She was almost oblivious to the attention, feeling so cold she had all to do to keep her teeth from chattering. Still, she felt a dreadful creep of unease, and certainly had not liked Nash one bit.
He stared at all the servants again, saw them all looking his wife up and down. Jealousy made Lawrence's words harsh. "I am the master here. Mr. Lawrence Howard. Failing my presence, Nash is in charge. You will obey our commands and ours alone. My wife is delicate and is to be left alone. No callers, or correspondence. She is not to be troubled with household matters. You will refer all questions regarding expenses and supplies and so forth to myself or Nash.
"You, girl," he said, pointing to a tiny little maid whom Nash was sure one of the men had been ill using since she had been out of nappies, "shall attend my wife and act as her personal maid. I do not need a valet myself, but I would be grateful if someone could help my wife unpack our things."
The insolent-looking man he had first noted stepped forward eagerly, but Lawrence fixed him with a glare and indicated a smallish looking younger man. "You can carry, he can unpack."
He turned to his factor. "Nash, I want to see you in the library."
"Er, there's no fire in there. The drawing room?"
"Aye, it'll do."
As soon as the door was shut behind them, Lawrence made it clear he didn't like having a dozen male servants in the house. "We haven't got so much heavy work that we need that many," he pointed out with some truth.
"No, you're right. I had intended some to stay here, some for the London house when you find a suitable place," he lied.
"No, I don't think so. They are far too rustic. You can find them a place at the factory if you like, but otherwise we'll keep six and turn the rest off, starting with that insolent pup who cheeked my wife."
"Cheeked?" Nash asked in genuine confusion.
"Just do it. I'm not to be questioned in my own house," Lawrence growled.
Nash stared at him. "Yes, sir, I mean, no, sir. But might I ask how it came about that you went away to London to take one woman to wife, and came back with another?"
"I met her, we desired each other instantly, we wed."
"But who is she? Who are her people?" Nash pressed.
Lawrence waved away his factor's questions with an abrupt gesture with his hand. "It's not important. Just keep in mind that she's my wife, and as fluff-brained as the rest of the gender. We will not discuss business in front of her, and she is not to be involved in the running of the household. That includes when the boys come."
"The boys?" Nash sounded horrified.
"Yes, of course. My nephews Stuart and Andrew."
"But they're at school. Surely--" he started to protest, all of his best laid plans shattering like glass.
"They do have holidays, you know, and even one coming up for Easter fairly soon. I have every intention of doing my duty, even if I'm not exactly adept with children. But I daresay practice will make perfect. Or at least improved."
"Yes, sir, of course, sir. I shall dismiss the servants now and have the nursery cleaned."
"Have all of this place cleaned," Lawrence said, running a finger along the mantelpiece. "It looks as though it hasn't been touched for months."
"The property has been empty for some time," Nash lied. "The servants have not yet had a chance to--"
"I'm well aware of the fact that these are English men and women, and they have their own minds and democratic attitudes. I would not expect them to be so docile as our Indian servants. Nor can we treat them as such," he said with a pointed look, for he was certain his factor had resorted to corporal punishment on occasion back at the tea plantation. "But I do expect an orderly home."
"Quite. But if I may ask, now that you're here, do you intend to have a honeymoon? For if you do not, there is a long list of properties for both your new townhouse and the proposed tea rooms for you to view in London. And for tea rooms in Bristol."
"I've only just got back from London," he said with mild exasperation, though he could not have said why.
"True, sir, but I would not like to presume, and it's a very big decision. I can certainly take care of matters in Bristol, unless of course you wish to, and--"
He sighed. "No, no, London will be fine. I'll go in the morning."
He toyed with the idea of asking Juliet if she would be willing to accompany him. He vetoed that idea outright when he went to find his wife and saw her white skin had become so transparent, with purple smudges under her eyes, that he had the feeling he was viewing a ghost.
He looked around the charming pink and white room, noticed the dirt and grime. "Have them shake down this room before you start using it." He opened the adjoining door, and admired the bathroom, before going through a second set of doors to the master bedroom. "This room is much more clean and tidy. The decor is a bit heavy, burgundy and blue, but at least it's decent."
"But it's the bedroom for the master of the house."
"My bedroom, yes," he said impatiently.
"I would not like to presume. And there will be times you do not wish to sleep with me."
Lawrence was damned if he could think of one, but he nodded curtly. "Well, just so. You must be tired. I shall order a bath and some food. If you could see to it that my bags are unpacked and repacked."
"Repacked?" she echoed in confusion, her heart sinking.
"Yes, I'm returning to London in the morning."
"I see," she said quietly, trying to hide her disappointment.
"I doubt very much you would want to come. Another four days on the road after all the discomfort you've experienced..."
"If I were to have a day or two to rest.... But I would not wish to delay you."
"No, just so, you need to rest." He fanned his thumb along her delicate cheekbone. "Bath and bed for you. I shall see you when I return."
He resisted the temptation to kiss her senseless, and cast his eye around the chamber once more, liking it well enough, but wishing somehow it were more grand. Or that she had decided to use the master bedroom as he had suggested....
He gave the orders to the servants, and strode from the room.
Nash was just finishing sweeping up the last of the tell-tale evidence when Lawrence burst into the library. "Show me that list of properties, and a map."
Juliet had hoped she would see Lawrence before he left for London, but she had no visit in the middle of the night, though she longed to feel his huge frame sag the mattress beside her before pulling her close.
At dawn Lawrence had risen and crept into her room, and pulled back the sheet to feast his eyes on his wife, naked and in peaceful repose. He longed to kiss her awake, but knew she had to be exhausted after the excesses he had subjected her to ever since they'd met. And if he got into the bed beside her, he was damned if he would be able to get out of it for a week. He too was tired, and her softness was so tempting...
He kissed her lips and she smiled and sighed. Her body stretched languidly. He moved down to her thighs and kissed her with considerable ardour. She whimpered in delight and reached for him, but he evaded her. With one last lingering lick he closed his eyes, inhaled her sweet feminine perfume, and dragged himself away.
He felt completely wicked for wanting her so, his every sense filled with her. His fingers itched to feel her satin skin, her silky sex, her elegant curves. The blood pounded and surged in his veins.
He told himself to stop being so foolish. He was going back to London, nine square miles of inquity if he so chose. There would be numerous other women, and he could go see Matilda, explain....
Go see the incredible Belinda he had heard so much about...
He would see Matthew Sampson, ascertain what had really happened that fateful night. Continue on as he had before that little Dane minx had turned his life upside down.
He finished packing his valise, and with a last long look at the adjoining door, he shook his head and left.
As soon as he was gone, Nash headed for Bristol with all of th
e cargo he had hoped to store in the house unnoticed. Now that Juliet was living there, it simply wasn't safe. He needed a new base of operations, and decided to clean out one of the rickety old buildings on the side of the wharf.
He took the six most licentious male servants with him, including the one Lawrence had objected to, and told them he would be happy to use their various talents until things got more settled.
He got them started cleaning out the two-storey building for his own use, and told them to look over some of the other disused sheds for their accommodations. He toyed with the youngest of the men for a time, but was really not in the mood. Not when all his plans had come so badly unstuck.
He had already written to Matilda asking for her version of the events, and hoped in the meantime that she would have had the sense to write to him to apprise him of the disaster.
A letter came from her the following day. The news could not have been worse. Matthew Dane's sister. Hell and damnation. The last thing he wanted was for them to meet up after all these years! Let alone marry into each other's families.
How on earth could such a disaster have happened? The letter said also that Matthew had paid her off handsomely in order to avoid a breach of promise suit, and Matilda was quite happy to say that several of her other lovers were in a position to offer marriage.
Nash wrote back and told her to fleece them for all they were worth, but in no circumstances to marry. This was a temporary setback only. He would have to behave circumspectly for a time, in the event that Lawrence had become suspicious of him.
But Juliet looked as though she would hold as much interest for a man of the world like Lawrence as a china doll. She seemed a little fairy with as much air in her head as a pint of beer. She would be a minor inconvenience to be got rid of when the time came.
In the meantime, he would watch and wait, and take his opportunities and pleasure as they came.
Juliet tried to settle into her new home, but the servants were a most bizarre lot, seldom in evidence, at least not in the downstairs portion of the house, though she could certainly hear enough banging, rattling and groaning up in the attics.
She guessed that they had taken her husband's orders to clean the house from top to bottom literally, and could only hope they would get to her chamber eventually.
On the whole she was rather relieved. She didn't like the way they looked at her, especially the men. She would not have had anything to do with them had it not been for the fact that after two days of study in the library she realised that none of her orders were being followed.
She was confused, until at last the answer came to her. Of course. Lawrence had said to obey he and Nash, and Nash was not there. A query as to his whereabouts gave her the information that he had gone to Bristol.
Food, hot water, firewood, all had to be secured with her own two hands. She was not too upset by this, since she was accustomed to doing a great deal for herself. But going into the kitchen soon became a battle of wills with the old harridan of a cook, who insisted at every morsel was carefully husbanded as she had only a limited budget and had not been told to make provision for an extra mouth to feed, even though they had turned off six servants, and the mouth in question was as small as a sparrow's.
As for the bathroom, it became a never-ending source of torment to her, for much as she longed for a hot bath and brought in coal and wood for herself, she could not master getting the modern boiler lit and the water heated. It made the most alarming noises, and she was convinced the house would blow to pieces.
As for company, she saw no one, the few people who called being turned away by the cook in no uncertain terms before she could say a word. She peered through the window at the three dark-haired people, and the woman turned and fixed golden eyes on her. She gave a nod, and turned. By the time Juliet figured out how to open the window to call to them, they were gone.
Still, she got a great deal of work done, for here no one expected anything of her. She made the most of the daylight hours to work in the window seat in the natural light. Even securing candles was becoming harder and harder. She rescued stumps wherever she could and secreted them in her drawer. She did not venture out beyond the garden; it was too cold, her garments not suitable. There was such a struggle over firewood, she only allowed herself a small fire in the hearth in the library. She knew it was only a matter of time before she was going to have to chop it herself. She hugged the meager glow by sitting on the hearth rug as she wrote essay after essay on ways to help the deserving poor.
She laughed at the phrase. She could speak from personal experience now. For surely she was little better than a beggar, with her two gowns, two pairs of stockings and so on. She could wash one while she wore one, but as the weeks passed they became more and more dingy, and her stockings more hole than knit. And she had not even the most basic supplies to repair them.
Still Lawrence did not return, and she found herself almost wishing he would. Anything had to be better than this limbo of silence.
She was a warm, affectionate woman for all her intellect, and missed social interaction, even if her new husband was so gruff and insulting. He could be so tender too. His more rampant lovemaking had a single-minded intensity about it which made her feel like the most special woman in the world, for all she knew he was trying to show her he was master in his own home.
She shuddered to think what he was doing in London. Had he already been unfaithful to her? Worse still, gone back to Matilda? Was going to maintain her as his mistress?
The thought of him sharing his body with another, his wonderful kisses and touches, the amazing possessive things he did with his mouth, was almost more than she could bear. Many a sorrowful tear dampened her pillow at night as Juliet lay tossing and turning, naked under the covers and longing for his heavy heat on top of her, inside her.
Lawrence contemplated taking Matilda as a mistress for all of about two seconds. But when he saw a pair of well-cut coat tails vanishing behind a curtain, he knew
Her green eyes were as smooth as polished jade as she greeted him warmly, but her body language betrayed her. She was like a cat on hot tar. He immediately superimposed an image of Juliet over her appearance. His new wife was far more poised, elegant, gracious. Naturally voluptuous.
Matilda tried to lure him by dragging her bodice down with one hand at her waist whilst the other took his in a lingering grip.
He said a few words of apology over the confusion. "I wish you no ill will. I do hope you'll find someone who will make you happy, keep you in the manner which you deserve. It would never have worked between us. I'm married to my tea."
"Hardly. Juliet Dane, by all accounts. Not that I blame you. Younger woman, the chance to beget children. But surely we can still be friends--" She fluttered her lashes.
"Really, no. I would be compromising you most shamefully, and you were the one who insisted we never consummate our relationship prior to the nuptials. If I was not willing to compromise you before when I was single, I'm most certainly not going to do it now that I'm a married man. Good day."
He departed as quickly as he had come, before she could protest, and felt inexpressibly relieved it was all over.
But that was not to say he was well and truly rendering himself a eunuch. He worked all day at the factory with a new shipment, and paused only long enough to change into evening garb before heading to the club.
But not a single one of the house wenches titillated him in the least, for all their scanty clothing and Herculean efforts to attract his attention.
A week after his return to London, Matthew Sampson met up with him at the club. "My dear Lawrence, I thought you had vanished from the face of the earth!" the tall blond young Adonis exclaimed. "I waited and waited, and then had Belinda myself. Extraordinary. An hour of pure heaven. My dear chap, you have no idea what you missed."
Lawrence smiled dryly. He knew what he was missing now, and she was raven-haired and buxom, with lips like ripe raspberries.
"Reputation?" Lawrence said softly.
Matthew shook his head hastily. "Never mind. All water under the bridge. She's your wife now and--"
"She's not. I changed my mind about--"
"Oh, my dear fellow. I can't think why I hadn't heard. Tubby Barnet met up with me at the Crescent and had a badger-baiting out in the country all lined up and--"
"So it's just as well I didn't count on you as my groomsman, then, isn't it?" Lawrence asked coldly.
The young fop let out a braying laugh. "Oh, egad, yes, quite. After Belinda, well, it all just flew right out of my head. But you can see for yourself. Come to meet her, on me."
The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5 Page 16
