillows, make it look like you’re sleeping. Or grieving. I’ll buy you as much time as I can. Where’s your money?”

Juliet scrambled over to her valise and removed her beaded reticule. After she handed it to Hugh, he extracted the coin purse and wrapped it around her waist with a belt. “Keep your jacket over this. Don’t let anyone see it. Take a few coins out before you reach the posting inn to pay for the fare.”

Remorse washed over her. Hugh St. Claire was the last person she would have ever expected help from. “Hugh., thank you,” she whispered.

He softly brushed his lips over hers, completely taking Juliet by surprise. “Be safe, Jules.” Then he pushed her out into the darkened hallway.

***

Luke frowned into his whiskey, his legs kicked up in front of the large grate in the library at Saddleworth Hall. Something wasn’t right. He could just feel it in the pit of his stomach.

The trip to Yorkshire had not erased Juliet from his mind, and he was hard pressed to think about anything else. Their night on the yacht played over and over in his head. Never had he felt so alive than when he held Juliet St. Claire in his arms. She was heaven and sunshine all tied up in a lovely, cynical bow waiting for him to unwrap her. And the way she felt writhing beneath him, well, he’d never felt such an amazing thing before in his life.

She must be thoroughly confused by his actions. For God’s sake, he was confused by his actions.

Luke reached into his pocket and toyed with two sapphire hair pins that had been left in his coach that fateful night. He hadn’t even removed them as he’d fantasized about. The evening had ended entirely too soon.

Marc settled into a seat opposite him and swirled his drink in his goblet. “Still not feeling well?”

Luke shrugged off the question. “Is Callie asleep?” His friend’s small daughter had been in rare form ever since they’d arrived the previous week. Little Callista Gray trailed her father, wherever he went, making a general nuisance of herself. Luke didn’t think he’d ever seen a child so starved for affection—certainly not his nieces and nephew. It was quite sad, actually.

Marc tossed back his whiskey and shook his head. “Not yet. I may have to start using laudanum.”

That was a disturbing thought, though Luke chose not to voice it. Really, it was no concern of his how the man raised his daughter. Callie was a pretty little thing with light, brown curls and soft, brown eyes. He imagined that Juliet looked similar to the girl when she was a child. He sighed and roughly rubbed his brow. He missed his princess desperately. And all thoughts led back to her.

Luke shrugged noncommittally. He and Marc had been friends for more than a decade and he knew that the marquess had never cared for his wife. Their marriage had been based upon the same principles of most matches of their class—duty and profit. But before that episode, Haversham had been engaged to another girl. “Did you love Ella Burke?” Luke was too good a friend to mention the fact the Marc had abducted the girl after she’d broken their engagement. That act spoke of obsession. And perhaps love?