“I had a note from her,” Cecily said, her expression deceptively bland. “I believe she decided to remain home this evening with a headache. Though between us, I think her leg is bothering her. She tends not to admit to it most of the time.”
Alec frowned. She’d seemed perfectly well when they’d parted that afternoon. In fact, she’d seemed eager to attend the function in her new gown. But the fittings had gone on for some time. He should have ensured that the modiste didn’t overtax her injury. Thinking back to their encounter during his ball he cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner.
“Does she often have a great deal of pain?” he asked. He disliked the thought, though she doubtless was accustomed to it at this point. Even so, being accustomed to something did not mean it was any easier to deal with.
“Occasionally,” Lady Madeline said, her brow furrowed. “I don’t believe her ankle pains her quite so much as it once did, but there are most certainly times when it becomes a problem.”
It was a credit to Lady Madeline that she showed such concern for her cousin. The more time he spent with her, the more he liked her. And she inspired none of the troubling tempestuous emotions that assailed him when he was in Juliet’s company. But any idea he might once have had about marrying Lady Madeline had been put to rest at Madame Celeste’s when she urged him to seduce her cousin.
“You know,” Madeline said, her brown eyes thoughtful. “I believe on nights such as this, Juliet can often be found resting in the back garden of her father’s town house.”
Cecily nodded. “She does enjoy the night breezes, doesn’t she? And if she cannot be found in the garden, she may sometimes be playing the pianoforte in the little sitting room. It has the prettiest French doors opening out into the garden.”
Alec looked from one of the women to the other. Coupled with Madeline’s scandalous suggestion of the afternoon that he climb the trellis outside Juliet’s bedchamber to her rooms, he was beginning to feel like a heroic pawn in the cousins’ version of a Shakespearean drama.
“But I would make haste to get there before Lord and Lady Shelby return from whatever engagement they have attended this evening. I believe they planned to attend the opera with my stepmama,” Cecily continued. “If I were going to go meet with Juliet, I mean.”
“Which we certainly will not be doing.” Madeline nodded. “Why would we when we are here at the musicale, and it is about to start. But if I were leaving I would do so now before anyone realized I had even come.”
“You really think that I would be mad enough to intrude upon your cousin at home? Knowing that her parents are out?” Alec looked from one to the other. Neither seemed the least bit put out by his distress.
“Well, we can hardly control what you do, Lord Deveril,” Cecily said with a cat-in-the-cream-pot smile. “We simply wish what’s best for our cousin.”
“Definitely,” Madeline said. “In fact, I would argue that time is of the essence, considering that Lady Shelby seems determined to marry Juliet to the loathsome Lord Turlington.”
“Who,” Cecily said, “by the way, is here. I just saw him speaking with Lord Fortenbury.”
It was a sign of Deveril’s agitation that he gave in to the urge to run his fingers through his artfully disordered hair.
Telling himself that his valet’s ire was the least of his worries, he excused himself and hurried from the music room and out into the night.
* * *
When Juliet had arrived home that afternoon, it was to find her mother waiting for her.
“My dear daughter,” Lady Shelby breathed, pulling Juliet close in an unexpected embrace, enveloping her in the heavy rose scent she wore in deference to her own name. “You will never guess what has happened. At long last.”
A knot of anxiety formed in Juliet’s belly. There were very few things that moved her mother to actual emotion, and so far, the only things that Juliet had been a part of had been very bad indeed.
“I do not know, Mama,” she said carefully, untying her bonnet so that she had something to do with her shaking fingers.
“Silly chit,” Lady Shelby chided with unaccustomed cheer. “It is the best news imaginable! Lord Turlington has spoken to your father.”
It took a moment for the news to sink in. “Spoken to Papa about what?” she asked, hoping that she had simply misunderstood her mother’s announcement.
“Don’t be obtuse, child.” Lady Shelby’s good cheer was beginning to flag a bit in the face of her daughter’s lack of enthusiasm. “He asked your father for your hand and Lord Shelby has accepted.”
The silence in the entry hall was deafening.
“Come, Juliet, do not be missish.” Juliet’s mother changed her tone. “You cannot have expected some fairy-tale nonsense or the like. When you lost your foot in that ridiculous accident, I thought there was no chance you’d ever find someone willing to marry you. And here not only has someone offered, but he is a handsome lord with no qualms about your injury. Surely even you can see how providential this is.”
“And the fact that I have no wish to marry Lord Turlington?” Juliet demanded. “Has that no bearing on the situation?”
“That is unfortunate,” Lady Shelby said, following Juliet into her bedchamber, “but it will not deter your father or me from approving the match.”
All traces of good humor were gone now from Lady Shelby’s angelic visage. Even as she approached her middle forties she was a stunning woman. And if Juliet had been graced with but a fraction of her mother’s beauty she would not now be having this argument.
“I will apply to Papa,” Juliet said, limping to the window in her agitation. “He will not allow you to force me into a marriage I have no interest in.”
“He will tell you to do your duty,” Lady Shelby snapped. “I have tried to make this as easy as possible for you, but you have spent your time mooning over Deveril instead of becoming better acquainted with Turlington.”
“I do not wish to become better acquainted with Turlington,” Juliet said fiercely. “Mama, he makes me uncomfortable. Surely even you can understand that there is something not quite right about the man.”
“I understand no such thing,” her mother snapped. “He is a handsome and fine gentleman who has been the soul of patience with your mississhness. The time has come for you to stop this childish nonsense and accept his suit.”
“It is not childish for me to wish for a husband who has some real affection for me,” Juliet retorted, desperation making her voice shake. “Mama, why are you doing this? What hold does Turlington have over you?”
At her question, Lady Shelby’s face paled.
“You have no idea what you are speaking of,” she hissed. “Now, I suggest you lie down for a while before we depart for the opera.”
“But I have promised Cecily and Madeline that I would attend the Hargreave musicale this evening,” Juliet protested. Though when compared to the news that she was engaged to Turlington without her consent, the knowledge that she would be unable to attend the musicale was a minor inconvenience.
“Well, they will have to live with disappointment,” Lady Shelby said, her voice cold. “As will you, daughter. In fact, I will instruct Turlington to procure a special license so that you may be married as soon as possible. I believe next week will give me enough time to plan a celebration.”
Not if I have anything to do with it, Juliet thought, watching her mother exit the room.
* * *
If someone had asked him what he expected to find when he entered the back garden of Shelby House, Alec would not have guessed he’d find Miss Shelby backing out of the French doors leading from the house onto the terrace.
The sky was dark with clouds, and the only illumination to the area was from the kitchens. The rest of the house, with its other inhabitants out for the evening, was dark.
He watched in fascination as Juliet continued walking backward, presumably watching for some authority figure, who would arrest her escape.
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br /> Not wishing to startle her, he hissed her name as he came up behind her. “Juliet.”
Even so, his quarry jarred with surprise, and turned to face him.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, a hint of desperation in her voice. “Deveril, you must leave here at once.”
To his surprise, she made as if to push him away. Could she be expecting someone else? Or worse, was she running off to meet some other man? The very idea made his jaw clench.
“What are you doing?” he asked, not giving an inch. “Who are you sneaking off to meet?”
“None of your business,” she hissed. “Now kindly leave so that no one hears you.”
“You’ve already been detected,” he said in a low voice, “so go back inside and rest your leg as you told your cousins you were doing.”
She frowned at the mention of Cecily and Madeline. Perhaps her lie was bothering her conscience.
“How do you know what I told them?” she asked. “And it is highly improper for you to mention legs in my company,” she added, her mouth pursing in annoyance.
“They told me,” he said, pointing her toward the French doors, but finding her surprisingly strong in her resistance. “And you are hardly in a position to preach propriety, madam.”
“And you are not my father, my brother, or my husband and have no authority to tell me where to go or what to do,” she snapped, her voice a low hiss in the night air, her green eyes reflecting fire in the moonlight.
“As your friend,” he growled, “I have every right to prevent you from behaving rashly.”
“If you were my friend you would—”
Stopping mid-sentence at the sound of one of the kitchen maids giggling from inside, Juliet made a “follow me” gesture and led him into a small area of the garden that was enclosed on three sides by climbing vines. Nestled within the bower was an iron bench just large enough to seat two.
The hitch in her stride was more pronounced, Alec noticed as he walked behind her. So perhaps she had not been lying about her reasons for remaining at home. Still, there was something more that agitated her.
“Tell me what has happened to cause you such distress,” he said when they were far enough from the house for privacy, struggling to keep his tone gentle. The sight of her in such pain made him want to smash something, and he regretted his sharp words to her earlier.
For one of the most celebrated flirts in London he certainly had difficulty behaving like a gentleman in this lady’s company.
Seven
Juliet shifted from one foot to the other, leaning heavily on her walking stick, and it was impossible not to notice her wince.
“Sit down, for God’s sake,” he ordered. Part of him expected her to tell him to go jump in the Thames, but to Alec’s surprise, she kept silent, lowered herself to the bench.
“There is no shame in admitting to human frailty, Juliet,” he said quietly. “Even battle-scarred soldiers must bow to their body’s wishes from time to time.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” she grumbled. “You’ve never—”
“What? Fought in a battle?” he asked wryly. He was well aware that his position as the heir to a peerage had given him a handy excuse to remain in England during the wars with Napoleon. But he was not ashamed of the fact. There were plenty of small services that could be helpful to the crown here at home, many of which he had undertaken.
But Juliet was talking of something else.
“No,” she said with impatience. “I’ve never fought in a battle either. What I was going to say is that you’ve never had to confront the fact that your own body is failing you. You’re a young man. You’re fit. You’re handsome. You’re in the prime of health and, with a few exceptions, your body will do whatever you tell it to do.”
Thinking of one particular part of him that seemed to have a mind of its own, he disagreed, but did not say so aloud.
“And mine,” she continued with obvious annoyance, “does not even allow me to stand without assistance. It is maddening sometimes.”
Knowing some of what Winterson had gone through with his war injury, Alec was surprised to realize that Juliet might have some of the same complaints. Ladies, after all, were not expected to be active and participate in all manner of sporting activities. There had been her issue with dancing, but that had seemed different to him at the time. Perhaps because that was an activity which required a partner.
Which reminded him again of other activities requiring two people. He was a cad and ruffian to think of such things while she was telling him of her struggles.
“So, it is the state of your health that has you in such a fit of pique?” he asked, firmly returning his mind to the subject at hand.
“Not my health,” she admitted, with a frown, twisting the silver ring she wore on her right hand. Around and around and around. “Well, not only my health.”
He lowered himself to the bench beside her, the vulnerability in her voice and mien making it impossible to deny her some human contact. He wanted to take her in his arms and offer her reassurance, but contented himself with taking her hand in his. Though she gave a small gasp, she did not pull away.
“I don’t know how much you have heard about my mother’s attempts to make a match between Lord Turlington and me,” she continued, staring out into the darkened garden.
What he knew was that Lady Shelby was dead set on marrying Juliet off to Turlington whether Juliet liked it or not. But he only said, “Enough.”
“She informed me this evening,” she said, her voice laced with contempt, “that my father has already given him his consent and that she is pushing Lord Turlington to apply for a special license so that we may be married as quickly as possible.”
“What?” Deveril turned to face her and knew from her expression that she was serious. He had known Lady Shelby was determined but he was under the impression that her plans would not be put into motion for some months. “Why is she rushing this?”
Unable to sit still, he stood and paced the small area of the bower, thrusting a hand through his hair. What he wanted to do was get his hands round Turlington’s neck, but as the man was not there with them, he had to content himself with a string of oaths.
Juliet watched him, her expression resigned.
“I think you know that my mama was not best pleased about my dancing lessons. I thought it was because…” She paused, making Alec wonder what she wasn’t telling him.
“Well, for another reason,” she finished. “But I think she was planning all along to make me marry Turlington. And calling attention to myself by dancing increased the likelihood that someone else would make an offer. She needs me to remain an ugly duckling.”
He frowned. “Do not call yourself that. Amelia is a spiteful cat and only said that because she feared you three would eclipse her.”
“Oh, I know very well that I am not nearly as beautiful as Mama,” Juliet said wryly. “She has told me so herself for many years now.”
There was a special place in Hades for spiteful parents, and Alec was quite sure that his father was there warming a seat for Lady Shelby.
“You are lovely. Take it from a man who knows.”
The compliment pleased her, he saw it in the upward curve of her full red lips.
“Thank you, my lord,” she murmured softly. If he hadn’t known she was untutored in the art of seduction, the downward cast of her dark lashes, and the smile as ancient as Eve would have fooled him. But Juliet Shelby was as innocent as she was beautiful. And the sight of her resting in a moonlit bower of roses was as tempting a sight as Alec had ever seen.
As if pulled by a web of her creation, he stepped forward and knelt before her, like a knight swearing fealty to his lady.
“May I kiss you, Juliet?” he asked, even as his mouth took hers.
The contact sent an immediate rush of desire through him. Everything was Juliet. The scent of blossoms, her soft lips, the little moan of surprise she made as he opened his mout
h to suck at her bottom lip. Unable to stop himself, he tasted the seam of her lips, pressing with his tongue until she let him in.
He took her shoulders in his arms, and felt a surge of triumph as she lifted her arms to twine about his neck, one hand stroking into his hair.
Her kiss was passive, untutored, and even that gave him a thrill of excitement. The knowledge that he was the first to hold her like this aroused a primitive possessiveness in him that he hadn’t known he was capable of.
But she was not to be a passive partner for long. Just as she’d taken quickly to dancing, Juliet learned to mimic his movements, sliding her own tongue along his, even as her firm breasts thrust against his chest.
He pulled her closer. Lifting one hand to stroke the underside of her breast, he stroked upward, caressing the hardness of her nipple with the palm of his hand.
* * *
Juliet gasped as she felt Alec’s hand brush the bud of her nipple, the contact sending another wave of sensation downward to the ache that had been building between her legs. She knew it was dangerous to engage in such licentious behavior, but her mind was drugged with desire and the need for more.
Before tonight she’d barely ever touched a man, with the exception of taking their arms to walk into dinner and the like. But that was so commonplace, it hardly registered.
This, however, this maelstrom of scent and touch and sensation, had her heady with excitement. From the moment his lips touched hers, the tentative softness of his kiss making her chest tight with longing, she’d known that this man had the power to lead her places she’d never imagined.
Every touch, from the scrape of his teeth over her lower lip, to the solid strength of his arms pulling her closer, sent her nearer to a precipice, but she had no idea what lay on the other side.
She murmured soft words, his name, inarticulate sounds of pleasure that in her right mind she’d blush to remember. But here in this garden bower away from every worry, every problem, she felt removed from the rest of the world. Alec’s strong arms and skilled caresses cocooned her from the darkness of everyday life.
How to Romance a Rake Page 11
