Scandal Becomes Her

by Shirlee Busbee

  Something occurred to him. “Your nightmares…the ones after John’s murder, they’re only in these dungeons, the same dungeons, and only when he is killing?”

  Nell nodded.

  Julian’s eyes narrowed. “If you only see him at those times, then it must be the violence that is your link to him,” he said more to himself than to her. “John’s murder forged a link, and God knows how, between the two of you…and your nightmares, your connection to him, is triggered whenever he kills.”

  “Until today I did not believe, not truly, that I was seeing, dreaming of real people. I knew that the nightmares had to be connected,” Nell admitted, “but it was my fall over the cliffs that I blamed for them, not your cousin’s murder.”

  Julian studied her features, noting the purple shadows under her eyes and the air of fragility that surrounded her, and his heart turned in his breast. She looked exhausted; she’d suffered a bad toss today and needed to be coddled and comforted, not badgered about the horrible events they were discussing. He wanted to press on, there were questions upon questions that he wanted to have answered, but he drew back, deciding reluctantly that tomorrow would be soon enough to consider tonight’s revelations.

  He stood up, preparing to leave the room. “You need to rest, and talking about this subject is not going to help you sleep.” His gaze traveled on her pale features again. “I want Dr. Coleman to see you tomorrow morning,” he said abruptly.

  Nell wrinkled her nose at him. “Will it do me any good to argue with you about that?”

  “No, none at all,” he returned, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. He ran a caressing finger down her cheek. “I do not want anything happening to you. When Hodges returned and told me of your fall…” Remembered terror washed through him, but he forced a smile and said, “Let us just say that I do not want to experience that sensation again.”

  Precisely what he meant Nell could not tell from either his voice or his expression. Had he been annoyed? Worried? Irritated? He had not been happy to find her at Stonegate, that much she easily surmised. Probing just a little, she looked away and murmured, “It must have been a shock for you to find us at Stonegate this afternoon.”

  “I can’t deny it,” Julian replied, and some imp of the devil prompted him to add, “but that was nothing compared to the shock I felt when I saw you sitting so cozily next to Tynedale.”

  Her head swung in his direction and her chin held at a pugnacious angle, she said, “As I told you, I did not have a choice. He sat down beside me. I could not prevent him.”

  Julian wanted to believe her in this, too, but the sight of his bride sitting and chatting so calmly beside the man who had supposedly kidnapped her not three months before had given him a start and aroused a green-eyed demon within him. He had wanted to jerk that silly popinjay, Tynedale, off that sofa and shake him like a terrier with a rat. As for Nell, he had barely contained the powerful urge to sweep her into his arms and demand that she never frighten him in such a manner again.

  That Nell had affection, or a fondness, for him he did not doubt, but he was also conscious that she withheld a part of herself from him. He tried not to dwell upon it or give it importance, but he’d noticed those subtle withdrawals—the gentle removal of her hand from his and the slight turning of her mouth, so that his kisses fell upon her cheek. The nagging sense that she was moving further away from him filled him with helpless terror. He wanted to grab her and shake her and demand that she love him…as he, he realized, loved her.

  Stunned he stared at her. He loved her! He shook his head, hardly able to believe what had happened to him. He, the man who had never considered falling in love, had committed that folly of follies and had done just that—with his wife!

  He stared at Nell, his expression shuttered as he grappled with what had so inexplicably happened to him. He loved this slip of a woman with the big, misty-green eyes and tangled tawny hair. Loved her as he had never imagined loving another human being. In some mysterious way she had become his world…And unless he’d mistaken the situation, she was drifting away from him.

  Remembering her sitting beside Tynedale this afternoon, jealousy stirred like a wakened dragon in his breast and for the first time, he wondered if Tynedale’s kidnapping had been as one-sided as Nell had claimed. He had believed her…then. But now he wondered. Had the withdrawal he sensed started with the news that Tynedale was in the area? Could the so-called kidnapping have actually been merely a runaway match? Had there been a lovers’ quarrel that had sent Nell rushing off into the storm to seek shelter in the toll keeper’s cottage? And perhaps, the next morning, when confronted by himself and her father, she could not bring herself to admit it? Had events simply spun out of her control so she had decided to make the best of it? He winced. Bad enough to be married for title and wealth, but to be married because it was simply a solution to one’s problem did not bear thinking of…especially now, when he was in love with her.

  “My lord,” Nell said, breaking into his wanderings, “surely you do not believe that I encouraged Lord Tynedale?”

  Reeling from the sudden knowledge that he was in love with her, buffeted by pangs of jealousy and uncertainty, Julian muttered, “I do not know what to believe anymore.”

  Nell gasped, outraged. He doubted her word. Her green eyes glittering, she snapped, “Then I suggest that until you do decide to believe me that you not inflict yourself upon me.”

  “Inflict?” he demanded, her words flicking him like a cato’-nine-tails. Pride and temper goading him, he said, “Very well, my lady, I bid you good night. Do not worry that I shall inflict myself on you any longer.”

  Nell watched him stalk from the room, her volatile emotions flying from angry indignation to anguished despair and back again. The words to call him back, to make peace, hovered on her lips…and then it was too late. He was gone; the door between their rooms slamming shut behind his tall form with a thunderous boom that echoed around the room. The sound ringing in her ears, she buried her head in her pillow. A fist in her mouth, she choked back tears. Damn him! To doubt her word! To think even for a moment that she liked being in Tynedale’s company. Oh, she hated him. And at that exact second she wasn’t certain who was the true recipient of that hatred, Tynedale or her wretched husband, who did not love her—who had given his love and his heart to a dead woman. Damn and blast him!

  While Nell fought her own demons, Julian paced the confines of his rooms. He had tossed aside his coat and cravat and removed his boots. His valet had left a decanter of brandy and a snifter and during the course of the hours that followed he made steady inroads into the liquor.

  His thoughts were spinning. The import of Nell’s nightmares, his newly discovered love, his jealousy and suspicions all fighting against each other like scorpions in his brain. John’s death was a long-festering wound; Daniel’s suicide the previous year only adding poison to the canker that ate at him. That Nell might really have seen John’s murder, that she might be able to identify his murderer filled him with a savage exultance. At last, after all this time, he might be able to get his hands on the person who had foully murdered as fine a man as he had ever loved or known. Bringing his cousin’s murderer to justice would help ease some of the guilt he felt for failing John’s son, Daniel.

  It did no good for Marcus or anyone to tell him that Daniel’s suicide had not been his fault, Julian admitted wearily, taking a long swallow of the brandy. Whatever anyone else might think, in his heart he felt that he had failed John, that he had not kept his promise made on that long-ago day to care for Daniel should something ever happen to John. He had failed and failure did not sit easy with him.

  He’d avoided thinking about Nell, but her image, the sweetness of her smile, the giddy joy of her kiss crept into his mind, driving out the darker thoughts. He stopped his pacing and stared blindly into the fire that crackled on the black marble hearth.

  He was in love. With his wife. It was incredible and terrifying; glorious and confou
nding. He knew an insane impulse to toss the snifter on the hearth and charge into Nell’s room, and taking her into his arms kiss her senseless, pour out what was in his heart and demand that she love him. With an effort he fought against acting so rashly. A bitter smile curled his mouth as he remembered their parting. Most likely he’d have his ears soundly boxed and only add to the estrangement if he dared to do so. His wife, he admitted, did not hold him in high esteem at the moment.

  And Nell was right about one thing: he had to make up his mind whether he believed her…or not. Jealousy churned in his chest. Was it possible that Nell was in love with Tynedale? Had she perhaps not known her own feelings until she’d seen that bastard again? He did not want to believe it. He’d never once doubted Nell’s word. He had believed implicitly her tale of being kidnapped and forced to accompany Tynedale. He had good reason to; he held the power to destroy Tynedale financially and he knew that Tynedale had been frantic for a way to escape his fate. Marriage to an heiress would be a perfect solution. And if Tynedale had been reduced to kidnapping and forcing an unwilling woman into marriage, it wouldn’t have deterred him.

  Julian took a turn around the room, rubbing his forehead. God! If only he could resolve the conflict within himself. Nell’s nightmares were enough to drive a man to drink, let alone finding out he was in love with her and suspicious that she might be in love with a man he considered his enemy.

  He tossed off the last of the brandy, his face grim. So, did he believe her or not? He recalled the glitter in her fine eyes, the outrage on her face, and a wave of remorse and shame washed over him. How could he have doubted her? He was a fool! The moment Tynedale’s name had been uttered, he’d reacted like a callow youth in love for the first time—allowing insecurity and jealousy to rule him. A wry smile crossed his face. Well, he was in love for the first time, surely that gave him some excuse. But there was no denying that he’d let a green-eyed monster and, he admitted, his own temper, drive a wedge between them that they did not need. He took a deep breath. Even if he was not in love with Nell, he would not allow their relationship to deteriorate. He had failed at one marriage, he would not another. And he would not lose Nell to Tynedale without a fight. She was his…and he loved her.

  Her nightmares, her link to the murderer, troubled him deeply. If John’s murderer was to learn of that link…If even a hint of Nell’s connection to him was discovered…A chill, a bone-deep terror enveloped him. Until this monster, this vile beast of her nightmares was caught Nell was in desperate danger, her very life could be at stake. At the idea of Nell being harmed a rage such as he had never known exploded through him. His fingers tightened on the snifter and the fragile stem of the snifter snapped. It was the stinging of his palm that brought him back from the well of black fury that he had fallen into and, staring at the blood welling from the deep cuts on his fingers, he made a vow: he would find this monster and kill him. For Nell’s sake, this creature must be found and killed.

  Julian did not sleep that night; he had much to consider and spent the intervening hours studying the problems before him. He had no clear plans, but shortly after daylight he rang for his valet. An hour later, bathed and ready to face the new day, he descended the staircase and headed for the breakfast room. A word with Dibble ensured that a message to Dr. Coleman was sent on its way.

  After enjoying a quick breakfast of rare sirloin and a tankard of ale, Julian removed to the library, where he continued to pace, his movements no less restless than the thoughts tumbling through his mind. Of greatest importance, he needed to right things with Nell, ease the strain between them. He’d never considered himself a coward, but in the matters of the heart, he discovered that he did not quite have the nerve to blurt out his deepest feelings—not when doubts of the lady’s affection for him remained. But if he could not declare himself, he could at least see to it that they were not at daggers drawing with each other.

  And then there was the matter of the dungeons…He scowled. Nell was right about that, too. His dungeons must be examined to determine if they were indeed the same ones in her nightmares. If they proved to be so…a feral gleam that his friends and family would not have recognized leaped to his eyes. A trap would be set, he thought, yes, a trap that would leave no room for escape, and this monster would be dealt with once and for all—by him. Only one of them would leave that dungeon alive.

  Dr. Coleman’s arrival interrupted his thoughts, and slapping on a polite smile he greeted the other man. Explaining the situation, Nell’s fall the previous day, he soon sent the doctor on his way to see Nell. He smiled wryly. Something else she would hold against him.

  Upstairs in her suite of rooms, Nell was not happy to see Dr. Coleman. Like Julian she’d spent a less than restful night, but she had managed to sleep for a few hours. Exhausted and her leg aching like the very devil, she’d put up with Becky’s ministrations and scolds as she’d bathed. Not feeling robust, thinking that she would spend the day in bed, she’d elected to wear a pale yellow nightgown of finest cambric, followed by a lavender dressing gown festooned with lace. After Becky had combed her hair and tied the heavy locks back with a silk ribbon, she’d even managed to swallow a bite or two from the laden tray that had, at Becky’s insistence, been brought to her.

  She had just poured herself a second cup of tea when Dr. Coleman was announced. Putting a good face on it, she answered his questions and endured his examination. Nell was very conscious that this tall, dark-haired man who asked such probing questions and knew such intimate details of her body was her husband’s uncle in blood, if not name; his resemblance to Julian only added to the awkwardness she felt. She thought of kindly, old, white-haired Dr. Babbington at Meadowlea, and suddenly longed to see his familiar face. A wave of intense homesickness engulfed her. She wanted her father. Her brothers. Tears welled in her eyes. What she really wanted, she admitted, averting her face from Dr. Coleman’s impassive stare, was for her husband to love her…

  His embarrassing questions and examination finished, Dr. Coleman left the bedroom for her sitting room, allowing Nell privacy to arrange her clothing. After what he’d just done to her, Nell wondered with flaming cheeks, why he bothered.

  Her dignity intact once more, she joined him in the sitting room.

  Hands behind his back, he was staring out the window, but when she entered and took a seat in one of the chairs, he turned to look at her and said, “Well, my lady, you are, despite your accident yesterday, in excellent health. A few days of rest and you will feel your old self.” He walked toward her and a smile crossed his face. Wagging a finger at her, he added, “But no more reckless riding for you for a while—it is not only your health that you put at risk now.”

  Nell frowned. “What do mean?”

  His smile widened. “If all proceeds well, and I see no reason why it would not, I should think that you will deliver your lord a fine, healthy child sometime in July, possibly very early August at the latest. Congratulations.”

  Chapter 13

  Nell sat there stunned. Feeling as if she’d been poleaxed, she was barely aware of the doctor’s departure. She was pregnant! With Julian’s child!

  In amazement she stared down at her flat stomach. How could she be pregnant? A flush stained her cheeks as she thought of the nights of wild lovemaking in her husband’s arms. Well, she knew how it had happened; she just couldn’t believe it. She didn’t feel any different…Although admittedly she had been tired lately and inclined to tears and her stomach had shown a decided queasiness that didn’t seem quite normal…

  She jumped up from the chair and ran into her dressing room to preen before her tall cheval glass. Tossing aside her dressing gown, she pulled her nightgown tight against her abdomen. A wave of disappointment washed over her. Her stomach still looked flat to her. She turned this way and that, studying herself. With a sigh, she let loose of her nightgown. Dr. Coleman might have said that she was pregnant, but at this moment, she saw no outward sign that a child grew within her. Still…T
here were all those other signs, and it was true that the last time she’d been aware of her monthly flow had been before Julian had come to her bed. A glow suffused her face. It was true. It had to be. She was pregnant.

  Becky tapped on the door and peeked around the door-jamb. “My lady? I saw the doctor had left. Do you need anything?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know,” Nell confessed, still staring awe-struck at her suddenly mysterious body. She made an impatient gesture for Becky to join her. “Look at me,” she demanded. “Do I look different to you?”

  Puzzled, Becky shook her head. “No, your ladyship.”

  A joyous smile on her lips, she looked at her maid and exclaimed, “Oh, Becky, I have just been given the most extraordinary news! I am with child!”

  Her eyes growing round, Becky gasped, “Miss! I mean, your ladyship! How wonderful! You must be thrilled.”

  “I am,” Nell admitted, “I just can’t quite take it in yet.” A note of awe in her voice, she said, “I am to have a child. In July…or early August.” She laughed, and grabbing Becky’s hand began to dance wildly around the room. “Can you believe it?” she demanded, giggling. “A child! Me!”

  “Is his lordship pleased?” Becky asked, when they both collapsed breathless on the bed.

  Nell’s bubble of joy burst. She was to have a child fathered by a man who did not love her, a man whose heart and love belonged to a dead woman, a man who doubted her word. A heaviness of spirit overtook her. Julian should be pleased by the news of her pregnancy, though—he needed an heir and at least, she thought wryly, that was one thing she could do that the sainted Catherine could not. “He doesn’t know yet,” she confessed. “I imagine that Dr. Coleman is telling him at this very moment.”