Her Secondhand Groom Page 12

  Twenty five minutes later, Juliet scurried into the drawing room wearing a simple blue muslin frock. She’d hate to be late to her interview.

  “Juliet,” her husband said, standing up with such an abrupt movement his knee hit the edge of the tea set and almost knocked it off the table.

  Juliet blinked at him. Something was different about him. She didn’t know what, but she wasn’t going to question it. “Yes, my lord?” She forced herself to look into his deep brown eyes. You can do this, Juliet. You can look him in the eye. Forget he was so thoughtless as to walk in on your bath and not leave until long after any polite gentleman would have.

  “Will you sit down for a minute?” He waited for her to take a seat before he sat on the settee across from her. He cleared his throat and smiled at her.

  “Is there a problem?” She honestly doubted there was a problem, but the way he was looking at her gave her the queerest feeling in her stomach. She didn’t like that. She had come here at his request. He needed to get on with what he wanted to say, and soon.

  “No, there’s no problem. Actually, I have some good news.” His smile grew a bit broader. “We’ve been invited to a dinner party to be held at Lord and Lady Watson’s estate. Would you like to accompany me?”

  A knot the size of Kate’s head formed in her stomach. “D-do I have to go?” she stammered, forcing a nervous smile to her lips.

  “You don’t have to,” he said, a frown tugging on his lips. “But I’d like it if you did.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re my wife.”

  Of course. He needed her there. Her first instinct was to grind her teeth at his obvious attempt to use her to keep up appearances. Her second instinct was to brain him for using her yet again! Was there no end to his manipulations? “I don’t think I’d like to attend.” She stood to leave before she really did brain him.

  He jumped to his feet and gripped her elbow. “Is there a reason you don’t wish to go?” His eyes searched hers.

  “Yes, you’re using me!”

  His jaw clamped together. “No, I’m not. Why would you think that?”

  She just stared at him. What had he ever done that would make her think he wasn’t using her? “Because you’re Lord Presumptuous,” she burst out at last. “You think you’re better than everyone because of your high and lofty title, so you go around presuming everyone should do what you want and when they don’t, you manipulate them into it.”

  “Is that what you think of me?”

  Juliet was caught off-guard by the roughness in his whisper. “Yes,” she said honestly. “That is exactly what I think of you. How could I think otherwise? You manipulated me into marrying you so you’d have both a mother and a governess for your daughters, and you don’t appear to be in any rush to rectify the situation.”

  “You’re right. I did manipulate you that way, but that will be changing very soon, Juliet. I promise it.” He loosened his hold on her elbow, but didn’t take his fingers away. “I know I cannot change what I’ve done, but I’d like to make amends. Starting by taking you―my wife―to this dinner. Please, allow me this chance to start fresh.”

  The unusual emotion she’d detected in his voice gave her pause. He was right, of course, nothing could change what he’d done. But if he’d recognized he’d made a mistake and was doing his best to make amends, she’d be foolish not to accept his efforts even for as weak as they were. “All right,” she agreed, timidly biting her lip.

  A grin split his face. “Excellent. Shall I summon Mrs. Somers to come measure you for a new gown?”

  Chapter 14

  Juliet ran her fingers the length of her green silk stocking. She’d never worn anything so nice in her entire life. She sat down on her bed and looked in the mirror at her reflection while she waited for Mary, her newly hired lady’s maid, to come help her dress. A lot had happened since last week when she’d inadvertently made a show of herself. One of the biggest events had been her husband’s apparent, but undiagnosed, suffering of some sort of brain fever.

  The day after he’d walked in on her in the tub, he’d started making some of the most irrational decisions she’d ever witnessed. The first one was hiring yet another seamstress to make dozens of gowns she’d probably never wear. The second thoughtless thing he’d done was sack her! Yes, he’d sacked her from her post as motherness. Even if it was past due, she was not at all impressed with her replacement. As it turned out, picking her hangnails and spitting her fingernails turned out to be two of her better habits.

  Despite her husband’s urging, Juliet could not stay away. However, she did her best to ignore the chronic nail biting and even kept herself from outwardly grimacing each time the woman licked three of her fingertips in order to turn a page. But Juliet wouldn’t―no couldn’t―ignore it when Kate accidentally spilled her tea and Miss Farrell’s solution was to hold the teacup at the edge of the table and use her handkerchief to help push the liquid off the edge of the table and back into Kate’s teacup. As astonishing as that was, she then outdid herself by holding her handkerchief over the mouth of Kate’s cup and squeezing any remaining liquid (and who knows what else) into it! That was enough. It was official, Miss Farrell was not a fit governess.

  Since her husband wasn’t available for a conference at the time of the unfortunate incident, she terminated Miss Farrell’s employment—without a reference, naturally—and resumed her post as motherness. Thankfully the rest of the week wasn’t quite so eventful, but it wasn’t completely without incident either. Nearly every single day she and her husband had some sort of disagreement. Nothing major, mind you, just a few well-placed barbs and a stare-down or two. In the end, she forced his hand and he agreed to employ Miss Grant, her friend from school’s older sister.

  But until Miss Grant could arrive, Juliet continued to act as the girls’ governess, thus the reason she was still occupying the little room adjacent to the schoolroom. A faint scratching at the door caught Juliet’s attention. She called for her maid to come in and in no time at all, Juliet was standing in her cramped room wearing the most beautiful green silk gown she’d ever seen. She ran the tip of her index finger along the moderate swoop of her bodice then traced the flowery embroidery. Her skirts were so thick and puffy, she didn’t need the petticoats she’d put on. But she kept them on anyway, as a dress could never be too puffy, could it?

  Mary held out a green filmy glove and Juliet slipped her hand inside. The gauzy fabric felt like a second skin on her fingers. She slipped her hand into the other glove. They were made from the same transparent fabric that was used as an overlay for her skirt and were absolutely beautiful.

  “His lordship is downstairs waiting,” Mary said with a proud smile.

  Juliet nodded. “Is my hair all right?” She reached up once again to finger her coif.

  Mary’s gentle fingers stopped her. “Your hair is brilliant. Lord Drakely is going to have a hard time stopping himself from touching those curls, I tell you.”

  “Thank you, Mary,” Juliet said. She doubted he’d have a hard time keeping his hands out of her hair. His interest in her outside of her fulfilling her motherly and superficial wifely duties was nonexistent. She pushed her spectacles up and glanced once more into the mirror to look at her hair. Mary was right. Her hair was brilliant. Mary was brilliant. Juliet didn’t know how, but somehow that woman had worked a miracle and gotten her unruly locks to cooperate and stay put in a tight upsweep with an overflow of cascading curls. It wasn’t the fanciest style, but it was perfect as far as she was concerned.

  The sound of Mary clearing her throat made Juliet blush at being caught admiring herself in the mirror. The maid smiled at her.

  Juliet returned her smile then took a deep breath. It was time.

  With an extra measure of caution, Juliet descended the stairs that led from the third floor to the second, then started down the next staircase. Two steps down, she stilled. So did her immaculately dressed husband who wore black trousers, a vi
brant blue shirt, gold waistcoat, black coat and a bright white cravat with a sparkling emerald pin, and was ascending the stairs when their eyes met.

  Silence engulfed them.

  Neither spoke.

  Neither moved.

  Neither broke eye contact.

  It wasn’t until Kate came out of the drawing room and exclaimed how beautiful she thought Juliet looked that either of them stirred.

  “She does indeed look beautiful,” Kate’s father said, his voice not quite clear.

  Juliet tried not to grimace at his outright lie. She knew he didn’t find her beautiful, but he’d be rude to voice such. “Thank you,” she murmured, taking a step down.

  Lord Drakely started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Wait there and I’ll escort you down.”

  She stopped and waited for him. He reached her side and offered her his arm. Flashing him a game smile, she took his arm and let him escort her down the stairs and to the foyer where Links was waiting to help them into their evening coats.

  Both of them kissed the girls and extracted promises they’d be on their best behavior for the house staff.

  Lord Drakely handed Juliet into the carriage. The heat of his strong fingers branded her hand through both of their gloves. She quickly took a seat.

  He grinned and sat down across from her. “I don’t want to crush your gown,” he murmured.

  She didn’t know if that was the truth or not, but she really didn’t mind either way.

  The carriage lurched forward and Juliet’s hands gripped onto whatever solid surface she could find and held on with every bit of strength she possessed until they arrived at Watson Estate.

  “Have you met Lord Watson before?” Lord Drakely asked just as abruptly as the carriage halted behind the line of slow moving carriages that were waiting their turn to unload.

  She bit her lip and nodded. Thankfully it was still light enough outside for him to be able to see her simple gesture. She prayed he wouldn’t ask her how they’d met. She’d be rather embarrassed to admit she would have married the current baron had he been interested in her, but alas, he hadn’t been. Just like her current husband. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “Good,” he said easily. “Then you won’t be put off by his inane science ramblings. It still amazes me the man was able to find a wife.” He shrugged. “But then again, Caroline has some of the same tendencies.”

  “Do you not like science?” she asked, unsure why she was so interested.

  He shrugged again. “It’s an adequate pursuit for someone else, I suppose, just never held my fancy.”

  Juliet smiled. She couldn’t place the exact reason, but she liked knowing they had something in common, even if was only their lack of scientific interest.

  “Does science interest you?” Lord Drakely asked, the incredulous look on his face worth any price.

  She bit her lip and cocked her head to the side, desperately racking her brain for any scientific fact Alex had told her that dreadfully boring weekend she’d spent at Watson Estate three years ago. “Well, I’m not champing at the bit to join the Society of Biological Matters,” she began slowly, “I find myself drawn more to astronomy and physics. One of my favorite topics to discuss is how Ole Romer came up with his formula using orbital mechanics of Jupiter’s moons to measure the speed of light.”

  Lord Drakely blinked at her. “Please do not repeat that sentence ever again.”

  Juliet grinned at him. “Why?”

  “It scares me.”

  “It scares you that a woman has a brain?”

  He shook his head. “No. Not at all. I prefer academics to featherbrains, actually. However, I do not wish to be present for the discussion that would follow if you were to repeat your interest in orbital mechanics and Jupiter’s moons in front of either Lord Watson or Caroline.”

  “Have no fear, I’ve already learned my lesson.”

  He chuckled. “Caroline can chat your ear off about science nonsense, can’t she?”

  “So can Alex,” Juliet mumbled.

  “Do you know him well?” Lord Drakely asked, his head cocked in interest.

  “No,” she said with a sigh. She might as well tell him the embarrassing truth now before someone else let it slip tonight. “I went to school with Alex’s sister, Edwina, and came to visit for a weekend.”

  He shot her an amused expression. “I take it you two didn’t suit.”

  She shook her head ruefully. “Not hardly. But on a positive note, I learned far more about science during that weekend than I did all six years at Sloan’s.”

  His shoulders shook with mirth as his low, rich laughter filled the carriage. “You’re likely right. Is it fair to assume you two became well acquainted that weekend?”

  “I wouldn’t say we became overly familiar, no,” she explained carefully. “But I’d say we spent enough time together for me to become acquainted well enough with his conversational habits.”

  “And feel comfortable using his first name,” Lord Drakely mused.

  Heat crept up Juliet’s face. “It’s not what you think.”

  Lord Drakely flicked his wrist dismissively. “I’m not concerned about your use of his name, however, I would like it if you’d use mine, too.”

  She could barely believe her ears. Both Caroline and Emma had told her he’d never asked anyone to call him by his given name, Patrick. Marcus and the former Lady Drakely were the only ones. Ever. What had just changed between them? “Pardon?” She just didn’t believe it, she needed to hear it again.

  “I’d like you to call me Drake,” he said with a smile. “For as flattered as I am that you’ve adopted your own pet name for me, I’d like to prove to you I’m not presumptuous, and I think no longer being styled as Lord Presumptuous is a good start.”

  Juliet nodded numbly. He was right, how was he supposed to overcome his past mistakes with her still referring to him as presumptuous―both vocally and in her mind. She lowered her lashes in shame. Why had she been so immature as to call him that? What was it about him that stripped her of her cool reserve and logical thoughts and brought out her quick tongue and more than a few other immature tendencies? She blinked. Just when had she last referred to him that way, anyway? She couldn’t remember exactly when she’d stopped, but at some point in the past week he’d ceased to be Lord Presumptuous and had become Lord Drakely. When? Why? Wh―

  “Look at me,” Drake commanded gently, stealing her from her ruminations. The fingers of his right hand lightly pressed the underside of her chin, tilting her face up so her eyes would meet his. “You weren’t wrong to call me that. I was very presumptuous in the way I did things. When I saw an opportunity to have what I wanted, I took advantage of it without a care to how it would affect anyone other than me and my daughters. That was wrong of me. I know that and that’s why I asked you to come here with me tonight, remember? I want to make things right.” He flashed her the most genuine grin she’d ever seen on his face. “So what do you say, Lady Drakely, can we start over?”

  “I’d love to.”

  Chapter 15

  Patrick had never experienced pride as intense as what he felt seated next to Juliet at dinner. He cast a sidelong glance at her. She was as beautiful as the polished emerald pin twinkling in his cravat. A hint of a smile crossed his face. He and Juliet had more in common than he originally thought. They both had chosen to wear the same color tonight and they both hated science. He hadn’t believed her for one second when she’d said she liked to discuss the moons orbiting around Jupiter.

  He took a sip of his drink and murmured a halfhearted response to Lady Townson who was seated at his right. His attention shifted to the vicar’s wife across the table who seemed to be rather chatty, too. Gads. Who knew Alex, Lord Watson, had such garrulous relatives? Patrick had no interest in their inane chatter. He was far too enamored with Juliet to care about their conversations.

  Juliet set her fork down with a clink and turned to face him. “Do you thi
nk something is wrong with Emma?”

  Patrick froze. It wasn’t her question that brought on this reaction, but the fact she asked him something so casual. There were no strained undertones in her voice, just ease. It was almost as if she were talking to him as a friend or trusted companion, not an enemy. His gaze drifted to where Marcus and his wife sat. Nothing looked amiss to him. “No. Why?”

  She straightened her napkin. “She acted oddly when she came to see me last week, that’s all.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.” He cocked his head to the side and studied Emma’s face. Dash it all, Juliet was right. Something was off. “Perhaps after dinner you can talk to her.”

  Juliet took a swig of her drink. “I don’t think so. I prodded her for nearly an hour the other day and she didn’t say anything.”

  Patrick scratched his chin. Marcus and Emma had come to visit them earlier in the week. Of course, Emma hadn’t been interested in talking to him. She’d gone off to see Juliet and the girls while he and Marcus discussed tenants and drains and other boring nonsense that went along with having a title. They’d briefly talked about the girls, then Marcus mentioned― He snapped his fingers. “Olivia’s driving her mad.”

  Juliet’s head whipped around to face him. “Pardon?”

  “Right. You don’t know who I’m talking about.” He bent closer to her ear so he wouldn’t be overheard. “Marcus has a younger sister, Olivia. She’s rather...er...difficult, if you will. She found herself in a tight spot earlier this year and decided to emigrate to America.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well, for some reason or another, Marcus has allowed her to come back. She’s staying at Ridge Water. That’s probably what’s wrong with Emma.”