A Bond of Honour

by Joan Vincent

  Mallatt drew a deep breath. Lady Juliane was not a nefarious being, he assured himself. He had worked too closely with her to misjudge that. But, he decided, he had better get the rights of the matter and do so before the squire returned with more questions.

  All at once the valet became aware that Meg and Jove scrutinized him mutely.

  "This will be very upsetting this will for Lady Juliane,” he offered in explanation. “How does my lord fare this morning?"

  "I was up a short time ago and both were sleepin’ like babes,” smiled Meg. “There's little reason to go a frightenin’ Lady Juliane with such tales. Let be for now.

  "Come, join Master André and partake of some porridge."

  Mallatt hurried to do so. He needed time to think, to sort out what he should do next.

  * * * *

  In the chamber above, Lord Adrian had been roused from his fitful rest by the tramp and stir of the horses in the yard. He recalled where he was and the information he had garnered from the boy André. Tretain turned to his side, gently removed Juliane's arm, and studied her as she tucked the hand he had moved beneath her pillow.

  Gazing down the length of the bed, he guessed her to be tall. He would not top her by more than a few inches. It was difficult to tell, what with the coverlets, but he judged her neither too thin nor too plump. Her face interested him greatly. Tanned beyond what was seemly for a lady, it had an air of honesty about it. Her auburn hair was loose and wispy around her features, softening them. Her mouth turned in a half smile intrigued him.

  Not beautiful and yet she is, he mused. Asleep, there was candour in her face. Certainly not the look, or ah, size, of your usual bit o’ muslin. It will be most interesting to ... to become acquainted with the, er, lady, he thought pleasantly.

  For many weeks Lord Adrian had not had time to relax. He was bone weary. Perhaps this was the type of diversion he needed, he thought with a smile. That type of dalliance admirably suited his acquaintances in London, and certainly the “lady” was willing. Why else would she be here beside him now?

  Tretain knew he could well afford to make it worth her while to return to London with him after he spent a few days at Trees. With two children she should be most grateful for his “protection."

  One or two things nagged at him, however. She wore the high-necked, long-sleeved flannel gown of virtuous misses. It was hardly conducive to seduction. The boy had an air about him that bespoke the Quality, not an urchin of the street. And what had André said?

  Meg says you are one mauvais mari. Who had given them the idea he was a husband,? And why? Mallatt had a great deal to explain.

  The earl continued to contemplate the young woman's features. Snug and comfortable he found she was not unpleasant to view.

  As if suddenly aware of someone observing her, Juliane stiffened and opened her eyes.

  Spice brown stared into cool grey.

  She relaxed imperceptibly, closed her eyes, and then, just as quickly, sat bolt upright. “My lord, you are awake,” she said blankly.

  "That is a reasonable conclusion,” he chuckled and caught her hand in his. “Why should that concern you?"

  "It does not—no. I am glad to see you in possession of your senses once more.” Juliane reached across with her free hand and laid it on his forehead for a moment.

  "Ah, the fever is gone,” she smiled. “We were very concerned."

  "While grateful for the care, I am most contrite to have caused a beauty such as you to worry.” He winked.

  "My lord,” Lady Juliane said indignantly and angrily drew her hand from his.

  "Never did I observe a compliment to upset the likes of your sort. Come, what must I do for amends?” the earl glibly asked.

  "Really, my lord. You presume too much. I know not what gives you the...” She halted in mid-sentence, suddenly aware of her position. Blushing profusely, Lady Juliane reached to throw back the coverlets.

  "Ah, no, my beauty. Surely you mean to do more than warm my bed,” he laughed and took hold of her arm.

  "You do not understand, my lord. Release me,” she gulped.

  "I think I understand. You are concerned for blunt. I promise to provide a better love nest in London."

  Lady Juliane gaped in disbelief at these words. He thought her a common—a common ... She would not think it. How infamous, and after all her nursing. Anger lit her eyes.

  "You are a beauty,” he breathed and drew her closer.

  "May I remind you, my lord, that you have been ill. Very ill,” she grated out.

  "Then you should be very solicitous of my health and wants. The best thing for my health, now, my beauty, would be a kiss.” He began to lie back down and drew her with him.

  Juliane wildly scanned the bedside as conversation had proven fruitless. The mug of honeyed water caught her eye as he released her hands to place his on either side of her face.

  Tretain drew her ever closer. Juliane reached wildly for the mug. As his lips played over hers, her fingers touched the mug. For a second Lady Juliane had the wild thought of giving in to the feelings aroused by his lips. This turbulent thought she flung aside, clasped the mug firmly, and brought it down. It met the earl's head with a dull thud.

  It did not knock Tretain senseless, but diverted his attention. When he clasped his head and cursed, Juliane scurried out of the bed. Circumstances completely out of control for the first time in her life, she fairly well screamed, “Mallatt!"

  CHAPTER 8

  Mallatt dropped his spoon in mid-bite at the half-frightened, half-angry scream. He and Meg strove to get up the narrow staircase simultaneously. Due to his small size, Mallatt got a leg in first. After a short struggle Meg conceded defeat and allowed Mallatt to bound up the steps first.

  The valet barrelled into the bedchamber. He expected to find that Lord Adrian had thrown over his traces. Instead, he found the earl sitting up in bed holding his head and Lady Juliane angrily struggling into her wrap. It was not difficult to guess what had occurred.

  Lady Juliane greeted Mallatt with a contemptuous glance that blamed him for not warning her about Tretain's pandering ways.

  Meg was taken aback by this fierce. “My lady, what is wrong?"

  "Mallatt, rid my chamber of these—these people. Get them out of here. I want some explanations!” commanded Lord Adrian.

  "You just be calmin’ yerself, milord. What you be meanin’ upsettin’ your good wife, why..."

  "Wife?!"

  "Meg, I think you'd best leave this to me,” Mallatt urged. “You know the ‘Quality.'” He winked at her.

  "Well, I don't..."

  "Never fear,” he soothed. “I am accustomed to these outbreaks. I shall see it settled peacefully.” He turned the woman toward the door.

  Meg shot a glance at Lady Juliane. Her nod somewhat assured the farmer's wife. Glancing suspiciously at Lord Tretain's angry face and back to Juliane, who now faced the fire, she sighed.

  Mallatt took the opportunity to propel Meg out the door and shut it before she could reply.

  Tsking all the way to the kitchen, Meg gave her family a speaking shrug in answer to their questioning stares.

  Upstairs, Mallatt drew a deep breath and mentally girded himself for battle.

  "Mallatt, will you please explain to Lord Tretain that I..."

  "Yes, Mallatt,” mimicked Lord Adrian angrily, “will you explain how I happen to wake with a cracked skull and a witless wench abed with me who tried to finish the work."

  "Perhaps, my lord, it would be far better for you to explain to Mallatt your behaviour,” rasped Lady Juliane derisively.

  "I do not explain my behaviour to servants,” Tretain retorted. “My behaviour! It was not I who came to your bed,” he flung back.

  This momentarily silenced Lady Juliane.

  Mallatt deemed it wise to step into the. breech. “Now, my lord, please calm yourself. This can be explained."

  "Then do so!"

  "The cracked skull came about when the phaeton o
verturned. After the accident, Lady Juliane's postilion refused to go on—in fact he turned about. It seemed most ungracious, even the act of a heartless bounder, to permit the lady and her two small children stranded in such weather. What could I do but accede to their coming with us?"

  "What could you do indeed!"

  "There is no need for you to use that tone with Mallatt, my lord,” snapped Lady Juliane. “I assure you he had little choice in the matter."

  "What right have you to say what tone I will use with my servants?” Lord Adrian barked back.

  "Every right, my lord, as I am the cause of his being in your ‘poor’ graces, although I doubt that there is such a thing as being in your ‘good’ graces,” she snapped back.

  "Mallatt, remove this woman before I lose my temper."

  "You've already lost much more than that, my lord,” pursued Juliane. “Perchance, you wish to remove me yourself?

  "Mallatt certainly is too well mannered. How unfortunate his master is not also."

  The valet's expression became more pained upon each word. This was hardly the auspicious beginning that he had in mind for the pair.

  "Please, my lord ... my lady, if you could be silent for a moment, I will explain the situation."

  Both bit back words and glared at him.

  Mallatt said hastily, “There was naught to do but that Lady Juliane and her tykes come with us. Somehow in the dense snowfall, we missed the inn. By some far chance we were found by Jove and his sons. By that time we were all near frozen insensible and quite unable to explain the situation.

  "Quite simply he good farmer and his wife decided that you and Lady Juliane were man and wife. A natural supposition under the circumstances. They put you both to bed in this chamber.

  "By the time Lady Juliane and I regained our wits, the damage had been done. We could not explain without harming Lady Juliane's reputation. It seemed simpler to maintain the misunderstanding until leaving. At the time there seemed to be little harm that could come to any of us by doing so.

  "I might add, my lord, that Lady Juliane nursed you most competently and dedicatedly through your bout with the fever. This in addition to caring for her small daughter who also was ill.

  "I imagine,” Mallatt said with asperity, “that you discovered Lady Juliane abed with you due to the chill of the room and her sheer exhaustion. You have been ill several days now,” he finished curtly.

  Lord Adrian swung his gaze from Mallatt to the glaring Lady Juliane, then back to his valet. “And what, in your opinion, should we do now?” he asked sarcastically.

  "That, my lord, is your decision, of course. Although,” Mallatt coughed, “there is an added circumstance you should be apprised of before you make any decision."

  "What is that?"

  Going before Lady Juliane, Mallatt said, “It would be best, my lady, if you would be seated before I continue."

  Both Lord Adrian and Lady Juliane were taken aback by this. Juliane could think of nothing she needed to be seated to hear. Stalking to the chair at bedside, she pointedly moved it away from the bed before sitting down.

  Lord Adrian frowned at this but a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes.

  "I am afraid I may have sad news, my lady. A magistrate visited the cottage briefly this morning asking questions. It appears your maid and the postilion have been found. Murdered."

  Disbelief flared across Lady Juliane's features. “There can be no reason for anyone to harm them. Cora was a nuisance but none felt ill toward her—that is, oh ... But she had nothing of value."

  "Nevertheless, it is true. The squire says there are reports of strangers in the district who are thought to be French."

  Lady Juliane blanched slightly, fear evident in her eyes. “What can that mean?” she asked shakily.

  "I know not, but more to the point, Jove had already told the squire about you.” Mallatt looked uneasily at the earl. “He presented you as man and wife. “I did not disturb this belief,” he ended in half-hearted defiance.

  "I see,” said Tretain. “Either we proceed as you have directed, or we ruin Lady Juliane's reputation. That would give rise to a scandal that would send my mother off in an apoplexy. It would also bring the magistrate's full suspicions to bear on the lady."

  His inflection brought a sharp glance from Juliane. “You must not extend yourself on my part, Lord Tretain. It is my own doing that brings me to this predicament. I am fully capable of weathering through it sufficiently on my own."

  "Your reputation matters so little then?” chided Lord Adrian.

  "No, my lord,” responded Lady Juliane. A hint of anger replaced her fear. “But I cannot but feel association with you will do me added harm. I have no wish to place myself in your debt. I am certain Jove would take the children and me to the nearest inn."

  "I am certain of that.” Tretain smiled grimly. “Especially when his good wife learns she has been sheltering what she will believe to be a wanton wench—a bit o’ muslin, if you understand my meaning. What type of treatment do you think you and your children will be given when circumstances are known. And known they will be."

  Bitterly, Lady Juliane acknowledged the truth in what he said. How would she ever find Uncle Thedford? Her funds were few and the gossip would follow her. She knew enough of posting boys and inns to be certain of that. This added to her exhaustion brought a flare of despair to her. It also brought back memories of all they had gone through since she had found the children in France.

  A twinge of regret jot Lord when he saw the effect his words had on her. Had he misjudged her?

  Lady Juliane remained silent as she tried to reason a solution but found it impossible.

  "I believe it best,” stated Lord Adrian with restrained magnanimity, “that for now we proceed as the pair of you began. This evening we can discuss what to do. We may be able to work something out so that we can leave here with Lady Juliane's reputation still ‘intact.’ Then we will take her and the children to an inn to continue their journey.

  Unfathomably, Lady Juliane thought this the worst possible decision. It galled that it was the most sensible and more than she had a right to expect. She fiercely denied it had anything to do with her reluctance to be out of Lord Adrian's life.

  Seeing her hesitancy, Mallatt came to her. “It would be best, my lady, for you to rest for the remainder of the day. You are much too fatigued to think clearly. We shall speak about this after we sup. You will find things will look much better then,” the valet prompted gently.

  With practiced restraint Lord Tretain concealed his surprise at Mallatt's concern. Never in all their years together had the man exhibited any feeling for the feminine gender. Certainly he never had for ladies of Quality, not even when Tretain had wished it. That he should be so solicitous of Lady Juliane was a testament of his respect. Tretain decided he would have to reconsider his opinions about the lady.

  "Yes, you are correct,” sighed Lady Juliane. She gave Mallatt a look of gratitude unaware that it pained the earl. “But what of Cora? I must do something, see to proper burial..."

  "I am sorry, my lady, but if you wish to stay clear of the magistrate, it would be best for you to do nothing. It could prove most embarrassing to you and to Lord Tretain. She will be given a proper burial by the district.

  "Had she any family that should be notified?"

  "No, none. My father took her in when she was orphaned on our estate."

  "Never mind then, she will be properly buried. His lordship will see to it. Now, go to Alva's room and lie down. You must take care of yourself for the children's sake."

  "Yes, Mallatt. You will see to them?"

  "Of course, my lady."

  Lady Juliane gave him a grateful glance. She left the room totally ignoring Lord Adrian.

  Mallatt closed the door behind her. Bracing for a scold, he turned to face the earl whom he found eyeing him speculatively.

  "I had no idea abigail and nanny were among your many abilities, Mallatt. I have misjudged
you."

  Untouched, the valet stood straighter. “You have misjudged Lady Juliane, if I may say so, my lord, not myself."

  "Perhaps. We shall see. What do you know of her?"

  "Very little,” answered Mallatt sheepishly. “But I would stake my life on her being as honest and virtuous a lady as there be. Nothing flighty about her,” he defended.

  "Enough on that. As I said, we shall see. Where is my lady's lord and who is he?"

  Mallatt wove his fingers together behind his back. “Again my lord, I know nothing. Her abigail addressed her as ‘my lady’ and Lady Juliane has the look and grace of a lady, born and bred. No mention has been made of her surname. Indeed, she seems to go out of her way to avoid it.

  "And young Master André has nightmares. Now we have the murder of her abigail. Just the mention of ‘French’ strangers caused instant fear.

  "This could be of interest to you?"

  Ignoring the last, Lord Adrian frowned. “I noticed her fear. The lad you mention was in here earlier and said they were from Rouen. I know I heard something about an occurrence there. Perhaps something connected with my work, but I cannot recall it.” He scowled in annoyance.

  "Most likely due to the fever, my lord. How are you?"

  "I would be fine except for this blasted headache. At least the mug did not break and douse me. Fetch me my robe."

  "Yes, my lord,” said Mallatt dryly.

  "Confound it man, how was I to know she was not here willingly?” blurted Lord Adrian.

  "Of course not, my lord,” agreed the valet.

  "You know not the woman's origins, her name, or her position, and yet you would hold her virtue up to me. She is probably some scheming wench out to snare a rich protector."

  "Yes, my lord,” mumbled Mallatt, suddenly hopeful because he had never seen his lord so put out. “Perhaps you should continue to keep her under observation until we learn the truth."

  "What would you have me do,” snapped Lord Adrian in vexation. “Take her home and present her to my mother?"

  Mallatt wisely chose to remain silent.

  CHAPTER 9