Juliet’s brow furrowed. “Miss Hardie is an unprotected woman who could easily fall prey to Lord George’s charms. ’Tis your duty as her employer, Richard, to assure her safety.”
“There is no need to overreact, Juliet. He’ll hardly be ravishing her over the Christmas pudding.” Richard blew out a long breath, wondering if he was defending George so strongly because his own passion was so riotously out of control.
Juliet raised her brows, suspicion on her features. “There are many secluded areas in the house where all sorts of mischief can occur. I must warn Miss Hardie to be on her guard.”
“George is a gentleman. He does not spend his days debauching innocent women,” Richard insisted, only half believing the claim. “And anyway, we have an army of servants in the manor, not to mention a growing number of holiday guests. It would be a miracle indeed if George managed to get Miss Hardie alone.”
Juliet pursed her lips, her expression skeptical. “A determined man can manage all sorts of impossible things. Especially when a woman is involved.”
“I’ve known George for years. Trust me, he isn’t that clever.”
“I’m still concerned,” Juliet replied.
“Very well, I will speak to him,” Richard grumbled. “Again.”
Juliet nodded. “Before dinner, if you please. I know it’s unorthodox, but I’ve asked Miss Hardie to join us tonight, to even out the numbers.”
Richard did not bother to hide his surprise. “She agreed to come to dinner? Won’t she feel out of place?”
“Why? It’s mostly family. We aren’t all that grand and she is intelligent enough to converse on any number of topics. Besides, I imagine we’ll mainly be speaking of the upcoming holiday events and she proved her interest in that subject this afternoon.”
Richard could not help admiring the casual way Juliet spoke of including Miss Hardie. It was not, he suspected, merely to even out the numbers around the dining room table. Juliet had a tender heart; hearing of Miss Hardie’s tragedy had brought her natural compassion to the forefront.
Juliet was a woman who did not merely express her empathy, she acted upon it. A rare quality, Richard thought, his esteem for his wife rising.
“Will there be a large number of guests for dinner?” he asked, forcing a casual note into his voice.
“Oh, no. ’Tis a small group. Sixteen total.”
Juliet gazed at him, as if awaiting his approval. Richard nodded slowly, trying not to think about how much he disliked social occasions. He tolerated them because they were at times necessary, and useful, for business purposes. Yet it was clear tonight’s dinner party would not afford him any business opportunities.
He briefly toyed with the idea of sequestering himself in his study and not even emerging for supper, but that would throw off the numbers around the dining room table. And replace that anxious look on Juliet’s face with one of disappointment.
No. Like it or not, he would have to attend the evening meal with a smile on his face and hope the wine selection was plentiful.
A house filled with guests. For several weeks.
Damn Christmas.
Then again, all this commotion was a distraction for Juliet. That was good. He told himself that he was glad that the upcoming holiday, with all the commotion and preparation, was providing the perfect excuse to avoid having a particular conversation with his wife. One that centered on the emotions and feelings of their relationship and the reasons he did not want any children.
Yet if he was so glad, then why did he feel so damn annoyed?
Later that night Juliet reclined on the yellow satin chaise in her bedchamber, pondering her next move. Dinner had been a lively affair. Spirits were high, the mood festive. She had enjoyed spending time with the aunts and uncles and cousins she saw but once a year, yet a part of her had wanted only to be with Richard.
And it wasn’t because being near him made her heart race, her senses heighten. Not entirely. She liked talking to him, even when his answers were brief. She wanted to connect with the man she had come to know through his letters and at the same time wanted to learn much more about him.
What made him happy? Sad? What did he enjoy doing besides working hard and making money? Did he ride? Hunt?
And what about family? Had he been close to his parents as a child? An adult? He had told her that his parents were gone and there were no living siblings. He appeared to be very much alone in this world. Was that the reason he didn’t want any children of his own? Or was it something else?
Juliet knew that true intimacy was achieved over time, but she and Richard had already spent the first months of their marriage living apart. Their letters had helped them get to know each other, and now that they were finally living together, she didn’t want to waste these precious days. Henry’s death had cruelly shown her that time was fleeting and hardly infinite.
She bit her lip. She had two choices. She could sit here, alone, staring morosely into the fire and mulling over the unsatisfactory state of her relationship with her husband, or she could get up off her backside and try to fix it.
But how? Juliet sighed, knowing she would need to compromise and put her feelings about having another child in the back of her mind for now. Instead, she would focus on solidifying her emotional and physical connection with Richard.
A heavy tread sounded in the hallway. No guests were residing in this area of the house—it had to be Richard. Excitement bubbled inside her. She glanced down at her blue evening gown, wishing there was time to change into the naughty silk nightgown she had bought last month.
There was a curt knock. Juliet’s eyes darted to the entry. The door opened and Richard entered.
He met her inquiring gaze with a casual lift of his brow that set her heart thumping. She scrambled to a sitting position, smoothing down her skirt, striking what she hoped was an inviting pose.
“Am I disturbing you?” he asked casually.
“Not at all.”
He had removed his evening coat, vest, and cravat. The buttons at his throat were open, and she could see a tantalizing portion of his muscular chest. Juliet tried not to stare, but it was difficult. There was something about Richard’s raw masculinity that left her weak-kneed and breathless almost every time she was near him.
“I received a letter in the afternoon post,” he said.
“Not bad news, I hope?”
“No. At least, I don’t consider it bad news. You, however, might.”
There was an almost imperceptible softening of his voice, and the slight panic that had risen in Juliet eased. She drew her feet under her legs, making room for Richard on the chaise. “Tell me about this mysterious letter.”
“Hardly a mystery.” Richard sat beside her. “It’s from Walter Dixon, an influential man with whom I’d very much like to do some business. He’ll be traveling in the area with his wife at the end of the week on their way to spend the holiday with her family. I thought it a good opportunity to invite them to visit us for a few days.”
“I gather it would be beneficial to impress Mr. Dixon?”
“It couldn’t hurt.” Richard shrugged, but she wasn’t fooled by the casual gesture. Winning over this man was important to him, as Richard’s next words confirmed. “I’ve been trying for nearly a year to interest Dixon in a consortium of investors, and I think I’m finally close to getting him to seriously consider a partnership. This might be my best chance to accomplish that goal.”
“He would be a fool not to listen to you,” Juliet declared loyally.
Richard gave her an uncertain look. “What do you know of my business?”
Smiling a little, she arched her brow. “I don’t only read mystery novels and fashion magazines, sir. Accounts of your success are often reported in the newspaper.”
A faint flush stained his cheek. “I’m merely a novelty that helps sell papers, that’s all.”
“No,” Juliet insisted in a reproachful tone. “You are respected, admired.”
&
nbsp; He gave a dismissive snort. “I’m a curiosity. A wealthy American willing to take great, foolhardy risks with his investments.”
She shifted, resting her forearm on one bent knee. “They admire your business sense.”
“Not really.” His teeth flashed white in the flickering candlelight. “Important men of business are circling around me like a school of sharks, waiting with great anticipation for me to fall flat on my ass.”
A jolt of shock thickened her throat. Was the risk truly that great? Could he in truth lose his entire fortune? “Then prove them wrong,” she advised. “Be more sensible, restrained.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, Juliet, don’t you know the first rule of business? The greater the risk, the greater the reward.”
Her heart skipped. “Your luck will eventually run out with that attitude.”
He shook his head. “Though my competitors firmly believe it, luck has very little to do with my success. It might appear otherwise to some, but my risks are never foolish or taken on a whim. I take the time to investigate and analyze each scheme before I invest.”
“A modern-day Midas,” she marveled, impressed with both his philosophy and his success.
“It takes far more than a mere touch to turn things into gold, my dear.”
“Believe me, I know.”
They exchanged smiles and Juliet gazed at Richard with fresh eyes, beginning to better understand the struggle he had endured. There were many in the world who claimed that you could not change the circumstances of your birth, yet Richard was living proof that it was possible to decide your own fate. He had fought long and hard for his success. Fought and won, yet he still felt the need to continue to prove himself.
Would he ever be able to simply relax and enjoy his success? Did he even want to try?
“I will do my very best to dazzle Mr. Dixon,” Juliet promised. She playfully placed a hand in the center of his chest. The muscles felt firm and taut. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
His eyes darkened with interest, sliding slowly from her lips to her shoulders to her breasts. Hypnotized by his searing gaze, Juliet raised her hands and wrapped them around his shoulders. “Speechless, sir? Well then, let’s start with a kiss, shall we?” Gripping Richard’s hair in her hands, she pulled his mouth down on hers.
His answering kiss was fierce and passionate, his obvious desire igniting hers. It nearly took her breath away. With a moan, she clung to him, pulling him closer, returning the kiss with wanton fervor.
“Mrs. Harper?” There was a knock on the door. “Are you in there?”
The door opened and Mrs. Perkins appeared. Richard pulled away from a startled Juliet as if scalded. Without the strength of his arms holding her steady, Juliet nearly tumbled off the chaise.
“Yes, Mrs. Perkins?” Juliet managed a credible calm. Though still fully clothed, she knew her mouth must be red from Richard’s kisses, her hair mussed. She tried to smooth it back and realized her hands were trembling. Folding them in her lap, she tried to concentrate on what the housekeeper was trying to tell her.
Mrs. Perkins looked from Juliet to Richard and back, embarrassment on her face. “I’m very sorry to interrupt, but it’s Lizzy. She’s a bit under the weather.”
“Lizzy is sick?” Emotions clogged Juliet’s throat.
“Nothing serious,” Mrs. Perkins added hastily. “She says her tummy aches, which is not surprising given how fast she gobbled her dessert tonight. And she ate the rest of Edward’s before Mrs. Bickford realized it. The poor lamb has been fussing something awful since she was put to bed. I believe a cuddle from her mother will set her to rights quick as rain.”
Juliet scrambled to her feet. Her poor baby! She was nearly through the door when she suddenly remembered Richard. She whirled to face her husband, who was now standing behind the chaise.
“Go,” he said quietly. “She needs you.”
“I’m sorry. This could take a while.”
His face remained expressionless. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Oh.” Disappointment slammed against Juliet’s chest. She didn’t want to wait until morning. She wanted to continue what they had started. Once she had assured herself that Lizzy was all right, she wanted to continue conversing with her husband. And the kisses. Most definitely the kisses. “You could come with me,” Juliet suggested, hitting upon what she decided was a brilliant solution. “Lizzy would adore the attention from you.”
“To the nursery?”
She nodded, warming to the notion. Lizzy had most definitely taken a shine to Richard. His presence would most certainly boost the little girl’s spirits and help settle her into sleep. And then . . .
She nearly smiled, but as she caught the appalled expression on Richard’s face, a sick feeling gathered in Juliet’s stomach. Swallowing a lump of hurt, she rushed from the bedchamber, not waiting to hear his fumbling excuses.
Chapter 9
Emotion caught in Richard’s throat. As George would say, that was not well done of him. At all. Juliet had not asked for the impossible. She wanted to include him, to bring him closer. From what Mrs. Perkins had said, it didn’t sound as though the child was critically ill. He would not have witnessed some sickbed horror, nor been exposed to any contagious disease.
It amounted to nothing more than cowardice to run so handily in the opposite direction. Even his intellect told him that behaving with such remoteness, acting as though she were intruding on his life with her simple request, was most unfair.
Richard fisted his hands and shoved them into his pants pockets. He had come to Juliet’s room tonight to tell her of the Dixons’ visit, to elicit her help. She had not hesitated for a moment when he explained what he required, promising to aid him in any way. And he knew she would keep that promise.
Yet when she had asked him for his assistance a few minutes later, he had categorically denied her. And hurt her in the process.
Richard felt a stab of guilt. Yes, it was not well done of him, though in truth he had not meant to distress Juliet. It was just that her request had caught him totally by surprise. How many times had he told her the children were her sole responsibility? Was it not obvious to her by now that he wanted no direct involvement in their upbringing?
Still, as he left Juliet’s bedchamber, he found himself making his way to the upper-floor nursery. It was not particularly late, but he met no one as he climbed, not even a servant. The open door and child-sized furniture easily identified the room he sought. Moving quietly to avoid detection, Richard stood outside in the hallway, protected by the shadows.
Juliet was seated in a rocking chair with Lizzy cuddled in her lap. A thick blanket encircled the pair. The chair moved back and forth in a comforting rhythm in time to the song Juliet was humming softly to her little girl.
An unfamiliar tenderness swelled in Richard’s heart. Juliet’s hair had fallen loose from its pins and cascaded around her shoulders. Her eyes were filled with love and assurance, her manner gentle. Lizzy’s head was nestled in the crook of her mother’s arm, her small hand clutching the bodice of her mother’s gown, almost as if she feared being separated.
Step inside. If only for a moment. Let them both know you are here if they need you.
Richard’s lips twisted with annoyance as his feet stayed firmly planted. He was not used to emotional dilemmas. He had created an environment for himself that was comfortable on many levels, not just financial. He had firmly believed he had no wish to change, no pressing need for anything else to give his days meaning and fulfillment. But he admitted now that Juliet’s presence in his life was gradually shifting everything.
Initially he had resisted, but Richard was starting to think he was being foolish. A passionate, intelligent, caring wife was not something to turn away from. There were great benefits to having someone special to share your life with, and Richard was smart enough to see that Juliet was indeed a very special woman.
He was trying to lower his defe
nses, attempting to graciously accept what she seemed so eager to give him. Yet allowing Juliet to gain a place inside himself was one thing; permitting her children the same privilege was quite another.
An unbidden picture came to mind of another child, an infant boy. Tiny, scrawny, and pale, swathed in a handmade blanket of white. His breathing labored, his eyes dull and listless. The hours spent in backbreaking work desperately trying to earn the money needed to care for the boy, money that in the end proved useless.
The disinterested wet nurse proclaiming in a flat voice that there was nothing she could do if the infant wouldn’t latch on and suckle. The angry, helpless feeling of panic as her words proved all too true. The plain pine box, so small it was constructed from wood scraps, lined with the same handmade blanket, lowered into the ground on a cold, gray day.
Richard closed his eyes tightly. His heart felt like a stone in the center of his chest every time he thought of it. That kind of pain changed a man, altered him forever. It seemed impossible to believe that he could ever get beyond it.
He consoled himself by remembering what he was able to do for Juliet and her brood—provide them with financial security, a place within the local society and a future with endless possibilities. Surely that would be enough?
Richard rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the stiffness. He wondered if it had been a mistake to return to the manor during the holiday season. Too much tradition, too much anticipation, too much family togetherness. All things he could easily do without.
The irony, of course, was his beguiling wife. He was fast realizing that she was something he did not want to do without.
Among the more significant benefits of his business success was the fact that he got his own way in most things. There were very few exceptions in his personal life where he did not receive complete and immediate compliance to every reasonable request.
Since returning to Highgrove Manor, that norm had gone off the rails, but there had to be a way to set it back to rights.
Tis the Season to Be Sinful Page 13
