And there, staring at her with a solemn gaze, stood her husband.
Hope leapt in her chest. He was splendidly bedecked in a cobalt coat and breeches of shot silk that made his eyes burn brightly in the candlelight. His embroidered waistcoat was his best, his neckcloth was immaculately tied, and his shirt sparkled white against the dark blue of his coat.
He looked like any gentleman arriving for dinner with an earl and a marquess. But his rigid stance told her this wasn’t easy for him. He was a proud man being forced to bend his will to another, and he clearly disliked it.
Which made his coming all the more wonderful.
“Leave us,” he commanded the footman.
She bit back a smile. His arrogance wasn’t gone. But he’d come to join her, which was all that mattered.
She walked toward him, her breath quickening as he followed her with a hungry, ardent gaze. Then he held something out to her—the love spoon split in two.
Her breath caught. Surely he wasn’t saying . . .
“In my thoughtless anger, I broke it.” He closed her hand around the pieces. “And I need you to help me mend it, my love. For I can’t live in peace until it’s whole again. I only hope I haven’t left the repair until too late.”
Her heart swelled with love that he could take his pride in his hands and come to her like this. He wasn’t easy to live with. His years at sea had made him more impatient and quick to find fault. But he was fair and truthful, even in his arrogance. And he did love her. She could see it in his eyes.
“It’s not too late,” she told him joyously. “It’s never too late.”
At her words, the fear drained from his face. He dragged her into his arms and caught her mouth in a long kiss so gentle and loving, she knew she’d remember it for the rest of her life.
He drew back to cup her face in his hands. “Never leave me again. Ask me for anything else. But never leave me.”
She pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I have no intention of leaving you. Not now, not ever.”
He buried his face in her neck. “Good. These past two days have been torture. If you’d wanted to punish me, you couldn’t have found a better way.”
“I didn’t want to punish you, but to make you see what we could have if you would trust me.”
He looked up to meet her eyes. “And I do. I’ve learned that if I don’t have faith in you, I can’t have faith in anything in this world. For you’re the only one I trust—even more than myself.”
“Oh, Rhys,” she said, melting. “I have waited so long to hear you say that.” She scattered kisses over his lips, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. “But why did you send me all those gifts? I was afraid it was in lieu of your coming.”
He nuzzled her hair. “I was afraid to just show up on your doorstep with my heart in my hands. I thought you might be so angry at me for waiting to come here, that you wouldn’t even speak to me.”
“I am much happier to have your heart and soul, as you have mine. And your trust. At long last.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “I’ve been such a fool, my love. In so many ways that I scarcely know where to begin apologizing, but—”
A knock at the door made them both start. It took them a moment to come back to earth, to realize they stood in Northcliffe Hall.
She flashed him a rueful smile. “I hate to interrupt your lovely confession, dear husband. But that is probably Lord Devon.”
To Rhys’s credit, he managed to keep an even expression.
“I must let him in, you know,” she added.
“Yes. I know you must.”
“And it would probably be best if I greeted him alone first.”
“As you wish. I came here because I understand what you feel you must do.”
She handed him the pieces of the love spoon, then pointed to the dining room. “Go there and wait for me. I promise I’ll only be a few moments.”
He nodded, but as she slid past him, headed for the door, he caught her and bent her over his arm to give her a hot, possessive kiss.
When he let her up, her head was spinning. “What was that for?”
“To give you something to remember while you’re speaking to your former betrothed.” Then he strolled off, looking markedly more sure of himself.
With a laugh, she opened the door.
It was indeed Stephen, who looked startled to see her answer it. “Good evening, Juliana.”
“Good evening, Stephen. Won’t you come in?”
He entered the house, watching her with a sober look as a servant hurried in to take his greatcoat and hat.
“The others haven’t come downstairs yet. Shall we wait for them in the drawing room?”
“Whatever you wish.”
As soon as they’d gone inside, she closed the door. Now that she was face-to-face with him, it was hard to know exactly what to say. His air of aloof dignity made him look so terribly noble, she wasn’t certain how to approach him. Had she once thought to live with him, to share a bed with him and bear his children? No doubt they would have had a tolerable marriage, but compared to what she had with Rhys, it would have been a pale substitute.
As if sensing her discomfort, he spoke first. “Seeing you here at least answers one of my questions. Vaughan is obviously not keeping you a prisoner.”
“No.” She managed a smile. “I’m at Llynwydd because I choose to be. I’m happy there.”
He looked skeptical. “With him? I’d hate to think he is treating you with the same contempt he showed you the night of our engagement party.”
It was hard for her to even remember that Rhys; he’d changed so much since then. “That was a difficult time, I’ll admit. But things have gotten better. We’ve found we suit each other very well.”
“But is that enough?” Stephen stalked forward to clasp her arm. “Tell me the truth. Does he make you happy?”
He looked so forlorn that she wished she could comfort him. But she could find no way to soften the blow. “Aye. We’ve found again what we once had.”
“I see,” he said stiffly.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for deceiving you. If I’d known he was still alive, I would never have accepted your offer. But I truly believed him dead. And Darcy insisted that I keep my brief marriage secret to protect the family name.”
He nodded. “Overton has told me something of what happened then, and how you dealt with it. I gather your brothers were largely to blame for separating you from your husband. And for keeping the marriage secret from me.”
“Aye.” Perhaps learning that had prompted him to threaten to pull out of the mining project with Darcy. “You mustn’t blame them. They thought they were acting in my best interests.”
He snorted. “Perhaps Overton did, but Darcy had only his own interests at heart.”
“True.” Still, she didn’t want Stephen to strike at her brother on her account. Darcy had suffered quite a bit for his mislaid ambition. “But his machinations wouldn’t have caused nearly as much havoc if Rhys hadn’t believed his lies.”
She averted her gaze. “And I played my own part by keeping my previous marriage secret from you. I should never have let you court me when my heart belonged to Rhys. So any quarrel you have with my family must be with me first.”
He said nothing.
“I know you won’t believe this, but it was probably best that Rhys returned when he did. I don’t think I ever could have been yours entirely. And you are too wonderful to have a wife who doesn’t love you.”
He winced. “I would have been happy to have you in any case.”
“Believe me, marriage is much more satisfying when you love your spouse.”
He fixed her with a keen gaze. “And do you love yours?”
“Aye. And he loves me.”
“Well, then, I suppose it’s pointless for me to stay for dinner. You’ve made your position clear, and there’s nothing left but to accept it.”
Relief swept her. At least she wouldn�
�t have to bear an entire meal with Rhys and Stephen glaring at each other. “I hope someday you can forgive me.”
He smiled sadly. “It would be fruitless to do otherwise, wouldn’t it? Bad blood between us would serve no purpose.”
How different he was from Rhys. Stephen would never let his emotions push him to do anything impractical, while Rhys had to fight to keep his emotions from consuming him. Perhaps one day, Stephen would meet someone who could rouse him to show some feeling. But she hadn’t been the one for that.
“I hesitate to mention this,” she said, “but I promised Darcy I’d speak to you about your project.”
“It’s all right,” he said tersely. “I told your brother I wouldn’t pull out if he arranged this meeting, and he kept his part of the bargain.” He lowered his voice. “But surely you won’t blame me if I sever the relationship in every other way.”
“Nay. I doubt even Darcy would blame you for that.”
Silence fell between them, awkward and uncomfortable.
“Come, I’ll see you out,” she said, opening the door.
“Yes, that would be wise.”
As soon as they reached the entrance hall, she rang for the footman. Rhys emerged as well, his expression hooded as he halted beside her.
“His lordship is leaving,” she told the servant. “Fetch his coat and hat.”
As the footman scurried off, Lord Devon stared Rhys down.
“You’re not staying for dinner, Devon?” Rhys asked, tension in his voice.
“Nay. It seems I’ve been mistaken in some of my assumptions.”
She could almost feel Rhys’s tension ebb. “At least you’re good enough to admit it.”
“Goodness has nothing to do with it,” Stephen clipped out. He took his coat and hat from the footman. “And you should know one thing, Vaughan. If I ever suspect you are treating Juliana as harshly as you did the night you took her from me, I’ll do my best to steal her back from you.”
Juliana gaped at him. Perhaps there was some depth of feeling in him after all.
Rhys slid his arm about her waist. “I shall never give you a reason to try. Rest assured that I know the worth of what I have.”
Stephen smiled for the first time since his arrival. “Then I wish you both luck. So few of us learn the worth of what we have until it is beyond our reach.”
As soon as the door closed behind him, Rhys said, “I hope you know I’ve suffered a thousand deaths in the last ten minutes.”
She couldn’t help but tease him. “And you must suffer awhile longer, I’m afraid.” She went to pull the bell summoning the family to dinner. “There’s still my brothers to endure.”
He groaned.
She stretched up on tiptoe to kiss his forehead. “But if you’re very, very good, I promise that I’ll give you a reward to remember.”
He slid his hand over her behind, his eyes gleaming brightly. “I’ll hold you to that.”
With Juliana’s hand in his, Rhys watched Northcliffe descend the stairs, accompanied by his mother and brother. Rhys briefly wondered where Northcliffe’s wife was, but that thought left him when Northcliffe’s eyes met his.
They hadn’t seen each other since the night of the council meeting, and the change in the man was shocking. His cocksure arrogance had disappeared, and his skin bore an unhealthy pallor.
Still, he managed to look aloof. “Good to see you, Vaughan.”
Rhys bit back a retort to that blatant lie. For Juliana’s sake, he must be civil. “Good evening, Northcliffe.”
Northcliffe turned to his sister. “Where is Devon?”
“He left.” When Northcliffe went white, Juliana hastened to add, “He promised not to withdraw from your project.”
Overton came down the last two steps to approach Rhys with an outthrust hand. “I’m glad you’ve come, Vaughan.” His gaze flicked to Juliana, and Rhys wondered how much she’d confided about her marriage. “We’re very glad to have you here.”
“You look well, sir,” said the dowager countess as she gazed down her nose at him. “My daughter told me that Llynwydd thrives under your care.”
Rhys cast Juliana a quizzical glance. “Did she indeed?” What else had she told her mother about him, about their marriage?
“Mama was concerned you might not be able to support me in a style befitting an earl’s daughter, but I put her fears to rest.”
In that sentence, Juliana had completely summed up her relationship with her mother. So, she couldn’t have told her mother much; the dowager countess was obviously not the kind of woman Juliana could confide in.
A quick stab of pity went through him. It was a miracle that his lovely wife hadn’t turned into a spoiled noblewoman, having such selfish creatures for parents.
“Let’s go in to dinner,” her mother said. “By now, the servants are probably buzzing with gossip about us, and we’d best squelch it.”
Northcliffe patted his mother’s hand. “Why don’t you take Juliana and Overton in? I’d like a word with Vaughan in private.”
Juliana tightened her fingers on Rhys’s arm. “Not without me present.”
“And me, too,” Overton added.
Northcliffe stiffened. “Very well. Let us all go into the study, then.”
Their mother rolled her eyes. “Since the three of you are determined to foment speculation, it’s left to me to squelch the rumors. I shall be in the dining room when you are ready.” With a regal sniff, she walked off.
Northcliffe led the way. As soon as they entered the room and Northcliffe closed the doors, Rhys said, “Before you speak, I have something to say myself.”
Three pairs of eyes fixed on him. The St. Albans siblings bore a remarkable resemblance. Juliana might be superior in character, but no one could mistake that they were her family. Unfortunately.
He dragged in a deep breath. “I believe that you lied to me about my wife’s part in the impressment. I believe you lied to me twice—on the night you took me from her, and on the night I took her back. And now I want to know why.”
Northcliffe’s gaze shot to Overton.
“I didn’t tell him,” Overton protested. “Although I would have, if Juliana had let me.”
Rhys gazed at his wife in blank astonishment.
She wouldn’t look at him. “That’s the main reason Overton came to Llynwydd two weeks ago. To tell you everything. To explain that the innkeeper, who’d once courted Lettice, had recognized me and that’s how they knew to come after you. Overton also came over to tell you about the spy in the Sons of Wales. That’s why Morgan agreed to go with him—to help Overton tell you the truth.”
“But she wouldn’t let us say anything,” Overton interjected.
Rhys covered her hand with his. “Why? If they had told me—”
“You would have believed them. I know. I didn’t want you to believe them. I wanted you to believe me. And I was willing to wait until you could say you trusted me despite all the damning evidence.”
As he remembered that day in the study, the wave of self-hatred that swept over him was so intense, he nearly reeled. After she’d made such a sacrifice for their marriage, he’d responded by accusing her of infidelity. No wonder she’d been so angry. He’d deserved that and more from her.
Instead, she’d given him her body. And her heart, though he hadn’t realized it at the time. “I’ve been more of a monster than I realized. How can you ever forgive me?”
“How can I not?” She squeezed his arm. “No matter what the truth, you thought I had betrayed you and sentenced you to a living hell. That day in the study, you forgave everything to make me your wife. I could hardly do otherwise.”
His gaze locked with hers, and something more profound than anything he’d ever known passed between them. Suddenly he knew he would barter his soul to keep the glow on her face and the smile in her eyes, to keep her looking at him like that. For without her beside him, life was nothing but one empty step after another, all of them leading into a vo
id.
Northcliffe broke the silence. “I can see my confession would be somewhat anticlimactic.”
Anger flared in Rhys. “Not entirely. Juliana explained how you could succeed in convincing me of her betrayal, but I still don’t understand why. I can guess why you wanted me away from Juliana in the first place: You had bigger plans for her. But why lie to me that night? And why keep lying later?”
With a tortured sigh, Northcliffe turned to face the fire. “I lied the first time in a futile attempt to keep you from wanting to return.”
“And after I came back?”
“I thought if you believed her to be a betrayer, you would grant the annulment.”
“But I made it clear that I wouldn’t, and you still kept lying. Why?”
Northcliffe stiffened. “The reason is so contemptible, I’m not sure I can speak it.”
Juliana snorted. “After you told him how much influence and wealth you’d gained, Rhys, he was afraid of what you might do to him if you knew the truth. So he let me stand between you and him to take the brunt of your anger.”
Shocked, Rhys gaped at Northcliffe. What kind of brother hid behind his sister’s skirts and made her face an angry man alone? Northcliffe ought to be flogged, and then shot.
Of course, Northcliffe wouldn’t have succeeded if Rhys hadn’t believed the lies. Rhys remembered how firm he’d been about what he’d do to Northcliffe if the man thwarted him, not knowing he was sealing Juliana’s doom.
No, the events of that night hadn’t been entirely Northcliffe’s fault. If Rhys had been less angry and more determined to ferret out the truth that night, he could have saved them both some heartache. Instead he’d let Northcliffe use her as a shield, because he’d been too jealous to hear the truth, too furious over finding her betrothed to another.
“I am so sorry, my love,” he whispered. “Sorry for all that you’ve been through. We’ve made your life hell for quite some time, haven’t we?”
She touched her hand to his cheek. “I must take the blame for some of it, too. If I hadn’t let Darcy talk me into keeping the marriage a secret, none of it might have happened.”
Stormswept Page 28
