Love Me True

by Heather Boyd

  “Well, this is an astonishing surprise. Good morning, Clarry.”

  Clarry risked opening one eye again and spied Lord Justin leaning over her, a foolish grin spread across his face. She scrambled away, dragging the sheet with her for protection. “Get away from me.”

  His brilliant smile dimmed. “What game are you playing?”

  “What game are you? What gives you the right to be here?”

  The smile disappeared altogether. “Every right. This is my bedchamber. And that is my bed you’re hiding in.”

  “You don’t belong here. Your chamber is on the other side of the house.” Clarry glanced around nervously. “Isn’t it?”

  “I moved.” The clipped words came out from between his clenched teeth and Clarry hugged herself tighter. She glanced around frantically and spied her clothes from last night laid across the far chair. But to reach them, she had to pass Lord Justin—the naked rake that appeared to have taken her virtue in his brother’s place.

  Clarry pressed her hands to her face to hide her distress. Good grief, she had thrown herself at the wrong man. She rubbed her temples with her fingertips, listening to Lord Justin move away. Why couldn’t she remember Lord Justin’s seduction? Usually she had an excellent memory. She had never, ever, encouraged that man to call on her. Or smiled or laughed at his many jokes. Really, had last nights revelry clouded her mind that badly?

  Or perhaps her disguised state had turned off her sense of self-preservation. A rake like Lord Justin would certainly take what was offered and more without regard to her inebriated state. Well, she was done for now—a fallen woman with no hope for the brilliant future of which she’d dreamed. Even as deeply inebriated as she must have been, how could she not have recognized and refused Lord Justin’s advances last night? He was nowhere near as charming as his brother—the man she loved. The one she’d risked scandal for to prove they were meant to be together.

  Lord Justin returned and pressed a wet something to the back of her fingers. “This will help settle your head.”

  Clarry took the cloth and the cool moisture did seem to help. When it was too warm to be useful she let her hand fall. She was doomed. Lord Justin took it away and, when he’d moved further across the room, Clarry risked a second peek. His broad, smooth back, more muscular than she’d imagined, gave way to a sleek pair of buttocks and long limbs. Clarry closed her mouth as Lord Justin turned and she couldn’t stop a squeak from escaping her lips again. He wasn’t wearing anything at all. Yet he walked toward her without any sign of discomfort.

  He held out the cloth and Clarry quickly snatched it from his hand to press the blessed coolness against her heated skin.

  The mattress dipped as he sat close beside her. “I take it from your reaction that you were not expecting to have shared last night with me. You thought that this was to be my brother’s room last night, didn’t you?”

  Clarry nodded swiftly and instantly regretted that decision. Her skull would explode at any moment. She licked her lips nervously. Could a mistake of this magnitude be hushed up with no consequences? She sincerely hoped so.

  Lord Justin didn’t move and he didn’t speak for a long time. When Clarry lifted her gaze, she found him slumped. One glance at his face, however, closed her eyes. She’d never witnessed a bleaker expression on a man. He looked as if someone had stolen his inheritance.

  “There is nothing else for it now.” He stood and then bent to lift his shirt from the floor, exposing his bare bottom to her shocked eyes. “Get dressed as best you can. I will finish lacing you up. After I’ve made arrangements, I will take you home.”

  The emotionless tone of Lord Justin’s voice sent her from his bed and she hastily dropped the sheet to pull on her clothes. Although her skull pounded, she managed to drag her chemise over her head, and then wobbled on shaky legs as she picked up her corset. How she had loosened the tight strings without aid escaped her. Could she even get back into it without the help of a maid? She managed to fit the stiff garment around her and then reached for the laces at her back. Lord Justin stepped close behind and took them from her grip. In next to no time, her breasts were bound tightly again.

  Of course he would know his way about a corset. The thought irritated her more than it should. Lord Justin was a rake, and was rumored to bed any woman who smiled his way. A very good reason to have steered clear of him in the past. A shame she hadn’t remembered to do so last night.

  “All done.”

  Clarry took a breath and then another. At least he hadn’t tightened the laces too far so as to strangle her as her companion frequently did. The thought of Bethany Gainsford’s scowl chilled her. Her companion would ring a peal over her head for this lapse of judgment and regale her with yet another tale of some nameless woman’s mistake in tempting a terrible man. Now, of course, Bethany could use Clarry as her example.

  Her gown fluttered over her head, and Lord Justin settled the material in place without a word. As he did up the tiny pearl buttons with agonizing slowness, his breath washed over her bare shoulder and she hastened to tug the material higher. “I can’t see my stockings.”

  “Leave them.” Lord Justin’s voice dipped deep, and she turned around. His staff peeked out from under his fine linen shirt in a most disconcerting way. At this proximity, she had time to notice a thousand intimate details about Lord Justin. Despite the situation, his thick member, veins standing out in stark relief, intrigued her. She didn’t know the correct term but she couldn’t drag her gaze away.

  Lord Justin turned abruptly. He threw off the shirt he was wearing, leaving his bare back facing her and pulled on smalls, a new shirt and trousers, affording Clarry a completely unfamiliar glimpse into a gentleman’s life. Lord Justin was quite particularly attentive in his dressing habits, as if he was nervous, fussing with three cravats until they were perfectly tied. His gaze met hers in the tall oval mirror as he secured his cravat with a jade pin. Her chest tightened.

  Despite her earlier opinion and desire to avoid him in the past, he was a handsome man. But she disliked him for his rakish ways, favoring his brother’s steady character instead. Lord Ramsbury’s smile set Clarry’s heart to wing whereas Lord Justin’s planted her feet on disturbingly unsteady ground.

  Clarry looked away first. She felt embarrassed for having shared a bed with a man she cared nothing for, or he for her when she thought about it. Yet he was being so kind about her blunder that she wondered what he was thinking and whether he’d tell his friends of his successful seduction. As he settled a waistcoat in place and started doing up the buttons, she took a step toward him.

  He scowled. “You cannot face the duchess like that.”

  “Face the duchess?” Foolishly, Clarry shook her head and winced again. “I thought you were going to help me return home?”

  “I am. But not until I can speak to my parents about our marriage. I want to ensure that they will support the match.”

  “Marriage?” Clarry parroted, sagging into the nearest chair as her legs gave way. She couldn’t bear to marry a man she didn’t love. And she did not love Lord Justin. She loved his brother with her whole heart. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly marry you,” she protested.

  Lord Justin stalked across the room and dragged her to her feet. “Well, how did you think this would end? Did you think I would bed an innocent and then discard her as if she were no better than a common whore?”

  When Clarry didn’t answer, Justin gave her a little shake. She cleared her throat. “Of course, I did. We hardly know each other, but I’ve heard enough gossip about you. I know how you live your life. Debauchery and vice at every turn. I won’t live like that.”

  Couldn’t he see how miserable she’d be as his wife?

  Justin’s fingers tightened on her arm. “You don’t understand the first thing about me, Miss Wheaton. It appears as if you are in for something of a shock.”

  Clarry glanced about the room, looking for a door to escape through. That didn’t sound pleasant o
r painless.

  Lord Justin set his hands to her shoulders and forcibly turned her in the chair. “Sit.”

  Was he planning to make her his prisoner now? But Lord Justin merely threaded his fingers through her hair, combing through snarls until she felt no pain. Then with deft twists of his fingers, her hair landed on her head and he reached for the pins she’d left in a pile last night.

  When he was done, he dragged her upright to face him. He tugged tucked a few missed strands behind her ear and nudged her mouth shut.

  “Time to face the Duchess.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Justin dragged Claribel out of his bedroom and marched them down the hall toward the ducal apartments. Although he knew this marriage was not what she wanted, he was honor bound to make it right and save her reputation. To save her from her own foolishness. He could not believe she would stoop so low as to try to seduce a man clearly in love with another woman. And married to her now, too. The thought made him nauseous.

  Although he hadn’t realized until this morning that it wasn’t Lucy in his bed last night, Clarry had been heaven in his arms. She had responded with such delightful enthusiasm, and her passionate responses and demands had inflamed him.

  But it was all a lie. Those responses had been for his brother, Tristan. A man who had never once shown her any partiality that he could remember, despite Clarry’s obvious attempts to capture his attention. Justin had watched from the sidelines, heart sinking with each encounter until he couldn’t stand to watch anymore.

  Loving someone who didn’t love you back hurt.

  And now they would suffer together in polite silence until death parted them. Not even he had dared write such a mournful ending for one of his character’s lives.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Clarry holding her temple. Justin instantly slowed his pace to match her shorter strides. He’d forgotten her head probably beat like a drum from her over indulgence of last night. Perhaps he was partially to blame for her state this morning, but he’d forgotten any thought of guilt or complicity the moment she admitted she’d been planning to spend the night in his newly married brother’s bed. Of all the foolish things to do. But the deed was done, beyond her power to correct, and he hoped to God he could survive this unholy union.

  Justin stopped before the corridor leading to his mother’s private chambers and turned to Claribel. She winced as she looked up at him and he moved her so she rested against the wall behind a potted plant so they might have more privacy should anyone stumble upon them. “When we see Her Grace I want you to let me do all the talking. No matter what I say, just nod your head and agree with me. Is that understood?”

  Claribel’s eyes filled with tears. “What are you going to tell her?”

  He wasn’t in the mood for tears. Not from this scheming chit, and certainly not after this morning’s revelations. “Certainly not everything. Not even a quarter.” He grasped her arm, tucking her against his side. “But it must be done immediately if we have a hope of being believed. Come on. Smile Miss Wheaton. Your reputation depends on it.”

  As the two footmen positioned outside the ducal apartments came into view, Claribel clutched his arm. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Clarry. Marriage is the only choice you have.”

  Justin nodded to the servants. “I’d like to see my mother immediately. Would you ask if she is prepared for visitors?”

  “Of course, Lord Justin.” The tallest man tapped on the door and stepped into the antechamber leading to his mother’s bedchamber. After a brief rush of words with his mother’s maid, they were ushered inside. Claribel dropped his arm immediately and moved to the fireplace, rubbing her arms as she went. There would be a lengthy wait, of course. His mother was notoriously fussy about being seen in perfect looks. So when the door burst open and his mother rushed in, he was so surprised that his hastily put together announcement flew out of his mind. He gulped to clear his throat. “Mother. You’re already up?”

  “Well, of course I am, my darling boy. I’m standing here, am I not?”

  She took another step into the room then her eyes widened as they landed on Claribel. “Mother, I have some wonderful news.”

  The duchess clutched her hands together at her waist. “You found her first. Thank heavens. Now that she’s been located, unharmed, we can return her home. Her father is beside himself with worry.”

  Justin glanced at Claribel and noticed she bit her lip. Was she wondering if it were possible to get out of this mess without anyone knowing where she’d spent the night? Her mouth opened and a squeak of sound emerged. Justin shook his head to silence her. “Mother, you can be the first to congratulate me. Miss Wheaton has consented to become my wife.”

  The silence in the chamber was loud enough to deafen them all. Then the duchess clucked her tongue and turned away, sinking into a chair with a sigh. “I hardly think such a drastic action is necessary, Justin. No doubt Miss Wheaton fell asleep in some out of the way place. There is no need to offer marriage for a miscalculation on her part.”

  Since his mother disliked Miss Wheaton quite strongly she would, of course, try to save him from what she saw as a potential entrapment. If she knew the truth of last night, he hated to think what she’d do to them both. The duchess could make Clarry’s life here at the Hall hell on earth if she learned what her real aim had been for the previous night.

  Justin set his hands to his hips. “There is every need, Your Grace. We wish to marry.”

  His mother glanced at him sharply, eyes taking in his fresh appearance and then Claribel’s rumpled state. Her eyes narrowed. “Is that so? And whose idea is that?”

  Justin braced himself. “Mine.”

  The duchess glanced between them again, a frown softening slowly into a less hostile expression. She sighed heavily. “Your father will need to see you immediately, Justin. Leave Miss Wheaton here with me while the pair of you debate the consequences of your rash decision.”

  “Of course.”

  Although he loathed leaving Clarry alone with his mother, he did need to speak to his father, especially if there was a search underway. Justin kissed his mother’s cheek and then turned to Clarry. Her face had drained of color and her hand rested on the back of a chair for support.

  Justin crossed the room and set one hand to her shoulder. “I’ll be back soon, my love.”

  He dropped a kiss to her cheek then drew back to see how she reacted. Her skin flushed a delicious pink. He hoped that blush was from pleasure and not embarrassment. With one more squeeze to her shoulder, Justin strode out the door and headed for his father’s study. He entered without knocking and found not just his father, but Mr. Wheaton, Lord Edenbray and his brother Tristan arguing loudly about Clarry’s disappearance. This was going to be awkward.

  “Where the hell have you been!” his father bellowed.

  “Visiting with Her Grace.” Justin crossed the room. “May I have a private word with you, Father?”

  “Later, boy, later. Miss Wheaton is missing and must be found.” His father turned back to Mr. Wheaton who was consulting a large map of the district.

  Justin cleared his throat. “Ah, I should tell you about Miss Wheaton first. She’s with Her Grace at present.”

  Both men turned to stare at him, their expressions hot enough to bore holes into his head. Somewhat tardily, Justin remembered that neither man had a reputation for keeping his countenance when faced with unpleasantness.

  Clarry’s father closed the gap between them. Tall, ginger haired and renowned for his quick temper, Mr. Wheaton added invisible daggers to his chest. “She’s where?”

  Justin swallowed before speaking. “She is with Her Grace. I just left her there.”

  “Jus—” his brother began—“what have you done?”

  He’d not be explaining a damn thing to Tristan since he was the one who’d led him—albeit inadvertently—into this mess. “I’d like to request an interview with
you too, Mr. Wheaton, at your earliest convenience.”

  Mr. Wheaton scowled, teeth grinding together, but he did nod his head. “Am I to assume there might be some unseemly haste to your need for this discussion?”

  Justin dipped his head cautiously, wondering how the older man would take the news. Mr. Wheaton scowled and then he sat himself down to wait.

  “For Gods sake, Justin—” his father huffed—“I said choose a bride quickly, but this is ridiculous. Have you no sense of timing?”

  “No, Father, apparently none at all.”

  His father scowled and then ushered Lord Edenbray from the chamber. Tristan settled against a wall, arms over his chest, but their father hooked his arm and hauled him toward the door. “Out. Go back to your wife.”

  “But—” Tristan began.

  Their father slammed the door shut in Tristan’s face and the crash gave Justin chills.

  “Justin,” his brother shouted through the wood, “I’ll be back to speak with you later.”

  Oh, wonderful. Did Tristan expect him to relate all the details of his future wife’s affections? Justin would not share that information with her one true love even on his death bed.

  Well, this was it. This was the most important negotiation of his life. He had to fool them both into thinking he and Clarry were so madly in love that they might agree with his request to be married by special license to save her reputation. If only that could be remotely true.

  Clarry’s father sat forward. “Explain yourself young man.”

  He met Mr. Wheaton’s gaze direct. “We are in love.”

  Mr. Wheaton scoffed. “The only thing my daughter is in love with is herself. Young man, you’ve made a foolish choice for a bride.”

  He snapped his mouth shut as his father started coughing into his fist. That wasn’t the type of comment Justin had expected either. “I’m sure you’re mistaken. Your daughter is everything a man could want for a wife.”

  Except for the small problem of her being in love with his happily married brother.