“How is it, that when you do that, I am not afraid, not repelled, yet, when Lord Fondleton touched me that way, I was utterly repulsed?”
“Perhaps because you know that I am not an unprincipled cad? For now, we do not have time to debate my virtues,” she gave a little laugh at his words, “we need to restore your hair to order, and brush down your skirts, then get to the gardens of Hardcastle House as soon as possible.”
“Yes. Do you, perchance, amongst those virtues, count a talent for dressing a lady’s hair? For I confess that I am not skilled at doing so when I have no mirror. And if I lean over the river, I may fall in!”
It was his turn to laugh.
“I can try.”
With gentle fingers he found the pins in her hair, those that had not been lost in Fondleton’s carriage, and drew them out, letting the glorious golden tangle of it fall down her back. She held the pins for him whilst he did as he had dreamed of, that day in the forest clearing, which now seemed so long ago. He combed it through with his fingers, untangling and smoothing, until he could lift great coils of it again to pin them upon the crown of her head. He suspected that the tendrils he left to fall over her shoulder were not as artfully placed as a maid would have achieved, nor was his pinning as certain of staying in place, but at least the result looked moderately respectable.
Lady Juliana moved cautiously to the water’s edge and considered her reflection from as far away as possible.
“A talent indeed – that is far more artful than I usually achieve with a good mirror and a brush!”
“I am pleased to be of service, my Lady.”
She blushed, as if recalling his rank and title, then shook her head a little, and brushed her skirts into a better semblance of tidiness, attempting to hide the areas that had been crushed in her struggles in the carriage.
“I believe that I am as respectable as is possible – now, the path to Hardcastle House?”
“This way. I will accompany you. After the last few hours, I cannot risk leaving your side – I would keep you safe, always.”
At his choice of words, she paused, tilting her head that tiny amount, considering. After a moment, with a small shrug, she turned and started along the path. Between there and the Hardcastle House gardens they saw no-one, and Garrett began to feel that this might even succeed – he might yet get Lady Juliana back to her parents with her reputation intact.
And when he did, he knew what he would do. But how would she react? He did not know, yet his whole future rested upon that moment. A completely new kind of fear filled him.
~~~~~
Juliana felt as if the world had gone mad. In a few short hours she had been peaceful in the summer sunlight on a deserted road, then terrified, molested, and bound in Fondleton’s carriage, and rescued by the Duke – again, for surely his coming to Bath after her also counted as a rescue of sorts. She had felt a kiss that she hated and a kiss that she liked, liked so well that she could wish to feel it again, and her hair had been dressed by a Duke. All of which was beyond improbable, for a woman whose life had been, for the last few years, lived in quiet seclusion.
She glanced sideways, to where he walked beside her, his dark hair lit by the sun to a shine, his handsome face calm, as if he had intentionally hidden his feelings about the whole affair. She wished that he still held her hand, as he had in their flight down the hill from the back of the Inn stables. She wished that they could stop walking, that he might bring his lips to hers again. She did not understand her own yearnings.
This man had, from the first day she had met him, thrown her life into turmoil. Yet she could not regret the meeting. She also wished, she discovered, that Hardcastle House was not approaching as fast as it was. For, once they walked up through the gardens and in through that door, her life would be back as it had been – a lonely trap, where she was threatened with the destruction of her family, by more than one person. Even if, with this escapade, she had managed not to destroy her reputation herself, others still stood ready to do it for her. But they continued to walk, and stepped from the grass of the riverside onto the gravelled paths of the formal gardens, and, inevitably, reached the terrace door to Hardcastle House. Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for her, waving her past him and into the building where the trap of her life waited.
The parlour they stepped into was empty, as was the hallway. The stairs seemed impossibly high, and yet far too short, for soon she was standing at the door of their rooms. She knocked, and waited. He stood beside her, silent, almost as if he also dreaded the opening of the door. Dreaded or not, it creaked open.
“Lady Juliana! Your Grace!”
Mary’s voice was high, ending in a shocked squeak.
They stepped inside, the maid falling back before them, barely retaining the presence of mind to then close the door. The parlour they stepped into from the small entryway was a tableau of shocked faces, frozen in whatever they had been doing when Mary had spoken. Suddenly, after the tensions of the previous hours, Juliana found it utterly comical. She burst into laughter, and the Duke beside her appeared to be struggling not to join her.
Chapter Twelve
Lord Fondleton had finally arranged things to his liking. He had ensured that a suitable room was readied, that he had located the servants’ stairs to the upper floor, and identified the easiest route to gain his rooms unobserved.
He would have to untie her legs, for she would have to walk, but the rest of her restraints could stay. Wrapped in the cloak that now lay over his arm, no-one would see anything of her.
He stepped into the stables, humming quietly with satisfaction, and went to his carriage.
~~~~~
Lady Prudence was worried – by now, her mother might have noticed her absence. But she had been unable to escape the horse stall. There had been people coming and going, there had been stable hands and grooms at work, and she had stayed hidden, terrified of discovery. In her mind, as she hid, she replayed what she had seen.
She did not know what to think of it! The Duke had seemed to be intentionally hiding, slipping along behind the carriages like a thief. When he had opened a carriage door, she had wondered if such a preposterous idea could be true. But then, mere minutes later, he had reappeared – with a very tousled Lady Juliana following him. Where had she been? Why was she in a carriage, here, if she had been ill the last two days, as had been put about? And, most importantly, why did she look all tousled and disreputable – it could not be the Duke’s doing, for he had only been in that carriage for a very short time.
Regardless, perhaps it would be of use as gossip, if she could work out how to use it best. She had been shocked by the sight at first, then angry beyond bearing. The Duke was hers! She had warned Lady Juliana twice, and yet, here the woman was, sneaking about in stables with the Duke. It was more than she could bear, yet she had no choice but to stay still and silent, for, once the shock had worn off enough for her to move, it was too late – and, anyway, she did not want the Duke disgraced, or forced to marry Lady Juliana!
The grooms had taken forever to reach the point where they left the main area of the stables. But finally, all seemed quiet. She gathered her courage, and slipped from the horse stall into the central aisle, smoothing her skirts. Before she could take another step, a loud shriek resounded through the building. She froze in renewed terror. What had happened?
Moments later, someone collided with her. She grabbed at them to stop herself from falling, and they, in turn, grabbed hold of her. She was instantly aware that it was a man. A man who was, apparently, very angry.
“Where has she gone, the little minx? How could she possibly escape? I will not lose her again, I won’t!”
His rantings made no sense, and he seemed almost unaware that he held her. He shook her a little, as if she might answer his impossible questions.
“My Lord?”
Her voice came out even sharper than usual, high pitched and shaky. He looked at her, as if finally realising that h
e held a woman. His eyes took on a greedy, devious look.
“Perhaps you’ll do instead, for now. You’re conveniently here, and I find that I need to release my frustrations.”
“Wha…”
Her attempt to question his meaning was cut off when his lips came down over hers in a plundering kiss. She squirmed in his grasp, and he deepened the kiss in response. Oddly, Lady Prudence discovered that, perhaps, it was not entirely unpleasant.
“Lady Prudence! Lord Fondleton! What is the meaning of this?”
The sharp voice sliced through the air, and Lady Prudence found herself released from the kiss. Above them, on her horse, was Mrs Hardcastle, the woman who owned the Boarding House. The woman who was seen by many as the arbiter of propriety in the town. Her no-nonsense attitude was well respected. Lady Prudence found herself lost for words – for, to tell the truth, she had no idea what was happening.
“Ummm.”
The man – Lord Fondleton? – drew himself up, attempting to look righteous.
“What is this? It’s none of your business, Madam.”
“Oh, I think it is my business, as an upstanding resident of this town. I believe that you, Lord Fondleton, and you, Lady Prudence, have just become, by your actions, betrothed.” She slid lightly down from her horse, and handed the mare to a gaping groom who had come running at the sound of loud voices. “Come with me. We will find your mother at once, Lady Prudence.”
When Lord Fondleton went to object, Mrs Hardcastle turned to him and spoke, her voice full of threat, no matter how plain her words.
“Lord Fondleton, a gentleman does not do what you have just done, without marrying the Lady in question. If you do not voluntarily come with us now, and do the honourable thing, I will be forced to ask these young men,” she indicated the gathering crowd of grooms around them, “to bring you. Perhaps you would find it more dignified to co-operate?”
Lady Prudence watched as Lord Fondleton swallowed, visibly, and nodded. In that moment, Mrs Hardcastle’s words finally sank into her mind. Betrothed! To this man… noooo, she could not be, she was destined to marry the Duke. But… Mrs Hardcastle took her arm, and they walked out of the stables, out of the Inn yard, back towards the Tea Rooms. It was happening, and she was powerless to change it. There were so many witnesses… In front of the Tea Rooms, Lady Mortel stood, looking puzzled and concerned. As they approached, her expression first cleared, then darkened again.
“Prudence! Where have you been? I’ve been distraught.”
“Well you might be distraught, Lady Mortel.”
Mrs Hardcastle spoke first, and Lady Prudence simply stood, still dazed by how fast things had happened.
“What? Why?”
The seamstress’ face appeared around the edge of the Tea Rooms’ door, avid for gossip as always, and Lady Prudence finally realised that she was doomed, that she was going to marry the man standing beside her.
“Because I just found your daughter, with Lord Fondleton, in a rather steamy embrace in the Inn stables. I believe that you now have a betrothal to celebrate.”
Lady Mortel’s face had gone white, and was now a good match for the face of her daughter, and that of Lord Fondleton. She turned to him with an expression of amazement and doubt.
“Is this true, my Lord?” Mrs Hardcastle emitted a half snort of amusement, and glared at Lord Fondleton, who fingered his cravat as if it was suddenly too tight, and nodded. “I will, then, expect more conventional behaviour from you, between now and the wedding day – which will be as soon as it can be feasibly arranged. Come with me, my Lord, Prudence, we will immediately go home and I will have your signature on the marriage agreement, my Lord.”
Mrs Hardcastle nodded her approval and turned to Lord Fondleton.
“If I hear of you attempting, in any way, to behave dishonourably, my Lord, be assured that there will be consequences. Good day to you.”
She turned and walked back towards the Inn, leaving stunned silence behind her. Except for the whisper of gossip, which was even now running through the customers of the Tea Rooms like wildfire.
Chapter Thirteen
Lady Juliana’s laughter broke the spell of shocked stillness that had fallen on the room, and, suddenly, everyone was talking at once. Lady Eleanor rushed to fold her sister into a hug, and Lady Delbarton came forward and took Garrett’s hands.
“Thank you, Your Grace. I truly wondered if you could achieve it, but it seems that you can work miracles.”
Garrett felt suddenly embarrassed. What would they say when he asked…? As he would, as soon as the chaos of the family reunion calmed somewhat.
“There were challenges, my Lady, but we are here. And Lady Juliana’s reputation is still intact. Apart from my coachman, I do not believe that anyone other than us, and Lady Bellinghaugh, is aware that Lady Juliana was away from Upper Nettlefold for two days.”
Conversation rolled on, tea was called for, and Garrett watched with some amusement as Lady Juliana attempted to answer all of their questions.
Especially as she did so without mentioning Lord Fondleton. They had agreed, on the riverbank, that mentioning his actions would not be wise – for they had no way to manage the implications of revealing that she had spent that short carriage ride in his grasp. Garrett would find a way to deal with him – later. Hopefully after he had changed everything with a simple question.
When they all settled back onto seats, he found himself seated beside Lady Juliana on a couch – an arrangement he was well pleased with. Finally, conversation slowed, and ran down. He took a very deep breath. He was about to do something he had not expected to do for years to come – yet it was the right thing to do, the thing he wanted to do. The last 24 hours had made that abundantly clear to him. If all went as he hoped, he would have to thank Lady Bellinghaugh one day. It was time to speak.
“Lord Delbarton, I have a request to make, if I may.”
“Of course, Your Grace – after what you have done for us, ask anything, anything.”
Garrett smiled, wondering if anything truly covered what he was about to ask.
“My Lord, do I have your permission to marry your daughter? If Lady Juliana will have me, of course.”
Beside him Lady Juliana gasped, clutching the edge of the seat. Lord Delbarton looked rather taken aback, but, after a less than subtle prod from his wife, regained enough composure to answer.
“Why of course, Your Grace, of course.”
Garrett turned to Lady Juliana, just as Lady Eleanor leapt up, ran to her sister, and enveloped her in her arms.
“Oh Juliana, that’s wonderful, wonderful. I’m sure you’ll be ever so happy!”
Lady Juliana untangled herself from her sister’s grasp.
“Please Eleanor, give me a chance to speak!”
Fear overwhelmed him in that instant – for she had not said yes, and her face was full of doubt – how could he live with it if she refused him?
~~~~~
Juliana was reeling. He had said… he had just said that he wanted to marry her. Her – the clumsy, socially inept disaster with the straw-coloured hair! He could not mean it, could not. Surely he was just doing what he saw as the honourable thing, the silly man. She could not, simply could not, after he had saved her twice, allow him to throw away the rest of his life for her benefit. It was ridiculous. How could she say it? What could she say? He was sitting there, not a foot away from her, waiting.
She met his eyes, and, for a moment, everything else faded away. She wanted to say yes. It came to her, clearly in that stillness that she wanted to say yes because she loved him. It had crept up on her, bit by bit, through every minute that she had spent with him. But she would not be selfish, for surely he could not truly want her.
Then Eleanor flung herself upon Juliana, almost knocking the breath from her lungs.
She pushed Eleanor away, trying to breathe, trying to find calm in the midst of it all. He was waiting – she had to say something. As was typical of her, what cam
e from her mouth was not a set of nicely planned words at all, and she flushed with embarrassment, even as she spoke, hearing herself.
“Your Grace! I… you do not mean it, not truly. You are just doing what you think you should, being honourable, aren’t you? For you are always honourable. There is no need – whilst we spent long hours alone, no-one knows but us, and you were everything honourable then too. There is no need, no need for such extravagant action.”
She was blushing, her parents and sister were staring at her, open mouthed, and the Duke just sat there, holding her gaze. She waited for his reaction, her heart aching. But she had needed to say it, needed to ask – she would not be bound to a man simply for an overblown sense of honour. Then he did what she least expected. He laughed. That rich, mellow sound, full of warmth and joy. Confusion filled her. He reached for her hands, smiling.
“My dear Lady Juliana, of course I mean it. It has nothing to do with ‘doing the honourable thing’ and everything to do with you. And your reaction just now is a perfect example of what I love about you. You do not seek your own advancement at others’ expense, you care more for my sincerity than my title, and you still, no matter how often I tell you otherwise, cannot imagine that I find you beautiful and delightful, just as you. Of course I want to marry you.”
Juliana felt tears rising in her eyes. If he truly meant it…
Her mother spoke, quietly but firmly.
“After words like that, Juliana, how can you say anything but yes? Do accept the man, rather than make him miserable. Honour is a thing to be treasured, and I suspect there’s a measure of love in this as well, a large one.”
“Yes, do take your mother’s advice, daughter. What kind of girl tries to refuse a Duke?”
The Duke and the Spinster_Clean Regency Romance Page 11
