Julianna’s breath caught. She wanted to believe, and yet part of her also wanted desperately to guard her heart. Or what was left of it.
“I am sincerely sorry to hear you and Shelbourne have not been getting on. However, I cannot believe I am at fault for his actions. He has likely taken mistresses aplenty in my absence.”
That stung, and she could not deny it.
Thinking of Shelbourne being intimate with Lady Richards. With Mrs. Edwards. With countless others, faceless, nameless. She hated the notion.
“Only the one, as far as I am aware, and that quite recently,” Hellie said. “He has been different since you left. It makes perfect sense, now that I know the two of you are hopelessly in love with each other.”
Should it comfort her that Shelbourne had only recently taken Mrs. Edwards as his mistress? Julianna clutched her handkerchief tightly in her fist. The rest of what her friend had just said needed to be answered.
“Shelbourne is not in love with me, Hellie.” He had certainly never said the words. Not once.
While she…
She supposed she had never spoken them aloud to him either. She had been too fearful. That summer at Farnsworth Hall had been wonderful, frightening, too short. She had done too much. She had not said enough.
“My darling friend,” Hellie said, her gaze unwavering, “I love you, but you are wrong. So very wrong. Shelbourne has come to life these last few weeks. Having you and Emily has wrought so much change, and all for the good. How can you not see it for yourself? Surely you do. He lights up from within when he speaks of the both of you.”
Julianna thought once more of the inscription in the poetry volume he had gifted her that morning. O! let me have thee whole,—all—all—be mine!
What did it mean?
What did any of it mean?
“He… I… Surely he would have said something if that were the truth?” she countered, attempting to remain calm. To preserve her wits. To cling to the pain and the fear and the mistrust.
To keep the longing within her from taking control of the rational part of her which remained. To preserve her heart. To save herself from more pain.
“I love my husband with every part of my heart,” Hellie said then. “But he fought our love. Fought so hard against it. It will not be easy for Shelbourne either, following his heart. Our parents were not a love match. We were raised to believe in duty over romanticism. Be patient with him, Julianna. Give him the chance to show you.”
She sighed. “Oh, Hellie. I already gave him that chance. It ended with his mistress throwing my eggs and bacon against the wall.”
Her friend’s nose wrinkled. “Truly? Eggs and bacon? What a horrid mess.”
“I am certain the wall coverings are irreparably stained,” Julianna acknowledged, grateful for the sudden turn toward lightness in their conversation, for the change in subject. “I cannot say I am sorry, not having been enamored of the yellow damask.”
“No one likes that dreadful, putrid yellow,” Hellie reassured her, grinning. “Replace it with my blessing whether or not the grease stains can be removed.”
For the first time that day, Julianna laughed. “You are a good friend, Hellie, and a good sister, too.”
Her friend gave her an arch look. “I am your sister in truth now, dearest, and don’t you forget it.”
“As if I could.” Her smile was tremulous and Julianna knew it. There was so much uncertainty in her, more than ever, and yet, she could not deny the way she felt. Nor could she deny what she wanted.
Shelbourne.
Always, always Shelbourne.
But love was not easy. If it were, everyone would have it. No indeed, love was rare and difficult, painful and bitter and messy and upsetting and terrible and above all else worth it. Worth the risk. Worth the pain.
“I meant what I said earlier, Julianna,” Hellie persisted. “If my brother hurts you, I shall blacken his eye. However, I do not think he will. I know him. I know he loves you. And I know you. I know you love him also. This is your chance to start again, to be free of the past, to move forward, to love each other. Take it, dearest sister. Take it, and own it.”
Julianna stared at her friend, the gravity of the moment rolling down upon her. Here was the true crossroads facing her. Did she open her heart to the man she loved and risk having her world torn down around her again? Or did she harden her heart against him forever? And if she did the latter, how would that affect their daughter?
“I know not what to think, Hellie,” she admitted, feeling suddenly weary.
Drained of tears, depleted of emotion. Confused and tired and wary, all at once. But also, mayhap, just the slightest bit hopeful as well. Because if Shelbourne did love her, and heavens knew she had always loved him, then there could be a chance for them after all. If they could move on from the pain of their tangled past…
“Believe me, dear friend,” Hellie said. “There was a time when I could not possibly fathom ever finding happiness with Huntingdon. When true contentment seemed forever out of reach. But gradually, bit by bit, like the bird building her nest, we found each other. We found the love that had been there, all along, and we are happier than I ever imagined possible now.”
Hellie’s burgeoning belly, just barely visible beneath the clever draping of her gown, was evidence of their marital bliss. Julianna had to swallow against a fresh rush of tears.
She wanted to believe in a future for herself and Shelbourne. Wanted, too, to believe in the possibility of their own contentment and—mayhap, hopefully, one day—love. But she was terrified. So very terrified of the opposite.
They had been torn apart once before. It could happen again.
“I can see the skepticism on your face,” her friend said. “But promise me this, Julianna, that you will give yourself and Shelbourne the chance you both deserve. And Emily too.”
Julianna nodded. “I promise I will be open to the chance.”
“Excellent.” Hellie beamed. “Time for tea! And some biscuits. I am ridiculously hungry.”
She smiled back at her friend. “Perfectly expected in your condition.”
Her friend rose and rang the bell pull before turning back to her. “Julianna?”
“Yes, Hellie?”
“I am so very pleased you have married my brother.”
“I am too,” she admitted, giving her friend a tremulous smile. “At least, I think I am.”
* * *
The morning’s tribulations had brought a sharp sense of clarity to Sidney.
After Julianna had left Cagney House without informing him of where she intended to go or when she might return, he spent some time with Emily in the nursery. She delighted him by cuddling close to him, as if she sensed his inner tumult. They had stacked blocks together, and she had knocked down his every tower with an infectious peal of giggles each time. There was something so precious about a child’s innocence. He loved his daughter more than he had ever imagined possible.
He was going to fight to give Emily everything she deserved.
A mama and a papa who loved each other as much as they loved her.
After leaving Emily in the capable hands of Johnston, he had gone directly to see his solicitor. The funds from Julianna’s uncle had been deposited in an account that was hers alone. Separate from Sidney’s, and hers to do with as she wished. Next, he had driven to the offices of Mr. Elijah Decker.
He was met there by Mr. Decker’s man of business, a tall, ginger-haired Scotsman.
“Have ye an appointment, milord?” he asked.
Of course he hadn’t an appointment. He had not thought of this visit until he had been halfway to his solicitor’s office and the necessity of it had hit him with the force of a blow. “No, but it is rather imperative that I see him.”
“Imperative, ye say?” The man raised a brow. “Mr. Decker is a busy man, ye ken.”
He was also the only businessman Sidney was acquainted with. Sidney needed the man’s connections. Badly.<
br />
“If you would be kind enough to let Mr. Decker know that Viscount Shelbourne is requesting a moment of his time, I would be indebted to you, sir,” he said.
“The name is Macfie.” The Scotsman performed a half bow with a flourish. “Sir puts me in mind of my granda, the miserable old coot. If ye had been cursed tae know him, ye would ken why I have nae wish for the reminder.”
An interesting character, this Macfie. But then, he would have expected no less from any associate of Mr. Decker’s. The man himself was an original.
“Forgive me for the unintended aide-mémoire of your grandfather,” Sidney offered.
“I’ll be seeing if Mr. Decker has the time tae spare ye, Lord Shelbourne.”
“Thank you, and if you would, please tell Mr. Decker my call pertains to a favor for one of the members of the Lady’s Suffrage Society.”
Macfie nodded and departed, leaving Sidney to wait.
Fortunately, he did not need to wait long.
Mr. Decker himself greeted him. “Good afternoon, Lord Shelbourne. Macfie tells me you have a favor to ask concerning the Lady’s Suffrage Society. I was just about to leave for the Black Souls club for some business there. Would you care to join me for the drive?”
“My carriage is waiting just outside your building,” he offered.
“Excellent.” Mr. Decker grinned. “I’ll fetch my hat.”
When they were ensconced in Sidney’s carriage and the conveyance rocked forward, he began explaining his intentions. “First, as pertains to the Lady’s Suffrage Society, I wish to write an article for their journal, and I understand you are the publisher.”
“I do publish the Lady’s Suffrage Society Times, yes,” Mr. Decker acknowledged. “The ladies themselves do most of the work. I have the easy task of sending it to press. What manner of article do you wish to write?”
“One establishing my support of women gaining the Parliamentary Franchise,” he said. “I find it is past time I stand with our wives in their fight.”
“Good man. Your voice will surely add to the momentum of their cause.” Mr. Decker paused, giving him a knowing look. “Would the need for this article be precipitated by a desire to restore yourself in Lady Shelbourne’s good favor?”
Sidney rubbed his jaw ruefully. “To restore myself, I would have had to be in my wife’s good favor to begin with, and I am reasonably sure I never was.”
Mr. Decker grimaced. “As bad as all that, then?”
Sidney could not keep the grim resignation from his voice. “Worse.”
“My sympathy, Shelbourne. A happy wife is the conduit for a happy life, as they say.”
Sidney well believed it. “I am doing everything in my power to make Lady Shelbourne happy. Trust me, Mr. Decker. Which brings me to the other favor I came to beg of you today.”
“Beg away.”
“As you may know, Lady Shelbourne spent the last two years in New York City.”
“Indeed.”
The carriage hit a bump and pitched. Sidney hoped it was not a portent of Mr. Decker’s response to his next favor. But he carried on just the same.
“My wife has developed a cold cream, which she is intending to produce and sell in America. However, I was wondering, given your vast business holdings, especially your factories here in England, if you might be interested in speaking with her and helping her to further her business here in England.”
“A cold cream, eh? Some sort of whatnot for ladies?” Mr. Decker stroked his chin.
“Apparently it was all the rage amongst her friends in New York City,” Sidney confirmed, pride bursting in his chest as he thought of all she had accomplished in her absence. She had become a mother and an entrepreneur, all on her own. “Naturally, I would not presume to conduct her business affairs on her behalf. I merely thought to facilitate a meeting between the two of you for business purposes.”
“You are in love with your wife,” Mr. Decker observed shrewdly.
“Desperately,” Sidney confirmed.
“A hell of a thing, is it not?”
“Misery,” he muttered.
“It gets better, Shelbourne,” Mr. Decker reassured him, grinning.
“A man can hope.” He sighed, for it seemed he had much work to do before Julianna would trust him.
Part of that had been his own foolishness. But part of it was also down to her refusal to trust him.
“A handsome chap like you should be able to win her over. You’ve charm aplenty.”
“Charm is not nearly enough, I am afraid. If you do not wish to meet with Lady Shelbourne concerning the cold cream, I understand.” Hell, he was not certain Julianna would welcome his interference or if she would box his ears.
But Sidney was willing to take the risk.
Willing to take any risk for her.
Every risk. All the bloody risks.
“I would be more than happy to meet with Lady Shelbourne and learn all about this venture of hers. I merely enjoyed watching you squirm a bit.” Mr. Decker chuckled, unrepentant. “You and Lady Shelbourne shall join Lady Jo and me for dinner. My wife will send the invitation.”
The carriage slowed as they reached the Black Souls club’s front façade.
“Thank you,” he told Mr. Decker. “I appreciate it more than I can say.”
“Coming to the club?”
“Going home to my wife,” he said.
Supposing she had come home, that was.
Mr. Decker tipped his hat. “Best of luck to you, Shelbourne.”
Sidney hoped like hell he did not need that luck.
Chapter 21
Mistakes? I have made more than I care to count. The first was not asking her to marry me the moment I met her. The worst was ever letting her go. We both allowed our pride to become an obstacle for our hearts. I cannot change the past, nor can I regain the time we lost together. However, I can secure the future.
Our future, together.
~from the journal of Viscount Shelbourne, 1885
Julianna returned to Cagney House and made her way immediately to the nursery. Although she had only been gone for a few hours, she had missed Emily. And, truth be told, she had missed Emily’s father as well.
She had not, however, been prepared for the sight awaiting her when she crossed the threshold. Not Johnston and Emily, as she had expected. But Shelbourne. Knowing it was time for Emily’s afternoon nap, she had opened the door slowly, quietly. He was rocking Emily, his hand running over her back in soothing circles, softly singing to her.
The pleasant timbre of his baritone washed over her. Crept into her heart.
As did the way he held Emily in his arms, so tenderly. The love in his voice as he sang.
This man loved his daughter. It was undeniable. And Julianna had kept him from her for an entire year. An ache welled up within her. She had been wrong to keep Emily a secret.
What else had she been wrong about?
Had she been wrong about Shelbourne as well? Just when the evidence against him seemed to mount, far more evidence in his favor countered the scales. She could not deny that the appearance of Mrs. Edwards that morning had been hurtful. As had the knowledge the beautiful woman had been her husband’s mistress. But she could not fault him for decisions he had made when Julianna had been absent.
She had been in New York City, an ocean away, so certain he was a careless rogue who had never possessed tender feelings for her. That their idyllic summer at Farnsworth Hall had been nothing but a lie. A mere passage in time for him when he, the experienced, handsome rogue, had suffered from country ennui, and she had been the sole lady available. That he had taken advantage of her love for him and her naïveté both, and that she had been the one left to suffer, with a babe in her belly and a broken heart.
But if all that were true, why would he have fought for her now? Surely he would not have ended his arrangement with his mistress. Nor would he present her with such a thoughtful gift. One inscribed with those words that had bored deep with
in her, so deep she did not think they could ever be removed.
There was one thing she was certain of. She still loved him. She always had, and she always would. What that meant for her, for them, she could not say. It almost seemed as if everything depended upon this next moment.
The heaviness of it all fell upon her, with the crushing weight of a boulder.
“You have returned.”
His low observation shook Julianna from her reveries. Her gaze flew to his, and an answering spark of heat flared to life. But this time, it was different. Deeper. Hotter. Laden with hidden meaning.
Longing flooded her. Did she dare trust him? Dare risk her heart again? Dare she stay in London instead of running from him again?
But then, how could she not?
She swallowed. “You are making a habit of visiting the nursery, I see.”
“I love her,” he said simply. “I am making up for the time I missed.”
There was no censure in his voice. Neither resentment nor blame. He was simply stating truth, and she could acknowledge it. If she had made the wrong decision in going to America…if she had fled him for no good reason…if everything he had told her this morning had been true…and if she chose to leave him now, with so much unsaid, so many unanswered mysteries…
Questions assailed her, a torrent of them, and for a heartbeat, she could not move. Could not speak.
“I am sorry for the time you both missed,” she said.
It was not the first apology she had given him, but there was a difference in this apology. Because she understood, having watched him with Emily on countless occasions, that he was an excellent, caring father. And she understood more than ever how much he had missed—that entire first year. How much she had changed, from the tiny baby Julianna had gazed down upon with wonder to the giggling, vibrant little girl who was already walking on her own.
Lady Wicked: Notorious Ladies of London Book 4 Page 27
