Unraveled By The Rebel

by Michelle Willingham

  Her aunt exchanged another look with her husband. “There’s more, Juliette. Not only about Dr. Fraser.”

  She waited, and from the tight expression on their faces, she knew the news could not be good.

  “I’ve received a letter from Beatrice. It seems that the Earl of Strathland is in London. I don’t know how long he’s been here, but I thought you should know.”

  She felt as if she’d taken an invisible blow to her stomach. No, he couldn’t come here. London was her sanctuary, her escape from him. Her hands twisted in her skirts, and a ringing noise resounded in her ears. “Keep him away from me, Aunt.”

  “I will send word to all of my friends not to receive him or invite him to any of their gatherings. He will not be welcome.”

  Charlotte reached out and squeezed her hands. “At a moment like this, I wish you were already married, my dear. For I fear he’ll only pursue that which he cannot have.”

  Juliette straightened in her chair, knowing her aunt was right. “Are my parents still planning to stay in Scotland?”

  Charlotte nodded. “Your sister Victoria has decided to remain there, until the child is born. Beatrice will want to be with her.” The look of sympathy that crossed her aunt’s expression suggested that she, too, was remembering Juliette’s painful labor.

  Silence descended as Juliette tried to determine what to do. Avoiding the earl was the best course of action, until Strathland returned to Scotland. Surely she could manage to remain invisible for a short time.

  But in the meantime, Dr. Fraser needed to know about the earl’s arrival. If she attended any gatherings at all, she wanted Paul shadowing her at every moment.

  For she trusted him to keep her safe.

  Four days later

  Amelia took Juliette’s arm as they stopped by a confectioner’s shop. Her sister had a bright smile on her face, but although they stood and admired the rows of frosted cakes and sugared fruits, Juliette knew Amelia had another topic she wanted to discuss.

  “I saw Dr. Fraser at the assembly last night,” she began. “He was looking for you.”

  “Was he?” Although Juliette had obeyed her aunt’s suggestion to avoid invitations until they knew for certain where Strathland was, she was startled to hear about Paul. “Did he dance with anyone?” She wanted to take back the words as soon as she said them. It made her sound possessive.

  “Of course. You might have decided to be a spinster, but he has been invited to most of the parties this Season.” Amelia changed voices, mimicking: “Why, Amelia, Mr. Fraser is so divinely handsome. And his voice! Just a hint of a Scottish accent. I could listen to him speak all night.” Her sister rolled her eyes. “If they only knew the truth…”

  Amelia went on to describe what Paul had worn and prattled on about the young ladies he’d danced with. A strange flare of jealousy caught Juliette’s heart at the thought. Though she knew Paul was devoted to her, she didn’t like the thought of young women throwing themselves at him. She wouldn’t put it past them to try and compromise him, if they believed he was truly a viscount’s heir.

  “Why has no one discovered the truth about Dr. Fraser?” Juliette wondered aloud. “Surely someone would have exposed him by now.”

  “No one has questioned it at all,” her sister admitted. “Either he’s a very convincing liar… or could it be true? He did have an uncle in Edinburgh.” Amelia frowned, as if considering it.

  “It’s not true. Paul was the son of a crofter, and his mother was the midwife. He hasn’t a drop of blue blood in him.”

  “But I remember hearing stories about his father. Kenneth Fraser hadn’t spoken to his family in years, according to Bridget. And Fraser isn’t a name from the local clans—they’re MacKinlochs.”

  Juliette smiled. “Always poking your nose into other people’s gossip, aren’t you, Amelia?”

  “Well, how else am I to learn anything interesting? No one tells me anything.”

  Juliette shook her head in amusement. “It isn’t true. If Paul were truly a viscount, he wouldn’t have been living like that, in such a small house with his mother.”

  “Unless he didn’t know about it,” Amelia ventured. “I, for one, prefer to believe it. Can’t you imagine it? The poor crofter’s son turns out to be a nobleman in disguise? It would be like one of those fairy stories Mrs. Larson used to read to us.” Her sister beamed and let out a dramatic sigh.

  “This one isn’t true,” Juliette insisted. “And the longer Dr. Fraser continues the ruse, the more likely it is that he’ll be thrown out.” She had hoped he would stop attending the gatherings, particularly when she was remaining at home. After she’d sent him a note warning him about Strathland’s impending arrival, he’d refused to hide away. Instead, he’d responded: I’ll face him when he arrives.

  She didn’t like the thought of an open confrontation between the two men. She’d pleaded with him to let it go, and yet she suspected Paul was more likely to cause trouble.

  They continued walking toward Madame Benedict’s shop, and Juliette glanced behind to ensure that their footman was shadowing them. When they arrived, the shop was crowded with people, making it impossible to enter at first.

  “There are too many orders for Aphrodite’s Unmentionables,” Juliette remarked beneath her breath. “I’ve sent them to Victoria, and Mr. Sinclair has brought back those that could be made. But the demand is too great. We’ll have to raise the price again.”

  “Or we could hire more people,” Amelia suggested. “There are many seamstresses in London.”

  It was possible, but not practical. Juliette shook her head. “It would be too easy for someone to trace the source. And whether or not you like the secrecy, it’s necessary to protect Victoria.”

  “She hasn’t made any new designs, has she?” Amelia stood on tiptoe to eye the women standing inside the shop.

  “No. She wanted to rest during the summer.” Her face softened at the thought of her sister’s advancing pregnancy. Though the child would not arrive until the autumn, she prayed that all would be well with the pair of them. A sliver of fear broke through her mood when she imagined her sister’s labor, but she pressed it back.

  “I don’t see why she couldn’t draw whilst lying in bed,” Amelia said. “But even so, I’m glad for the profits. And I do like visiting Madame Benedict’s.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Convincing the other women to buy our unmentionables is marvelous.”

  Her sister had the instincts of a gypsy trader, and the modiste delighted in their visits. As a result, Amelia had a new wardrobe that rivaled a countess’s.

  “We should return when it’s less crowded,” Juliette suggested. She was about to lead her sister farther down Bond Street when a familiar voice called out from behind them.

  “Miss Andrews.”

  She and Amelia turned at the same time. As soon as Juliette saw the Earl of Strathland’s face, her stomach twisted with nausea. She said not a word, the anger filling her from deep within. She’d hoped to never see him again. Not only for what he’d done to her, but also for all the threats toward her family.

  Her hand tightened upon Amelia’s hand, and she remained silent. To her annoyance, her sister answered the greeting, “Hello, Lord Strathland.”

  The earl smiled at them, and Juliette took a step closer to the footman. “We should go,” she murmured to her sister. The last thing she wanted was to spend any time in his company.

  “I hope your family is well,” Lord Strathland said. “I understand they have rebuilt your home at Ballaloch.”

  Juliette forced herself to acknowledge the man, though she didn’t want to. “Yes.” She couldn’t believe he had the gall to say anything to them, after all that he’d done.

  She glanced back at Amelia, willing her to remain silent. Unfortunately, her sister was oblivious to the unspoken message. “You’ve journeyed quite a distance, Lord Strathland. How long are you intending to stay in London?”

  The earl stared at Juliette. “That al
l depends. I came here on business affairs, but I intend to seek a bride while I’m here.” His gaze lingered upon Juliette, who met his eyes with fury.

  Never. She’d die before spending time in the same room with this man. The amusement in his expression only enraged her further. Did he honestly believe she would ever consider him for a husband? His arrogance had no bounds.

  “I wish you good fortune, then,” Amelia said. “Forgive me, but we must go now.”

  “I shall pay a call upon you later, then.” He tipped his hat, bowing slightly.

  Don’t bother, Juliette wanted to reply, but didn’t. What did he mean, he intended to seek a bride? The horror of it swept over her, but then, he knew how much she loathed him. Why he would not seek another woman’s attentions was beyond her.

  Amelia took her by the hand and forced her to enter Madame Benedict’s shop, despite the crowd of women. The footman remained outside.

  “Why would you speak to that man?” Juliette demanded of Amelia. “Have you forgotten what he did to Victoria? Or the fire?” Her lungs tightened with fear.

  “Sometimes you get more information when you pretend to be an empty-headed fool,” Amelia said seriously. “I wanted to know his intentions. And we wouldn’t have known why he was here unless we asked.”

  “I don’t care what his intentions are.” Juliette took several deep breaths to calm her rebellious stomach. “We will not receive any calls from the earl. He is far too dangerous, and he would not hesitate to take advantage of either of us.”

  “But what if—”

  “I know the kind of man he is, Amelia,” Juliette cut her off. “And believe me when I say he is not to be trusted.” She rubbed at her arms, feeling the cool spring air as if it had spiraled beneath her skin.

  The knowing look in his eyes terrified her the most. Though she would never understand why he wanted her, he delighted in her discomfort. For he knew too many of her secrets, and that gave him a hidden threat. Her own parents didn’t know the shame she’d suffered, and if the earl revealed what he’d done, they might try to force her into a marriage she didn’t want—even if it wasn’t to Lord Strathland.

  She didn’t doubt that the earl would revel in his power, knowing that he had a means of manipulating her into doing his will. It didn’t matter what stories he told about her, for she didn’t care about her own reputation. But she had to protect her sisters. Gossip whispered about her could affect them.

  Worse, if she remained in hiding, others might believe what he said about her.

  Her sister reached out and took her hand. “It will be all right, Juliette. There’s no reason to be afraid of him.”

  Oh, but there was. She reached out to Amelia and squeezed her hand, as if to reassure her. It wasn’t only about protecting her sisters.

  She had to protect her son.

  Ever since he’d learned that Strathland was in London, Paul had kept a tight watch over Juliette. Today, it had taken every ounce of his control not to move in and murder Strathland in plain sight. As soon as he’d seen the earl approaching the young women, he’d hidden himself close by during the conversation.

  Although Juliette and Amelia had escaped into the modiste’s shop afterward, Paul waited until he was certain Strathland was gone. He received more than his share of odd looks as he stood outside, but he would not leave until the sisters were safely home again.

  Juliette was pale when she emerged from the shop with Amelia. From the sickly look on her face, Paul’s suspicions sharpened. He had reasons of his own to want vengeance against Strathland—but Juliette’s reaction went beyond terror.

  A haze of dark rage flowed through him. Though Cain had not revealed the man who had violated Juliette, it was entirely possible that Strathland was responsible. And if it was him, murder was too good for the man.

  Paul stepped forward. “Are you all right, lass?” he asked Juliette.

  She tried to nod, but he didn’t believe it at all. To the footman, he ordered, “Hire a carriage for all of us.” He wasn’t about to let them go home without his protection.

  The servant obeyed, and Paul stood at Juliette’s side, lending his own support. “I’ll be fine, Dr. Fraser,” she said. “You needn’t go to such trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble at all,” he insisted. “And I would feel better if I escorted you back.”

  “I think it’s an excellent idea,” her sister agreed, sending him a knowing look.

  Paul decided he liked Amelia Andrews a great deal. If nothing else, she was quite good at matchmaking. He sent a questioning look toward Juliette, and at last, she nodded. “Very well.”

  “Good. That’s settled.” When the carriage arrived, Paul helped the women inside and rode beside the driver while the footman returned home on foot. As they traveled, he searched the streets for a glimpse of Strathland. He didn’t know how the man had found Juliette, but possibly he’d ordered a servant to watch the house. It could not be a coincidence that he’d happened upon the sisters when they were out shopping.

  His mind twisted with uneasiness. If Strathland had gone to such an effort to find Juliette, there had to be a reason. And he didn’t like to think of what that reason was.

  The drive home was short, and after Paul paid the driver, he helped the ladies disembark. Juliette sent her sister inside, remaining outside. “Thank you for seeing us home.”

  He restrained himself from taking her hand in public, though he wanted to. “Will you be at Lady Rumford’s gathering?”

  Juliette hesitated. “I was planning to stay at home, to avoid the earl.”

  “And why is that?” Paul asked, watching her face closely.

  Juliette turned her gaze downward, admitting, “He’s always made me uncomfortable. And with the fire and Victoria’s kidnapping… I want nothing to do with Lord Strathland.”

  It was a reasonable answer, but he studied her, wondering if there was more she hadn’t said.

  “And what about me?” he murmured, stepping closer. “Do you want naught more to do with me after what happened the other night?”

  Her face flushed with color. “I—I don’t know, Dr. Fraser.”

  The night they’d spent at the cèilidh was burned into his memory. He wanted so much more from her, but he sensed the invisible stone walls rising up around her feelings. Damn it all, he was growing impatient. He wanted to marry her, to lie beside her at night and hold her close. But if he pushed her now, it was likely she’d retreat again.

  “I hope to see you at Lady Rumford’s,” he said by way of farewell, bowing as he departed. He thought about hiring a hackney but instead decided to walk. He needed to clear his head and decide what to do about Lord Strathland.

  There was one clear reason for the earl’s journey to London. The wool buyers had decreased their purchases, and Strathland would want to know why. No doubt he would try to sway them to his own purposes and convince them to reconsider. Between Paul’s efforts and the Duke of Worthingstone’s influence, the earl wouldn’t get far.

  Then, too, there was the question of Juliette and why Strathland had made her so uncomfortable. From the look of undisguised interest on the man’s face, he intended to pursue her. Paul wasn’t about to stand aside and let that happen. Juliette had endured enough without having to face a man like the earl.

  His impatience stretched tighter, along with the need to protect her. If he could convince Juliette to elope with him, they could both return to Scotland and start anew. One day, it might be the life she was accustomed to, once he inherited his uncle’s title and estates.

  But that wouldn’t happen any time soon. Although Uncle Donald had provided him with the wardrobe of a viscount and money to spend, Paul still hadn’t touched any of it. It seemed wrong to take money from a family that had abandoned his father, all because Kenneth had wanted to wed a woman of a lower station. Now he was in the same straits as his mother, wanting to wed someone who was far above him.

  He loathed every moment of living here in London.
He didn’t belong in the city, and he couldn’t understand why Juliette wanted to stay here. The very air was tainted with soot, not at all like his beloved Highlands. He ached for the sight of the mountains and the clear lochs.

  Paul stopped in front of the tiny flat he’d rented in London, having abandoned the town house a month ago. He paused in front of the door, wondering what he was doing. His friend Cain had advised him to behave like the viscount he would become one day. He’d worn the clothing, spoken openly about his inheritance, and attended events a physician had no right to attend.

  They believed him. It amazed him that anyone would, considering he’d only learned how to behave this way in the past five years. Every moment of every day, the web tightened, making him question who he was now—a physician? A future viscount? Or a crofter’s son, still trying to build a different life?

  And for what? A glimpse of the woman he’d loved? Protecting her in silence, while she made up her mind whether she was willing to risk a marriage?

  No. This was no life for any man. Although he’d tried to be patient, he was now behaving like a besotted young fool. He’d given her more than enough time, and he planned to return to Scotland—with or without Juliette. He wanted an answer now.

  Even if it was the wrong one.

  Paul unlocked the door and went inside the cold, dark space. He built a fire in the hearth and stoked the coals. As he warmed his hands, a plan took shape within his mind.

  It was too late to pay a formal call upon Juliette now, but he could still see her. He knew her habits, and he knew where her room was located within her aunt’s house. It would not be difficult to infiltrate the premises… especially with the help of a meddling younger sister.

  Tonight, he decided. He would confront Juliette and determine if there was any hope at all or whether he was wasting his time.

  Inside her bedroom, Juliette held her son in her arms, cooing softly to baby Matthew. He was asleep with his mouth pursed up, his warmth snuggled in the crook of her elbow. She’d taken him out of the nursery, wanting to spend a few quiet moments alone with him.