Her Secondhand Groom Page 8

  “I already told you,” Patrick said defensively. “Besides, what makes you think I should consult with you before I do anything?”

  “Because it’s becoming apparent you need to consult with someone before you make decisions.” He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “That woman has feelings, Patrick. And I know you think your intentions are good, but they’re not and you’re going to hurt her.”

  “You would know all about that sort of thing, wouldn’t you?”

  “My actions are not for you to judge,” Marcus snapped. “And if they were, you’d realize what I was trying to do was with someone else’s best interest in mind. What you’re doing is completely self-serving.”

  Patrick shook his head. “No it’s not. Actually, it’s one of those rare situations in life where everyone emerges a winner. My daughters get both a mother and a governess, and Juliet gets a husband. Not only does she get a husband, but she gets a title, a nice place to live, and a sizable amount of pin money. I fail to see how she got bamboozled in the least.”

  “She did.”

  Patrick blinked owlishly at his friend’s firm tone. How could Marcus possibly think Juliet got swindled? “How so?”

  “Because you’re using her,” Marcus said flatly.

  “I disagree.” Patrick brought his tanned hands out from behind his head and folded them on his stomach. “She’s being compensated for her efforts.”

  “Is she? Then I suppose in addition to the generous salary you’re giving her, she’ll also be spending her nights in that little dusty room that’s positioned next to the schoolroom, and taking her evening meal there, too?”

  “Absolutely not,” Patrick said with a shake of his head. “She is still a viscountess. She’ll have her morning meal with me, then spend her day with the girls, and then rejoin me for dinner.”

  “And she’s game for this...this...” He waved one scarred hand in the air. “I can’t even think of a word for it, Patrick.” Marcus’ eyes narrowed. “She did know about this arrangement before she agreed to marry you, didn’t she?”

  Patrick’s face heated with shame.

  “She didn’t,” Marcus concluded aloud before Patrick could comment. “And I always thought Alex Banks was the most obtuse man in existence,” he mumbled under his breath.

  Patrick lowered his eyes. That was yet another way he’d made a hash of things with Juliet. The day he’d gone to talk to her father, he’d brushed her off in the hallway, then she’d come out to talk to him and― And what? His eyes narrowed. What had she come outside for? Something wasn’t right, but what?

  “She deserves better than that,” Marcus’ disapproving voice said, breaking Patrick from his harried thoughts. “She may not possess the beauty and connections Abigail did, but that does not mean she’s beneath you.”

  “You speak as if I plan to make her scrub the floors and sweep the chimney.”

  “No, I don’t. I speak as if you’ve somehow managed to marry a young woman who has no idea she is about to take on three roles. One of which, not only does she not yet know she’ll be expected to fill, but she shouldn’t have to. Hire a governess, Patrick.”

  “I will in due time,” Patrick mumbled, his mind working frantically to piece together a better understanding of the day’s events and what he’d heard today that had been truth and what hadn’t. Something was off. It had to be. There was a reason she’d been so bent on talking to him that morning he’d come to her cottage. But why?

  Marcus sighed and shifted in his seat. “Is this what you’d want for one of your daughters?”

  “What’s that to mean?” Patrick forced a brittle smile to his lips to cover for the rudeness of his tone.

  “Would you like to give your daughter in marriage to a man who saw her as nothing more than a glorified servant?”

  “That’s not how I see her,” Patrick ground out. “I don’t know why you still think she got the bad end of the bargain. I gave her my name, my title, my house, my wealth. Anything a woman could ever want I gave her.”

  “What about your love?”

  Patrick’s brown eyes flew to his friend. Was the man insane? He couldn’t give her that even if he wanted to. All of his romantic love had died with Abigail, whether she’d wanted it or not. “No. Nor does she require it. I’ve given her all she requires. Besides, just because you married for love, doesn’t mean others need to.”

  “But you did once,” Marcus pointed out, stretching his leg out in front of him.

  “You’re right,” Patrick conceded softly. He tried to swallow the giant lump that was now lodged in his throat. He’d loved Abigail more than anyone. He’d never find love again and that suited him just fine. At least he had it for a few short years. But just because he’d once had it, didn’t mean everyone else needed a love match to survive. That included Juliet. She’d have everything she’d need to have a good life. A love match wasn’t essential. What’s more, love was a very complex emotion―one that made someone yearn to know everything about the other, but also blocked their imperfections like a veil and― He started. An image of the thick veil Juliet wore this morning at their wedding flashed in his mind. “Damn her lying hide!” She knew!

  Heedless to the fact his friend was attempting to reprimand him further, Patrick charged from the room, determined to find his wife. She just better pray there were witnesses in the room or he’d throttle her.

  “Juliet!” he bellowed fifteen minutes later as he swung open the door to the nursery.

  Ten shocked eyes and five O-shaped mouths greeted him.

  Juliet forced a smile to her face. “Do you require something?” she asked, shaking out the skirts of her pale purple dress.

  Patrick glanced at his children who were so stunned they still hadn’t gone back to their lessons. His eyes found Emma. She also looked too stunned to take her wide, green eyes off him. “I need a moment alone with Juliet,” he said as calmly as he could. It was hard for a man to remain civil when his blood was boiling in his veins.

  Juliet didn’t budge from her spot. “Anything you have to say to me, you can say here. Unless you’re afraid of making a fool of yourself again, that is.”

  He ignored her barb. “Madam, I’m warning you. If you don’t wish to be embarrassed, I strongly suggest you step into the hall with me right now.”

  The infuriating woman had the nerve to readjust her spectacles then incline her chin and cross her arms. With all this activity, she didn’t so much as move her foot a quarter of an inch toward the door.

  If she thought he’d change his course just because others were present, she had a few things to learn about him. “Have it your way then, but don’t forget I warned you.”

  “And so did I,” she countered primly, the triumphant smile on her face unmistakable.

  “I demand to know your motives, madam.” Patrick crossed his arms and impaled her with his eyes.

  Her smile didn’t slip in the least. “And I, yours.”

  “What the devil are you talking about?”

  Juliet’s bespectacled eyes didn’t waver. Instead they held his gaze, boring into his with an intensity that bordered on making him uncomfortable. “Tell me, Lord Presumptuous, just what exactly does my new post as motherness entail?”

  For what could be no less than the third time today this waif delivered a blow that robbed his lungs of the very air they contained. “Pardon?” he choked, his body fighting waves of hot and cold as tension, anger, alarm, and unease passed through him. He tightened his hands into fists.

  “I do believe you heard me correctly, my lord,” Juliet said airily, her smug smile still flawlessly in place.

  Patrick ground his teeth and glanced at his three girls. They all three sat in their seats staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes. Their stillness was slightly alarming. Only slightly though. They looked worried. Good. They deserved to be petrified for letting that slip. “We’ll talk of your duties later,” Patrick said as smoothly as possible. “For now, I want to kn
ow what you knew and when.”

  One of her delicate shoulders tipped up in a simple-lopsided shrug. “I don’t see the importance of discussing that. I should hope you not think I’m too dimwitted to realize what my real duty to you was when I was to be continually asked to assist the girls with their studies. Ah, but that is what I am here to do, now isn’t it? Therefore, you were being completely honest earlier when you said I was the one you wanted, not my sister.”

  Patrick’s blood turned to ice. Devil it all, she’d been his wife for eight hours at most and had everything puzzled out. Not that it’d been a giant mystery. He’d been too excited and relieved at the prospect of finding a solution to his two largest predicaments, he hadn’t given enough thought to his plan or how it would all unfold. But no matter his underhanded behavior. He’d come in here to discuss hers, and just because his secrets were now out, didn’t mean she was granted a pardon. “Juliet, tell me about the veil.”

  “The veil?”

  “Yes, that heavy fabric from the dark ages you insisted on wearing today. I don’t believe I’ve ever witnessed a wedding where a bride wore such a thing.”

  Juliet’s smile briefly dimmed half a second before gleaming again. “Just because you haven’t witnessed such an event, doesn’t mean women don’t wear them. In fact, I can give you a good example―”

  “I’m sure you can,” he cut in. “By my guess, you’re going to grab the Bible and direct my attention to the chapter in which Leah is heavily veiled to deceive Jacob. That sounds vaguely familiar. Is that where you learned such a trick?”

  “No,” she snapped, eyes flashing fire. Good thing they rested behind such thick glass or he might have been singed. “I know you’re lord of the manor and used to getting your way, my lord, but you have a few lessons yet to learn about how to treat people―”

  “And let me guess, you thought to show me the error of my ways,” he shot back, angry heat creeping up his face.

  “Absolutely,” Juliet said with conviction. “If you’ve been embarrassed today, it’s your own doing. Your problem, Lord Presumptuous, is you have this notion everything needs to be a certain way―your way. And when things don’t fall into place, your mouth starts working independent of your brain and you make a fool of yourself.”

  Patrick cocked his head to the side, the events of the day cycling through his mind. He blinked. She might be rather confident now, but her demeanor at the wedding had not been so assured. She’d stuttered her vows and her skin had been ashen white when he had lifted that ugly veil. “You didn’t actually want to marry me, did you?” he breathed just as his mind made sense of it.

  “No,” she admitted, giving her head a slight shake. The fingers of her right hand idly brushed back and forth across the lacy cuff of her left sleeve. “I didn’t realize my mistake until it was too late.”

  “Your mistake?”

  She nodded. “I knew you mistakenly affianced yourself to me the day you came to my cottage and―”

  “You what?”

  Juliet rolled her eyes. “I said I knew you’d mistakenly affianced yourself to me.”

  His body tensed at her admission. “Then if you knew, why didn’t you say something?”

  “I tried,” she said through clenched teeth. “Why do you think I chased you outside to your carriage that day?”

  Patrick closed his eyes. Yes, even that memory was clear as glass. She’d come outside and he’d once again made a fool of himself by relieving her of the imaginary duty he’d thought she’d assigned herself of keeping watch over his children while he married her. Why was he always making an ass out of himself where she was concerned? He cleared his throat in hopes of forgetting his last thought. “Let me make sure I understand,” he said carefully, his eyes locking with hers once again. “You knew all week and never said anything?”

  “Yes.” Her simple answer was said with such confidence, Patrick didn’t know whether to become furious and blister her ears, or compliment her bravery.

  He did neither.

  “If you didn’t wish to marry me, just what was your plan this morning?”

  Juliet’s top teeth poked out and grabbed hold of her bottom lip in a way Patrick would have taken to be nervousness, but knowing Juliet the little he did, he knew better. She wasn’t scared of him; she was trying to hide her mirth, that little minx. “I was seeing to it that you got a sample of your givings.”

  “Is that so,” he drawled, rocking back on his heels. “That didn’t turn out like you’d planned, either, now did it?”

  She pursed her lips. “I’d say your arrogance is quite unbecoming, but I feel I’d be speaking a mistruth.”

  “Are you saying my arrogance is becoming?” He grinned at her.

  “No. Not at all.” She flashed him a half smile and swayed her hips in a way that made her skirt swish, drawing his attention where he was sure neither of them wanted it to go: her hips. She stopped moving and delicately cleared her throat, bringing his attention back to her eyes where it belonged. “I was merely saying, it’s not becoming in any sense of the word since I have little doubt arrogance is not a new air for you. Rather, I think you’ve always been arrogant. A trait I find highly infuriating.”

  He took a step toward her. Then another. And another until there was a mere two inches separating them. “There’s not enough hours in the day to list all the traits you possess I find infuriating.”

  The pink tip of Juliet’s tongue peeked out between her parted lips and moistened them. “You can get rid of me and my infuriating habits right now if you’ll grant me an annulment.”

  “Never.” He had no idea why he was refusing, nor why his voice was so firm in his refusal. An annulment would resolve everything. It was clear to him the two of them would never get along well enough to form a real marriage, nor even one that could pass as companionable. So why not grant her request and send her on her way?

  Because he was losing his mind, that’s why.

  “Never is a mighty long time, Lord Presumptuous,” Juliet pointed out crisply.

  Patrick leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “That’s something you should have thought about before taking it upon yourself to put me in my place.”

  Juliet didn’t bat an eyelash. “I may have lost this particular battle, therefore, I shall have to spend the rest of my natural life as your wife, but I assure you, I am not some weak ninny who cannot hold her own.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt that statement for a moment,” he said, matching her earnest tone. And he didn’t. This slip of a woman had an iron will and inner strength that seemed to match his own. Being married to her may not be the enjoyable experience he had with Abigail, but he was absolutely certain the word tedium would never be an accurate adjective used to describe their marriage.

  Chapter 10

  Patrick drummed his fingers along the edge of his desk. He and Juliet had been married two weeks now and they were no closer to being bosom friends than they had been the day they had married. In fact, the past two weeks had not gone well. He frowned. That wasn’t true. In a sense the last fortnight had gone well. It just depended on who one was speaking of. For those of the fairer sex, the days had been filled with fun and happiness. But for Patrick they’d been miserable. No, miserable was too eloquent of a word. They’d been...intolerable. No, that was too nice a word, too. What they’d really been was damned insufferable. That was the right description. That woman had a way of provoking him like no one else.

  He sighed. He really ought to go talk to her. Since neither of them seemed to be nearing death, they’d have a long time left to spend together. Not that it seemed to matter overmuch to her, he thought with a sour twist of his lips. When she wasn’t provoking him, she was avoiding him. And when she was provoking him it was only because she’d been cornered and unable to avoid him. It was rather like a game, really. A somewhat fun and miserable game at the same time.

  He sighed again. It needed to end. While it was enjoyable to bait her, it was not a
good example for the children, particularly since it always showed him in a bad light. Always. Without fail. No matter what. He was always made the fool. No girl could respect her father when he was always being put in his place, could she?

  Patrick stood. This was it, he’d go speak to Juliet right now and make this right. He checked his timepiece. It was half past one. Good. They’d be in the garden learning about some flora or fauna or fungus or whatever the blazes was growing out there.

  Whistling, Patrick strode through the darkened hallways of his house, unconsciously righting his stark white cravat before twisting the ruby pin until it was in proper form. He stopped abruptly, catching a glimpse of Juliet and his daughters just outside the window. His whistling quieted and his eyes narrowed, his heart undecided between swelling with pride and clenching in agony. Instead, it settled for an uncomfortable lurch.

  Through the thick window pane, he stared unnoticed and unashamed at Juliet’s laughing face as she explained some biological nonsense to his girls in a way that made them giddy with excitement, asking―no, begging―her to tell them more. He smiled. He’d never seen his girls so happy. Ever. Not in the presence of Mrs. Jenkins or while spending time with him. They’d become quite attached to her, it would seem. Good.

  Juliet strolled up to the window from which he was watching her. He took a step back, sighing in relief that she hadn’t seen him, before bending down to pick up whatever it was on the ground she’d walked over to collect. Patrick leaned forward and peered out the glass once more. Juliet sat down on a concrete bench and it appeared she was giving the girls instructions on how to paint using watercolors.

  Looking at her thus, she actually appeared to be quite a joyous and fun person. But he knew better. She was only this way because she hadn’t seen him yet. Once she did, her stony-face and tart tongue would resurface. He’d wager everything he owned on it.

  Patrick shook his head, and exhaled a deep breath. Whether she liked him or not, he wasn’t going anywhere―and neither was she. They needed to resolve their differences and now was the time to do it. Taking one last glance at the smile on her face and the light in her eyes, Patrick swallowed his pride and opened the door.