My Fair Mistress (46 page)

“
Mais oui.
” With a laugh, she stood.

He escorted her to the door, Yvette leaning up to give him a Gallic buss on both cheeks. She laughed again as Martin held open the door.

Turning, Rafe noticed a movement overhead and glanced up in time to catch a flash of Julianna’s skirts on the landing above.

With a sigh, he returned to his study.

Julianna peered out the window of the upstairs drawing room and watched the world pass by—ladies and gentlemen, nannies and children, maids, footmen, and street vendors all going about their normal routine. She wished she could join them, but after yesterday, knew she would not be able to go anywhere without being tracked.

Why is Rafe having me followed?
she pondered again. She’d spent a near sleepless night with that question and others disturbing her thoughts and shaking her emotions.
Does he have so little trust that he must have me watched? Or is it something else?

His silence on the subject infuriated her.

More than ever, she needed time away. She could always visit one of her friends here in the city, she supposed, but doing so would serve little useful purpose. Doubtless they would sympathize with her present unhappiness, and yet she had no wish to reveal the details of her failing marriage.

Pain squeezed in her chest at the thought, memories flashing of the willowy blond as she’d reached up and kissed Rafe good-bye.

Is she his lover
? The evidence would certainly seem to suggest she was, though Julianna couldn’t truly believe Rafe would be so crass or so cruel as to bring the woman into their home if that were the case.

I need time to think,
she decided,
away from this house. Away from Rafe.

Yet could she escape Hannibal’s surveillance?

Taking a seat on the sofa, she began to formulate a plan.

Nearly two hours later, Julianna slid the key into the lock of her Upper Brook Street townhouse, her pulse beating with relieved satisfaction. Closing the door behind her, she crossed the familiar entry hall, the house utterly silent in a way she had never before heard it.

Her plan had gone perfectly. Despite Hannibal’s vigilance, eluding him had proven far easier than she had imagined it might be. Of course, her escape would not have been possible without the sharp-witted help of her modiste. Yet all it had taken was a few words into the woman’s understanding ear in order to procure her assistance.

And so while Hannibal waited in the front of the shop as she supposedly tried on a dress, Julianna slipped out the back and into a waiting hackney. A short ride through Mayfair had deposited her at the door of her old home.

Walking into her sitting room, she pulled back the curtains to let in a rush of crisp spring sunlight. Removing the dust cover from her favorite chair, she settled herself comfortably, or as comfortably as she could with the baby drumming his tiny feet against the inside of her stomach. Hoping her touch might prove soothing, she rubbed her palm in large, easy circles over her belly. A couple of long minutes later, the baby finally began to settle, shifting one more time before falling still. Leaning her head back against the wing chair’s high back, she closed her eyes.

My time here is limited,
she mused. Already, Hannibal would be searching for her, and reporting her disappearance to Rafe, if he had not done so already. So she owed it to herself to enjoy her freedom, to revel in the pleasure of being home again.

Yet as she continued to sit and to think, she realized that as reassuringly familiar as her townhouse might be, it was no longer where she belonged. For good or bad, her home was now with Rafe. Whatever trouble lay between them, she could never go back to the past, to the way her life used to be. To the way
she
used to be.

She stroked her hand over her belly again.

When she’d told Rafe yesterday that she wished she’d never met him, she hadn’t meant it. After all, if she’d never known him, she would still be living her old life, pleasant but passionless, each year melting into the next in a kind of innocuous haze. What would have become of her? Always a sister, an aunt, and a friend, but never more. Certainly never a mother.

Rafe had given her a child, and in that regard she had no regrets—the baby was, and always would be, a genuine blessing. But what of her love for Rafe? Did she regret that?

A tear dampened her face. With the back of her hand, she wiped it away. She ought to regret her feelings for him, she supposed. Lord knows everything would be simpler that way.

And yet she could not. Loving Rafe was part of who she now was and she wouldn’t change that, not even to save herself the pain.

But what of the future, their future, assuming they had one together? As he said, their lives were now irrevocably entwined, their marriage one that, no matter how disastrous, would continue for the rest of their lives.

Given that, perhaps she should do more to reach out to him. Maybe she should put aside her fears and insecurities and admit her feelings, humble herself enough to confess her love and pray he felt some glimmer of warmth in return.

But what about the woman in his study yesterday? What if she was indeed Rafe’s mistress?

If she was, the blond was soon to be gone. Julianna would insist he end the relationship and make the effort to rekindle one with her.

And if he refused?

Well, she would deal with that if it happened. She would also deal with Rafe’s ridiculous edict that she be watched every second of the day. Did he honestly not trust her? Or did he imagine he was protecting her? And if so, from what?

Her escape today proved he had nothing to fear. She was perfectly fine and nothing untoward had happened.

Taking a deep breath, she rallied herself to return home.

The sound of the front door being opened and closed echoed through the empty house.

So,
she thought,
I’ve been discovered. Is it Rafe or Hannibal who has found me?

Footsteps reverberated against the polished marble floors, moving slowly up to, then past, each room. Straightening her skirts, she prepared herself for the confrontation to come.

The footsteps fell silent and a tall male figure filled the threshold of the sitting room. But instead of a pair of familiar green eyes, she met blue ones. Their expression both icy and terrifying.

Opening her mouth, she screamed.

Chapter Twenty-four

N
O LUCK?”

Rafe gave a quick shake of his head to Ethan as he strode across his study. Reaching for the brandy decanter, he splashed a draught into a tumbler and tossed it back, the amber liquor leaving a numbing heat against his tongue and throat.

Unfortunately the spirits could do little to numb his fear and worry over Julianna. Nearly two days had passed since she’d slipped away from Hannibal at the dressmaker’s shop, and since then there’d been no sign of her.

After raking fingers through his already disheveled hair, he let his hand fall to his side, where it curled into a fist.

Most likely she was staying with a friend, still angry with him for ordering Hannibal to follow her. He would have been far less concerned and far more irritated by her disappearance were it not for the fact that he’d checked with all her friends—discreetly of course—and none of them appeared to be harboring her. Nor had any of them seen her in the past few days.

He’d also questioned her modiste, who denied any knowledge of Julianna’s whereabouts since she had left her shop and climbed into a hackney cab. Hannibal, shamed at having been given the slip by a woman—and a tiny, pregnant one at that—set himself to the task of tracking down the hack driver. When he finally located the man, the driver said he’d taken her to a house in Upper Brook Street.

Her house.

“We checked the townhouse again,” Rafe said, crossing to lean against the fireplace mantel. “It’s obvious someone was there, since one of the dust covers is gone from a chair. But whether Julianna was there alone or not, I couldn’t tell.”

Nor could anyone tell if she’d left the house of her own volition, or at someone else’s.

What if St. George has her?

The very idea twisted his gut into knots. Given the failure of her guards, though, he couldn’t discount the possibility. Not only had Hannibal been unable to keep her in his sights, the runners had as well. He supposed their only excuse was the fact that they had been watching for an outside threat, never anticipating that Julianna herself would be the one to flee.

And while they’d been busy searching the nearby shops and streets for her, they’d lost track of St. George as well. In a fit of anger, Rafe had sacked the runners, and given Hannibal a dressing-down he wouldn’t soon forget.

Still, the fault was his own.

Did I drive her away with my silence?
he wondered, recalling their quarrel.
How will I live if something dreadful has befallen her?

“She will be all right,” Ethan said as if he’d read Rafe’s mind. “Do not lose heart.”

Rafe nodded without enthusiasm. “You’re probably right. Maybe she went to visit her sister.”

But he knew she hadn’t. For one thing, Maris and William were supposed to be traveling to London in the next couple of days. Julianna wouldn’t have left for fear of passing them on the road. Plus, being so close to giving birth, it was unlikely she would have undertaken such a long journey, even if she had been angry and upset enough with him to leave.

“I can ask a few more people if they’ve had contact with her,” Ethan volunteered. “I know the Nevilles a bit better than you. Maybe Beatrice wasn’t being honest when you asked her about Julianna.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think Lady Neville was deceiving me.”

Yesterday morning Vessey had paid a friendly call only to discover the household tense with anxiety, and Rafe bleary-eyed from lack of sleep—sleep he hadn’t done well to get last night, either. Once apprised of the situation, Ethan had offered to help, asking around the city in search of Julianna.

“Still, you might discover something if you inquire again,” Rafe said, willing to do anything to find her.

A knock sounded at the door, Hannibal striding in with a half-grown boy held in his grip. “Sorry to interrupt, my lords, but this ’ere whelp insists on seein’ you direct-like.” The big man paused, turning a fearsome glower upon the boy, one that made the youth struggle against the hold the giant had on his grimy collar. “I told ’im to leave ’is message wit me, but he refused.”

Rafe frowned. “You have a message for me?”

The boy nodded.

“Let him go, Hannibal.”

Huffing out a disapproving breath, Hannibal prodded the boy farther into the room. The skinny, underfed youth stumbled slightly but managed to keep his balance. Nervously, he cleared his throat. “You Pendragon?”

“’Course he’s Pendragon,” Hannibal barked. “
Lord
Pendragon to the likes of you.”

The boy’s eyes widened in obvious fear, but he held his place. Reaching inside his frayed tan jacket, he pulled out a letter, crumpled from having been tucked inside his clothes. “I was told to put it straight in yer hand an’ none other. The man wot gave me this said you’d give me half a crown if I delivered it.”