Her Secondhand Groom

by Rose Gordon

  Unlike Abigail, Juliet’s small stature and dainty features belied the strong, confident woman who hid underneath. Juliet was bold and unafraid. She didn’t avoid asking his advice because she didn’t wish to bother him, but because most of the time she didn’t need it. At first it unsettled him to be married to such an independent creature. But now he found it rather refreshing.

  Just like Juliet herself.

  Juliet was everything he’d previously lacked. She had the confidence of a queen, and the air of authority to match. Just because they now shared a bed, did not mean she’d become docile and biddable, either. Quite the opposite, actually. She was still strong-willed and confident, and he wouldn’t have her any other way.

  “What has you smiling like a cat who just spotted the cream?” the object of his thoughts asked.

  “You.”

  She sat up. “Me?”

  He nodded. “Yes, you. Just thinking about how our time together in bed hasn’t managed to tame you any.”

  She scowled. “Was that your plan?”

  “Not at first, but I like a challenge.” He leaned extra close. “And this is one challenge, I’ll get to enjoy every minute of pursuing.”

  “Try all you like, but I’m set in my ways.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want you to change.” It was true, too. Although it was infuriating to occasionally be put in his place by his wife, it was also one of the many things he admired about her.

  “How far would you say we are from your townhouse?” Juliet asked.

  He glanced out the window. “I’d say maybe twenty minutes, thirty if Cruxley takes the alley.”

  Juliet rolled her eyes, and groaned. “You know he will. I often wonder if you could have employed a worse coachman.”

  “I’m sure if I look hard enough, I could find one.” He put his arm around her and pulled her toward him.

  “Please don’t.”

  “All right, I won’t, but only if you tell me the meaning behind the cottage you painted a few weeks ago.”

  She peered up at him, and snuggled closer. “Hmm, I don’t know if I can trust you with such a secret.”

  “A secret?” he asked, arching a brow. “Now, I must know.”

  “Only if you tell me one of your secrets.”

  “All right. You go first.”

  Juliet adjusted herself. “When I was younger, that’s where I’d go to escape from my brothers and sisters.”

  “Is that all? That doesn’t sound like a secret.”

  She frowned. “Considering that I didn’t own the cottage, and would just go in and make myself at home whenever I felt like it without the owner’s permission, I’d say it is a rather large secret, thank you.”

  He chuckled. “All right, I see your point. But just so you know, Mr. Sayas, the current owner of that cottage, might be upset if you were to go there unannounced now. Especially if you planned to drink his tea and take a nap in his bed.”

  She swatted at him playfully. “I know that. I only went because it was vacant and abandoned. If someone had been living there, I wouldn’t have gone. Now tell me your secret.”

  “Hmm, I don’t know that I have one,” he said slowly. “At least none as interesting as yours, I’d not pinned you for a trespasser, Juliet.”

  “Oh, leave off, will you?”

  “All right,” he said with a smile. He racked his brain. He didn’t have any secrets, at least none that anyone would care about anyway. “My mother died from pneumonia.”

  “Pardon?”

  He shrugged. “Most people think my mother died giving birth to me, but she didn’t. She died of pneumonia a fortnight after I was born.”

  “Oh.”

  “See, nothing near as interesting as the secret you told me,” he said, squeezing her.

  A minute or two passed with nothing but the sound of horse hoofs and carriage wheels breaking the silence. “What of your father.”

  He involuntarily twisted his lips. “He took his life a week after my third birthday.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Drake. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  He waved her off. “It’s all right. The topic was bound to come up sometime.”

  She ran one of her slender fingers along the edge of his waistcoat. “Do you remember him?”

  “Not really.” He blinked. “Actually, I only have one memory of him. He was unhappy about something and yelled for my nurse to get me out of his sight.”

  “How terrible.” She pressed a kiss to his chest, branding his skin through the layer of fabric. “Did you get along with your uncle?”

  He snorted. “No. He made it a habit of depositing funds into the wrong accounts. When I was thirteen, the schoolmaster at Harrow called me into his office to inform me I was being dismissed from school for lack of payment. When I returned to Briar Creek, I saw the account books and realized my uncle had been stealing from the viscountcy. That’s when I started acting as viscount. It was no longer just a title I held that would one day become my responsibility. That distant day in the future had arrived sooner than expected and it was time to assume my responsibility.”

  “But you were just a boy.”

  “Perhaps to some, yes, but that didn’t matter. There was a duty to the viscountcy and it was my responsibility to make sure it was done.”

  “Do you resent your father?”

  “No. Why?”

  She sat up. “If he hadn’t killed himself, you wouldn’t have been forced to forfeit your boyhood for the sake of a responsibility far beyond your years.”

  He tipped one shoulder up in a lopsided shrug. “That may be, but I also wouldn’t have the life I have now, filled with the people who mean the most to me.” He pulled her onto his lap. “See, if not for my responsibility to the viscountcy, I wouldn’t have been riding to Ridge Water the day of Marcus’ accident. But as it would happen, I needed to go see the late Lord Sinclair about drainage ditches that day. Before then, I had very few friends or acquaintances, and now I have three close friends who I would have never met otherwise.”

  Juliet nodded. “You also have your daughters because of it.”

  “Yes, I do,” he agreed. Part of the reason he married Abigail so young was the pressing reminder he needed to sire an heir. Now, that didn’t matter. His uncle was dead, and, fortunately, the cousin who’d inherit upon Patrick’s death was an honest sort. “You know what else I gained out of the bargain?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You.”

  Juliet blushed. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Yes, I do,” he countered, leaning in to kiss her. “I think everything happens for a reason, Juliet. I may not understand the reason yet, but I’m glad it led me to you, nonetheless.”

  ***

  Juliet stared at her husband, too stunned to return his kiss. “I think we’re here,” she forced herself to say.

  “Right you are,” he agreed, peeking out the curtains.

  Relieved, Juliet scooted off his lap. He may only be saying such things to gain her favor, but that didn’t stop her heart from wishing he really felt that way for her. Restoring her calm reserve, she allowed Drake to help her from the carriage and show her about his London residence.

  While nowhere near as large as Briar Creek with its imposing columns, winding hallways, and stone floors, Drake’s townhouse was still impressive. Two oversized drawing rooms, one blue, one yellow, were positioned near the front of the house on the main floor, with a library, study, and a sizable dining room down the hall. Upstairs, at least six bedchambers were furnished and aired. Five of them held no interest to her, however, as the girls had eagerly gone to stay with Caroline at Watson Estate for the week. Nor did she feel the least bit shy or timid following Drake into the master suite.

  “Are you ready to go see Mr. Nills?” Drake asked as the morning light filtered in through the curtains.

  Juliet rubbed her eyes then put on her heavy spectacles for what she hoped would be the last time. “Absolutely.”

  “Sh
all we walk?” Drake asked after they’d finished breakfast.

  “We shall,” Juliet agreed, tying on her bonnet. The weather was turning and it was rather cold, so she grabbed an extra muffler and wrapped it around her neck.

  Drake chuckled. “You look rather fetching dressed like that.”

  “Well, it’s rather brisk out, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Not today it’s not.” He opened the door, and much to Juliet’s surprise, she wasn’t given an instant chill.

  “Odd,” she commented, reaching for the end of one of the scarves she was wearing.

  Drake’s hand shot out and stopped her. “Leave them. I’ll enjoy peeling all those layers off of you later.”

  A chill ran down her spine at his promise. “Which way, my lord?”

  “To the left, my lady.” He offered her his arm, then they descended the steps. “We’re only a short distance from Mr. Nills’ shop. There’s no reason for us to take the carriage.”

  A block later, they were there.

  “You weren’t jesting,” she murmured as he opened the door for her.

  “I rarely do,” he admitted, walking in behind her. “For reasons I have yet to understand, most of my jests are misunderstood.”

  Juliet blinked. How could that be?

  Chair legs screeching across the wooden floor stole Juliet’s attention.

  “Ah, Lord and Lady Drakely,” the clerk inside the building said.

  Drake removed his hat. “We’re here to see Mr. Nills.”

  “Yes, yes,” the clerk agreed. The stout man pushed his chair in, and dropped his quill. “I’ll be right back, my lord.”

  “No need to come get me, Davis,” a tall slender man with short blonde hair, and a flawless suit of clothes said, walking into the room.

  “Nills,” Drake greeted.

  “Lord Drakely.” Mr. Nills shifted his gaze to Juliet. “Lady Drakely, I presume.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Juliet said.

  Mr. Nills cocked his head to the side and tapped one long, slender finger against his thin lips. “Those have to be the thickest lenses I’ve ever seen.”

  “Forgive him, Juliet,” Drake said, taking her hand and giving her an affectionate squeeze. “Nills here often speaks without thinking.”

  “Oh, so you two have a lot in common, then,” Juliet quipped.

  “Indeed,” Drake agreed.

  “Enough chatting, let’s go have a look at those orbs,” Mr. Nills said. He gestured to an open room.

  Juliet walked in first. This room was nothing like what she’d seen in that little back room in Mr. Hunt’s shop. In the middle of the room sat an elevated chair, surrounded by tables. On the tables were boxes with rows and rows of marked lenses and prisms. She smiled. Caroline would never want to return to Watson Estate if she saw this room.

  “Have a seat, Juliet. Today is all about you.”

  Juliet turned around to look at the strange man she’d married. Ever since he’d cleaned her up and held her following the first time they’d been intimate, she’d realized there’d been far more to him than she’d originally thought. He wasn’t always an insensitive brute who didn’t give a fig about others, he did. He just didn’t have a clue how to show it.

  “Mind if I have a peek at those?” Mr. Nills asked, reaching for her spectacles.

  Juliet slid them off and handed them to him.

  “Hmm. These frames have got to be no less than one hundred years old.”

  Juliet frowned. “That cannot be, sir. My father bought them from Mr. Hunt no more than ten years ago.”

  Mr. Nills harrumphed. “Mr. Hunt,” he grumbled. He cleared his throat. “And did Mr. Hunt tell you they were new?”

  “Well, no. But I assumed they were. Why would anyone lie about such a thing?”

  “Because he’s a cheat,” Drake said. “Don’t worry about it, Juliet. You will get a new pair today. Ones I am sure were manufactured in this century, if not this decade.”

  “That you will,” Mr. Nills agreed. “Tell me, Lady Drakely, are you able to see now that I have your spectacles?”

  “Not well.”

  “Hmm, and what can you see?”

  She licked her lips. She always hated to be asked that when she removed her spectacles. It made her feel vulnerable.

  Drake’s large hand touched her shoulder. “It’s all right, Juliet. There are no wrong answers. Just tell the man what you see.”

  “I see―” she blinked her eyes― “I see your outline,” she said at last.

  “Can you see what I’m doing?”

  She squinted. “Yes, you’re waving your arms like a madman.”

  He chuckled. “Very good. Anything else?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  Drake snapped his fingers. “And here I was, hoping you were going to ask me to cheat and help you.”

  Juliet’s brow puckered. “Why would you think that?”

  “Yes, Lord Drakely, why would you think that?” Mr. Nills drawled.

  Drake coughed. “Forget I said anything. Just fit her for some new spectacles, would you?”

  “That wasn’t your attempt at a jest was it?” Juliet asked.

  Drake didn’t answer her and Mr. Nills began to chuckle. “Since you can’t see it, Lady Drakely, I’ll tell you. Your husband’s face is as red as your coat.”

  “I told you I don’t jest often,” Drake said. “Now you know why.”

  “I guess so.” That was the worst attempt at a jest she’d ever heard. Perhaps it was a good thing he rarely jested, even if it would make him appear less rigid if he did so.

  “All right, Lady Drakely, I’ll be just a few more seconds with these spectacles, then I’ll fit you for some new ones.”

  Juliet nodded.

  Drake’s other hand came down on her other shoulder and he leaned so close to her, she could feel his breath on her ears.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she whispered.

  He didn’t answer how she thought he might, instead, he said, “Mr. Nills has put on his own spectacles now―he wears them on the tip of his nose, by the way―and he’s eyeing your pair in the most curious way I’ve ever seen, almost as if the lenses contain some sort of mystery.”

  “What are you doing?” she repeated, her voice more serious this time.

  “I’m being your eyes.”

  Those whispered words melted away any last crystals of ice which had formed around her heart the day they married. “All right,” she said unevenly. “And just what am I seeing?”

  “Well, Mr. Nills is now holding those old heavy spectacles out in front of himself. Care to know a secret?”

  She nodded.

  “I had no idea Mr. Nills was so strong. The way his muscles are flexing due to the weight of those spectacles, I have a suspicion any minute the seams of his coat are going to rip.”

  She jabbed at him with her elbow, and despite herself, a giggle passed through her lips. “While I admit that jest was slightly better than your last, it was still far from unbelievable.”

  “It doesn’t matter if it’s believable or not if it still gets the desired reaction. Now stop giggling and I’ll tell you what Mr. Nills is doing now.”

  “All right, I’m ready.”

  “Now, he’s turning them over in the lamp light. And now he’s... Uh, he’s pushing on one of the lenses now. Plop! He just poked one out! Gracious, Mr. Nills, was that what you were intending to do?”

  “I’m not familiar with this particular lens,” Mr. Nills explained. “I’m hoping Mr. Hunt at least had the wits about him to mark the strength on the ridge of the lens.” He sighed. “Not on this one.”

  “Oh, now he’s picked the frames back up and he’s pressing against the other lens. Care to wager how quick he gets this one out?”

  “No. You could lie to me, and I’d never know.”

  He chuckled. “Do you really think I’d do that?”

  “Absolutely.” she lied. He might have a few other distasteful characteristics, but ly
ing wasn’t one of them.

  “You’re likely right. All right, I’ll just go back to explaining what the peculiar Mr. Nills is doing.”

  “No need,” Mr. Nills said, dropping what sounded like her spectacle frames and the lenses they once held. “That no-good, two-bit, quack didn’t bother to mark them. No matter. I’ll just start with a six and go from there.”

  “Sorry, Juliet. I thought by bringing you here we’d get you some smaller lenses, not bigger ones,” Drake whispered in her ear.

  She rolled her eyes. “He’s not talking about the thickness being six inches, it’s a measurement of some sort but not thickness.”

  “All right. But just so you know―”

  “Why doesn’t the doting groom have a seat so I can be about my business,” Mr. Nills intoned, presumably to save Drake from saying something to embarrass himself.

  Drake coughed. “Right. I’ll just be over here.”

  Mr. Nills moved his chair in front of her and for the next forty-five minutes waved different lenses in front of Juliet’s eyes. “I think these will do.” He held two lenses up in front of her eyes.

  “These will do” was an understatement. Those lenses were by far better than the ones she’s been wearing. Lighter, too.

  “If you’d like to hold them up to your eyes, I’ll show you which set of frames I can fit them into.”

  “You mean I have a choice?” she asked, astonished.

  “Not much of one, but yes.” He waited until her fingers were gripping the lenses then let go. He walked across the room then came back with about six different sets of frames. “I have the appropriate shape lenses to fit them in either the circular frames or the rectangular ones.”

  Juliet leaned down to look at the six sets of frames in front of her.

  “What of these,” Drake asked. He waved a pair of the frames around that required lenses that weren’t rectangles or circles, but more of an awkward five-sided shape. Most odd.

  Juliet stared at him. “Do you have cotton in your ears? Mr. Nills said he only had the lenses to fit these.”

  Mr. Nills sighed. “Actually, Lady Drakely, I do have the lenses to fit the ones Lord Drakely suggested. I didn’t think to suggest them, however, since men are typically the ones who choose those.”

  Juliet scowled. She understood why a man would be more prone to select those unusual-looking spectacles. They were what women would consider hideous, and a man would consider interesting. “No, thank you. I’ll choose one of these pairs.”