by Brenda Joyce
She knew he was thinking about finding her at his desk that morning. He suddenly put his snifter down and approached. She tensed as he reached for her, pulling her close. He said, very softly, his breath feathering her cheek, “Do you want to tell me anything else, Julianne?”
She looked up at him fearfully, thinking about Tom and Marcel, and Nadine’s letters.
“I want to trust you,” he murmured. He lifted her chin with his forefinger. “You are sharing my bed.”
With the distress and fear, there was so much desire. “We made love last night,” she said softly. “As we made love in Cornwall.”
He waited.
“We made love this morning,” she said helplessly. She wanted to confess the extent of her feelings to him. “You rescued me from the Tower, when I was in dark despair.”
“So you are making love to me because you now owe me.”
“No. I am making love to you because I care about you.”
“About me—or Charles Maurice?”
She felt herself flush. “I care about you, Dominic.”
He stared intently. “You have never before admitted that you care for me.”
“You know that you are my first lover. I couldn’t have made love if I didn’t care.”
“But that was then—when I was a revolutionary. I am a Tory now. How can you care for a conservative like me?” His stare was unwavering now. It was hard. It was demanding.
“Do you think that I am playing with your affections?” she cried.
“I want to believe you. What were you doing at my secrétaire this morning?”
She stiffened. “I meant to write Tom.” She wet her lips, feeling desperate. “I read your letter to Burke, Dom, and I am sorry!” Her heart thundered now as he considered her. “I despise him! When I saw his name on the envelope, I could not help myself.”
“I appreciate the confession.”
“It was such a surprise, to find that our views aren’t completely incompatible, and to realize you aren’t a reactionary, after all.”
He studied her for a long moment. “No, our views are not entirely incompatible.”
She touched his arm. “There is more. Please don’t be angry…I pried into your privy affairs. I also read one of Nadine’s letters.”
His expression did not change. “I see. Weren’t those letters tied together in a ribbon, and secluded inside a drawer?”
“Yes. But I was not spying—I was looking for a quill.”
“I genuinely want to believe you, Julianne. I was not pleased to find you at my desk.”
“It will never happen again!”
He seemed to want to smile, but he did not; he touched her cheek, fleetingly. And he was very grave. “There is something I have to tell you. It is about Nadine.”
She froze. Dread arose, instantly. Hadn’t she known it would come to this? “She isn’t dead, is she?”
“No, she is not.”
His fiancée was alive.
And the knowledge felt like another impossible betrayal, stabbing through her heart. She sagged against him. “That was another lie?” She was desperately trying to understand—she could not withstand another lie.
“No. It was not a deception on my part.” He was firm. He slid his hands over her back. “Everyone thought that she had died in a riot in France in 1791. I thought she had died in that riot, because I went to France to look for her and I never found her. Witnesses saw her vanish in the mob. My mother believed she had been trampled to death. Until I returned to London last week, I genuinely believed that she was dead.”
His fiancée was alive. Nadine was alive. Nadine, who loved him. How could this be happening? How could she be standing in Dominic’s arms while Nadine was alive?
But even as her thoughts raced wildly, she heard his every word and she was horrified for the other woman. “Thank God she did not die—and not that way.”
“That is generous of you.”
“Do you love her?” she cried.
He pulled her even closer. “Not the way that you are thinking. I love her as a sister.”
She could barely breathe. And tears were rising, but they were tears of relief. “Are you certain?”
“I am very certain.” He took her face in both hands but he did not kiss her. “We are ending our engagement.”
Julianne stared, shocked all over again.
“I am very fond of her. I have known her for most of my life. She is as affectionate of me as I am of her. I will always care for her and look out for her. But we have both changed and neither one of us has any interest in marriage now. She is in agreement with me.”
Her mind whirled.
“I told her about you.”
Her shock was complete. “You did what?”
“What kind of man would I be if I took you to bed while engaged to her? I owed her a part of the truth. I would never tell her the extent of our relationship, but I warn you, she is astute, and she has assumed you are my mistress. I did not confirm it, obviously.”
She remained stunned. “I cannot quite believe you told her about me.”
“It was important for me to do so, because you have become important to me.”
Julianne gasped, still reeling, and finally he kissed her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JULIANNE SLOWLY WENT downstairs. It was close to noon the next day, and she was just leaving her room. Although Dominic had made love to her last night, she hadn’t been able to sleep afterward. All she could think about was Tom being incarcerated in Edinburgh, Warlock’s terrible proposition and the stunning news that Nadine was alive. And now, she was beginning to worry about having told Tom the truth about Dominic. She feared Dom’s ever learning of what she had done.
Hope warred with fear. Dominic cared about her. It was obvious. He had ended his engagement, and he had told Nadine about her. It was also obvious with his every touch and caress. But caring about her and loving her were two different things. Was there any chance that their relationship might progress and become legitimate? Julianne wanted far more than being a mere mistress. But yearning to be courted—yearning to become his wife—was indeed dangerous. She understood the odds and the etiquette—as Lucas had said, she was too far beneath him on the social scale for him to ever consider marriage to her. On the other hand, Bedford could do whatever he wished.
She knew she had to be patient. Only time would tell where her journey with Dominic would end. But Tom did not have time on his side. He was going to be charged with treason, and once that happened, he would be on his way to a trial. She knew she would never be able to obtain a royal pardon for him. Therefore, she had to find someone to help her get him released now, before he was ever charged—either that, or she must play Warlock’s game. She did not know if Lucas was back in town, but she prayed he was. She was on her way to see him to plead for his help.
As she approached the ground floor, she heard voices coming from a nearby salon. She faltered, glancing down the winding staircase, certain that one of the voices belonged to the Dowager Countess. She had no wish to engage Catherine now. Julianne decided to retreat rather than make a mad dash for the front door. But before she could turn and go back upstairs, Catherine appeared in the doorway of an adjacent salon.
“Someone is here to see you, Miss Greystone.”
Julianne tensed. The Dowager Countess’s smile was as cold as ever. She thought of her uncle, and feared that he would be her visitor. But then a dark-haired woman appeared by Catherine’s side.
And Julianne knew who she was. She felt her heart drop with sheer dismay. The young woman was strikingly beautiful and exquisitely dressed. She was so obviously an aristocrat, so elegant and genteel—so clearly everything that Julianne was not. Somehow Julianne knew she had come face-to-face with Nadine.
The other woman seemed perfect for Dominic. Why had he ended things with her?
Julianne realized they were staring at one another. She forced a smile. It felt miserable.
�
�Do come forward, Miss Greystone.” Lady Paget smiled. “Have you meet Lady D’Archand, my son’s fiancée?”
Julianne glanced at Lady Paget. Dominic hadn’t told his mother about his engagement. And while she wanted to reassure herself that he would soon do so, she wasn’t comforted. Nadine was too elegant, too wealthy and too beautiful. She was exactly the kind of woman Dominic should be with. And suddenly Julianne lost all confidence—how could she compete with her for Dominic’s affections? Why had he decided that he would not marry her? What if he changed his mind? Dominic had said he would always care for Nadine!
And how could she make this woman’s acquaintance, when Nadine had been his fiancée, and Julianne was now warming his bed?
“Hello, Miss Greystone. Dominic has told me about you.” Nadine came forward, extending her hand. Her smile was small and tight, but her tone was polite.
And that made Julianne feel ever worse. She realized she wasn’t breathing. What, exactly, had Dominic said about her? “I am very pleased to meet you, Lady D’Archand.” She didn’t know how she got the words out. All she wanted to do was end the encounter before it ever began.
“I have been eager to meet you. I understand you nursed Dominic back to health in Cornwall. I am very grateful.”
Nadine’s stare was searching, as if she wished to know all of her secrets. Julianne felt like an adulteress, except she was no such thing. Hadn’t both she and Dom believed Nadine to be dead when they had become lovers? Yet she did not wish the other woman ill, not even now!
Nadine continued, “We have been friends since we learned how to walk. As children, we rode our ponies together, took our luncheons together and explored together. Before the war, there were so many teas and soirées. There were wonderful, fairy-tale balls.” She smiled, but her gaze remained direct. “I would do anything for him and he would do anything for me. I couldn’t bear to live in a world without him, so thank you for saving his life.”
She meant her every word, Julianne thought. And she had very adeptly made her point. She and Dominic had everything in common, while all she had was his current attentions.
For hadn’t Dominic said that Nadine had assumed they were lovers? She prayed she was not recalling his words correctly. “He was very ill, and I would have taken care of anyone in such a state.”
“You are kind and compassionate,” she said. “I understand he was in your care for an entire month.”
What tack was this? Julianne wondered uncomfortably. “I could hardly turn my back on him. I would do the same for anyone.”
Nadine studied her. “A month is a long time to spend together in a place like Cornwall. And now you are in London, and you are his houseguest.”
She was certain that she flushed. Had Nadine emphasized that last word? “I suppose that we have become friends, due to the ordeal we shared.”
Nadine stared for a moment. “And which ordeal is that?” she asked softly. “The ordeal of his almost dying while at your home, or the ordeal of your being imprisoned in the Tower as a political prisoner?”
Julianne started. “He told you that?”
“No, he did not,” Nadine said, as softly. Her gaze was unwavering upon Julianne.
“I told her,” Catherine said sharply. “Nadine is the daughter I have never had. I have told her everything, Miss Greystone.”
Julianne was certain Lady Paget had told Nadine that she and Dominic were lovers, as well. Nadine might suspect the truth, but Lady Paget had only to ask a servant where Julianne had slept. How she wanted to flee!
“You must be very grateful to Dominic. I cannot imagine being incarcerated anywhere, much less in the Tower of London,” Nadine said tersely. “No one should have to suffer like that, Miss Greystone, and certainly not a woman. But you seem to have recovered.”
The last thing Julianne wished to discuss with Nadine was her confinement—or being a guest in Dominic’s home. But Nadine was being very generous. “I will always be grateful.” It was time to make a quick exit, she decided. “I am running late,” she began, but Nadine cut her off.
“And Dominic must be very fond of you, in return.”
What could she say? She felt frozen. “We have become friends.”
“Yes, of course you have. I can see how you and Dominic would have become close, while he was convalescing. Dominic can be utterly charming and very persuasive when he wishes to be. He is also very handsome. I can see how you would have become close, even though you are a Jacobin and he was merely pretending to be a republican. But the two of you are no longer nurse and invalid. You are no longer in the isolation of Cornwall. You remain a Jacobin, and he is hardly an officer in the French army. Yet you are in London—and his guest here at Bedford House.”
She stared at Nadine, who stared back at her. “Yes,” Julianne finally said, “I have Jacobin sympathies and he has invited me to stay here anyway, because of our friendship.”
There was a pause. It was as if Nadine struggled to maintain her dignity. “How can a Jacobin and a Tory be friends, in a time of war?” Nadine asked with undue calm. “It seems an impossible feat.”
“We have agreed to put our political differences aside,” Julianne said tersely.
“How is that possible? I know Dominic well. His life is under siege—by your allies. France is in the midst of a civil war and you are on the side of his enemies.” Her tone rose slightly.
Julianne did not know how to respond. “I am sympathetic to the revolution, but I am sorry for your losses and I do not condone chaos and anarchy, or the dispossession of an entire class of society.”
“Has he ever told you about his life in France? Has he ever told you about the many relations he has there? He has a dozen cousins in the Loire Valley, Miss Greystone, most of them married with children! Has he told you what it is like at Christmas? With holly in the halls, and pine in the air, when we share our Christmas dinner with our cousins and our neighbors? When we cannot even seat everyone in three entire rooms! Or has he mentioned how we harvest the grapes in the fall? Did you know that he actually rolls up his sleeves and takes off his shoes and stockings, and picks the grapes with the peasants and children? And that he loves doing so?” Her eyes were moist now. “We played hide-and-seek as children in his vineyards, Miss Greystone, with my sisters and his cousins.”
She was making her point yet again, Julianne thought in sheer dismay. Dominic was half French, she was a Frenchwoman, and they had everything in common, including a long, intimate past.
“You are as beautiful as I suspected you would be,” Nadine said, a tear sliding down her cheek.
Julianne felt terrible, and she wanted to escape. “He hasn’t told me any of those things,” she managed hoarsely.
Nadine struggled for composure. She finally smiled. “No, he hasn’t—because he cannot talk about his life with you, not really.” She inhaled. Another tear slid free. “How long will you stay in town, Miss Greystone?”
She hesitated, attempting to find her own composure, admiring the other woman in spite of herself. “I don’t know.”
“I would like to get to know you better.” She managed another smile. “Dominic has made you his guest, so we must become acquainted. You must call on me. I am around the block. And then there is Cornwall. You do know that we are neighbors.”
Julianne started, with dread. “No, I knew no such thing.”
Nadine nodded grimly. “Yes, we have relocated to a manor not far from the village of St. Just. My father felt that the solitude of Cornwall would be a safe haven for us. Apparently we are a short carriage ride from one another.”
Nadine’s family had to be the branch of the family she had been asked to locate. Nadine’s father was in trouble—he was being hunted by the Jacobins. Julianne was stricken.
“You seem surprised—no, distraught.”
“I am happy to have new neighbors.” She managed a smile, her mind spinning. She would tell Dominic immediately.
“Or perhaps I will call.” Nadine seemed
thoughtful. “If you do not mind?”
Julianne could think of nothing worse, but she somehow smiled. “That would be lovely.” Clearly, Nadine meant to pry into her relationship with Dominic. Julianne wished she could defend herself and explain that she loved Dominic—that she had thought Nadine dead—but of course, she would never offer up any such defense. Somehow she said, “I am glad we had a chance to meet. But I am sorry, I must go. I am meeting my brother, Lucas, and I am very late.”
“Mr. Greystone is in town?” Nadine asked with some surprise.
Julianne started. “Yes, he is. Do you know him?”
“I know him,” Nadine said. “But not well. However, he and Jack Greystone saved my life on a beach not far from Brest.”
Julianne stared, stunned. “Lucas and Jack helped you flee France?”
“Yes.”
Julianne’s mind was racing. Lucas had brought Dominic from France on Jack’s sloop; he had done the same for Nadine. Was Jack also involved in the war, or was he just a smuggler as he and Lucas claimed?
Julianne realized that they were staring at one another, and she wondered what Nadine was thinking. “I am glad you got out of the country safely,” she finally said.
“You sound as if you mean it,” Nadine returned slowly.
“I do mean it.”
Nadine’s stare was piercing. “You are not, precisely, what I was expecting,” she finally said. “Have you fallen in love with him?”
Julianne stiffened.
“I asked him the same question. He also refused to answer.”
Julianne felt ill. Why hadn’t Dominic answered?
“As impolitic as it is, I must be forthright now.” Nadine’s gaze had sharpened. “You are either smitten, or you are using him, Miss Greystone. I cannot decide which is the case.”
Julianne paled. She refused to look at Lady Paget now. “I would not betray Dominic.”
“I hope not,” Nadine said.
JULIANNE POUNDED on the door of Warlock’s Cavendish Square house, praying Lucas had returned to town. She was expecting a servant to open the door, and was stunned when Jack did so.
