"Shut up, you bitch. You want half the ballroom to watch us swive? Or are you trying to invite a few others? I hear you like that too."
"Oh, God, help me, please, someone. He's going to hurt the baby, please help me!" she struggled with all her might, while all the while Lawrence stood paralyzed, reliving the terrible night so long ago…
Philip and Blake tore in a moment later and flung Parke off her at last, before he could do his worst.
Eswara knelt down to take her hand and pull her skirts down over her stockinged legs, while Blake examined in her bloodied lip and other injuries and draped his jacket over her bare torso.
Philip was in a towering rage. He lifted a large rake left behind by one of the gardeners.
"And how would you like me to stick this up you, eh, Parke?"
"Oh, God, no, no, help me, please, someone!"
Parke's cries became more high-pitched and desperate as Philip flattened him face down on the marble bench and began to tear his trousers off.
"Those are exactly the words Juliet said to you when you tried to force yourself on her, you bloody swine. And you're not even pregnant. It was bad enough when you tried to seduce young Amy Brandt last month. But this goes beyond belief!"
"He told me to do it!" Parke shrieked.
"Who did!"
"Lawrence Howard, of course."
"You bloody liar! I ought to--"
Parke squealed in terror as the stout-handled gardening tool began to draw ever closer.
"He did, I swear it! He told me to have it off with her so he could get a divorce! I swear!"
An involuntary movement from Lawrence caught Blake's eye, and he and Eswara stared at Lawrence.
"Let him go, Philip," Blake said quietly.
"Let him go? The lying little rapist-"
"Let him go."
"But Malcolm Branson-"
Blake shook his head. "The authorities are not going to hear about this, because Juliet's predicament is going to be bad enough even with a simple criminal conversation. Let the bastard go."
Philip threw down the rake and dragged Parke up by the scruff of his neck. "At least let me escort him from the property."
"Be my guest. Only don't draw blood. And hurry back. Juliet's going to need your professional services too."
Philip vanished out of the French windows, Parke howling all the way.
His examination at an end, Blake lifted her into his arms. "Not that you care, Lawrence, but Eswara says she's bleeding. There will be nothing I can do for the baby at this stage. I might be lucky if I can even save your wife if he's hurt her badly. It's far too early for your child to be born. You'll be hearing from her solicitor Philip in the morning. Now get the hell out of my house."
"But I didn't mean-" Lawrence started numbly.
Blake shook his head. "You've destroyed any relationship you've ever had with your suspicion and mistrust, Lawrence. With the Rakehells, and now with your wife. Divorce will be the best thing for both of you. If Juliet lives, that is."
He began to head out the French doors.
"Where are you taking her?" Lawrence shouted.
Eswara glared at him. "I know I would suit your purpose to have her paraded half-naked in another man's arms right through an entire ballroom full of people, but surely you've got what you want now. You can spare your wife that indignity at least."
Lawrence could hardly breathe. "I never meant-"
"Blake is right. You don't deserve her. And you have only yourself to blame."
Lawrence could hear his wife weeping as she vanished from his sight.
"Please, the baby. Please save the baby. Lawrence's son. I don't want to live, but you must help him. Please save him."
"It's too early, Juliet. It's not possible, " Blake replied quietly. "Come now, please, pull yourself together. It will do you no good to get so upset. I'm taking you upstairs to a nice quiet room, and we'll see what we can do for you and the child."
"Lawrence," she wept. "I don't understand. Lawrence. Where is he?"
"He's not coming, Juliet. He has business."
"I don't understand," she sobbed. "I thought he cared for me. How could he-"
"It doesn't matter now," Eswara soothed.
"But I want him, I want to see him."
Blake had by now come around to the main hall and ascended the stairs rapidly, Eswara close behind.
"Please, my husband where is he?"
"He's probably already left."
"I'm dying, aren't I?" Juliet gasped. "God, the shooting pains, they're awful."
"One side or both?" Blake asked.
"Just one. The right side."
"Did you get twisted or something?" he asked.
"Yes, when I fell off the bench."
"Onto your belly, or back?"
"Onto my back. But he was on top of me and-" She began to weep even harder.
"It's all right."
"I never encouraged him. I never even talked about anything other than history! Why did he-" She made a choking sound. Then she asked for her husband again.
Eswara looked at Blake and then nodded. "I'll go."
She went through the drawing room directly, heedless of the dancers as she pushed through to the conservatory once more.
Lawrence was still standing as dumb as a stone for all Nash was trying to encourage him to leave.
"You got what you wanted. It's all over now. She'll never be unfaithful to you again, and you can start afresh. Matilda will forgive you, I'm sure, once she understands how badly you were duped by Dane's whore of a sister."
"Don’t speak to me about her," Lawrence rasped furiously. "You haven't the right-"
"But we need to make plans. Matilda is in the crowd. Go tell her-"
Lawrence roused himself enough to shoot his factor a furious look. "You're so eager to see her wed, you bloody marry her!"
"What?" Nash gaped. He laughed uneasily. "Anyone can see she loves you."
"No, she doesn't. She's not capable of that emotion. The damnable thing is, that was what Parke said about Juliet, and I was too stupid to listen to him. My God, I've been such a fool," he rasped. "I don't know what demon possessed me. I never expected him to go so far with her. I never imagined he could be such a fiend."
"You're the fiend," Eswara said angrily, stepping forward now. "Wanting to divorce a poor girl like that whose only crime has been to be Matthew's sister, and then to put that degenerate onto her. She'd have died of syphilis for sure!"
"I never thought he'd actually-" Lawrence started to protest, though he knew how absurd and pathetic he sounded even to his own ears.
"I may not be a Christian, but what about your marriage vows? I hope you burn in hell for what you've done here this evening."
"We're not interested in your opinion, you lousy nigger!" Nash shouted, balling his fists.
Eswara looked at him with utter contempt. "I may be Indian, but I'm a better Christian than you are! You never lifted a finger to help her either. In fact, you were holding Lawrence back from coming to her rescue! The pair of you ought to be locked up in Bedlam!"
"Please, you've got to believe me, I never thought--" Lawrence choked, and clasped his hand to his chest. The tears streaming down his face unheeded spoke volumes, enough for Eswara to relent.
"She wants to see you. God knows why, but she does. To say goodbye, I suppose."
Lawrence went white. "Is she--?"
Without waiting to hear the answer he began to vomit, in great shuddering spasm so violent that he sprayed Nash, who backed away in disgust.
"Get hold of yourself, Lawrence. Are you drunk?"
"God, Juliet," he wept.
Nash shook his head. "Pull yourself together, you fool. It's only a woman. You've seen her at last for the slut she is. Forget about her and--"
Eswara growled like a panther. "Get out, now."
"Don't you give me orders!"
"Philip Marshall is coming back. That's his step on the gravel. I'd leave now if I
were you."
Nash didn't need to be told twice. He fled through the ballroom as Philip surged into the conservatory and slammed Lawrence up against a marble column so violently it trembled.
"Eswara, hand me that tool, will you?"
"No, Philip, this has gone far enough!" Eswara shouted.
"It has indeed. Poor Juliet is well rid of you." He let go of his cravat, and would have spat at Lawrence had they been outdoors.
Philip threw himself on the bench and glared at his former school friend, who hung his head and vomited again. The explosion came more weakly this time, but was so prolonged he felt sure he was going to be turned inside out.
Eswara finally took pity on him and decided to intervene. She grabbed and pressed the back of his hand hard with both of her own, and for a time he wondered what she was doing, until she explained, "It's part of my Indian medicine. You must have seen it in Darjeeling and Assam. Just take a deep breath and relax, and the nausea will subside."
"It will never subside. When I think what almost happened," he gasped and hiccoughed.
"Then why? Why divorce her?" she asked gently.
"No reason. A hundred reasons."
"But she loves you! She's carrying your child."
"Does she? Is she? How can I be sure?"
Philip and Eswara looked at him, and shook their heads.
Eswara shook her head. "Perhaps being sure doesn’t matter now. The fact is that she's been hurt, and could be dying if Blake can't do something to stop her pain and bleeding."
"I can't go to her. She'll hate me--"
"Damn it, I don't care how upset you are, how jealous," Philip hissed. "Your wife could die! Many a stronger woman has been carried off by less. So whatever differences you have between you, I want you to put them aside this minute and come up to see her. Do whatever you have to, lie if you must, but I expect you to tell her that you love her and you're sorry. That you'd be lost without her."
He heaved a huge sigh. "I only wish it were a bloody lie! Then I wouldn't feel like I killed her!"
Philip shook his head in exasperation. "You've been a complete and utter fool, then. You've let your anger and resentment for Matthew blind you to all that's good and decent in the world. But as sure as I'm standing here, Matthew never cheated you. You need to find out who did. After you help save your wife."
"All right. I'll try," he said raggedly. "If you're sure she wants to see me." He cuffed at his tears and tried to adjust his toilette, but only ended up looking more dishevelled than before.
"She's been calling for you. I'm sure," Eswara said, taking his arm.
Philip offered his handkerchief to help clean up the worst of the spatters on his dark evening coat. After a quick trip to the cloakroom to splash his face and rinse his mouth, Lawrence found himself upstairs on the landing outside the door to her chamber.
As soon as she saw him she held out her hand. "Oh God, Lawrence, the baby. Please don't let me lose the baby."
Her violet eyes looked at him so beseechingly, with such love and trust, he wanted to slit his own throat for all the hurt he had caused her. He knelt by the bed and took her hand in both his own.
"I won't, dearest. We're going to do everything we can to help you. But you need to trust us."
She stroked his thick hair back from his brow. "I trust you with my life. I've always loved you, Lawrence, even when you were so cruel to me.
"I don't understand. Why did he do this? I've never even spoken to him about history above once or twice. What kind of monster would attack me like that in a decent home such as this with half the County in the next room?"
Lawrence began to wonder himself. A madman, surely. Flirtation, a kiss even, was one thing, rape quite another. "I don't know why, love. But he's never going to hurt you again as long as he lives. Do you understand?"
"Oh please, darling, don't do anything foolish. I couldn't bear it if you got into trouble because of me. After all, it isn't as if you've ever loved me. I'll go away and--"
He gripped the glass of wine that had been put by her bedside to fortify her, and drained it in one gulp. Then he clinked down the glass and looked Juliet straight in the eye. "I've always loved you, Juliet, always," he confessed at last. "Damn my stupid pride all to hell. It's been pretty cold comfort all the lonely hours I've been without you by my side. The truth is I loved you from the moment I clapped eyes on you. I just didn't know it was love. I thought I was immune to that emotion until you touched my cheek. Looked at me with your incredible violet eyes. As the hours went passed, I knew I could never go through with marrying someone like Matilda. How could I condemn myself to a life of tepid respect when I could live a life of torrid passion?
"Yet even as I worshipped your voluptuous body, I admired your mind. Your wit, intelligence. I only kicked at the spikes because it was Matthew of all people trying to dictate to me."
She sniffled and sobbed then, huge tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm dying, aren't I?" she wept.
"No, no!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with anguish. "Don't say that!"
"It's all right, you can tell me the truth."
Blake gave them both a reassuring smile.
"No, no! You're not going to die, my dear. Why would you even think that?"
She looked up at her husband. "Because you're being so nice to me," she snuffled.
"Was I always so cruel to you?" he asked, feeling his gorge rising once more. And to think he had promised to love and honour Juliet before God, and had brought her to this.
"No, I didn't mean that exactly, only, you wanted a divorce. Wanted to prove me a whore, that I had led him on," she guessed. "So you can have what you want. I won't fight it. Only let me keep our baby. You don't need to lie to me about the rest."
He squeezed her hand. "I'm not going to let you go, Juliet, not now, not ever. I'm so sorry. I can't even begin to tell you all the feelings that made me do what I did. What I've done these past few weeks. I was angry, shocked when you told me we were having a child. I was so jealous of Ash I couldn't see straight.
"Then there were all the men at the tea shop dancing attendance upon you for the past fortnight, and all the men tonight dancing with you, and well, God forgive me, I was so blind with jealousy that I didn't stop to think what I was almost throwing away. I'll understand it if you never want to see me again, but I need to beg your forgiveness."
"I do forgive you. But you're right. This marriage has to end. You've never loved me, and--"
"I've always loved you," he vowed again, "even when I thought you betrayed me."
She shook her head and said gently, "There's no point in lying any more. I know you loved Matilda. If we divorce--"
He shook his head, and kissed her hand. "If we divorce my life won't be worth living. I've never loved anyone but you, Juliet. Certainly not Matilda, who could never hold a candle to your beauty, elegance and wit."
"You're lying to me, aren't you?" she sobbed. "I mean, what you said about Matilda can't possibly be true."
He stooped to kiss her hand. "Why would I lie? You're saying you'll accept the divorce. I'm turning you down categorically. If I loved her, why would I do that? She means nothing to me. My feelings for her were tepid at best. It was more of a practical business arrangement than a romance. With you I have so much pleasure I can't believe I could ever have taken a second look at Matilda."
She shook her head. "Now I know you're lying. I must be dying after all." She sniffed. "How much time do I have left?" she asked Blake.
"You're not dying, not for a long time, if I can help it. Lawrence, say something to her!" Blake hissed.
"I don't know what else to say!" he said with increasing agitation as his wife wept as though her heart would break.
He stroked her hair back from her brow and asked softly, "Why are you so sure I'm lying, sweetheart?"
Her tears continued to stream down her face. "You said your feelings for Matilda were tepid."
"They were!"
"But she's
one of the most sultry courtesans in the whole of London. How could I ever compare--"
He stared at her, convinced she had taken leave of her senses. "What are you saying? Matilda?"
"Just that she was Matthew's mistress for over two years. Led him quite a dance. And not just him, several others well at the same time. You can ask Philip and Blake. She tried it on with them when Matthew and his wife had just got married. She was trying to organise three- and foursomes with the bucks in the area."
The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5 Page 31
