by Rose Gordon
He shrugged again. “So?”
“So where did the liquid come from?” she asked
He chuckled. “From the end of my―”
“I know which body part,” she snapped, uncertainty and annoyance quickly giving way to agitation. “I want to know why it suddenly appeared when normally it doesn’t.”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.” What was he hiding from her, and more importantly, why?
An odd shadow crossed his face, but in less than a second it was gone. “I didn’t realize it was such a problem for you to see such a thing, Juliet. I’ll be more mindful of your sensibilities in the future.” The low, solemn tone of his voice would have given her pause if she wasn’t so blasted confused about what was going on at the moment.
“I don’t have sensibilities. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing,” he said offhandedly, reaching for his dressing robe.
Juliet reached forward and plucked his dressing robe off the screen and clutched it to her chest before he could reach it. “Not so fast. I want some answers.”
A slight blush crept up his face. “If you must know, I was so taken with you, and captivated by the moment, I forgot to put on a sheath.”
“Excuse me?”
He nodded. “When you...er...started riding me, I―”
“I know when you were referring to, Drake,” she interrupted partly from embarrassment due to his word choice and what it implied, but also from agitation.
“Well then, what isn’t clear?”
“The sheath you just mentioned!” she burst out.
“Oh, that.” He waved his hand dismissively, his body had relaxed considerably. “Don’t worry about it, Juliet. I’ll be sure to use one in the future so not to disgust you again.”
She ground her teeth at his airy tone and easy dismissal of the topic. Since when had Drake become more obtuse than Lord Watson? Or was he? There was one way to find out. “There won’t be a reason for you to use one again if you don’t start explaining yourself.”
He stepped closer, his sharp brown eyes skewering her. “Is that a fact, madam? Unless I’ve been transported to a foreign land, I don’t believe you’re in a position to render such a threat.”
She didn’t even blink at his sharp response. She knew he spoke the truth, of course. There wasn’t a single thing legally she could do to deny him access to her bed. But just because she couldn’t do anything legally, didn’t mean she wouldn’t do something illegally. She may not have been married to him any great length of time, but they’d been married long enough for her to know some of his secrets. One of which being he’d never seek admittance into her bed if she took to spending her nights in the viscountess’ room. Not that she intended to employ such a heartless tactic, but if she needed a means to escape him, that was one option available.
She steeled her spine and inclined her chin a notch. “I’ll not rescind what I said. I’ll not be sharing your bed until you explain to me what you’ve been doing.”
He scoffed. “I’ll explain the details of a sheath, but just so you know, I’m not telling you this so you’ll share your bed with me. I survived more than twenty-eight years without you as a bed partner. I don’t imagine I’d die tomorrow if denied your bed tonight.”
She sucked in a sharp breath at his cruel words and wrapped her arms around her midsection. “Forget I even asked.” She stepped toward the door, ready to leave the room before she brained him, thus leaving Celia, Helena, and Kate condemned to having a simpleton for a father.
“No.” He reached out and stopped her. “Just because I said I’d survived twenty-eight years without bedding you and wouldn’t die tomorrow if denied that right, doesn’t mean I intend to find out.” He flashed her a smile that did nothing to sooth the sting of his words. “A sheath is just that. It’s a covering that goes over my...er...rod that catches everything. I’ve worn one every time we’ve been intimate. I just got carried away tonight and didn’t put one on.”
Juliet’s eyes bored holes into him. “Everything?”
The tips of his ears turned pink. “Didn’t your mother explain this to you?”
“Apparently not. All she told me was you’d insert your member a few times and within a few seconds, minutes at most, everything would be done. Then, if I were fortunate, in nine months I’d have a baby.”
His face turned dark. Very dark. “I’m sorry, Juliet. But I can tell you now, there will not be a baby in nine months.”
“I know,” she said sadly.
“You do?”
She nodded. “I just had my flux again while you were gone to London.” A slight, wistful smile took her lips. “But that doesn’t mean in―” Her words died on the spot. Something still didn’t make sense. “Why do you wear the sheath?”
“I already told you, to contain everything.”
That didn’t make things any clearer. Suddenly, Caroline’s suggestion about not cleaning up immediately or finding a way to get his fluid to her core made sense. So did Emma’s confused face and question about Juliet being sure there was nothing to clean up. Now she knew why, and the knowledge infuriated her. He’d been wearing a sheath to...to...to what? She blinked. “You―you wore the sheath to prevent conception?” she asked flatly, knitting her brow.
He nodded once.
The blood in Juliet’s veins heated to an instant boil. “How could you?”
“I’d just slip it on before entering you,” he said as if that were the answer she was seeking.
Juliet clenched her hands around the fabric of her dressing robe in order not to make his three little girls orphans. That wasn’t what she’d meant at all and he knew it. “Yes, I understand that. And I even understand you were able to do so because of my impaired eyesight and unbelievable amount of trust in you. But what I don’t understand is why you wore it.”
“Because―”
“Don’t you even think to say it was to contain the mess,” she cut in. “Putting aside the fact you’re not the tidiest person who ever lived, I just don’t believe it, quite frankly. There’s something more and I want to know what it is.”
“You already said it. I don’t want you to conceive.”
A new sense of understanding washed over her. One that made her so sick, she could hardly stand. Tossing his dressing robe at her feet, she wrapped her right arm around one of the posts of his bed and planted her left hand on her hip for balance. He’d been manipulating her. Of course she’d known when they’d first married he’d been manipulating everything. But she’d thought it had all stopped the night of Caroline’s dinner and it hadn’t. He’d continued to manipulate long after that event and he still was. Worse yet, what he was manipulating was something she had no control over, which caused her the most pain of all. She’d wanted to be a mother and he’d made the decision entirely on his own to take that possibility away from her.
“I want you to leave,” she whispered.
His brows knit. “Leave?”
“Yes, leave.” Trembles, caused either by hurt, betrayal and misplaced trust or blatant bitter hatred for the man standing in front of her, she didn’t know which, wracked her body. “Get out!”
He winced. “Juliet, is there a problem?”
“Is there a problem?” she repeated on the verge of hysteria. “Yes, there’s a problem. You!”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You’ve taken away the one thing I’ve dreamed of my whole life.”
“What? A role as a wife and mother?” His eyes grew sharp, impaling her. “Quite the contrary, Juliet. I gave you that. I not only gave you a husband, something you seemed unable to snare in London, despite your many years at a school known for its ability to make even the most unruly girls into proper young ladies capable of snagging the loftiest titles; but I also gave you three daughters. Have you forgotten them?” His voice turned hard as steel. “Are my girls not good enough for you, Juliet? Is that it? They’re not born of your womb, but Abigail’s, so th
ey’re fine to play house with, but not good enough to consider yours?”
“I’ve never thought of them that way, and your accusing me of such is most insulting. This has nothing to do with them.”
“Doesn’t it?” he countered, taking a menacing step toward her. “Isn’t this about your craving to grow a child in your womb?”
Juliet fought back her tears. “No. I’m angry because you decided you’ve had enough children, so you took it upon yourself to take measures to prevent more without consulting me, your wife.”
He blinked. “I did that for the benefit of everyone involved. Trust me.”
“How is that in everyone’s best interest?” she demanded.
His eyes sparked with something fierce, but unnamable. “Because you get a husband and the girls get a mother who will be around to guide them into adulthood. That’s what our marriage has always been about. You know that.”
She nearly blanched. He was right. That was the biggest—nay, the only—reason behind their marriage. She pursed her lips. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised to learn all of this since you have such a habit of making decisions for everyone based on the certainty that only you know what’s best, Lord Presumptuous. But this time you’ve gone too far.”
“How so?”
“Because you’ve taken away my dreams without so much as consulting me about it first. If not for your slip tonight, I might have never known.”
“Does that even matter? Fighting about it isn’t going to change anything. Whether you’d found out or not, I’d not be willing to intentionally get you with child.”
“Even if I wanted one?”
He threw his hands in the air. “I don’t see what the problem is, Juliet. You have three daughters who love and adore you. Is that not enough? Must you have more?”
“What of an heir, Drake? Don’t you have need of one of those?” she rebutted. Whether they had ten more daughters and no sons, it mattered naught to her, but his title demanded he father a son. It was her last, and strongest, appeal.
“My cousin can inherit,” he said dismissively. “When I was married to Abigail, I felt my biggest responsibility was to sire an heir. Now, I’m a little older and understand there are more important things than duty and responsibility to a title.”
Tears stung her eyes, blurring her vision. “Is that the way of it then? You make such a decision and I’m forced to accept it?”
“Forced?” he scoffed. He shook his head. “You have no idea what forced is, Juliet. Abigail was forced to have three children, and didn’t even live through the birth of the last one. You should be thankful I care enough about you not to force you to do that.”
“Of course,” she whispered, understanding crashing about her ears. Abigail. This wasn’t really about Juliet at all, it was about Abigail. Though Juliet had been fortunate he’d never openly flung in her face how much better Abigail had been at everything from her wifely duties to being the perfect mother, the truth was, Drake still thought it. Juliet could never compare. Perhaps he’d been right and this was the best way to protect everyone involved. This way he’d never be torn between showering love and affection on the girls he’d made with the woman he’d loved and being forced to pass down a title to a son born of the woman he didn’t.
A new wave of dizzying sickness settled in the pit of her stomach, then spread throughout her body. This was really it. The way it would always be. Abigail would always win. She’d always have Drake’s heart and children, and now she’d have Juliet’s dreams, too.
Numbly, she walked from the room, ignoring Drake’s commands for her to stay. There was no reason for her to argue with him any longer. He’d made his choice, and it wasn’t her.
Chapter 26
Juliet wandered the house she’d grown used to, but still didn’t feel right calling home, until nearly midnight before finding an old familiar room in which to spend the night. The next morning, she woke about dawn. Still angry with Drake about the events of the previous night, she skipped her morning meal opposite the table from him in the breakfast room for more favorable company. On her way upstairs to have breakfast with the girls, Links intercepted her.
“A note, my lady,” he said, holding a silver salver out toward her.
Juliet plucked the parchment from the salver and nodded his dismissal as her eyes scanned the familiar script. Reminding herself to take deep breaths, Juliet changed her course to the library where she dashed off a few notes of her own then set out to find the girls. She’d grown quite attached to them, and they deserved to hear her tell them goodbye before she went. Though they were too young to fully understand everything, they were not too young for her absence to go unnoticed. Besides, she owed them this much. She may not have won their father’s love, but she’d certainly won theirs and it would be rude, not to mention heartless, to leave without the courtesy of telling them goodbye.
“Girls,” she said quietly, stepping into the nursery to find they’d just finished breakfasting. “I’d like a word with you before you begin your studies.”
“Yes?” Celia asked, smoothing her skirts.
Juliet sank into the chair Miss Grant had graciously vacated to afford them a bit of privacy. She cleared her throat, her mind racing to think of what to say to the girls. She had to leave before anything else happened, but didn’t want to blurt everything out and cause them any undue worry. “Girls, I have to go away on an errand for a while.”
“Are you and Papa going to London?” Helena asked, an excited gleam in her eyes.
Juliet shook her head. “Not this time. I need to go do something alone this time.”
Celia’s brows snapped together. “Alone? But you never go anywhere alone.”
“I know,” Juliet acknowledged. “But this time I have to―”
“Girls, say your goodbyes to Juliet,” Drake clipped, coming into the room. The hard set of his jaw and icy tone sent a chill down Juliet’s spine. “Her carriage is waiting out front.”
Juliet stood. She’d looked for him after she’d received her father’s note, but when she couldn’t find him, she’d written a note for him to find explaining the details of why she had to leave. “Drake,” she greeted.
He bridled, then nodded curtly. “If you’re done with your goodbyes, I’ll be happy to escort you out.”
“I’m not.” She turned back to the three little girls and hugged them each, promising she’d be back as soon as everything was back to rights.
“Why did you lie to my girls?” Drake hissed when they were out of the room and walking down the hall.
“Your girls?” she echoed, matching his tone.
His brown eyes pierced hers. “Yes, my girls. Now answer the question.”
“I didn’t lie. I may have omitted a few things for their own good, but I didn’t lie.”
“Yes, you did,” he countered with a snarl. “You lied to them by giving them a false promise that you’d return.”
“That’s not a lie. I fully intend to come back.”
“Oh, do you now?” he drawled. “When, Juliet? When you’ve had time to accept the fact that nothing is going to change between us? Because that’s when it will be. If you think going away on an ‘errand’ is going to force my hand until I give you what you want, you’re mistaken.”
“Pardon?” She jerked her elbow from his tight grasp and crossed her arms.
Drake mirrored her stance, and when he spoke again, his voice was so low she wouldn’t have heard him had she been more than three inches away from him. “Those girls don’t deserve this, Juliet. If you leave this house today, do not even think of coming back.”
Juliet stood stock-still, waiting. Waiting for a sense of loss to settle over her at his definitive words, but none came. She might have lived in this house for the past few months, but it had never been her home. She’d been nothing more than a glorified visitor. It was the same thing with Drake and the girls. Those were his girls, he’d even said as much not thirty seconds ago. She might love them
as hers, but there would always be the unspoken fact that they were the girls he had with Abigail. His, not Juliet’s. Drake and Abigail’s. And as for Drake himself, she’d never had him and never would. He would always belong to Abigail. But then again, she already knew all of this.
“Is that what you really want?” she asked.
“No,” he admitted. “It’s not what I want at all, Juliet. But it’s what will happen if you leave here right now. I’ll not have my girls’ affections played with in that manner.”
There it was again, his girls. A brief wave of sadness washed over her, giving her the smallest urge to cry, and perhaps a savage urge to strangle the man standing in front of her making her choose between the family who loved her and the family she’d grown to love. “Very well,” she said with a swallow.
***
Patrick’s body went numb at the sight of Juliet walking away from him, presumably forever. She’d made her choice, and it wasn’t him.
Unable to force himself to watch from the window as Juliet climbed into the carriage, he spun on his heel and entered the schoolroom. His eyes drifted from a quiet and still Celia to a rather distant-looking Helena, then finally to Kate, the only one of his daughters showing an active emotion. Her lower lip trembled, a clear sign an onslaught of tears was about to transpire. Wordlessly, he picked her up, and nodded to the others an unvoiced message they all understood. With a quick word to Miss Grant about the girls missing their studies to spend the day with him, the quartet quit the schoolroom.
Patrick clutched Kate to him as tightly as he dared as he strode down the maze of hallways to his study, Celia and Helena trailing close behind. His heart hammered in his hollow chest and his mind reliving all the terrible events of the past twelve hours. At first he’d not been able to even determine why she was so upset. Then all her anger ceased to matter as his own filtered through. The crux of it was she wanted her own children, his weren’t good enough. The sudden realization last night hurt to the core. So it was little wonder he’d snapped at her when he saw her playacting with the girls in the nursery after seeing a carriage out front and her valise by the door.
