by Gayle Eden
Saving Juliette
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
SAVING JULIETTE
GAYLE EDEN
Copyright © 2012 Gayle Eden
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The right of Gayle Eden to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First Ebook Publication 2011 First Edition
Published at Smashwords
Smashwords Edition
All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Ten Years Ago.
Montgomery (Monty) Laughlin, 4th Marquis of Wolford was spending his last fall at his father's ancestral home, Chadwick Manor, seat of Thaddeus, Duke of Chadwick, before doing the tour. He had taken the hounds and left the house before dawn to trek through the fields toward the lake. A few of his chums who had arrived with him had gambled in the village and would sleep past noon. Given that they’d ran rather loose and wild in London the past few weeks, Monty felt the need for serenity, nature, and a clear head.
It was on his mind as he spied the cattails along the marsh and listened to the calls of fowl, that he had an option. He could go to Egypt and round out his studies in Egyptology. His father and mother, the duchess, Lady Mary, would not discourage him, although it was obvious that they both wanted him near since his formal education was completed.
Striding toward a thickly wooded copse, wild wheat brushing against his boot tops, sending airy flecks of grain onto his supple brown leather trousers, Monty heard the hounds yapping, the pair having dashed ahead to scare the grouse and geese near the waters. However, this racket was coming from the woods. Supposing they had holed a rabbit or some other creature, he grinned slightly and hurried that way in an easy jog, sleeves of his linen shirt rolled up a quarter and his mane of oak hair half out of the thong he’d tied it back with by the time he reached the edge.
“What have you got…?” He stepped toward the wagging tails and came to a dead stop. The dogs immediately backed away, revealing the prone figure of a child nearly obscured by overgrown grasses—and a limb that had fallen across her.
“Good lads. Well done," Monty uttered, as he set to the task of lifting the limb off her, relieved it was at least not heavy. He afterwards got to his knees, looking over a face, red and flushed, not pale, and nearly obscured by spirals of red-blond hair. The child’s age was not apparent, but no more than nine he would guess. Monty looked for signs of blood amid the soiled and stained white cotton garment she wore. There was none apparent, but her bare arms showed a few scratches. In addition, she had no shoes on her dirty feet. A few briar pricks was all he saw there.
Next, he touched her frame, feeling warmth, life, and searching for broken bones. He carefully cupped her nape and hip, turned her to look over her backside, finding nothing more than dirt and grass stains.
“Child?” He smoothed back her hair. “Little one?”
One of the dogs whined and then came to his side, its brown eyes on the child before it went to her face and licked.
Monty saw her nose crinkle.
“Child?” He shouted.
This time she jerked slightly. He was leaning over her, hand to her forehead as her lashes fluttered open, hazel eyes blinking several times.
Monty spoke to her, asking her name, where she was from, how she got to the woods, and had she fallen out of the tree. Whilst he talked, he could tell she heard him, and could tell that her eyes were going over his face.
What he did not know was that Juliette Palmer saw him wreathed in beams of light that filtered through the trees, that she was taking in his wavy oak hair, warm brown eyes, handsome prince-like features, thinking herself awakening in her favorite fairy tale.
Monty was preoccupied, attempting to gage if it was safe to lift her, and if he should take her back to Chadwick Manor, or whence she came—one of the farms mayhap.
She spoke after his questions ceased. “I’m Juliette Palmer. I climbed the tree to escape a wild beast that was after me, and the limb gave way.”
“Palmer? Your father is the Baron….Edrick. He’s visiting…”
She nodded and pushed his hand away to sit up, her expression rather woeful. “Not just visiting the evil old Duke of Chadwick, but he plans to leave me there, with him and the evil old duchess.”
Ignoring that bit of drama for now, Monty asked, “But however did you get here from Chadwick Manor? Don’t you have a nursemaid?”
“A Nanny,” she corrected and looked at him, striking his amused fancy because she had bits of twigs and leaves clinging to that wild muss of hair. She looked like a wood sprite, albeit, a grubby one. “I climbed out the window. It was only two stories and the drains were nearby. She was yet sleeping. The whole house was.”
He stood. “Can you get to your feet? Tell me if it hurts anywhere.”
She got to her feet, half-heartedly dusting her dress. “I just got the wind knocked out of me. It’s happened before.” She moved her arms and legs and turned her rather large eyes on him again, gazing up at his six foot height. “You won’t take me back there, will you?”
Getting down on his haunches, Monty smiled slightly and touched a finger to her dirty nose. “Your papa will be terribly worried—”
“But the old Duke and—”
“Not so very old. And not evil a’tall. I assure you.”
“How do you know?” She folded her arms, eyes narrowed.
Suppressing a laugh, he supplied, “I know, because the duke is my papa, and Lady Mary is my mother. The both of them are most kind.”
“Then you’re…”
“Montgomery Laughlin, Marquis of Wolford. You may call me Monty.” He reached out his hands. “Since you’ve forgotten your shoes, allow me to carry you back.”
“But I…”
“You can trust me, Juliette.” He smiled fully at her.
She took a step back from him, her brow arched. “Why should I? You’re going to take me back.”
“I must.” He stood again and regarded her several moments. “I’m sure you’ve misunderstood what your papa intends. I—”
“No. I have always known.” She shook her head. “He told me years ago that he and the duke were great friends, and the duke agreed to take me in when Papa’s heart got so bad he was about to join my mother.”
“Your mother?”
“She died, in a boating accident.”
“I’m sorry.”
She sighed rather heavily. “Papa’s heart got worse last year, and they wrote letters, he and the duke. I read them.”
Monty nodded. “I can see you are concerned, but you need not be. I am very sorry your father is…ill. But I can assure you, the duke and duchess will treat you very well.”
She chewed her lip. Her stare was direct. “You swear it?”
“I swear. Come now.” He held out his arms again. “Everyone will be worried if they awake to find you gone.”
“My papa will warm my backside.”
“Likely not.” He grinned. “Not if we get you back in time to bathe and change, and leave no trace of your adventure.”
“Truly?”
&
nbsp; “Truly.”
When she unfolded her arms, he lifted her up in his, calling to the dogs to come as he walked of the woods with her, and strode the way back to the manor.
One arm along his shoulder, she insisted, “I can walk.”
“I’m sure, but your legs will not carry you back as swiftly as mine.” He glanced at her and found her eyes on his face. “You must not run off alone again, Juliette ‘Tis not safe.”
“I know. ‘Tis just that I had planned to for so many months. I knew just what I would do when we got here. I would run away. So I felt as if I must stick to my plan.”
Shaking his head, Monty returned, “Not sensible. Without food, shoes, and on strange lands.”
“But you found me.”
“Yes. Nevertheless, I do not live here all the time. In fact, this is my last season home for a while. Aside from that, there are those wild beasts in the grasses and worse dangers…”
“It was a goose I think. But it frightened me all the same.”
“Certainly. A startled goose may be dangerous.”
She laughed.
He smiled, but admonished, “Never run off alone. Promise me?”
“I promise—only—”
“Only what?” He paused.
She pushed at his arm. “Let me walk. I’ll keep up.”
He let her down, but held her grubby hand.
She said as they reached the main lawn, heading toward the back and servant’s entrance, “Only—I overheard them talking when we arrived late last night, father thought I was asleep, but I crept back down and listened….”
“Your father and the duke?”
“Yes. He sounds…”
“Father’s voice is very deep, and though you find him tall, perhaps intimidating, he is a very nice man.”
“I pray so.”
Her little girl voice saying that made him smile again. Monty had no doubt Juliette would wrap his father around her heart in no time and vice versa. He did not know about the wardship agreement, but he was vaguely aware that Baron Palmer was a close friend of his fathers, at least by letter. He was aware his parents wanted more children but had not conceived again. With himself older, going away, returning to his own responsibility and adult life, it was likely a source of excitement—the idea of taking on the child.
Although, he was also certain, neither had any idea what sort of child Juliette was. He discerned shrewd, intelligent, and quite determined….
Near the back door entrance, Monty got on his haunches again and took Juliette’s shoulders, “Go in and ask for Meg. Tell her the Marquis ordered you bathed and fed your breakfast. Then, go to your nurse…Nanny. Meantime, I will speak to my father and when you meet, clean and presentable, mind—you shall see that your fears are groundless.”
“Very well.” She did not look pleased. When he released her she drug her feet going to the door, and she looked back at him with her hand on the latch, assessing, he thought, if she really should trust him.
All turned out well in the end. She obeyed his advice, and Monty had a private word with his father—getting a more in depth story, of how he and Edrick had been friends since University. Edrick, never a physical man, but a great mind, somewhat a recluse because of his weak heart, asked him, upon Juliette’s birth—before his wife’s death, that if anything should happen to him, for the baron knew his years would be limited, would Thaddeus and Mary stand as guardians and look out for her future? Of course, when her Mother died, it became imperative they solidify their word, and so they had, in writing.
It turned out that Thaddeus had less than a month to live. He did not want the child there to see his last hours, nor did he want her to see him put in the ground. She had been so traumatized watching her mother’s burial, that he would not have her go through it again.
According to the duke, her father would leave the next day. Travel was taxing on him. Everything he would leave to Juliette of his worldly possessions was already at Chadwick manor, and precious little it was, aside from books and a few pieces of her mother’s jewelry, two paintings, and a trunk of heirlooms. Her inheritance would be spent on her schooling, likely absorbed before she finished. Here the duke would take over and assure its completion, and his mother would see that she was presented—Lady Mary being a beloved and long-standing member of high society. It was more than a Baron’s daughter would likely have, and every advantage in it.
Monty was witness to the meeting between the girl and his parents, having been sitting in the study when she was sent for. The Nanny brought her in and left her standing by her father’s chair, in front of the duke’s desk. Lady Mary was at her husband’s shoulder. Thaddeus seated himself deliberately, knowing her trepidation from Monty; he feared his six feet and four height, would alarm her. Although his voice was naturally deep, he modulated it, and he smiled.
It was quite an interested introduction and a quiet exchange between the girl and his Grace. Thaddeus was known for his good nature, handsomeness—having now silvering hair and deep brown eyes, a well-rounded man in politics and intellect, sporting, yet powerful with his wealth and title.
And the duchess, full of form, only passable handsome to some, but with lush mink hair and blue eyes, was a society sophisticate who was intelligent enough to balance her power and privilege out with a somewhat nurturing character, which set her apart from some of the sharper edged women in high society. Monty knew his mother to be wise and steady, something his father claimed to have prized from the moment he met her. He also knew that in private; she was warm and affectionate, loving children, animals, most creatures God made.
Having sat himself over by the window, he was cognizant of Juliette sneaking peeks at him out of the corner of her eye, and so he smiled at her as she answered politely all the questions about her learning and her hobbies—a list he presumed she’d been told to give by her father and Nanny. He did almost laugh when she scoffed at the idea of riding in a pony cart, claiming she’d had her own fully-grown horse for two whole years now.
She was groomed, hair tamed in a braid and cap, her child’s form dressed in a ruffled, cream stripe dress, and her feet in shiny buttoned boots. Her hands were clasped together. He regarded her father—indeed a pale and thin man, thin of hair and of frame, somewhat sallow, although in youth he must have held some handsomeness for there were traces of it in the hazel eyes and bone structure—but the man watched her with pride and subtly nodded when she gave her answers.
It was later, after she was dismissed, and his parents and the baron were going over formalities, that Monty took a cheroot by the open garden doors and spied a figure dashing from the house towards the lawns and fields. Her dress was a less formal one, and he spied brown boots instead of black, her hair was free and tumbling nearly to the hem of the apron over it.
Later that night—Monty was jerked from sleep whilst a storm raged outside, sitting up, disoriented for a moment, before he heard his valet’s voice.
“What is amiss, Jamie?”
“The child, your Lordship…she’s here.”
Lightening flashed in the dark chambers and he indeed spied the white gowned figure, that tumble of curls catching the glimmer of light before the illumination faded. “Take her to the sitting area. I’ll be there directly.”
He slid out of bed, taking up his trousers and pulling them on, then his linen shirt. Still barefoot, Monty lit a candle and fixed the globe on it, carrying it to the open doorway of the adjoining room.
Jamie bowed to him and he murmured, “Return to slumber. I’ll see her abed.”
“Very good, milord.” The man left him.
Setting the candle on the table, he joined her on the settee, turning slightly to face how she sat, her back against the arm, knees up and arms wrapped around them, the hem of her white gown showing her toes peeking out.
“Are you afraid of storms?”
“Not usually no.” Her eyes looked huge in her face though, and she shook back some those spiraled curls.
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br /> “Does your Nanny not sleep in your rooms?”
“She does. And she snores.”
He smiled.
She did too, faintly. “The thunder woke me. It is not the storms really. But… My mama died during a storm.” She looked over at the window, and watched the deluge hitting it. “We had a maid who sang songs….sad ones, about people drowning…”
“I’ve heard a few.”
She looked at him. “I don’t think they should sing of it. I don’t think there should be sad songs about death.”
“I agree.”
Sighing a moment, she murmured then, “I wasn’t afraid, I just…didn’t like the sounds.”
Nodding, he reached and scooped her into his lap, settling her head on his shoulder.
“Perhaps you should choose something happy to think of when it storms, or something amusing. Can we not come up with something that sounds like thunder….Your Nanny…?”
“Ms. Henny.”
“There you go then, Ms. Henny’s snores.”
She chuckled. “One of the errand boys used to say the Gods were passing wind.”
“Amusing. But not one we can put it to song.”
Her small hand was rubbing his arm, playing with his cuff, “No. I suppose not.”
She yawned and murmured, “I have a favorite book, papa used to read it to me when I was very small. But he had to take his medicines and often…”
She was silent a moment then, “Do you suppose he is with Mama yet?”
“I’m sure you will be told when he is.”
“He says he will simply go to sleep.”
“Yes.” He found himself holding her a bit snugger, feeling her sadness like a weight added to her small frame. “His body is very weak and tired. It will not hurt nor trouble him whilst he sleeps.”
“Yes. That’s what I think of.” She sighed loud and long, her voice sounding sleepy. “Can I stay here with you, just till the storm passes.”
“Yes.” He turned and kissed her forehead. “Sleep. All is well.”
She slept, and later he carried her to her bed, sharing a look with the Nanny, who rose from her cot, startled.
