Emily Hendrickson (27 page)

“Somehow, I doubt it entices Alexander enough for him to change his mind,” Juliet countered. “He has been most supportive regarding his grandmother, affectionately known as the dear dragon.”

“I see.” Miss Pritchard sighed, staring off into the distance for some moments. “I can think of no other out for you. With no money to your name, you have no alternative. I suggest you confess all to your father, the sooner the better. He is more apt to be lenient if this farce does not go on for too long.”

“I cannot think he would wish this situation to be known abroad. Think of the scandal!”

“My dear, you and Lord Hawkswood should have thought of that a long time ago,” Miss Pritchard said.

“I ought to have left the day he arrived, is what you are saying? I know that now, for what little good it does me. Oh, Miss Pritchard, never mind that I care for him deeply, I do not wish to force him to marry me.”

Miss Pritchard merely shook her head at her former charge and said, “I trust your father will give me a reference in spite of this escapade? He would be within reason were he to deny me such.”

Juliet shook her head in dejection. “I shall insist upon it. Come, let us seek out Helena and inquire about Russia. I would know more about St. Petersburg.” She rose from the bench, then strolled to the house at Miss Pritchard’s side in reflective silence.

There had to be another way out of this muddle. She tried not to think of life without Alexander and found herself on the verge of tears, which would never do.

* * * *

Alexander moved on from where he had paused at the sound of Juliet greeting her former governess and companion, Miss Pritchard. He had wondered what Juliet would say to her, how she would explain the state of affairs, and in consequence had eavesdropped—something he normally would not stoop to do. But under the circumstances, he was glad he had. He had learned several vital bits of information. Juliet had been happy here before he came—certainly she seemed contented since then, particularly when they had been alone. And now he knew what he suspected was true—she cared for him, deeply, she said.

She was wrong about several things. And changing the situation would require a delicacy of hand and the greatest of tact. He strolled away from the sheltering hedge toward the stables, considering the best approach.

* * * *

“St. Petersburg is an enchanting city, but then, I lived there,” Helena said with a smile. “The houses are large and splendid; our streets are well lit at night and the city is well guarded. The river Neva is quite majestic, and clear as crystal. I have read that our main church, the Kazan, rivals that of Rome. The theater is not perhaps so very elegant, but the performances are most entertaining.”

“I have heard the Hermitage is magnificent,” Miss Pritchard, ever the teacher, interjected. They were seated in the comfort of the drawing room, and Russia seemed a million miles away. A gentle breeze wafted the sheer curtains in and out, bringing cooler air inside on a warm day, most welcome, indeed.

“True,” Helena replied. “There are fine paintings and lovely furniture in the Winter Palace of the tsar, although I have not been there myself.” She glanced at her new daughter, adding, “Something I think Juliet might enjoy is Troy Mountain. It is an unusual frame of wood, rising to about forty feet with a grooved railway leading from its summit to a great distance away. You enter a low carriage, then rush down the railway at great speed; it is quite exhilarating, to say the least. I have seen nothing like it anywhere else.”

“You make it sound enticing,” Juliet said, wishing her stepmother would continue her commentary on St. Petersburg. A stir at the doorway made it clear that was not to be.

Alexander entered the room, looking handsome and vital. “I propose we all go on a picnic. It is too warm a day lo remain indoors. It is all arranged,” he declared. “And I perceive you will all benefit from time in the open air. You as well. Grandmother,” he added to the dowager dragon, who had followed him into the room.

She looked affronted, but could deny her grandson nothing, particularly when he had married just as she’d demanded, and to such a decent girl who loved him.

It was the first Juliet had heard of such a plan, and she quietly said so to Alexander when she had a chance.

“I thought it an excellent way in which to keep everyone occupied and from asking unpleasant questions.” He paused, then urged her up the stairs to her room to collect her bonnet and parasol. Once inside, he asked, “You spoke with Miss Pritchard?” At Juliet’s answering nod, he queried, “What advice did she give you?”

“You do not want to hear it,” Juliet said stubbornly, selecting a bonnet from her wardrobe to avoid looking at him.

“Recommended you marry me, did she?” He strolled over to confront her where she edged away from him and toward the door.

Juliet’s gaze flashed to meet his, her alarm unconcealed. “I said you’d not wish to hear it.”

“I have said for some time that it is our only solution,” he reminded her.

“And you are so eager to find yourself saddled with your unexpected wife,” she snapped back in defense.

“I might be,” he admitted, looking as though he was reconsidering the entire idea.

Since Juliet wanted nothing more than to be with Alexander forever, yet did not want to have him utterly hate her as a result, she took refuge in silence.

“Have you sought out your father as yet? What has he to say? Much the same, I’ll wager,” Alexander said, needling Juliet to the point of rashness.

“You, who fled London to avoid being trapped into marriage, would nudge me to say something that would place you into that very trap? How foolish,” Juliet said, her voice muffled as she tied the bonnet ribands under her chin. She gathered her gloves and parasol, then paused by her door. “I am ready for whatever comes.”

“But you worry,” Alexander said, stepping closer. “I wonder why?”

“As do I, come to think on it,” Juliet said in return, quite out of patience with the man for the moment. “You are an exasperating man,” she said, surprising herself as well as Alexander.

“For God’s sake hold your tongue, and let me love,” Alexander said, pulling her close to him with an intent look in his eyes that confused Juliet even as it registered that he quoted Donne.

With a swiftness that totally surprised her, he bent, kissed her to breathless idiocy, then withdrew to study her face with a satisfied smile. “Think about that while we are picnicking, Juliet.”

She stared at him in silence, wondering what went on in his mind. Her senses were all in disorder and she couldn’t have made intelligent conversation had she tried.

They left her room, and he escorted her down to the entry-way with exquisite courtesy. It was a good thing he did, for Juliet was not sure she could have managed on her own. Whatever possessed him to kiss her in
such
a way? One more second and she would have melted in his arms, and he could have done whatever he pleased—whatever that might be.

Alexander had organized the outing with his usual dispatch. Helena found herself sitting with Juliet and Miss Pritchard in the first carriage. Julian rode with the dowager, who had taken a liking to him—much to his dismay. Alexander rode his horse alongside the two carriages, ranging back and forth, talking amiably while keeping a weather eye on one and all. There was another vehicle, a fourgon loaded with baskets, simple picnic paraphernalia, and two maids to assist in serving.

Juliet wondered what his motive might be for the expedition. Surely there had to be a reason other than the weather.

She found out before long.

A luncheon of fruit and cold chicken, along with fresh bread and dainty little cakes put everyone in a good frame of mind.

Then Alexander said in a meaningful way to Juliet, “Why do you not take your father for a walk? I feel certain you have a number of things to discuss.”

There was nothing to do but agree with every sign of delight, quite as though Juliet wished for nothing more than an intimate conversation—inquisition was more like it—with her father.

“Hawkswood seems to believe you wish to talk, Juliet,” Lord Winterton said once they were away from the others.

Juliet twirled her parasol a little, taking note that no one could possibly overhear what she said—if she said anything, and she wasn’t certain she would. “True.”

“You have not been yourself,” her father commented.

“But then, you have not seen me for some years. First, you went off to southern Russia, scouting for the government, I think you called it. Then, after Napoleon was safely out of that country, you went to the war area. Never did you think to come home. Is it unreasonable to think I have changed a little?” She was being evasive, but heaven help her, she had to be.

“I always knew when you were prevaricating, my girl. I believe you have been lately. It is Hawkswood, is it not? I should like to know where those marriage papers really are.” He paused in their walk to examine his daughter’s face. “Are the settlements properly done? Has he taken advantage of your stepbrother’s lack of knowledge regarding such things?”

“This will not do,” Juliet suddenly exclaimed. Standing on a knoll that overlooked the pretty picnic sight, she could see Alexander offering fruit to Helena, while the dowager exchanged views— likely regarding the foolishness of picnics—with Miss Pritchard. Juliet could continue the deceit no longer.

So, she explained everything—almost. There were a few details she omitted—the kisses and the love poetry, mainly. As well, she said nothing of spending the night of the storm nestled in Alexander’s arms. Somehow, she did not think her father would take kindly to any of those things.

Surprisingly, her father did not explode. Juliet suspected he was far past that state by the time she finished speaking.

“You mean you have been sharing that room as husband and wife all this time and you are not married?” he said in a dangerously quiet voice.

“Not precisely,” Juliet said. “He has his bedroom and I have mine. We talk together in my room at times; he has comforted me during thunderstorms—you know how frightened I am of lightning and thunder. His mother died of a lightning strike, Papa.”

“Pity, but that does not excuse his behavior, Juliet. You must realize he can do no less than marry you. You have been compromised beyond belief!”

“To do him justice, he insists upon the same thing,” Juliet replied meekly. “And remember, he did not bring me here to do just that.”

“Then I fail to see where the problem is. You must marry him, and he is willing to marry you. So?” Lord Winterton took Juliet’s arm and continued to walk away from the picnic group.

“You forget the reason for his coming to Woodbury in the first place. He did not wish to marry that dreadful Camilla Shelford. She wanted to trap him into marriage any way she could. I’ll not trap him
,
Papa.”

“It seems to me as though he could have left at once when he found you in residence. For that matter, he could have insisted you leave his home. I wonder why he didn’t?” Lord Winterton mused aloud.

Since Juliet had wondered the very same thing, she was unable to offer an answer to the query.

“I shall have a talk with him directly we return,” his lordship said in his firmest, most chilly manner. Juliet had it in her heart to feel sorry for Alexander.

It proved unnecessary for Lord Winterton to seek a conversation with Alexander. He found Juliet and her father looking over a pretty view, both silent as they contemplated what had to be done.

“I expect you had best rescue Miss Pritchard from my grandmother, Juliet,” Alexander said pleasantly, not at all as though he feared the coming chat with a man who looked at him as though he would cheerfully run him through with a sword.

“If you wish. Are you sure you want me to go?” she dared inquire. She looked from her irate father to Alexander, who seemed impervious to undertones he should have known might be present, and shrugged. Well, the best she could do was to warn him. “Papa knows all.”

Alexander’s brow went up as though to doubt she had actually revealed everything, and she could feel herself turn pink.

“Well,” Lord Winterton said, impatient to have a discussion with his soon-to-be son-in-law now that he knew more of what had transpired the past weeks. “I may not know every little bit and scrap that went on between you two, but I am not blind, nor stupid.” He gestured, and the two men sauntered off down the hill in a different direction.

Juliet watched them go, her heart sinking to her toes as she realized it would be most difficult to persuade her father to allow her a modest portion to set up a separate establishment— even as a widow.

It was a short conversation, she thought, when the men joined the picnic group before long. She studied her father’s face, then Alexander’s. How frustrating; she could tell nothing from either expression. Was her father furious because Alexander refused to “make an honest woman of her”? Or was Alexander angry because of the opposite, that he must?

She soon found out.

“Come along with me, Juliet. I would show you what your father and I discovered,” Alexander said, holding out his hand to her. Miss Pritchard made a shooing motion with her hands. Neither Helena nor the dowager seemed to think it odd that a husband and his wife should take a walk together, alone.

Juliet knew better then to argue with him when he was like this—impassive and commanding.

The others reclined in the cool shade, enjoying the light breeze and commenting on the heat of the day. Fans were much in use, and lemonade, chilled in the nearby stream, was sipped with relish.

“I trust it is a cool place, sir,” Juliet said, her eyes snapping with suppressed annoyance at the way her well-planned life was being rearranged for her without any say on her part.

“You are furious, I don’t doubt,” Alexander said in a most conversational manner as he assisted her over a hummock of grass. They walked up the slight incline, then on to the stream, and here he urged her down on the bank to contemplate the languidly flowing water from beneath the shade of a large willow tree.