When a Marquess Loves a Woman (20 page)

C
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WENTY
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WO

T
he Season Standard—the Daily Chronicle of Consequence

At long last, we have our Original! I'm certain this name will come as no surprise to many of you, for haven't we all be watching her every step this Season? Surely our favorite
goddess,
Lady G—, is the most deserving of this coveted title . . .

B
ram slapped the paper down on the breakfast room table. “What a triumph! Did you see the paper, Mother?”

“I am seeing it now on the table where it does not belong,” she said sternly, eyeing Bram until he picked it up and placed it on the sideboard. “But yes, I am quite pleased for Juliet. I believe this honor has been long awaited. Would you agree, Maxwell?”

Max nodded absently, pretending that his focus was on the ham steak on his plate. In truth, he'd read the
Standard
first thing this morning. And since then, his stomach had churned with a sense of unease at the events that were about to unfold.

“It is fine for her indeed,” Bram said. “But think of how it will be when I marry not one, but two
Original
s!”

Max knew Bram's announcement was forthcoming. His suit would be denied, of course. Yet even prescience in this circumstance did not take away the utter rage and despair he'd been feeling these past few days.

“That is in poor taste, Bramson, considering the fact that your first wife died giving birth to your child,” Mother chided. “In fact, I find this whole rush to be married quite distasteful. And if weren't for little Patrice, I would forbid it.”

“Forbid.”
Bram laughed and pressed a kiss to Mother's cheek, as if her words were a jest. Then again, Bram only listened to one opinion, and that was his own. “For now, I shall be off to pay a morning call. Are you not going to congratulate me, little brother?”

Max abruptly stood and then clasped his hands behind his back. Then, bowing to Mother, he said, “I will be in my study if you need me.”

But before he could exit the room, Saunders appeared in the doorway, holding a missive in his gloved hand. “An urgent message from Lady Cosgrove, ma'am.”

“Oh dear,” Mother said as she took the note and then repeated herself several times as she read it, all the while shaking her head.

“What is it, Mother?” Max asked, fearing that something dire had happened.

“It is terrible news! Poor Juliet! She has lost everything, her entire fortune.” Mother pressed the page to her breast, tears welling in her eyes. “The banks that closed, the ones that went under . . . Apparently, those were where she kept her money.”

“No! That cannot be. She is rich as Midas!” Bram railed.

Mother drew in a breath, wiping her eyes with the crook of her finger as she settled her gaze on Bram. “You should rush over immediately, for your proposal will come at a most beneficial time. I will follow shortly, and we will begin to make arrangements.”

Bram went white, his grin dissolving into a grimace, as if he were about to retch all over the table.

Max thought only of Juliet and what she must be suffering at this moment. More than anything, she'd wanted to be independent, to have control of her life. But with this news, she would soon be dependent upon her cousin.

Suddenly, Max knew what he had to do. He would give Juliet her house. He'd intended to sign it over all along, but after her stipulations following their intimacies, he hadn't wanted to leave her in doubt. At least with this, she still could have part of the life she wanted.

Then, by Monday next, he would leave for Lancashire, and finally be free of the hold Juliet had over him.

C
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T
WENTY
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HREE

J
uliet was surprised but elated when Mr. Wick announced that Max had come to call. Her first instinct was to rush to the parlor, but she was told that Max requested to wait in the study, with Mr. Saunders.

It was only the mention of Saunders that reminded Juliet of their wager. She hadn't even had time to read the
Standard
with all that had transpired, but Zinnia had given her the news.

The
Original
. What a shock, to say the least! It was strange how her return to London was like stepping back in time but making different choices.

“Good morning, Max,” she said, trying not to smile too gaily in front of Saunders, and then she greeted the butler as well.

Bram had come and gone earlier. As expected, he'd explained that his affections had been caught off guard by someone else—Miss Leeds, apparently—and he was set to leave town for a few days to better acquaint himself with her family. Juliet had wished him well and, secretly, good riddance. Never in her life would she have thought how lucky she was to have lost him to Miss Leonard all those years ago. And this evening, she would say a prayer for the woman who had endured him for as long she could.

Max did not look directly at her when he offered his greeting but immediately gestured to Saunders to unlock the box. When Saunders did, he summarily left the room and closed the door behind him.

The box with their chosen candidates was before them now. Juliet stood beside Max as they both looked down at it sitting on the polished mahogany desk. “I can tell you right now that I did not win,” she said with a small laugh, happy to be here with him.

“And I can tell you,” Max began as he opened the box, “that I did.”

He reached in and unfolded a slip of foolscap that carried a familiar slanted scrawl.
Lady Granworth.

Instantly, tears gathered in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away. When she failed, Max withdrew his handkerchief and laid it on the desk before her. Still, he had not looked at her, but somehow he knew she was weeping.

“You chose my name, even when we were”—she sniffed—“enemies?”

Then, at last, he turned his gaze to her, and she almost wished he hadn't, because there was no hardness, no animosity, no heat, only emptiness, as if he felt nothing for her.

“You were never my enemy.” He turned back to the desk and withdrew the other paper. One breath came out on something just short of a laugh. “Ellery. It makes so much sense, and yet I was blind to that. Blind to many things.”

He closed the box and attached the lock once more. Then he withdrew a roll of parchment from within his coat and spread it out on the desk, angling it for her to see. “Here is the deed to the house. As you can see, I have transferred it into your name.”

Confused, she shook her head. “No. The house is yours. You won our wager.”

“I do not need the house as much as you do. Nor do I want it.”

His coldness caused panic to rise within her. And when he took the box and turned to leave, she reached out and stayed him with a hand upon his arm. “Do you remember when I told you that kissing you five years ago had changed everything and also frightened me?”

The corner of his mouth twitched for an instant. “You said it was a
cataclysmic event
.”

“Yes, it was,” she said on a breath, somewhat relieved that he remembered. “More than you know. That kiss was the reason the house was so important to me. You turned my world upside down in that library, and I have spent every day since wishing I could feel that way for the rest of my life. I thought that if I returned and started over in that house that I could capture the feeling of knowing that something else was inside of me.”

He looked down at his arm as if waiting for her to remove her hand. “And now you have it. The deed to the house is yours so that you may start over or continue to relive your past. It does not matter to me anymore.”

“No. I don't want the house. What I'm trying to tell you is that I found that feeling. And it had nothing to do with that house after all.” She curled her fingers into the wool, holding tighter. “It was you, Max. It's always been you.”

His head whipped up, leveling her with a glare. “That's rather convenient, isn't it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You are out of options. There is no Lord Granworth waiting in the wings or even—I expect—Lord Engle.” He shrugged free of her. “I will not be held in your regard simply because you are without a fortune. I am no one's last resort, Juliet.”

Why had she not seen it before? “Can't we go back to the way it was before your brother returned? If I would have known that you'd felt slighted in any way, I would have—”

“What would you have done? Made a public declaration of your affection? Come now, you forget how well I know you. And how much you prefer to stay inside that cage where your heart is safe.”

“That is not true. Perhaps it was at one time but no longer.”

“I am not going to argue the point.” He blinked and suddenly that emptiness had returned to those beloved mud-puddle eyes.

“Max, you said the door was always open.”

“I'm afraid that
always
has come and gone. Good day, Lady Granworth.” And Max walked away.

“Don't go.” Her voice came out raspy with unspent tears. But he closed the door just before she said, “I love you.”

If he heard her, it was not enough to stop him.

J
uliet remained in her chamber for the next two days. None of her dresses pleased her, so she didn't bother to change out of her night rail. No food tempted her, so she didn't bother to eat. And if it weren't for Marguerite, she likely wouldn't have even brushed her hair.

She did, however, find the shadows creeping along the ceiling in slow intervals somewhat fascinating. She spent the majority of her awake hours watching them and feeling as if that murky light now lived inside her. Despair moved in the same manner, slithering over one's soul to banish the light that once lived there.

“Enough, madame,” Marguerite said, standing with her hands on her hips at Juliet's bedside. “You cannot let a broken heart linger, or it will become part of you.”

Juliet thought of Zinnia and her midnight walks to her late husband's portrait. “My cousin fairs well enough with hers.”

“And I have often thought the true reason she walks slowly is because she cannot find a reason to move forward with her life.”

Marguerite was a little too wise for Juliet's tastes. “I'm sure she enjoys her independence.”

“But she cannot rest her arm upon it when she walks or feel its warmth beneath her touch.”

Juliet fought the urge to cover her ears but closed her eyes instead, blocking out the shadows and her maid's disapproving glower. Unfortunately, when she did, her memory forced her to see Max's cold expression as if the image were burned into her eyelids. She couldn't escape it.

“I made him wait too long,” she said on a broken whisper. “I thought that by getting rid of Bram, I would have more time. But Max still believes that I chose Bram over him when it mattered—and for all the
ton
to see.”

“Is it wrong for him to want everyone to know that you are his, even if he accepts that marriage frightens you?” Marguerite fussed with her pillows, piling one on top of the other until Juliet was forced into sitting upright.

Juliet's head spun, but she wasn't sure if the dizziness came from her new position or from what Marguerite said. “You don't understand. Max wanted me to make a grand gesture, declaring my feelings.”

“And?”

There she went again, trying to make it sound so simple. “
And
what? I was afraid, and he knew it.”

“Afraid that he does not love you in return?
Non
, for he has already told you that he does.” Marguerite handed her a cup of tepid tea and then nudged her hand until she drank from it. “Then you must be afraid he is like your late husband and will treat you
abominablement
.”

“Max is nothing like Lord Granworth,” Juliet declared with utter certainty. “He is kind, patient, handsome, intelligent, tender . . . ”

“Quelle horreur.”
Marguerite scoffed, took Juliet's teacup, and replaced it with a buttered scone. “I can see why you would not want to marry a man such as Lord Thayne.”

Juliet took a bite without thinking, then another, and another until there was nothing left but a sprinkling of crumbs dusting the coverlet. She might have been hungry after all. “You don't understand,” she said, reaching to the side table for her teacup. “Loving Max consumes me. He's all I can think about. When I returned to London, I swore that I would never let another person rule my life.”

“
Oui
, but those other people in Bath, and even your parents, they took from you, making you feel less and less. But with Lord Thayne . . . ” Marguerite sank down onto the edge of the bed, her dark eyes warm and sincere. “Madame, I have never seen you so confident before.”

Juliet nodded and felt the sting of tears again. “I know it. He has always brought out the best in me, even when I'm at my worst.”

“There is a good chance he always will.”

It was true. All of it. The reason she'd always had trouble concealing her emotions from Max was because they were connected. Not by mere attraction, or even friendship, but by a more intimate, ever-present bond.
Love.

She needed to stop being so afraid of losing herself and instead realize what she could gain by sharing herself instead. But . . . “What if it's too late?”

“The more important question is—what if it is
not
?”

Suddenly feeling light and hopeful, Juliet embraced Marguerite and then shooed her off the bed so that she could get up and prepare herself for the day. Because today she was going to . . .

Her thoughts came up blank.

“I don't know what to do.” Standing by the washbasin, she looked at her bedraggled reflection and cringed. “Of course, I'll need a bath first of all, but after that, I'm not certain. I suppose I could just march over to Harwick House and tell him.”

“Ah, but he wants a bold declaration,
non
?”

Juliet rang the bell pull, considering her options. “There is another problem as well. He believes that I chose Bram over him.”

Marguerite shook her head, murmuring in French about how she'd warned Juliet that jealousy was a poison. Once she'd finished her diatribe, she continued in English. “Then you will have to lure the brother back so that you can choose Lord Thayne over him.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“You will think of something, madame.” Satisfied, she dusted her hands together. “Also, Lady Cosgrove wished to know if you will be joining her for tea with the Dowager Duchess of Vale.”

Juliet's thoughts were headed in a dozen different directions, but at the reminder of how she'd agreed to help Gemma, they stopped. Thus far, Juliet had offered her new friend advice on how to approach the idea of marriage with an unfeeling, calculated heart. It was only in this moment that she realized what a disservice she was doing.

Instead of encouraging Gemma to find a man willing to marry her and to ensure that a marriage contract was firmly in place, Juliet should be instructing her to find value within herself. Only then would Gemma know what she truly wanted and deserved.

As soon as a woman understood her worth, she would be willing to risk anything in order to gain her heart's desire.

Anything
, Juliet thought, even . . . cause a scandal.

Suddenly, she knew exactly how far she would go to prove her love to Max.