Tangled (48 page)

"Enjoying the company of your little whore, were you?" Sir George asked. "She makes a soft and shapely mattress against the hard ground, I would guess."

"There is a lady present," Julian said, tight-lipped.

"Cynthia?" Sir George said. 'Oh, no, no, Cardwell, Cynthia is no lady. She too enjoys lifting her skirts for any handsome figure of a man who happens along, don't you, my love?"

"If you want to meet me, name the time and place," Julian said as Lady Scherer turned her face sharply away. "Otherwise let's have it out here with fists. Any man who talks so of his own wife deserves punishment. Lady Scherer was blameless, if you want the truth of it. I forced her."

"Julian," she said.

"I raped her," Julian said. "Do you want to punish me for that, Scherer? Do so, but stop punishing her. She looks as if she has had more than enough."

"Well, my love," Sir George said, laughing. "You have done a great deal of crying for a man who raped

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you, haven't you? We will leave it until another day, Cardwell. We would not wish to show violence in front of a lady, would we? Or even in front of a whore." He drew her arm through his. "Come, my love, we will return to the village. "I am wondering, Cardwell, since you seem so concerned for the feelings of ladies, how your wife would enjoy hearing of this afternoon's, ah, frolic, and of certain events that happened overseas prior to your near-demise. Now there is a real lady. Cynthia says it constantly, don't you, my love? 'Lady Cardwell is a real lady,' she says."

Julian nodded and stepped aside to let the other two pass. "It takes two to play that sort of game, Scherer," he said. "I am not playing. It is as simple as that. I shall call on you at your inn tomorrow afternoon. There we will arrange to settle matters between us. If you will not slap a glove in my face, then I shall in yours. Good day.

Good afternoon to you, Cynthia."

She darted him a look of mingled yearning and fright and warning.

Sir George chose only to smile cheerfully at him and walk on.

And there it was again, Julian thought, staring after them. The destruction he had wrought in other people's lives. Cynthia had come to him willingly enough and had been an eager and lusty bed partner.

They had been well into their affair before he had discovered to his surprise that he was the first man with whom she had committed adultery. And that she fancied herself in love with him. He had continued the affair anyway—even knowing that she would ultimately be hurt.

As he had known that Flora would be hurt.

It had never seemed to matter as long as he had a good time.

And now Becka was being dragged into it all. She already knew the truth about him. She knew what a sorry apology for a man she had married. And Scherer was trying to drag her into his cat and mouse game. In fact, perhaps he had already done so. He had visited Dave and her a few times at Stedwell, she had said, after calling on them in London. She had not said why he had called, and Julian had not thought to ask.

He resumed his walk and turned in at the gates of Craybourne, his eyes trained on the ground ahead of him. For perhaps the first time in his life he was realizing what suffering his own pursuit of pleasure had caused other people. And now Becka was suffering. Becka, who meant more to him than life itself. She really did, despite his more than shabby treatment of her.

David had been expecting it. Rebecca was in the nursery putting Charles to bed. Louisa had just returned from there and was sitting in the drawing room with the three men. Julian suggested a game of billiards with David.

Of course they did not play. They went into the billiard room and closed the door behind them, but neither of them made a move to set a game in progress.

"It was not quite what it seemed," David said, "though I am aware that that is a familiar line. She was upset because she had misjudged me most of my life. She was apologizing."

"With her arms about you," Julian said. "You were about to kiss her.''

"Yes." There was a short silence. "It is difficult to break a habit of mind. She would have been horrified afterward—in fact, she probably is any way—and so would I. You need not fear having an unfaithful wife, Julian."

"A habit of mind," Julian said. "And of body? Were you very close, Dave?"

"We were married," David said curtly, though he recognized Julian's right to ask such questions.

"I was so shocked to learn that," Julian said, "that I closed my mind to the implications. I tried to pretend, I suppose, that you must never have had sex together. I don't know where I thought the child had come from. I just couldn't bear the thought of Becka ..."

"Her heart was always yours," David said. "She married me only on the understanding that that would always be so."

"I just want to know something," Julian said. "Would you have her back? I mean, if I were to drop dead sud-

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denly or something, would you marry her again? Or are you thinking yourself well out of it?''

"She is your wife, Julian," David said rather harshly. He had imagined Julian's death too often during the past month or so. He was not proud of himself. All that was decent and rational in him recoiled at the thought of Julian's dying. "What you saw upstairs this morning has not happened since your return and will never happen again. I can assure you of that. I know Rebecca will say the same."

"That was not my question," Julian said. "I need to know, Dave.

Do you love her? Would you marry her if you could?"

David hesitated. "I married her once," he said. "I made vows that bound me to her for life. Since you came home it has struck me that I am free and that I could and perhaps should take another wife. But I don't believe I ever will. I will always think of Rebecca as my wife.

There. Are you satisfied now?" His tone had become annoyed. "But I'll not be trespassing on your preserves, Julian. She is yours. Just make sure you value her properly and treat her well."

Julian had been staring intently at him, his normally good-humored face drawn and rather pale. He nodded. "That's what I needed to know," he said. "But just one more thing before we return to Father and Louisa. Thank you, Dave. For shouldering the blame over Cynthia, I mean. I know you did it for Becka, not for me, but I'm grateful anyway. You have been the best of friends to me.

The best of brothers." He held out his right hand.

David took it, frowning. "This sounds like good-bye," he said.

"And what is this talk of death? You aren't planning anything foolish, are you, Julian? If you are, think of Rebecca and Papa. And of me.

You will not solve anything for any of us by taking your life."

Julian grinned. "I'm not the type, Dave," he said. "I love life too much. Besides, I'm too much the coward. No, I'm not planning anything so drastic."

David continued to frown. "Scherer?" he said. "He is still here, isn't he? Has he been in touch with you today? Has he issued a challenge?"

"No." Julian laughed. "He prefers to play cat and

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mouse. I am going to have to take the initiative, it seems.

Tomorrow afternoon. I'll go to the inn and call him out if he won't call me. It will serve him right if I kill the bastard. I would certainly be doing Cynthia a favor, don't you think, Dave?"

David looked steadily back at him. "Do you want me to come with you?" he asked.

"So that I can hide behind your coattails?" Julian chuckled. "No, those days are over, Dave. I'll go alone. I may call upon you as a second, but tomorrow is just for the challenge."

"There must be another way," David said.

"Not with someone like Scherer." Julian shrugged. "Cynthia always used to say he was crazy. I didn't realize at the time that she meant it literally. I'll deal with it, Dave. I'm not going to have him breathing down my neck all my life. I wronged the man, I'll admit that, but there's an honorable way to deal with a man who has wronged you.

Scherer is not an honorable man."

"No," David said. "He is not. I should have let you kill him when you had the chance, shouldn't I?"

Julian clapped a hand on his shoulder and led him to the door.

"But then you would not have been true to yourself," he said. "You would not have been Dave. Besides, I think I was meant to learn something about myself. Perhaps I would never have learned had I killed Scherer that day. Undoubtedly I would not, in fact. Let's get back to the drawing room. Unless you really want a game of billiards, that is."

"No," David said, "You always beat me anyway. Why invite unnecessary punishment?''

Julian laughed.

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Julian had mentioned next week as the time of their departure for Paris. The days were slipping by and soon she would be parted from Charles again for an indefinite length of time. She wanted to spend every moment of every day with him. If she had only herself to consider, she would have had him to sleep in her bed at night. But it was better for him to sleep in his own cot in the nursery.

Everything that took her from him for any length of

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time was an annoyance. And yet Julian was very insistent that they take a morning walk again. He smiled and shook his head when she suggested taking Charles too.

"I think not, Becka," he said. "I want to talk."

She stifled her disappointment and hurt. Perhaps he would keep her out no longer than an hour. There would be plenty of the day left. She and Louisa were gong to take the children to the lake for a picnic in the afternoon. And the weather was cooperating. It was a glorious day, more like a fresh summer's day than spring. The sun beamed down from a clear blue sky.

"Summer is coming," she said, lifting her face to the warmth of the sun as they left the house. "Is summer in Paris pleasant, Julian?"

"I don't know," he said.

She glanced at him. He was not his usual ebullient self.

"If it is not," she said, "we will move on somewhere better. But probably not too far south. Italy is said to be dreadfully hot in summer. I don't like too much heat. Do you, Julian? I must be a true Briton."

"It's better than the rain, I suppose," he said.

"I can hardly wait to leave," she said, smiling at him. "There will be so many new places and things to see. So much to do. And just you and me together, Julian. I love Father and Louisa dearly, but it will be good to be alone together, won't it? Like a second honeymoon."

"Becka," he said quietly, "you don't have to do this."

"Do what?" She looked at him, bewildered.

"You don't have to pretend to an enthusiasm you don't feel," he said.

She merely stared at him. She could think of no answer. He seemed very unlike his usual self.

"I can remember," he said, "when we were first betrothed, that you were excited at the thought of going home with me. You wanted your own home and your own place in society. You must have been very upset when I bought my commission.''

She had been. Dreadfully. "It was what you wanted, Julian," she said. "I always wanted what you wanted."

"You never complained," he said. "You never really enjoyed the life of an officer's wife, though, did you? And

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if we had not been doing so much gadding about, maybe you wouldn't have lost those two babies."

"Oh, Julian," she said, "don't blame yourself. I married you because I loved you and because I wanted to be with you. The only time I was really unhappy was when you went to Malta and I had to stay home."

"You were always so dutiful and so obedient," he said, "that I was given altogether too much of my own way. You should have ranted and raved, Becka."

"But it was your duty—" she said.

"I mean even before I bought the damned commission," he said. "I did it only because I wanted to be as good as Dave, you know.

Because I wanted Father to love me as much as he loved Dave."

"Oh, he always did, Julian," she said, distressed.

"Not really," he said. "Oh, he tried. He was a good father to me and still is. But it is understandable that Dave means more to him.

I'm not blaming him. I owe him a great debt of gratitude. But anyway, Beck, I was the world's worst husband to you."

"You were not." She hugged his arm, tears in her eyes. "Julian, I loved you. I was happy with you. Oh, I was. And we will be happy again. Once we get away from here and there are just the two of us, we will be the happiest couple alive."

"I think you found with Dave what you had always been dreaming of," he said. "Dave gave you everything you most wanted, Becka—a home of your own, meaningful work to keep you busy there, friends, a child, his undivided devotion. I should have tried to give you those things but didn't. I wanted my own life and you too. I don't suppose I would ever have been able to give what Dave did, though. I don't think I am capable of it, Becka."

"We are all different," she said. "You like a more varied and exciting life. I will enjoy that too."

"No." He cut her off. "No, you won't. You won't be happy anywhere but at Stedwell with Dave and the child. It's the type of life you need." He drew a ragged breath. "And he's the man you need.

Dave is the one, Becka."

"No," she said, blinking to rid her eyes of the annoying tears. "I was fond of him, Julian. But I love you."

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"He always was the one," he said. "You would have seen it if you hadn't demanded so much in the man you were to spend your life with. And if we had told the truth, he and I. Actually he did live up to your expectations if you had but known it. Dave always was your man, Becka—firm and steady and loyal."

"No." She did not know where this was leading, but her voice was shaking. There could not be this much truth between them. Not now. How were they to go on if they admitted all this to each other?

How were they to cope with the rest of a lifetime together?