by Gayle Eden
Shaking, his face all sinew and tension, the Marquis shoved a hand through his hair and turned to look at the path.
Jahi approached, and soon reined in. Dismounting smoothly, he gathered the reins and walked toward Juliette, saying, “I asked his Grace for you hand. He denied me. No surprise.” His eyes did not turn to Wolford but he was obviously aware of him. His gaze focused on Juliette’s face. They both knew he did not miss the lave of her lips, nor the swollen look to them. However, his smile was soft, his touch too as he stroked her cheek.
“Thank you, Jahi.” Her eyes watered. Juliette summoned a smile for him. He was always kind to her, always easy to talk to and look at, with his beautifully sensual face.
His thumb stroked her chin, his gaze commanding hers. “I will be here, be around, for you, Juliette.”
“I know that.” She knew from their friendship, that innate, trust that he was genuine in everything he said to her.
He rolled his lips and visually skimmed her face again, his dark eyes full of emotions when he went on, “He told me—that he is giving you to Hillman. Will you understand—if I don’t attend the wedding?”
She covered his hand, held onto it. “I will.”
The horse pawed restlessly and shook its bridle. Birds squawked overhead. When Jahi stepped up, it was not to kiss her, but to embrace her, one-armed. His face brushed hers, cheeks caressing. He smelled warm, virile, a blend of manly scents, and his hair of something exotic.
His lips were near her ea. he said, “I can’t have you, but I can love you. Remember that, Juliette.”
Swallowing, she touched his gaze briefly before he turned and led his horse to the path, his eyes for seconds meeting Wolford’s, before he mounted and rode back toward the house.
Then, it was only Juliette and the Marquis again, staring at each other.
In those moments before they mounted and rode back, Juliette thought they communicated clearer than they ever had before, although not another word was spoken.
* * * *
Juliette’s idyllic respite in the country was not to last long because the duchess kept her occupied with lists for her trousseau and talk of the wedding itself. Juliette was nothing but glad that Sir Garris did not arrive to address her formally.
The duchess, a woman anyone could admire, was trying to advise her and help her prepare in every way. When they met in her Grace’s sitting room, the men out and about, she attended everything the woman said about running a household and getting on in society and being a wife. That it terrified her for so many reasons was beside the point. She knew the value of the woman’s counsel. It was beside the point that Juliette felt the world was shifting under her feet again—if it ever had been solid ground to start with.
Watching the duchess one day, having long since copied her graceful way of speaking and gesturing, Juliette thought that she had seen her in ballrooms, and seen her at home with her husband and son, and Mary had few flaws character wise. Moreover, as one got to know her, her ordinary looks became handsome, and her manner made her so. Nevertheless, if ever there was a woman who could carry on and appear unruffled, it was she. Thus far, nothing intimidated or shook Lady Mary.
Dressed today in a blue silk gown, her silvering hair up in combs, the duchess had gotten up from her dressing table and handed Juliette a box.
“These were given to me, when I wed.”
Juliette looked at the pieces. “Shouldn’t they go to M—ah, the Marquis wife?”
“There are pieces set aside for that.” The woman closed the lid. Sitting on a stood before Juliette a moment, she held it on her lap and reached for Juliette’s hand. “You can make a good life for yourself, Juliette, if you will but keep a positive outlook on things.”
“I shall try my best.”
Lady Mary searched her gaze. “I was fortunate that I loved Thad before he asked for me. I never thought to catch his notice; all the gels were much more beautiful and witty. I was a dull thing.” The woman smiled. “We were going to have a large family, but it wasn’t to be. I’m so glad we got to raise you.”
Juliette felt her eyes sting. “Thank you, for all that you have done for me.”
The duchess took her hand and rubbed it. “I never thought I quite reached you, Juliette. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t take you into my heart.’
“I know. I’ve been a—difficult—”
“No. Sometimes, I think you are simply more sensitive.”
“Perhaps so.” Juliette smiled. “I shall always be grateful to you and his Grace.”
“Thank you. And you must visit. Write to me when in London. Hillman’s estate lies about sixty miles from here, so you will have to come visit us.”
“I shall.”
After a bit, they got back to talking of duty. Then, Juliette was excused.
She put the jewels in her wardrobe and then changed into a cream summer dress with ivory ribbons. In the empire style, it had a panel of silk down the front and back center. Brushing her hair, which the duchess advised her to have cut with the hairdresser arrived in the morning, she coiled and pinned it up, then put on a casual summer hat.
Her feet in slippers, Juliette went down to the gardens—wondering then, how long Hillman would wait to come see the duke, and apply to her? In the duchess’s mind, it was all but sealed in stone. Garris was not unhandsome. He took care with his appearance and the cut of his trousers, vest, and coat, always excellent. His face was handsome and eyes a nice shade of blue green. He carried a walking stick usually and wore formal gloves. ….Covering her mouth with her hand, Juliette felt a wave of nausea and found a bench to sit on. Her stomach churned at the thought of being intimate with him—marrying him.
* * * *
Unbeknownst to Juliette, Wolford stood on the balcony off his sitting room and observed her actions. A breeze ruffled his lawn shirt and wavy hair while his grim eyes looked back to the meeting he’d had with his father, whilst she was with the duchess.
Thinking, assuming, he had come to discuss his departure to Wolford hall, making it his home on the off-season, his Grace had been relaxed and sitting behind his desk. Monty had walked to the French doors, having every reason for not wanting his father to read his face. He was thirty years old, soon thirty-one, and for two seasons his mother had put her hints out that, he should set his attentions on Lady Harrison—the eighteen-year-old daughter of a duke—one of impressive bloodlines, black hair, blue eyes, lithe, graceful. And, In London, at the club, his father often hinted he was expecting Monty to settle down and start a family, and Harrison’s name came up a dozen times.
He had proved and accomplished what he had wanted to outside the wealth and titles. Monty realized there was nothing more generous that his parents could have given him, than those years to pursue that other life. The weight of the future dukedom was still his alone. He knew that.
Feeling his father’s eyes on his profile, Monty murmured, “I beg of you, father, do not give Juliette to Hillman.”
“Monty.” There was shock and hardness in his Grace’s tone. He got up from his desk. “I thought we were through these tendencies of yours towards saving Juliette—”
“Hillman— is a dead bore, and twice her age.”
“Nonsense.” His father barked, standing to the side of him now. “He is steady a fellow as they come. Really, Montgomery, Juliette is no longer a little girl. She is perfectly in agreement to this—”
“She has no choice.”
“Juliette is grown. She has proved to be poised and well mannered—”
“Any more so, and she would be a corpse.”
“Monty!”
He looked at his father. “How can everyone be so bloody blind? Why is everyone so blind? That—that shell—who has graced London these past seasons, is that what you are so proud of?”
A muscle twitching in his jaw and eyes holding his son’s gaze, the duke uttered, “You go too far. I respect you as a grown man, a man of the world, but Juliette is and always has be
en my responsibility. Your mother and I have done well by her…”
Raking a hand through his hair, Monty responded tersely, “Forgive me—I didn’t mean disrespect.”
Eyes boring into him, the duke uttered, “This habit you have of interfering in Juliette’s life must cease, Monty. You are taking up your own household, preparing, we hope, to settle down and get an heir. Hillman is a suitable man for Juliette. She herself had no objection to the match.”
“Did you expect her to? Really father?” Monty stepped out those French doors and then turned to regard the duke. “You are her guardian, the Duke of Chadwick. She owes you respect and obedience and has no other—”
“—That is as it should be. And it is my responsibility to see her wed to a suitable man.”
“Not yet, father. I beg you.”
“Do not.” The duke said it dead and cold. His eyes moved over Monty’s face then met again. “I think it is well you will be going to Wolford Hall. You are past the age where I can interfere in your life, but in this, I am adamant, you will not have contact with Juliette again.”
Monty sucked in a breath, and then arched his brow. “Why are you so dead set on this now? She is but nineteen.”
“Damn it, Monty.” the duke snapped. “I have given into your request three years ago, and admit that it wise to give her that second chance, but perhaps you are the one who is blind? There aren’t exactly hordes of men beating down my door to pay court to her.”
“As she is…No, I would hope not.”
“You should not think of it, one way or another,” the duke intoned. “You have been the brother and friend, you once suggested to me you saw yourself as. We’ve all done our duty.”
“She doesn’t want him. She is not ready to—”
“She will.”
Monty stepped closer, his height equal to his fathers but being a man in his prime obviously. “Give her to me.”
The duke’s lips parted. “Have you gone mad?”
“Give her guardianship to me.”
Thaddeus shook his head no, his eyes now holding something else as he looked at his son. “I think you need to remove to Wolford as soon as possible, Montgomery. Juliette’s marriage is inevitable, no matter whom—I—approve. You have your own future and life to take responsibility for.”
“I am aware of my responsibility; else I would not have returned to prepare for it. I have been preparing. I have made a dozen trips to Wolford and my other estates. It has nothing to do with this, father. Juliette should not be made to wed Sir Garris Hillman.”
“It has everything to do with it.” Thaddeus raised his voice, walking back into the study.
His son followed.
The duke poured a drink and drained it, then turned to regard him. “You constantly entangle yourself in the concerns that aren’t yours. Juliette is my ward. Your mother and I will do what we think is best for her.”
“I entangle myself because no one else bloody cares!” Wolford raised his own voice. “I do, because she deserves to be happy, to have some choice, to not feel like some—bloody obligation!”
“I have given her every affection, as has your mother!”
“Doubtless. But you do not know the real her.”
“And you should not care!”
Monty stared at his father. The atmosphere in the room made him sick. He had never in his life argued with a man he greatly respected. He felt something weighed his stomach, even as he said, “Either give her guardianship to me legally, or I will marry her myself.”
As if struck, Thaddeus stepped back; he stared at his son as if he did not know him. As a last gasp hope he said, “I would not condone the match. I will not.’
“Then give her guardianship to me.”
“Monty.” The duke appeared as if in a daze. “What can you do with her? She is a grown woman. If her life and happiness is truly your concern, then you cannot possibly consider what you are asking. The scandal would cast a bad light on your own ambitions—”
“Then don’t—give her to him.”
Looking up and then turning, pouring another drink, the duke got it half way to his lips then lowered it, staring at the table and decanters.
Monty rasped, “Give me her guardianship, and I promise you that I will wed, bed, and get your heir upon whatever Lady mother chooses. You have my word on that—and—on this—either you have her packed, find that Nanny she used to have, to serve as companion, and ready to leave for Wolford hall. Or, she will be a Marchioness, if I have to drag her north to do it.”
Here he stood now, Monty’s eyes watching her gather herself and walk around, before one of the servants came out to fetch her. Deducing it was a summons to his father’s study; Monty walked back in and took his own time heading for the study. There was no sanity to his ultimatum to his father and Wolford felt the weight of the wounding he had delivered to a man that did not deserve it.
The duke was doing his duty. Wolford was crossing every line.
* * * *
“What have you done?” Juliette whirled round towards the door as soon as Wolford walked through, her expression distraught.
He saw his mother sitting stiffly at the side, Ms. Henny by the window, hands folded in her lap, face turned toward the lawns. The duke sat at his desk.
“Saved you,” he answered flatly.
“No.” She shook her head. “I will not be your—ward.”
Monty spared a glance at his father, seeing the man’s eyes close in dread.
He however looked at Juliette’s flushed face. “You will be packed and ready to leave for Wolford Hall in the morning. Ms. Henny will serve as your companion.”
“No.”
“Do you want Garris Hillman in your bed every night?”
“Monty!” The duchess half stood.
“Yes!”
“Liar!” he snarled at Juliette. “You no more want Hillman than you wanted to suffer those seasons in silence.”
“If I did, suffer them, then when I am wed I can live my own life!”
“You shan’t. Because you live it as a sham, Juliette. You—”
She walked toward him, glaring up at him. “Shut up! Shut up! You will not do this, my Lord. You will not.”
“I will.” He grit. “I’ll do it, because you haven’t the bloody nerve to stand and tell the truth! You would rather throw yourself to some man twice your age than admit you are—”
She slapped him—hard. The ring of it covered the gasps of those who witnessed it. The duchess was fully on her feet, as was Ms. Henny, both with a hand on their mouths, the duke, was gripping the edge of the desk.
However, all Monty said despite the sting and burn of it, the shape of it on his bronze skin, was a soft, “There… that is the truth, Juliette.”
Her eyes dripping tears, Juliette had stepped back, her throat working and breath dragging into her lungs. “I hate you,” her tone was just as soft.
Monty arched his brow, but looked past her to his father.
The duke sighed and then sat heavily down.
The Marquis glanced at his mother next. “Forgive me, Madam.” he bowed, turning on his heel and leaving.
The duke cleared the room—of everyone but Juliette.
She sat in a chair, hands clasped tightly—trembling from what had just occurred.
Thaddeus stood near her with his hips against the desk, eyes on her slightly bowed head and his arms folded.
“I—I want to apologize, Your Grace. You and Lady Mary have been nothing but kind… good to me. You have been more so—than my own father was.”
He was silent for a tic of the clock, then said in his deep smooth tones, “If that is so, then I would have you attend what I about to say, Juliette.”
She lifted her chin.
The duke searched her eyes before telling her quietly, “My son, is my very life. And that of his mother, too. He is my only heir. Do you know what that means?”
“Yes, Your Grace—I didn—”
He he
ld up his fingers to delay her. “Although Monty has proved himself, and accomplished things of his own merit, and has earned respect for the work he’s done, he was born with an obligation. It is because that can be a burden and a blessing, that I let him leave me for eight years.”
“I know that, Your Grace.” She wet her lips.
Brown eyes so like the Marquis’s accessed her response. The duke nodded before adding, “I do not profess to understand this—bond—you have always had with him. but where I once thought it a good thing, honorable of him, to plead on your behalf for that time to let you mature—I cannot ignore, given what has happened today, the risk it poses to Monty’s own responsibilities and future.”
“I will marry—”
“No, my dear. We are past that.” The duke straightened and walked over to the open garden doors. “But if you would honor whatever kindness and respect his mother and I have earned, I beg you to relieve him of this responsibility he feels towards you.”
She looked at him and he turned his head to meet it, saying, “It is our wish that Monty settle down and begets heirs. We have found Lady Harrison to be the perfect match for him. Her bloodlines, her breeding, make her the most suitable. He has agreed to pursue that association.”
“I don’t see what I—”
“I do, Juliette.” The duke drew air in his lungs and let it out slowly. “At last, I do. In addition, what I ask of you, I ask because were not for his concern for your happiness, Monty would have already done his duty. It is a great responsibly; the titles come with lands, tenants, a long history of well-made matches and much wealth. A cold way of putting it perhaps, but if you consider what you have observed between myself and Lady Mary, you will see that there can be true happiness and contentment even in those marriages formed for other reasons. “
“Yes, Your Grace.”
He turned fully and stared at her, his gaze almost pleading, “Sever this bond, Juliette. You are grown and mature enough to know that there are few options for you, no matter whose roof you live under. In truth, Hillman would have been a perfect catch, for he would not have been a severe husband, and was known for his mild temperament. Find your way, my dear, so that Monty may find his.”
