Unraveled By The Rebel

by Michelle Willingham

  “That’s what he’s wanting from you, Juliette,” Paul told her quietly. “And that’s precisely why you canna stay.”

  She started to argue with him, but he cut her off. “He’s only guessing about Matthew. If you leave, he has no proof of anything.”

  “And if I walk away, he’ll destroy Matthew’s future by claiming he’s a bastard. I can’t let that happen.”

  “It’s no’ your responsibility.”

  “I’m his mother,” she insisted. Of course it was her responsibility. Though she’d given him into the care of her aunt and uncle, she would cut off her right arm to keep him safe.

  “You don’t understand,” she said softly. His face was impassive, but in his blue eyes, she saw frustration. To him, Matthew was nothing but a child conceived between herself and another man. No doubt Paul would be glad if he never laid eyes upon the boy. And suddenly, it was important for her to show him why she had to protect him.

  She rang for a footman and asked him to bring Matthew and his nurse. When the servant was gone, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I want you to see my son.” Although it still might not make a difference, she wanted him to look at the boy. Matthew was an innocent, and nothing would ever convince her to abandon him to the mercies of a man who wanted to destroy his future.

  When at last the nurse arrived, the baby was dressed in a soft cotton gown, his face rosy from sleep. Juliette took him from the nurse’s arms and added, “I’ll ring for you to come and get him in a few minutes.”

  “Lady Arnsbury will be wanting him, too, Miss Andrews.” The nurse frowned, not at all approving of Juliette’s interference. There was an unspoken reminder that Matthew did not belong to her.

  “I’ll only be a minute,” she promised.

  When they were alone again, she pressed a kiss to Matthew’s forehead. His skin was soft, and he smelled of soap. Just holding him brought another ache to her heart. “I’m afraid for him,” she admitted. “With a few words, the earl could ruin his life. And I wouldn’t be here to help him.”

  “When will you start living your own life again, Juliette? You made the choice to give him to your aunt and uncle. He is their son now.”

  “He’s the only son I’ll ever have. I can’t turn away from him.” She fought back the tears, facing him. “If you ask me to choose between you and protecting my son, there is no choice to make.”

  The look in Paul’s eyes sliced her heart, and though it was the truth, she hadn’t meant to hurt him. She did care about Paul, so very much. If he walked away from her now, an emptiness would remain in her heart.

  “I won’t beg, Juliette.” Paul drew closer, and his words held a cold edge. “But I’ll speak the truth. If you don’t walk away from the lad, Strathland will win this battle. He’ll manipulate you until you’ve given him everything. And I’ll no’ be able to save you.”

  “How can you ask me to leave him?” She held the boy tighter, kissing her son’s cheek. He babbled nonsense at her and grinned. At the sight of Matthew’s first two teeth peeking out from the bottom, she didn’t want to miss more of his life. “I can’t go now.”

  “I thought you had more courage than that.”

  “It’s not about courage,” she snapped. “It’s about keeping my child safe.”

  “He’s no’ yours any longer.”

  “He’ll always be mine.” Juliette couldn’t hold back the tears now, and Paul crossed over to touch her shoulder. The boy was squirming to get down, and she set Matthew down by the chaise longue, letting him hold on to the edge.

  “You’re framing your life around his,” Paul said gently. “You’re a danger to Matthew, the longer you stay.” The boy began to chortle as he balanced himself and tried to take a few steps. A moment later, he fell on his backside, startled at the loss of balance.

  “He’s an innocent,” she whispered. “I don’t want him to lose everything because of the earl’s suspicions.”

  Paul helped the boy to his feet, holding on to Matthew’s hands. “I’m not asking you to ne’er see him again. Only to walk away from Strathland’s snares.”

  She said nothing to that. The rational side to her mind knew that he was speaking sense, but it was more than the need to protect Matthew. It was her shameful desire to be in his life, to be his mother, even if from an invisible distance. To give him her love, even if she could never give him a home.

  Paul crossed his arms, his voice hard. “If you stay, Strathland will continue his schemes. He’ll use your sisters, your family, and Matthew to twist you into obedience.”

  “I can’t just stand aside and let the earl hurt the people I love.” Even to consider it was unthinkable.

  “So you’ll be the sacrificial lamb, is that it?” Paul demanded. “You’ll stay here, and he’ll force you to marry him. He’ll get everything he wants.”

  “I don’t want him!” she exploded. “I wish to God the earl would go away and leave me alone.” Furious tears spilled over, but at least he was now listening. “Do you think I want him to ever touch me again, after all that happened? I’d sooner see him dead.”

  Her skin crawled at the very thought of being in the same room with the earl, much less succumbing to a forced marriage. Never again.

  “Then we’ll leave,” Paul ordered. “Come with me to Edinburgh, and we’ll disappear for a time. He willna be able to find you, and he’ll have no recourse but to back away.”

  “And what about Matthew?” The boy had begun whining, and Juliette lifted him against her shoulder, soothing him with soft words. But she already knew he was overtired and needed a morning nap. With reluctance, she rang for his nurse and gave him back to the older woman. After a few moments, his crying faded when the nurse took him upstairs.

  “If you’re no’ there, Strathland canna accuse you of having any connection to him,” Paul answered. “So long as the earl continues to acknowledge him as his heir, naught else matters.”

  An emptiness rose up within her at the thought.

  “Strathland will realize that he was mistaken.” Paul moved in close, taking her hands in his. “For no true mother would abandon her bairn.” He wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “If you want him to be safe and loved, you’ve no choice but to let him be your uncle’s heir. Give him the life you were wanting him to have.”

  She wept openly, so afraid he was right. If she turned away from Matthew, letting him go, Strathland’s words would be meaningless air when Lord Arnsbury continued to acknowledge the boy as his son.

  “What about my sisters?” she asked. “What if he tries to hurt one of them?”

  “They’ll stay away from him,” Paul said. “Or Amelia might talk him into an early grave.”

  An unexpected laugh broke out, amid her tears. “I don’t know if I can do this, Paul.” He kissed her hand, and she stepped into his embrace, holding him tight.

  “I did come here with the intent of kidnapping you,” he offered. “You could claim you had no knowledge of my wicked intent.”

  “It’s not truly kidnapping if I go willingly,” she said.

  “And will you go?” he asked, his voice turning serious. “If it means keeping Matthew safe?”

  She didn’t know. Her instincts roared at her to seclude herself in this house, doing everything in her power to shield Matthew.

  But if she did, people would talk. Already she sensed that the servants were whispering about her unnatural attachment to the baby who was supposed to be her cousin. With every moment she spent at his side, she undermined the parents he deserved. Her aunt adored Matthew, as did her uncle.

  “Yes,” she breathed at last. “I’ll go with you.”

  He rubbed her shoulders and regarded her. “I must speak with your uncle now, since your father is no’ here.” He looked at her strangely, asking, “How would you feel about living in Edinburgh, in my uncle’s house?”

  She shrugged. “I had thought we would return to Ballaloch… that we would make our home among the crofters.” She’d no
t imagined that he would want to take her elsewhere.

  His face turned serious. “That’s not the life I want for you, Juliette.”

  “Perhaps not. But we’ll make do with what we have. I don’t need a grand house to be happy.” It was true, though she fully planned to increase their income from the profits of Aphrodite’s Unmentionables. In many ways, she rather liked the challenge of building what little funds they had together. She glanced down at the ring he’d given her.

  Its worth was far greater than silver, for it would keep her forever safe from Lord Strathland.

  “Lady Lanfordshire, there’s another package for you,” Mrs. Larson announced.

  Beatrice threaded her needle, her face blushing at the news. “Set it on the table, Mrs. Larson. That will be all, thank you.”

  She didn’t unwrap the paper, already knowing what it contained. After sending half a dozen letters to her daughters, she’d learned that they had stopped selling gowns nearly six months ago. They’d been selling unmentionables.

  And not respectable white linen petticoats and chemises. No, her girls had made corsets lined in silk and satin, some of the chemises made of fabrics so sheer, a woman’s skin was entirely visible.

  She’d been outraged at first… until Mr. Sinclair had told her of the banking account sum of nearly a thousand pounds. It was a devastating amount, large enough to make a sizable difference in their debts.

  It felt terribly wicked to allow her girls to conduct business in something so sinful. The garments were inappropriate for young ladies to even look at. And yet, she understood the practicality of what they had done. These chemises and corsets were selling exceptionally well because there were no others like them. They were unique.

  She could hear the rustle of skirts, knowing that Mrs. Larson was dying to see the contents of the mysterious parcels that kept arriving. Beatrice had hidden most of them in the parlor, behind the drapes and in secret places. She’d wrapped them three times, so that no one could even glimpse the seductive fabric. Thus far, it didn’t seem that Mr. Sinclair was aware of the contents, and for that she would be eternally grateful.

  But when her husband abruptly strode into the room, his face had gone crimson. In his hand, he held a ledger containing the accounts Juliette had adjusted in the past few months.

  “I should like to discuss these with you, Beatrice.”

  She eyed the carpet, wondering whether honesty was truly the best idea in this instance. “Is something the matter?”

  He walked over to the doors and closed them, leaving them alone. His posture was erect, and he strode across the room like the soldier he’d once been.

  “There are quite a few errors in the accounts. We do not have an additional thousand pounds, as the entries suggest.” Henry set down the books and pursed his mouth in a line. “Such an egregious mistake would ruin us, if we went by these figures.”

  “There is another account in London,” Beatrice said. “I assure you, we do have the funds.”

  Only because she’d ordered Mr. Gilderness to create the account. It was easier to deposit the profits directly in London, rather than bring the sums back here.

  “And just where, may I ask, did these ‘funds’ come from?” The tone in his voice had grown supercilious, as if he didn’t believe her. “An inheritance we knew nothing about?”

  “Victoria married a duke, remember?” she said, hoping he would make an assumption and drop the matter.

  But then he withdrew a folded piece of paper from his waistcoat. “Would you care to explain what Amelia is talking about when she spoke of Aphrodite’s Unmentionables? Surely our daughters have nothing to do with… selling things.”

  His airs began to irritate her. He had been the one to leave them three years ago, while he’d traveled with the army. He’d burdened her with accounts she didn’t understand, debts that had to be paid, and left them in the middle of nowhere in Scotland.

  Her girls had found a means of supporting them, no matter that it was scandalous. And although she, too, had protested at first, she could not argue with the profits. Because of them, they’d been able to restore the house and furnishings without borrowing from the duke. Not only that, but she’d come to be friends with several of the crofters’ wives, finding them to be amiable women with a true talent for sewing. A talent that was going to save all of them.

  “The accounts are correct, and the profits of Aphrodite’s Unmentionables have helped us a great deal,” she said slowly. “No one knows of our family’s involvement.”

  “Involvement in what?” he demanded.

  Beatrice calmly handed him the newest package, bracing herself for his reaction. When he opened the paper, a sheer rose chemise was within it, trimmed with matching lace and ribbons. A soft embroidered row of rosebuds adorned the edge of the neckline.

  It certainly wasn’t the most scandalous garment they’d made, but her husband’s face turned purple. “You are not selling garments like these. Why, you can see right through them!”

  “A thousand pounds, Henry.”

  “And whose idea was this, Beatrice? Yours? Or was it the Scottish refugees?” He tossed the chemise aside, adding, “It’s disgraceful. I want you to have nothing more to do with this.”

  She picked up the chemise and folded it carefully, tying it back into the brown paper. “You may think what you wish. But the girls and I intend to continue on as we have.”

  The silence in the room held all the weight of twenty-four years of marriage. “You will not.”

  She raised herself up and looked him in the eyes. “Your wastrel brother left us with a mountain of debts while you went off to seek glory on the battlefield. I had to let most of our servants go, and I sold the sapphire bracelet you gave me.”

  He remained motionless, fury brewing in his eyes. But he said nothing.

  “I had to fight for our very survival, without you, Henry. Our girls were intelligent and resourceful. Because of them, we are rebuilding our prosperity without relying upon anyone else.”

  “It’s improper.”

  “Perhaps. But no one knows of our secret. And no one ever will.” Before he could blister her ears again with all the reasons why she should not lift her needle, Beatrice met his gaze. “You left us on our own. And you have no right to criticize what our girls did to survive it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Her wedding day was gray. Juliette stared at the ominous clouds, hoping they would lift soon. After over a week of traveling, they had reached Edinburgh, and Paul had chosen a small parish in the south for a simple wedding. During the journey, he had slept in different rooms at the inns, respecting her wish to be alone. But despite his kindness, Juliette couldn’t suppress her worries over Matthew. It seemed wrong to elope when her son’s future hung in the balance.

  Her aunt and uncle had supported the marriage, particularly after Paul had spoken privately with Lord Arnsbury. Something had changed his mind, and she didn’t know what it was. One moment, they were both upset with her decision to wed a physician… and the next, they were behaving as if she’d made the match of the Season. Strangely, Paul had said nothing of what had caused their change of heart. Perhaps they were simply glad she’d decided to marry and knew that he was her best hope. Charlotte had even suggested that they travel to Ballaloch, where her parents and Victoria could enjoy the wedding.

  She’d refused, of course, knowing that her family would never support her marriage to a physician.

  “Are you disappointed that your family is no’ here?” he asked, taking her by the hand. “Would you rather I sent for them?”

  She shook her head. “My mother and father would only try to talk me out of this.” Squeezing his hand, she added, “But it wouldn’t work.”

  Despite Charlotte’s insistence that her parents would not be angry, Juliette wasn’t about to risk it. “I was hoping for nicer weather, though.” As a girl, she’d imagined herself marrying a man she loved, and wearing a beautiful gown, with flowers in
her hair. There would have been dancing and feasting, with her favorite custard and cake.

  As she daydreamed, the clouds broke open, the rain spattering down upon them. She couldn’t resist a laugh, for it was so dismal. Lifting her face to the sky, she remarked, “I think the sky is telling us to hurry up.” She hurried with Paul to the entrance of the church, lifting her skirts to avoid their being dragged in the mud.

  When they were inside, Paul poured some of the water off his hat and donned it once more. “Wait here. I’ve a gift for you.” His eyes softened as he ventured back into the rain.

  After he returned from the coach, he had a brown parcel tucked beneath his coat. “I didna think you’d be wanting to wed in a traveling gown.”

  Juliette took the package, startled that he’d thought of it. “When did you have time to get this?” Warmth spread through her, at his gesture.

  “I’m no’ one for buying women’s clothes, but I asked your aunt to choose something suitable. The minister’s wife can help you to dress,” he offered, pointing to a matron who was speaking to her husband farther inside the church. Juliette held the parcel a moment, before standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  His palm rested upon her waist, and he added, “I’ll always take care of you, Juliette.”

  Her heart softened at the thought of how he’d done so much for her. She regretted that she had not had time to do anything special for him. But then, this was only the beginning of their years together.

  Slipping free of his embrace, she ventured a smile. “I’ll go and change my gown.” She clutched it to her breast as she went farther into the cold stone chapel, meeting the enthusiastic Mrs. MacKenzie. The woman reminded her of a sparrow with her brown hair and brown eyes, hopping about with excitement.

  “Oh, my dear, we’ll have ye out of these wet clothes in a wee bit,” she chirped, ushering her into the sacristy. Juliette removed her bonnet, tucking a wet lock of hair up while Mrs. MacKenzie unbuttoned her. For a moment, she thought of Victoria’s wedding day. Her mother and sisters had been bubbling over with excitement while Toria had been strangely quiet. Now, she thought she understood her sister’s mood.