Читать книгу Only Marriage Will Do - Jenna Jaxon - Страница 12

Next morning, after passing a long, restless night, Amiable stood in the middle of the small bedchamber and finished tying a serviceable knot in his cravat. A tap at his door and he opened it to find Glynis sinking into a curtsey.

“My Lady Juliet—” She grimaced. “Beg pardon, Captain. Mrs. Dawson asks will you join her for breakfast this morning?”

He grinned at the invitation. However, the maid’s unintentional lapse gave him concern. “Of course. Please tell Mrs. Dawson I would be delighted to join her in a few moments.”

Glynis paled, then nodded and scurried down the hall.

His emphasis might have hit its mark. Even such small inconsistencies could spell disaster for Lady Juliet. He moved back to the small mirror hanging on the wall. He wanted to be turned out as well as could be expected without a manservant’s care. A pity Parker had elected to remain in the colonies, and his father’s man, Edwards, who had come to London with him, had been too old to attempt this journey. He must engage a new valet as soon as he completed the adventure.

The image in the glass just passed muster—after he adjusted the cravat once more—and he twisted his neck, studied his hair, neatly tied back with a simple black ribbon. He reached for the ribbon, bent on pulling it free and retying it, then caught himself.

“Fool!” Dropping his arm back to his side, he turned from the mirror. “You are preening like the worst peacock imaginable.” He hastily donned a coat of dark gray uncut velvet over his silver waistcoat and black leather breeches. They were taking a meal together, nothing more. Still, he took time to settle the garment over his shoulders so it hung correctly and resisted the urge for one last look. He shut the door and strode down the hall to Juliet’s room.

At his knock, Glynis opened the door and he entered.

Juliet already sat at the small table, platters of meat, eggs, and bread cozily arranged between two place settings. She smiled and her eyes seemed to sparkle, although it might have been the sunlight reflecting off the china. “Good morning, Captain Dawson.”

“Good morning, my dear.” He seated himself and smiled with caution. The sight of her fresh face, beaming over the breakfast dishes, sent a pang of longing through him. If he could make a wish for his future, this scene would be it.

He tore his gaze away from her and grasped his teacup. These fancies were ridiculous. This time yesterday, he hadn’t even met the woman who sat across from him, daintily moving a fork laden with a bite of ham and egg into her mouth.

Her mouth. Dear God, a luscious, red, perfect bow that begged to be kissed. She chewed slowly, the small circular movements a sensual treat beyond belief. If they were married, he would look like a scarecrow before long from watching her eat while his own food lay rejected on the plate.

Amiable clenched his left hand and laid it on his lap. He would gain control of himself. This obsession was becoming embarrassing. He must make an end of it.

“Did you sleep well, Captain?” The lilt of her voice blew through him like a hot wind.

“Tolerable, my lady. I trust you slept well after your—” His mouth dried like dust. He’d tossed and turned most of the night, haunted by thoughts of her and that damned bath.

“Tolerable also, Captain,” she broke in, blushing. “Will we press on immediately after breakfast, do you think?”

The abrupt change in topic might indicate her awareness of his thoughts. God, why had he brought up that almost lewd exchange from last night?

“I think it best we do not tarry. We are still close enough to London that St. Cyr might pick up the trail.”

Her face paled and she clutched the silverware in her fist.

He’d not meant to alarm her, but she sat trembling, her food quite forgotten. What had the man done so the merest mention of his name would cause such a reaction? Why would she be so terrified of him when she had been willing to marry him a year ago? He peered into her woebegone face. He’d have to let it go—for the moment.

“I will make sure he doesn’t come near you, Lady Juliet. Trust me.” He patted her hand. An electric shock streaked through him—like one of Mr. Franklin’s lightning rods—striking him dumb.

Her eyes flew open wide and she jumped.

He snatched his hand away, his skin tingling as though burned. Hair stood on end all over his body. He breathed heavily, struggled for control. When he could meet her eyes he asked, “I beg your pardon, Lady Juliet. Did I hurt you just then?”

Her gaze slid away from his. “No, Captain. I felt no hurt from your touch.” Her voice had an odd, high pitch.

He watched her take a deep breath then manage a crooked smile. “You had better eat, Captain, if we are to be on the road ere noon.” She sipped her tea, composure returning.

Best take her advice. With an effort, he concentrated on forkfuls of eggs, although remembrance of that touch crept into his thoughts once more. First her mouth, now her hand. Would he ever eat heartily again? He downed the rest of his tea and rose.

“I’ll make sure Roberts has the carriage ready, and see to the bill.”

“Captain Dawson, I insist on paying for our lodging.” She stood as well, her mouth firming into a delightful pout. Such a determined little thing.

“It will look odd, Lady Juliet, if my wife takes care of the bill.” He stifled a grin at her sulky look. Did she always get her way? “We can discuss the financial arrangements later. If we are to make an early start, I must go now.”

She nodded.

Not totally unreasonable then. He caught her gaze, warm eyes the color of dark honey. A man could willingly drown there. A short bow and he left before he got into even more trouble.

* * * *

As soon as the door shut, Juliet laid her head on the table, too weak to sit upright. What had this man done to her? Turned her world upside down in less than a day. Lord, what he will have done by the evening?

She rose, doused her handkerchief in the washbasin and mopped her face. If Glynis saw her hot cheeks, she’d think something amiss. Something called Amiable Dawson. The burning in her face could be the result of the memory of their final bit of conversation last night. She would never take a bath again that she didn’t think of it.

Or it stemmed from the brutally intense shock that had shot through her when he’d touched her hand. Thank heavens she’d been too stunned to cry out. Even now, his hand seemed to linger on hers, like a phantom’s touch. She shivered and went to supervise the packing, determined to hang on to her wits. Not an easy task since any proximity to Amiable seemed to addle her brain.

She gave instructions to Glynis then set about repairing her appearance. She removed her shawl, donned a wide-brimmed straw hat over her pinner and assessed herself in the mirror. They would be riding together for hours, so she wanted to look her best. No reason not to offer him something pleasing to the eye.

Her ribbed silk gown, a gold and floral meander print, was cut stylishly low at the bosom, although Glynis had just handed her a fichu to fill the breech. Well, such things could slip during the jostling of a carriage ride over rough roads. She smoothed the lace into place over her bosom then tugged it down a trifle. What he would see should hold his attention. Her breasts tingled with anticipation.

In the inn yard, the carriage awaited, her knight at the door. She flashed him a smile of thanks as she climbed in, but it faltered when he also assisted Glynis in and shut the door without entering.

“The day is so lovely, my dear, I thought I would ride a while. If you slept ill last night, perhaps you can stretch out and remedy the lack until we reach the next stop.” A short nod and he turned toward his horse.

Juliet flounced back in her seat, tremendously irked. Staring out the window, she angled for at least a glimpse of her knight. Her feelings for him were so very different from those she’d professed for Philippe. To see Amiable, to talk with him gave her such pleasure as she had never known with the viscount. Perhaps an evil lust had inspired her craving for Philippe. She had relished his kisses much more than his conversation. Now nothing remained in her heart for him save loathing.

Amiable rode into view and her heartbeat quickened. Surely, she had never experienced this bone-deep affinity for St. Cyr?

The carriage slowed and the bumpiness of the road increased. They had not arrived at the next inn. Nothing except fields on either side. Puzzled, she lowered the window to call to Roberts. A fat raindrop landed on her nose. She jerked back inside, fished her handkerchief out of her reticule, and dabbed the splash away.

The door flew open and Amiable scrambled in, damp from the sudden downpour.

“Oh.” A thrill raced down her body.

“Your pardon, my lady, but I thought you might be ready for some company.” He laughed and settled himself in the backward facing seat opposite her and Glynis.

“Indeed, sir, I have been ready for company since we left the inn. ’Tis you who have seemed in need of solitude.” She strove for a saucy tone. “I see a cold bath does wonders for your sociability.”

“You have no idea how true your words are, Lady Juliet.”

“Captain Dawson, I believe we should dispense with the formalities. Especially as we are traveling as husband and wife, I insist you call me Juliet. A married man does not need to call his wife by her title and I would be Mrs. Dawson, in any case.” She paused. “Hummm.”

“What, my lady?” So he would cling to formality a while longer.

“I just realized Duncan does still call Kat Lady Dalbury, even at home. How odd. Our parents never did such a thing.”

“Perhaps she enjoys the title.” His tone came out flat and he shifted suddenly in his seat.

She had been right. Something lay between the two of them.

“Then she’d want everyone to use it, don’t you think? She told me as soon as she met me to call her Kat.” She shook her head. “I sometimes don’t know what to make of their marriage.”

“What do you mean, Lady Juliet?” He settled back into the corner of the cushioned seat, arms crossed over his chest, trying to sound as though simply making conversation. Yet the sudden gleam of interest in his eyes gave it the lie.

“You are going to vex me, Captain Dawson, if you call me Lady Juliet again.” They must get beyond the formalities. If they could do that, perhaps they could get to know each other in a friendlier manner. Playful, even. Surely, he knew how to play?

“The marriage came about quite suddenly I understand. Neither one ever told me how they met. I only arrived home the day of their wedding and didn’t know about it at all until just before it took place.”

“When were they married?”

“Early April, the seventh, I believe. Katarina looked like an angel in an ice-blue gown, except rather nervous.” The strangest wedding she’d ever attended, to be sure. “I remarked she looked like she didn’t know where she was or what she did during the ceremony. I don’t think brides should be nervous, do you?” She would certainly never be anxious if he were her groom. “Excited to be sure, starting life anew with the man of your dreams, but not nervous.”

He shifted in his seat and crossed one booted foot over the other. “They married in early April? Katarina and her brother couldn’t have arrived in London before mid-February.” He stroked his chin with restless fingers. “Then it’s impossible they had known each other long.” His voice was so low he might have been speaking to himself. “Even if they met almost immediately after they had landed.”

“Oh, but it must have been an even shorter acquaintance, Captain Dawson.” She emphasized his name, hoping he would take the hint.

He simply stared.

Disappointed, she continued. “Duncan had been in Italy for eight or nine months. After the scandal with the Earl Ferrers and the duels, he had to leave London. He did not return until about the middle of March. So they could only have known each other for about three weeks, don’t you think? It must have been love at first sight.” The thought of her arrogant brother doing such an impossibly romantic thing made her smile. “Duncan would have been smitten with her immediately because of her hair. He’s never been able to resist a woman with auburn hair.”

She stopped, arrested by Amiable’s somber glare.

“Do you know the exact date on which your brother returned, Lady Juliet?” He straightened, speaking each word carefully.

“I believe in the letter he wrote to let me know he had returned, he mentioned he arrived around the sixth or seventh of the month.” Not an odd question, really, although his manner and intensity made it so. “I’m certain it was before the fifteenth, for he said in the letter he would attend our aunt’s masquerade ball on the Ides of March.” She smiled uncertainly at him. His brooding stare made her uncomfortable for the first time. “Perhaps they met there.”

“Indeed, perhaps they did.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the leather cushion, ice in his voice.

Shivers raced down her spine.

“Although the very next day Katarina sent a letter to me accepting the proposal of marriage I had made her before she left Virginia.” His eyes bored straight into her.

She shrank back in the seat, pressed against the cushions with nowhere left to go.

“That’s an unusual reaction for someone who’s fallen in love at first sight, don’t you think?”