Wherever You Are (17 page)

Per the plan, she was introduced as Isabelle’s cousin from Barbados and caught a few speculative looks from several older men. She couldn’t shake the feeling that quite possibly one of those men could become her husband if she didn’t figure out how she was going to support herself.

She’d suffered through a last-minute gown fitting with the hope that Morgan would be here. She didn’t know what she’d say to him besides, quite possibly, begging to let her sail with him.

Ah, hell, she needed to admit it. She wanted to be with Morgan again.

She took another sip of wine and fought the onset of claustrophobia. She needed to get out, she needed fresh air, but the closest thing to escape was an open window clear across the crowded room.

Except she knew the rules. Shocked Juliana had never attended a ball before, Sophia took it upon herself to educate her in The Rules. A woman didn’t go for fresh air alone, and if she went with a gentleman they were to spend no more than five minutes outside and always within sight of the doors. She was not to go wandering on her own or with a gentleman through the garden. She was not to dance more than twice with a gentleman. She was not to approach a gentleman and introduce herself.

Isabelle appeared at her side. “I loathe these things,” she said with a grimace.

“It is awfully hot in here and there are so many people.”

Isabelle nodded and tugged at her gloves. Juliana commiserated, her own hands sweating in the tight-fitting gloves. Another rule she’d learned. Men and women wore gloves so their skin wouldn’t touch. Too risqué apparently, yet the bodices that nearly revealed women’s nipples weren’t.

“I saw you looking around the ballroom,” Isabelle said. “Morgan won’t attend tonight. He despises these things more than I.”

“Oh.” Had she been that transparent? “He told me he would contact me after he dropped anchor.” She hated the wistfulness in her voice and the fact Isabelle was aware of her desperate need to see him one more time.

“I’m sorry,” Isabelle said. “For what it’s worth I think you are the perfect match for Morgan. But Morgan—”

“Doesn’t want a relationship.” Juliana sighed. “I know.”

Isabelle touched Juliana’s arm. “Maybe someday he’ll realize what he’s giving up by letting you go.”

“By then it might be too late. If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.” Juliana walked away, embarrassed Isabelle had seen through her. She felt like a fish out of water, not of this time, bumbling through, trying to make the best of it. Even when her mother was at her disgusting worse, Juliana always believed that as long as she survived the present she would make it to the future. Now, she didn’t even have that comfort. What awaited her was a blank page.

A low feminine laugh drew her attention to a spot a few feet away. Behind a potted tree, she glimpsed the pale pink of Sophia’s dress. Surely, if touching a man without gloves was forbidden, hiding behind a potted tree with one had to rank right up there.

Before they entered the ballroom, Sophia’s eldest brother William, the Earl, warned the girl not to pull any of her “stunts”. He said he was damned tired of bailing her out of trouble, then added that someday she would find herself in a predicament even he couldn’t extricate her from.

Sophia appeared chagrined, but Juliana didn’t miss the gleam in her blue eyes. Neither did her brother because he grimaced and walked away, shaking his head in frustration.

Juliana rounded the potted plant and froze. Sophia was leaning toward Sanjit Barun, standing so close her dress covered his boots.

Juliana yanked her friend away. Sophia squealed and stumbled into the plant. Barun reached out to steady her but Juliana slapped at his hand. “You stay away from her.”

He looked startled until his eyes met hers. Black hair shown blue in the light of the candles, white teeth gleamed with a predatory smile and his dark eyes narrowed.

Juliana’s breath hitched again and she had to remind herself to breathe.

“
Sanam
, I despaired of ever laying eyes upon you again.” The voice was smooth, yet grated on her nerves and brought back nightmares she had no desire to relive. “You left in such a rush the last time. We never had a chance at a proper farewell.”

Sophia looked wide-eyed from one to the other, her elbow still clenched in Juliana’s hand.

“You stay away from her. Do you hear me?”

He tilted his head, indicating the cane he held in his other hand. “I know well what you speak of,
sanam
. Next time I will be more careful.” While his smile was benign, the steel in his voice was not and the implied threat sent shivers down her spine.

“I am not your beloved and there will be no next time.”

He smiled, but the beauty of it turned Juliana’s blood to ice. He reached out and caressed her cheek. From eyebrow to chin she felt his touch like fire but refused to move, refused to give him the pleasure of her response.

With a nod at Sophia, he slid past. Juliana pulled Sophia closer to her, not wanting any part of Sanjit Barun to touch either of them, and watched him limp away, leaning heavily on his cane, apparently still recovering from the injury she inflicted on his thigh.

Morgan pushed his desk chair back, propped his feet on the corner of the desk and tipped the bottle of brandy to his mouth to take a healthy swallow. Hours ago he’d given up on using a glass. He took another swallow and felt the fire settle uncomfortably in his belly. Disgusted, he slammed the bottle on the desk and ran a hand through his tangled hair.

A knock on the front door had his gaze going to the clock on the mantle. He thought about ignoring the summons but his men were out combing the streets with the order to contact him as soon as they found any information leading to Barun and only his men would beat on his door at two in the morning.

With a sigh he dropped his bare feet to the floor and pushed himself up. Bloody hell. He hadn’t meant to get so pissing drunk, not when he had to deal with Barun. But he’d been thinking of Juliana, of making love to her, their time together on the
Adam
, and before he knew it, he was too far in his cups to care. The genteel knocking turned to a pounding, beating at his alcohol-soaked brain.

He uttered a curse as he swayed down the hall and yanked the door open. Isabelle swept in on a swirl of skirts with Reed close behind. Morgan closed the door behind the pair and eyed his best friend and her husband warily.

“For God’s sake, put a shirt on. I can’t properly yell if you’re half-naked.”

He didn’t comment as he followed them back to his study. He picked his shirt up from the floor, shook it out and put it on. Out of defiance, he didn’t fasten it.

Isabelle paced like a caged lioness in her emerald-colored dress. Morgan wondered where the two had been because Isabelle rarely wore dresses, especially fancy dresses like the one she was wearing now. But then, they were in London and she’d been trying hard to fit in for Reed’s sake and the sake of their company.

Reed casually leaned a formal-clad shoulder against the doorjamb. In case Morgan decided to escape? He found he didn’t like that thought too well and shifted his gaze back to Isabelle, who stopped pacing to stare at him with an angry expression.

“Barun was at the ball tonight.”

Morgan dropped into the chair, the strength in his legs giving out. “What ball?”

She rolled her eyes. “Aunt Sylvia’s ball. You received an invitation, but declined to attend.”

“I did?”

“Yes. You did. You’re drunk.”

Barun was at Aunt Sylvia’s ball. He tried to surge up from the chair but his feet got tangled and he fell back. “Juliana?”

The anger in Isabelle’s eyes faded. “She’s shaken, but fine. She pulled Sophia away from Barun, then threatened him.” Isabelle walked to the desk and placed her hands on it, leaning over until they were almost nose to nose. “You. Are a fool.”

Hell, he knew that. He’d been a fool fifteen years ago to leave Kansas and step through a mirror. He’d been a fool to think he could sail to the South China Sea unharmed. And he’d been a fool to give in to the temptation to make love to Juliana, knowing it could lead nowhere.

Isabelle leaned forward even more until he had to cross his eyes to focus on her. “That woman is the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Why the hell are you avoiding her?”

He pulled back and averted his gaze. “You don’t understand.”

She pushed away from his desk to pace again. “I understand more than you think. I understand you’re afraid to love. I understand Barun took something from you. A part of you.”

“I intend to get my revenge.”

Isabelle sat in the closest chair and faced him. The anger seemed to leech out of her until her shoulders were almost drooping. “Let it go, Morgan. I know what it is to want revenge and I also know revenge won’t erase what Barun did to you.”

He didn’t want to hear this. He needed revenge. He needed the burning conviction that facing his enemy and walking away victorious would somehow make things right again. If he didn’t have that, he had nothing.

He managed to stand and walk to the fireplace without tripping. Isabelle was wrong. Revenge was everything. “You weren’t happy until you saw your father ruined,” he reminded her.

“I wasn’t happy until I met Reed.”

“It’s more than revenge, Isabelle, and you know it. Look what the man did tonight. He snuck into a ballroom full of people and confronted Sophia.” The thought that Juliana had been anywhere near turned his stomach. Oh, yes, this was much more than revenge. “Only seeing Barun dead will I be happy.”

By the stir of her gown, he knew she’d stood and walked toward him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he fought the urge to shake her off. “I understand he’s a threat, and I agree something must be done. But you must understand that what he took from you is gone for good. Let Juliana be the one to heal you.”

He shook off Isabelle’s hand and walked away, terrified Isabelle was right. That the revenge he needed wouldn’t be enough.

Chapter Seventeen

The next day Juliana still couldn’t get the image of Sanjit Barun out of her mind. He’d touched Sophia, laughed with her, wove a spell that pulled the girl into his web of terror.

Juliana shivered and rubbed her forearms. Morgan promised to protect her, had promised the man she feared most in this world would not get close. She’d believed in him and she’d been wrong. Her disappointment was acute, her anger smoldering. She trusted Morgan to help her but as she learned at a young age, never trust anyone but yourself. If she wanted Barun dead, then she’d have to be the one to see it happen. The idea made her twisting stomach turn even more. The thought of killing someone was alien to her. In her time she’d turn to the police, but these were violent times. Times when people had to watch out for themselves. By confronting Sophia, Barun had taken this to a new level.

What should she do? What resources did she have?

Isabelle.

Between Patrick and Sophia, Juliana heard enough stories to know Isabelle liked to champion a good cause and was one person you wanted on your side.

Juliana headed down the stairs and found Isabelle in the library. The day was overcast and threatened rain— what else was new?—and candles flickered in the corners, casting a warm, cozy, glow over everything.

Isabelle looked up and smiled. “Tea?” She reached for the bell to signal the maid. “You look troubled.”

Juliana walked around the room, touching a knickknack here, fiddling with a floral arrangement there. She stared out the window. The maid arrived with the tea. Isabelle poured, milk first, then the tea. There was a ritual and a reason for everything in this time. It was exhausting trying to learn it all.

She walked over to the table, picked up the tiny cup and took a hearty swallow. She definitely needed the high-octane stuff right now. A Starbucks latte would do nicely. She replaced the cup in the saucer before turning her gaze to Isabelle. “What are you doing there?” She tipped her head to the papers strewn across the table Isabelle had been working at.

“The manifest from the two ships. It’s been a nightmare. When Morgan unloaded the
Adam’s
cargo onto the
Eve
things became lost. On top of that the
Eve
was already carrying cargo from the
Molly Victoria
.” Isabelle shook her head. “It’s a mess trying to sort everything out. Tomorrow Reed and I are going to the warehouses to determine what exactly we have.”

Juliana barely heard the rest of what Isabelle said. “The
Molly Victoria
?” She had to force the words from her tight throat.

Isabelle nodded. “Morgan’s ship. The one that sank after catching fire.”

The
Molly Victoria
.

Molly Victoria Langtree was the full name of Zach’s sister.

Memories slammed into her so fast they made her dizzy and she sank onto the settee. Isabelle said something to her but Juliana wasn’t paying attention. She took a deep breath, transported to the future, smelling fresh-baked sugar cookies and hearing the creak of the attic stairs as she ascended. Zach’s house. She’d been eating cookies with his mom, talking about Zach, talking about letting go and moving on.

Never, ever go up in the attic
, Mr. and Mrs. Langtree repeatedly said when Zach and Juliana were kids. In her mind, Juliana saw herself walking up those steps, her hand on the railing, hearing Mrs. Langtree’s voice as she answered the doorbell. And then she saw it in clarifying, horrifying detail.

The mirror.

Standing well over five feet tall, it probably weighed a good hundred pounds. Four dragons were carved into the smooth wood frame, each breathing fire, each clutching something close to its heart. She had leaned forward to see what they held, but it was apparent whatever the dragons held was long gone. A woman was carved in the top with long flowing hair wrapped around her body, staring into space with sad eyes.

Curious, she’d circled the mirror, studying it from all angles. A shaft of sunlight spilled through the dirty window nestled into the eave of the house, illuminating what looked like writing on the back. She had to squint to make out the elegant scroll.