The Rake's Redemption (13 page)

Twining his fingers through hers, George looked up at her. “Actually, Juliana, you’re right. Wouldn’t mind cards at White’s.”

“White’s! Delighted for you to be my guest…” Rodney glanced warily at Sophia’s slipper moving dangerously close to his boot again. “Let’s take in White’s. If you’re not too tired from your journey.”

Sophia sprang up. “How delightful for you, George. You know how you love your cards.”

Before Juliana quite realized what was happening, Aunt Sophia was maneuvering both men from the parlor. “Yes, you mustn’t miss this opportunity, George. Juliana and I shall stay at home this evening and have a light supper.” Peeking back into the parlor, Sophia’s face glowed. “You see, Juliana,” she whispered. “The plan is working.”

After seeing Aunt Sophia settled in her room with a light supper, Juliana wandered through the downstairs rooms, absentmindedly touching a few treasured pieces: the Sevres vase her mother had received as a betrothal gift, the ormolu clock her grandfather supposedly won in a wager over a horse race, the Faberge egg an adventuring great-uncle had brought back from his travels. She stopped in front of the Reynolds portrait of her father hung prominently over the parlor fireplace.

“Well Papa,” she whispered to the laughing man whose hand rested on his favorite hound, “I’ve brought George here at last. Maybe he’ll learn to enjoy life a little more while we’re here … maybe we all will.”

She turned and lit the candle at the fireside chair, then settled into it. Lord Rodney had taken George to White’s for the evening, and she had sent a messenger declining Edgemont’s card party, so for once, she faced a quiet evening alone.

A short space found her restlessly moving about the room again, finally ending at the window to stare out into St. James Square. The lamps had been lit, casting oddly shaped shadows onto the paving bricks. Carriages whisked by, and the
ton
rushed to this evening’s entertainment. What would Dominic do? Perhaps a party … gambling with friends … Vauxhall … no, not Vauxhall. Maybe he would visit Dora, or one of the fashionable impures he was rumored to be so popular with. Leaning her forehead against a cool pane, she closed her eyes. At least she had an excuse for staying in London now and a suitable chaperon in George. The longer she could postpone meeting the marquis again, the better.

Dominic discovered his uncle seated in a corner near one of the curtained window dormers of the lounge at White’s. Rodney was gazing into his brandy glass, a satisfied smile on his face.

Dominic sat in the deep wing chair opposite him. “You look pleased with yourself, Uncle.”

“So I am, dear boy, so I am!” Draining the last of his brandy, Rodney put down his glass and sat back. “Sophia will be going to Culter Towers with us. Juliana’s brother has arrived in town so now she has no excuse. You must meet the lad, you’ll like him.”

“I have and I do,” Dominic laughed. “Came across him with Freddie in the card room. Obviously George is as an inveterate player as Freddie. They seem to have taken a liking to one another.”

“Yes. Sophia will be delighted.” He chuckled, a besotted look descending upon his features. “Pleased her this afternoon, too. I suggested that Juliana go to the Towers with us. Perhaps she still should. We could bring George and make it a real house party.” He clasped his hands across his diminishing stomach and eyed Dominic. “What do you think, my boy? It would relieve the tedium of having the Grenvilles. Can’t imagine what your grandmother’s thinking of, inviting them. Eugenia Grenville hasn’t been there since you were an infant. I can’t understand the sudden interest.” Dominic started to tell his uncle why the Grenvilles had been invited but then stopped, thinking better of it. After all, he might be misjudging his grandmother, although he doubted it. She had warned him that now he was nine and twenty it was time to settle down and produce an heir, which meant he had to find a wife. What had been her exact words? Something about parading every eligible chit in front of him until he found one he would wed. Or more correctly, one that would overlook his reputation for a crown of strawberry leaves. She had obviously decided to start with distant family relatives.

“Invite them both if you like.” Dominic shrugged. “Although George may not want to leave the pleasures of London, since he’s so recently arrived. I’m thinking of staying in town myself.”

His uncle sat bolt upright. “You can’t do that to me! Your grandmother will stir quite a fuss if you don’t show up. Sent me a long detailed letter about how I was to be sure you didn’t disappoint the duke again. You know she has the devil’s own temper.”

“Grandfather will keep her in line.”

“He’s even worse. Never raises his voice, but somehow makes me feel I’m back at Eton. Can’t expect me to face them both without you. I promised!”

Dominic frowned. Juliana at Culter Towers, seeing her every day. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her at Vauxhall, and if anything, his feelings seemed to be growing stronger. To think he had once thought he could find someone worthy of her. There was no one. Especially not himself! How he must disgust her. He had treated her like all the others and she was not. She was … NO! He must close the door on those thoughts.

He raised his hand and instantly a waiter appeared with a brandy glass. He tipped the entire contents down his throat before answering his uncle. God forgive him for wanting her and knowing in his heart that she felt drawn to him. He had misled Jules, he still had enough honor to lay awake night after night recalling vividly the reasons why Juliana could never, under any circumstances, become a part of his life. Drawing upon what pride remained to him, he made his decision. Aware of Rodney’s worried look, he smiled faintly.

“Wouldn’t do that to you, old boy. Invite Juliana and George. If Her Grace desires a house party, we shall give her one … Come, let’s play a hand of piquet.”

As they moved away from the window enclosure, one long white finger parted the curtain slightly. Satisfied that no one was watching, Jules stepped quickly into the center of the lounge, crossed to the servant’s hall, and disappeared.

Smither’s knock roused Juliana from the air dreams she had been spinning.

“Why it’s quite dark. Light the chandelier, please, Smithers?”

“Yes, my lady. You have a caller.” He hesitated slightly. “A gentleman.”

Dominic. Her hands flew to her hair unconsciously straightening any stray wisps. She fought to keep her breathing under control as she answered softly. “Show him in.”

The room was lit softly with only the high chandelier and the fireplace burning. The drapes had been drawn and suddenly the parlor seemed a small, cozy room. Juliana stood and glanced quickly into the gilt mirror. Yes, she would do.

“The Comte de Saville, ma’am.”

Light-headed with disappointment, Juliana fought to compose herself, holding out one hand in welcome. Jules bent over it carefully.

“Please be seated, my lord.”

“Jules.”

“Smithers, I’d like a tea tray. My … Jules, would you care for something stronger?”

“Tea will be fine. You were expecting someone else?”

Juliana turned swiftly and crossed to the chair by the fire. “No, I have been enjoying a rare night of quiet.” She smoothed her gown self-consciously. “I am curious, however, why you have called so late.”

“My dear Juliana,” Jules began smoothly, “I heard the news about Rodney and Sophia.”

“Yes?”

His eye narrowed slightly and he half turned from her direct gaze. “Of course, I wished to offer my felicitations.”

“Unfortunately neither of them is here to receive your kind thoughts.” For some reason, here in her own parlor, Juliana felt uncomfortable and knew a need to challenge every statement Jules made.

“Yes, I know.” Jules’s thin lips quirked at the corners. “I just left Rodney and Dominic at White’s. We were discussing the house party you will be joining at Culter Towers. The duke and duchess are most eager to meet Sophia and her family.”

“Sophia is also looking forward to making their acquaintance. However, you are mistaken. George and I will not be in attendance,” she stated firmly.

Jules cast her a long, cool stare before he shrugged, frowning, “I am sorry you will not be there to give Sophia your support.”

“My support?” she responded quickly. “My dear Comte, Sophia will charm the Duke and Duchess of Culter as quickly as she has Rodney.”

Jules laughed, his one eye sparkling yet brittle. “Rodney is indeed besotted with your aunt. But their graces can be difficult at best. Especially when it concerns the continuation of their line.”

Slight as it had been, Juliana caught and understood Jules’s inference to her aunt’s age. “Are you saying that the duke and duchess are displeased because Rodney has chosen a mature woman instead of a chit right out of the schoolroom?” she asked with false civility.

Jules spread out his hands before settling more comfortably upon the sofa. “All who know her, value Sophia’s uniqueness. In time, I’m sure…”

“In time!” Juliana interrupted, exasperated past bearing with the condescending tone of the Comte’s voice. “If Rodney … and their graces … searched through all of time and beyond, they could find no one more worthy than Aunt Sophia!”

She was trembling in anger, her protective instincts toward her beloved aunt raised to a fever pitch.

Suddenly leaning forward, Jules clasped her shaking fingers in his warm hand. “Juliana, it was not my intention to upset you. It was simply my wish to encourage you to join Sophia at the Towers.”

He released her suddenly stilled fingers and the expression in his dark face showed only concern. “We would … all … miss you at the Towers.” Jules watched her stand and cross to the fire, taking a poker to jab at the smothering log. Her profile was lit by the low flame, so he knew the moment when she made her decision.

“Perhaps I have been too hasty,” Juliana considered out loud, her chin lifting in determination. “My brother has only just arrived in London. We shall give it a few days before deciding … it was … thoughtful of you to be concerned, sir.”

When she turned her attention to the refreshment tray, he could not stop his mouth from curling into a satisfied smile. He had come to realize that through this woman his debt to Dominic could be paid.

Dominic, astride Bucephalus, cut off her view. On second thought, it was better to be stuck in this stifling carriage than be out there with him.

There should be a law against Dominic on horseback. The effect was devastating to Juliana’s peace of mind. Dressed in magnificently cut pearl gray riding clothes, he was a veritable Adonis on his white charger, sweeping all before him. No wonder rumor credited him with so many hearts. And, she was no different than the rest. She, too, had fallen victim to his legendary charm.

The problem was how to deal with it. She had had to come on this trip, especially after Jules’s cryptic remark about Aunt Sophia’s reception by the duke and duchess. She fumed inwardly. No one would be allowed to say a word against her beloved aunt. Why, they should be happy that Rodney had found such a prize!

Early that morning as they had gathered at Wentworth House for the journey to the Towers, Dominic had greeted her carefully, showing her only the degree of kindness he did Charlotte. And he had approved heartily of her traveling in the carriage. Perhaps because Juliana loved him, she sensed a constraint in him that had not been there before. They were both so polite. Too polite. Did he never think of Vauxhall? Had he no further desire to enfold her in his arms as he had that night? Her thoughts centered on that moment in the ruin, and a delicious shiver caused her to pull her light cashmere shawl tighter around her shoulders. Those memories were so precious … if only she knew what to do … what Dominic was thinking. It was difficult feeling her way through all the emotions surrounding her. It hadn’t been this way with Will, love had seemed so simple, so easy. With Dominic nothing was easy, and she had no guidelines to follow. She sorted through each precious memory of Dominic—the haughty autocrat was gone, replaced by the tender man of the ruin of Mrs. Forbes’s garden.

Unbidden, she thought of a gnarled hand pressing against her chest. Go with your feelings, Mrs. Forbes had told her. And she had seemed infinitely wise. But if Juliana acted on her feelings, she would go against all that society expected. And if she risked that much, where would it lead? She sighed softly and tucked her head against the cushion propped in the corner.

Juliana’s sigh pulled Sophia out of her reverie. If only Rodney hadn’t gone ahead with Jules. If he were here, he would keep them all delightfully entertained with his stories. Then Sir Alfred wouldn’t have to doze behind his paper hoping to avoid his wife’s censure, and Juliana wouldn’t be frowning in apparent concentration, and Eugenia wouldn’t be plotting whatever stratagems she had concocted to bring Charlotte to Dominic’s notice. Sophia was nearly ill with worry. She noticed the strain between Juliana and Dominic, had sensed its beginnings at Vauxhall. Something had happened to those two that night. Juliana had looked as if she would shatter into a thousand pieces if anyone had touched her. And Dominic … Sophia feared nothing and no one, but the look on his face had chilled her. At the same time she wept inwardly for him. The picture Rodney had revealed of his life was not pretty. His was a complex, perhaps even dark personality, but she had seen flashes of an inner spirit and warmth in his dealings with Juliana. She was trusting her vaunted intuition totally. If anyone could touch him, it was her precious niece. She only hoped she would not be sorry later.

Culter Towers came into view late in the afternoon. Down a long avenue of silver beech trees the twin stone towers rose against a glorious red sunset.

“My goodness, it’s magnificent,” Aunt Sophia remarked, sticking her head out the window.

“I know you’re not accustomed to such grandeur, Sophia,” Lady Grenville sniffed, “but do try not to act the rustic.”

“Eugenia, my dear, how kind of you to be concerned,” Aunt Sophia said in a dangerously soft voice. “But truly there is no need. Rodney has assured me that the duke and duchess will find me enchanting … after all … I shall soon be their daughter.”

The red fan that Lady Grenville had used constantly during their journey snapped in two pieces as a horrible scarlet stained her cheeks.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you!” her ladyship spit out between clenched teeth. “But I shall best you. Charlotte will be the next duchess, not you!”

Juliana, shocked into silence by Lady Grenville’s viciousness, wondered at her aunt’s confidence. Jules had hinted Sophia might not be so graciously received, but she clearly had no doubts. Her merry laughter sang through the coach, instantly dispelling the charged atmosphere and causing Sir Alfred to snore slightly as he automatically shifted back farther into his corner.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Eugenia. I have no desire to be a duchess and neither, I believe, does Charlotte.”

“And Juliana? I certainly hope you have no aspirations for Juliana in that direction, because we both know they won’t allow the heir to wed another widow. After the disas…”

“That is quite enough!” her aunt hissed.

“Aunt Sophia…” Juliana began, but stopped when her aunt shook her head.

Juliana sat stiffly upright, startled by this strange revelation. What was going on here? A knot formed in her chest, right over her heart, at the guilty look on her aunt’s face. Her eyes were steadily avoiding Juliana’s. She clenched her hands in her lap, schooling her own face to reveal nothing.

The coach lurched to a stop on the cobbled courtyard before the sweeping stone steps where Rodney waited eagerly. Jules stood a little behind him, smiling faintly when Juliana stepped from the carriage.

Lady Grenville bustled Sir Alfred right up the steps past Rodney, as if he were totally unimportant, to the great carved door where the duke and duchess waited.

Rodney embraced Sophia lightly and nodded welcomingly to Juliana before escorting his fiancée up the stairs. George and Charlotte came racing from the stables, laughing together, interrupting any chance of private speech Juliana may have wanted with Jules.

“Dominic’s seeing to the horses.” George took a girl on each arm and mounted the steps. Juliana hesitated, turning to Jules, her eyes questioning, but he merely inclined his head, smiling, and stepped aside so they might ascend to where the Duke and Duchess of Culter awaited them.

The duchess was nothing like she had expected. Small and finely boned, with beautiful, nearly translucent skin, she looked sweet and fragile, unlike the haughty duchess of her imagination. On the other hand, the duke was exactly as she had envisioned. She now knew what Dominic would look like in his seventies, tall and straight, with a mane of pure white hair. Austin Crawford, the eighth Duke of Culter, was in his own way breathtaking, especially when he suddenly looked at her with the same cornflower blue eyes as Dominic.

“And this is the beautiful Juliana.” His voice was strong and deep as he lifted her fingers to his lips. “Welcome to Culter Towers, my dear.”

Her eyes searched his face and found nothing but welcome for her, for Aunt Sophia … what had Jules meant by his remarks concerning Sophia? Then over the duke’s shoulder she saw Dominic move to kiss his grandmother. What secrets did this family share? What had Lady Grenville meant by her cutting remark? And more importantly, why had Aunt Sophia looked so distressed?

Juliana had little time to pursue these thoughts for the duchess, with much graciousness plus a large dose of firmness, sent everyone to their chambers.

Her room was an enormous garden: flower print of pink, periwinkle blue, and cream covered every inch of wall, curtained the bed, and covered the windows. A footman promptly appeared with hot water in huge jars. He crossed to a small room and pulled a copper hip bath in front of the fireplace, which he filled without speaking a word.

Immediately a diminutive young country girl, with a mop of glossy, daffodil yellow curls, appeared with lavender-scented towels. “Me name is Mary, and I’m to be your lady’s maid during your stay, miss.” She smiled saucily at the footman and hurried him out of the room before opening a bottle of scented oil and carefully adding a few drops to the steaming bathwater. “There. That will be ever so nice for you, miss. I have scented soap for your hair. I’ll place the towels just here by the fire so they will be nice and warm. What else would you like, miss? I’m ever so happy to be here to serve you.”

“I’m pleased to have you, Mary. I’m quite lost without my maid.” Juliana didn’t feel the slightest twinge of remorse for telling such a white lie, because Mary was so eager that she couldn’t have told the child she nearly always dressed herself.

She was rewarded by a beaming smile and a constantly chattering tongue. During Juliana’s bath she learned that Mary had just finished her training and she was her first lady, that Mary had seven brothers and sisters on one of the home farms, that Ma was poorly after the last baby, so all the older kids had gone into service to help out “exceptin” Thomas. Master Dominic got him into the navy as a cabin boy to a ol’ school friend, Master Dominic says will look after him. “Imagine that!”

Juliana sat in front of the fire pulling a silver brush through her damp curls, smiling and nodding occasionally to encourage the young maid, but her mind was stayed on Dominic and the secret she would have to coax her aunt to share.

“Ooh, miss. This would be ever so pretty with your hair.” Mary was holding up a jade green satin evening gown Juliana had never worn. “And real proper for dinner tonight. Her Grace always dresses every so grand. Even when it’s just her and the duke. She’ll be a right proper duchess with a house party and all.”

When Juliana had rested, been dressed in the shimmering evening gown, and had her hair becomingly styled by an unexpectedly talented Mary, she went in search of her aunt. She stood outside Sophia’s room looking up and down the corridor, feeling rather foolish hovering about, but she could hear voices from the bedchamber, and what she had to ask Aunt Sophia required privacy.

At last the door opened, but it was not the maid leaving. Aunt Sophia, resplendent in a cream silk gown with a gold satin overskirt, sailed out, followed by Lord Rodney.

“Juliana!” gasped Sophia, caught unaware. She looked radiant. There was a new light in her eyes and in Rodney’s.

He immediately placed an arm about Sophia’s shoulders. “You startled us, my dear Juliana,” he began with great dignity. “I have just had the honor of presenting the Crawford betrothal ring to your aunt.”

With a wide smile, Sophia held out her hand upon which she now wore a huge emerald surrounded by a blaze of diamonds. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Tears misted Juliana’s eyes. “Lovely,” she breathed, before kissing both on their cheeks. “I’m so happy that you two have found each other again.”

Rodney offered an arm to Juliana while holding out his hand to Sophia. “What luck to be escorting the two loveliest ladies here to dinner.”

They entered the drawing room where the duke and duchess awaited their guests. Rodney drew Sophia to the large wing chair and again formally presented her. Juliana watched the interplay carefully, searching for signs of disapproval, but could see none. The duchess, dressed in black silk with diamonds sparkling at her throat, ears, and wrists, welcomed Sophia openly and warmly. She lifted one eyebrow and spoke Rodney’s name in a tone that must have caused terror in the schoolroom.

He immediately lifted Sophia’s hand so the blaze of diamonds and emeralds could reflect the light.

Her Grace appeared relieved. “Ah, I see this will be a celebration dinner!” She beckoned to Rodney and he leaned down to receive a congratulatory kiss.

“I shall do my best to make him happy, Your Grace,” Sophia remarked solemnly.

“I have no doubt you will succeed.” Turning a stern eye to her youngest son, she studied him from the tips of his evening slippers to the top of his carefully combed dark curls. “He already looks better than he has in years. I believe he has even been able to give up his corse…”

“Rodney, my boy! We are delighted for you!” the duke interrupted. “I never thought to have such a beautiful daughter.” He cupped Sophia’s face in his hands as if she were a young girl. She responded with her particularly appealing smile. “Enchanting,” he murmured before kissing her cheek.

“Grandfather always arrives in the nick of time,” whispered Dominic, his breath softly stirring Juliana’s curls. “Remember, I told you Mrs. Forbes’s outspoken ways reminded me of my own grandmother.”

When had he come in? She’d been so engrossed in Rodney and Sophia, she hadn’t felt his presence. She turned slowly to face him. The candlelight lit golden and red highlights in his hair and cast intriguing shadows across the planes of his face. He was smiling at her, the first real smile in days, and she forced her breath to remain steady.

“I remember it well, Dominic. As I do all our meetings … although some have been more memorable than others.”

Now, why had she said that—for the satisfaction of seeing surprise flicker through his eyes? Perhaps he’d forgotten Vauxhall, when for once he hadn’t denied his need for her, but she never would. It had been a turning point for her, and now she very much feared all her happiness depended on him.

She shouldn’t have reminded him. Dominic’s eyes, that had sparkled with vitality, went curiously blank and the closeness of the moment before was gone.

“Tonight should be memorable, for we’ve discovered we shall soon be cousins,” he said lightly. Then he looked at Rodney and Sophia accepting hearty congratulations from George and Charlotte. “He appears to be very happy tonight. I hope he remains that way.”

Before she could answer, he walked away. Frustrated, she wanted to follow. Why should he question Rodney and Sophia’s happiness? Why did every attempt to bring him closer just push him farther away? He had approached Lady Grenville, and Juliana was reluctant to confront her until she had learned more about her mysterious statement in the carriage.

Dearborne, the butler, announced dinner. Dominic offered his arm to Charlotte—a gesture that drew warm smiles from his grandmother and her mother, but thoughtful frowns from George and the duke.

Although the vaulted ceiling of the great dining hall cast dark shadows, the room had a festive air. A large fire blazed in the hearth and two six-branched candelabra lit the long, polished table. Candles burned on the mantel and on the sideboard from which Dearborne supervised the serving of their dinner.