Never Less Than a Lady (15 page)

Julia took a deep breath. “When you call on him, I’m going with you.”

Randall frowned. “Daventry is going to explode in all directions when he learns I’ve married you. Your presence will make it even worse.”

“I might as well get the meeting over with.” Her smile was rueful. “If we’re both going to be mauled by the encounter, it might be easier if we’re together.”

His expression eased. “You’re probably right.”

“Enough of problems. It’s time to discuss amusements,” Mariah announced. “We must introduce you both to society with a ball. In about a fortnight, which will allow time to have a truly splendid gown made, Julia. I’ll arrange for the modiste to call here. Randall, you must wear your uniform. The sight of you in your regimentals is enough to make strong women swoon.”

Randall groaned at her words, though Julia privately agreed. Ignoring him, Mariah continued, “Adam, is our social credit strong enough to overcome Castleton’s disowning Julia?”

“I believe so.” Ashton smiled fondly at his wife. “Castleton isn’t very popular, whereas you, my golden duchess, are all the rage in the polite world.”

“Golden duchess?” Randall asked.

“The beau monde loves to give nicknames.” Mariah grinned. “Considering my rather dubious upbringing, I find it vastly amusing to be considered fashionable.”

A thought occurred to Julia. “Would it help if my grandmother is co-hostess? That would demonstrate that not all my family has cast me off.”

Mariah nodded. “An excellent idea. Who is your grandmother?”

“The Dowager Duchess of Charente.”

Ashton, who knew London society best, burst into laughter. “The most exclusive, reclusive, and sought after noblewoman in London! Her presence will surely smooth your way if she’s willing to cooperate.”

Randall’s brows arched. “I see that you weren’t joking about having the bluest blood in England, milady.”

Julia shrugged. “To me, she is simply Grandmère. She said during my earlier visit that it was time I returned to the world, so she will approve of your efforts, Mariah.”

Her friend’s eyes gleamed. “Society is a game, and we’ve just been dealt the cards to make this the most talked about ball of the autumn season!”

Randall sent a note to Daventry first thing the next morning, explaining that he had married and would like to bring his wife to call. His uncle replied immediately, setting a time that very afternoon.

When Randall handed Julia into an Ashton carriage, his wife said admiringly, “You look so calm. I’d be biting my nails if I wasn’t wearing gloves.”

He grimaced. “If I look calm, it’s a lie. When I was a boy and sent to live in Daventry’s household, he was God and the devil rolled into one. I preferred playing least in sight to engaging pitched battles, so I am not looking forward to this.”

His uncle had definitely played the devil when Randall lay dying in the attic of Daventry House. Was it possible to have a civil, adult relationship with the man? Probably not. Marrying Julia might end his relationship with his uncle forever.

If so, good riddance. “You were right to come,” he told her. “We can face him better together than separately.”

She gave a tight smile when he took her hand. Even in gloves, her fingers were icy. They didn’t speak for the rest of the journey.

When they reached Daventry House, Julia gripped Randall’s arm after emerging from the carriage. “I hate this house,” she said under her breath as they started up the steps. “Branford and I stayed here for several days after the wedding before moving to his estate near Bristol.”

Randall didn’t like to think what her wedding night and honeymoon had been like. “I’m not fond of the place, either. I believe it’s part of the entailed estate and can’t be sold, but no reason why the house can’t be leased out after I inherit. We can choose a home that
we
like.”

Her expression lightened. “What a splendid idea!”

They reached the door, which swung open to admit them. The butler bowed respectfully. “Lord and Lady Daventry will receive you and your wife in the morning room, Major Randall.”

If the countess was present at the meeting, his uncle must have decided to treat his heir with courtesy. Randall wondered how long that would last after Daventry recognized Julia.

They were ushered into the morning room. The Countess of Daventry sat behind a tea tray. The earl’s third wife was an attractive blonde of middle years with natural elegance and calm reserve. She nodded a welcome to the newcomers but didn’t rise.

Daventry dominated the room. Tall, white-haired, and forceful, he always reminded Randall of a sputtering rocket on the verge of ignition. He rose when Randall and Julia entered. Julia lagged a little behind Randall, and he guessed that she was delaying the moment when recognition became inevitable.

“Good day, Randall,” Daventry said stiffly. “I had expected you to consult with me over your choice of a bride. I trust you chose a suitable female.”

Clamping down familiar resentment at his uncle’s domineering ways, Randall replied, “I’m the one who must live with my wife, so I thought the choice should be mine. But there is no question she has the breeding you require of the next countess. Uncle, Lady Daventry, allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Julia Randall.”

Julia stepped forward so that she was in clear view of her father-in-law. “Good day, Lord Daventry, Lady Daventry.”

The countess smiled pleasantly and returned the greeting, but the earl froze at the sight of Julia. “Damn you, boy!” Daventry gasped. “How
dare
you bring that murderess into my house! Is this some vile joke?”

Randall’s temper kicked up several notches, but he maintained his control. “Not at all, sir. Julia and I were married in Edinburgh.”

Daventry swore with vicious fluency. “I thought you’d finally grown up enough to recognize your responsibilities. Instead you married the bitch who murdered my son!”

It was time to set the record straight. Randall took Julia’s hand, not sure which of them needed the comfort more. Her face was white, but she didn’t drop her gaze despite the fury raging around her.

“Branford’s death was an accident caused when Julia was fighting for her life,” Randall said flatly. “He was a monster, Daventry, though you have always refused to see the truth. He hurt people for pleasure. I felt lucky to escape your household with my life. Julia very nearly died at your son’s hands.”

“You
lie!
” Daventry roared. “Branford was the best of sons, respectful and obedient. You were always jealous of his strength and superiority. How dare you slander him when he isn’t here to defend himself!”

“He was respectful to you because you controlled the money,” Randal retorted. “To everyone else, he was a brute and bully. After his death, you made accusations against Julia that caused her to be cast off by her father.” His grip on her hand tightened. “She managed to survive despite the worst you and Castleton could do to her. Now she is my wife, and I will not allow you to hurt her again in any way.”

“So the sly slut cozened you with her lies.” Daventry stared at Julia, his mouth twisted bitterly. “She looks as young and innocent as the day she married my son. Don’t blame me when she decides she’s tired of you and kills again.”

Randall’s temper snapped, but it was Julia who exploded.
“Enough!”

Releasing Randall’s hand, she stalked toward Daventry, a slim furious figure. “A dozen years ago, I made allowances for the way grief warped your judgment, but no longer!” she spat out. “Branford almost succeeded in murdering me. Last summer, you nearly killed Randall because of your angry neglect. Branford was mad and I pitied him almost as much as I feared him. But you are not mad, sir. You are a selfish, arrogant, bullying
brute,
and that is far more wicked than madness!”

Daventry flinched backward from her words. “Did you know your pious midwife was such a dangerous shrew, Randall? If you believe her lies, you’re an even bigger fool than I thought!”

“Do you wish proof of what your innocent, honorable son did? See the evidence for yourself!” Julia ripped the fichu from her gown, exposing the ghastly scars on the upper curves of her breasts. “Branford carved his initials on my body the night he almost killed me.” Her voice dropped to a haunting whisper. “The night he kicked me until I lost the child I carried. The night he died.”

The countess gasped and put her hand over her mouth. “Merciful heaven!”

“You did that yourself to garner sympathy,” Daventry said after a shocked pause, but his voice was uncertain. His gaze was riveted to the scars.

“Don’t be a damned fool, Daventry.” Fighting the urge to knock his uncle to the ground, Randall wrapped his arm around Julia’s shaking shoulders as she tucked the loose fichu back into place. “Julia is not the only one to bear the marks of Branford’s madness. Shall I show you the scars he carved into me when I was a boy half his size?”

Daventry’s face twisted with rage and anguish, but the countess said, “I know you loved him, my dear, but Branford was…not normal.” Distaste flickered across her face for a brief moment. “I found it best not to be alone with him.”

As her husband swung around to stare, she continued, “Though Branford could be charming, too many people had beastly stories for all of them to be false. Servants who fled his household came to me, as did shopkeepers and tenants whom he had injured. None of them dared go to you because you refused to listen.” Her compassionate gaze moved to Julia. “Stop blaming this poor girl for what happened.”

His face vulnerable, Daventry said, “
Et tu,
Louisa?”

“It is time to stop looking back,” she said in a gentle voice. Her hand crept to her stomach. “The future is more important than the past.”

“You’re right, my dear.” Competing emotions showed in Daventry’s face. Triumph won. He turned to his visitors. “Randall, I was prepared to accept you as my heir of last resort, but I’ve recently learned that I can disown you. Louisa, stand up.”

The countess rose, revealing that she was well along in pregnancy. The news struck Randall like a body blow. But he’d be damned if he would let that show. After a pause of several heartbeats to collect himself, he said, “My congratulations, sir, your ladyship,” he said coolly. “This is very good news for you.”

“But not for you.” Daventry’s voice rang with conviction. “It will be a son, I know it. I have only ever sired sons, and this one will be healthy. Once again I shall have an heir of my blood for Daventry!”

Taking advantage of his uncle’s changed mood, Randall said, “You are free to disown me, but you must stop persecuting my wife. Call off Crockett and his men.”

He glanced at the countess, guessing she didn’t know what her husband had done. “In the last month, Julia has been abducted from her home, terrorized, and shot at by your men. All because you refused to accept the truth about Branford. As Julia said,
Enough!
”

His eyes narrowed into his fiercest officer gaze, the one that made armed men pale. “Or there will be blood, and it won’t be Julia’s or mine.”

“The major is right, Daventry,” the countess said, looking appalled at Randall’s recitation. “You really mustn’t be terrorizing your nephew’s wife. It’s most improper.”

The earl looked as if he’d bitten into a lemon, but after a glance at his wife, he said grudgingly, “I shall tell Crockett to leave her alone in the future.”

“Do I have your word as a gentleman on that?” Randall asked.

“Yes, damn it, you do!” Daventry snarled. “Now get out of my house, and I hope to God I never see either of you two again. Don’t expect to inherit a penny from me!”

“You never gave me anything in the past,” Randall said, letting his anger show. “I never expected anything in the future. Being disowned merely makes it official.”

“Damn you both!” Daventry gave his visitors a last fulminating glance as he stalked furiously from the room.

The countess broke the shaken silence first. “That certainly wasn’t pleasant. Will you two join me for tea? Very soothing, tea, and my cook makes excellent cakes.”

Randall exchanged a glance with Julia. Her expression echoed his anger and exhaustion, but she nodded acceptance. “Thank you, Lady Daventry,” he said. “That would be most welcome. You’ve never met Lady Julia, I believe?”

“No, and I am most anxious to do so. Please, take seats.” The countess gestured to chairs on the other side of the tea table. This close, Randall saw the fine lines around her eyes and haunted tension in her face, but her graciousness was impeccable.

“Would you like oolong tea?” The countess’s hand hovered between two handsome teapots. “I also have a quite nice lapsang souchong. It’s my favorite variety.”

Her calm social manner seemed rather mad under the circumstances, but Randall supposed that an ability to ignore wild moods was essential to living with Daventry. “I’d like the lapsang souchong, please.” Though he doubted she was a poisoner, it wouldn’t hurt to drink what she was having.

Perhaps sharing the thought, Julia said, “I’ll have the same.”

Lady Daventry poured, the fragrant liquid arcing gracefully into the cups. “Lady Julia, please accept the silk shawl draped over your chair as a gift. The color suits you.”

“Thank you, Lady Daventry.” Julia draped the shawl around her shoulders, completely covering the crumpled fichu. “You’re very generous.”

“It’s the least I can do.” The countess passed out the teacups. “I knew your mother when I was a girl, Major, and admired her greatly. You resemble her.”

Randall felt an unexpected tightness in his throat as he accepted a delicate porcelain cup. “Thank you. I’m glad to take after her family.”

“And so you should be. The Blairs are a more reliable lot than the Randalls.” The countess stirred sugar into her own tea, looking down at the silver spoon. “But Daventry’s not mad, you know, nor evil. His blindness is because he cares so deeply.”

“Blindness that profound might not be evil, but it produces evil results,” Randall said dryly. “Branford was surely mad, but the fact that his father left him unchecked greatly increased his destructiveness.” He stirred his tea, the spoon clinking against the delicate china. “Marrying him to an innocent child like Julia was a crime.”

“Indeed it was.” The countess’s grave gaze moved to Julia. “I was so glad when Daventry said you were alive. From the stories I’d heard about Branford, I can imagine the horror of sharing a bed with him.”

“No,” Julia said softly, her eyes bleak. “You really can’t.”

Lady Daventry became very still. “I suppose not. It was very wrong for my husband to arrange a marriage for Branford, but he desperately fears that his bloodline will die out. His fear is not unjustified. All three of his wives, including me, suffered multiple miscarriages and stillbirths. I didn’t tell him I was increasing this time until I was far enough along to be confident the child would go to term.”

“Did Branford’s madness come from the Randall side of the family?” Julia asked.

The countess shook her head. “It’s from his mother’s people. The first countess was more than a little mad, but she apparently had a wild charm that made her irresistible. Daventry thinks of her as the love of his life. She died in childbirth.”

Amazed at Lady Daventry’s detachment, Randall said, “Yet my uncle married twice more.”

She offered a plate of iced cakes. “He was determined to see his bloodline carry on. He had great hopes for his younger son, Rupert, who survived infancy, but the poor boy was always sickly. Daventry was mad with grief when Rupert died at age ten.” The countess’s face was shadowed. “I was sorry, too. He was a good lad. No madness in him. He was a child of Daventry’s second marriage.”

Julia asked in an edged voice, “You seem a sensible woman. Where were you when your husband was killing Randall with neglect in his very house?”

Lady Daventry looked directly at Randall. “I was at Turville Park recovering from a miscarriage when you were brought back from Spain with your wounds, Major. Please believe that I would not have allowed such ill-treatment and neglect. I was horrified to learn of it later from the servants. You have my deepest apologies.”

So not only had Daventry lost his one living son, but his wife had miscarried, magnifying the earl’s desperate sense of loss. No wonder he’d hated his nephew’s tenacious ability to survive. But his raging grief had damned near cost Randall his life. “The fault was not yours, Lady Daventry,” Randall said. “But I would have died if Ashton hadn’t invaded the house and taken me away.”