After the Abduction (41 page)
“Me? I’m merely an observer of an interesting family tragedy.”
“Yes, I heard how you ‘observed.’ But you’d better not
count on observing anything tomorrow. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from Leicester Fields in the morning.”
“You, sir, are in no position to make threats anymore,” Montfort retorted smugly. “And I cannot wait to witness this duel. I hope you
both
die.” After Montfort retreated into the ballroom, no doubt to find his cronies, Sebastian uttered a sigh of relief. At least he needn’t worry about Montfort showing up at Wimbledon Common.
But as cold reality sank in, he went weak in the knees. At dawn he was fighting a duel, and despite what he’d told Juliet, he wasn’t at all certain that he’d live through it. Knighton would most assuredly shoot to kill.
Climbing into his carriage, he ordered his coachman for home. Devil take Knighton and his temper! If only the man had been willing to sit down and be rational—
He sighed. How could a man be rational when he saw an innocent young relation apparently being mistreated by the same man twice? Knighton wouldn’t have been a man if he’d walked away without a fight.
Sebastian buried his face in his hands. Somehow he must manage the duel so neither of them was hurt. But could he? He had no idea if Knighton had any skill with a pistol.
He hoped not. The only way to save this was if he shot first and disarmed Knighton. Because if he missed…
He’d be dead, that was a surety. Leaving Juliet ruined
and
alone. And after all that he’d done to destroy her life, he refused to add that to his account.
Out of some little thing, too free a tongue Can make an outrageous wrangle.
Euripides’
Andromache,
worked on a towel for Rosalind by Juliet Laverick at fifteen
A
s the Knighton carriage rolled off, Rosalind resolved to keep quiet until she could get Griff alone. But once Juliet hurried into an explanation of how and why Lord Templemore had kidnapped her, Rosalind’s resolution was forgotten, and she asked question after question. At first she was indignant, but as Juliet defended her lover, she found herself softening. She was fascinated. Now
this
was a tale for the theater!
A pity that her dull husband couldn’t see it. He sat there sullen, like the hot-tempered idiot he was. And by the time Juliet had finished, Rosalind had made a new resolution.
To stop this duel at all costs.
Yes, Lord Templemore had made some foolish mis
takes, but certainly no more foolish than the particularly stubborn man who sat stony-faced beside her, acting as if he hadn’t heard a word of Juliet’s explanations. And nothing Juliet said had changed Rosalind’s opinion that his lordship was perfect for her sister.
Now came the difficult part—convincing Griff of that.
Their discussion had lasted the entirety of their trip home, but as they disembarked in front of Knighton House, Juliet kept up her pleading. “You see, Griff? Sebastian did the best he could. How can you fault him for trying to protect his brother? You would have done the same if it had been Daniel.”
“I wouldn’t have lied about it.” Griff stalked into the house. “I would’ve owned up to my mistake afterward and faced the consequences. When we went to Shropshire—”
“We were bent on revenge!” Juliet hastened up the steps after him. “And he knew it, too, after you punched him in the face. So his behavior is perfectly understandable. Can you really fault him for playing it cautiously? He was afraid for his brother!”
“Who consorts with smugglers and pirates—”
“That’s certainly the pot calling the kettle black,” Rosalind muttered under her breath as she followed a little behind.
Halting in the entrance hall, Griff turned to shoot her a bitter glance. “I take it that you find Templemore’s actions ‘understandable,’ too?”
Rosalind squared off against him. “I do indeed. And so would you, if you’d allow your temper to cool long enough to see reason.”
“Griff,” Juliet said, “I
love
him. I’ll never love anybody else. If you kill him—”
“Oh, he won’t kill Lord Templemore,” Rosalind broke in, staring down her husband. Her voice rose with her fear. “Don’t you remember, Juliet? The very day we arrived in Shropshire, Griff told us of Lord Templemore’s prowess
with a pistol, how he ‘hit every target dead center.’ Griff promised then not to challenge him, but apparently he’s forgotten that promise. Suicide by duel seems to be my husband’s present aim.”
Griff’s unwavering gaze grew bleaker than she’d ever seen it. “This discussion is ended, Juliet. I’m fighting your
kidnapper
tomorrow, no matter how you protest. Now if you’ll please excuse us, I need a few words with my wife.”
“But Griff—” Juliet began.
“Go on, dear heart,” Rosalind said. “I’ll take care of this.”
Juliet stared at them both, then seemed to sense the magnitude of the tension between husband and wife. “Rosalind, come to my room when you’re done, all right?”
“I’ll be there shortly,” Rosalind answered.
Casting them a look of concern, Juliet hurried off up the stairs.
Griff didn’t even wait until Juliet had reached the top. Grabbing Rosalind by the elbow, he hustled her into the drawing room, then shut the door. “If you’re going to argue for
that man,
then save your breath. I won’t hear a word of it, most especially from you.”
That threw Rosalind off guard. “What do you mean—‘most especially’ from me?”
Turning away, he strode to a chair and gripped the back of it, as if only by holding onto something could he keep from drowning. “I’m not a fool, Rosalind, no matter what you think. I know that you’re a little…enamored of Templemore. But if you expect me to stand by and watch while you let that…that
blackguard
—”
“Whatever are you babbling about?” Rosalind cut in. “I’m ‘enamored’ of his lordship? Why in God’s name would you think that?”
When he faced her again, he looked lost. “Don’t make it worse by lying about it. I’m not blind. I knew when we left Shropshire that you and Juliet had lied to me about
why she pretended to be sick. But I told myself it was just your matchmaking, that it didn’t mean anything. Even though you’d lied about that cottage you obviously went to with him. And despite that time you went riding with him alone before I was awake. Not to mention the whispering in the corners or—” He broke off with a curse. “But when I see him kiss your hand and hear that he’d been to visit you privately this morning…when I see you smile at him or…or praise him or—”
“Oh my God,” she whispered, rousing herself from her stunned silence. “You thought—I can’t believe that you thought…” Her own temper got the better of her. “Why, you…big…idiot!” Striding right up to him, she punched him in the chest.
“Ow! That hurt!”
“Good! You thought there was something between me and Lord Templemore?
Templemore,
for God’s sake?”
Rubbing the spot where she’d punched him, he eyed her warily. “No! Well…I mean, I know you’d never cuckold me, but—” At the word
cuckold,
she started to punch him again, and he caught her fist. “I thought you might…you know…have some sort of infatuation for him,” he finished lamely.
She tried to wrench her fist free, but he was having none of that. She glared at him. “Curse you, Griff, he was helping me to conceive!”
He gaped at her, then exploded with, “Like hell he was!” Only then did she realize how that sounded. Thrusting her away, Griff headed for the door. “Never mind the duel. I’ll tear the bastard limb from limb!”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that!” She hurried after him to catch him by the arm. “I mean, he brought me to a healer! In Shropshire!”
That halted him. He turned to stare at her. “Go on.”
She swallowed hard at the look on his face, suddenly reminded of why she’d kept her activities in Shropshire
secret from him in the first place. “You refused to let me try any remedies for my condition, remember?” When he just kept scowling at her, she went on hastily, “His lordship told Juliet of a healer who had helped his mother conceive. That’s where Lord Templemore and I were that day we returned together. He and Juliet and I took the sleigh to see his tenant Winifred, a wise woman much known for her skill in these matters.”
“Juliet wasn’t with you that day,” he corrected her, still scowling. “I remember it very well.”
“She was with us before we saw you.” Turning to pace the room nervously, Rosalind explained why Juliet had stayed behind at Foxglen. “Actually, Juliet sneaked back into Charnwood Hall later. That’s when we started the whole sickness pretense—so I’d have a reason to remain at Charnwood and consult with Winnie. Ask Juliet about that day, if you don’t believe me. For that matter, ask Mr. Pryce. Both will confirm it.”
“What about your private meeting this morning?” he demanded.
“He wanted me to help him get her alone so he could propose marriage tonight. And when you saw him kiss my hand at Lady Brumley’s, he was heading off after Juliet.” She stared at him earnestly. “He wants
her,
you know, not me. To him, I’m only the sister.”
“And the whispering…and the cottage…”
“Lord Templemore pointed out the cottage to us the day we rode to Winnie’s. And the whispering was merely to tell me that Winnie had sent over more herbs.” She colored. “And to…um…ask what to do about you and your complaints about the baths.”
Griff’s face darkened. “The baths?”
“Well, Winnie said that a man is less likely to conceive if he takes very hot baths, so Lord Templemore…that is, he told his servants—”
“Not to give me hot water.” He glanced away, his jaw
taut. “My God, now it all makes sense. His servants were so very odd about it.” He released a shuddering breath. “And what other fine remedies did this ‘healer’ offer?”
“Only herbs, that’s all.” At his long tense silence, she burst out, “Oh, Griff, don’t be angry at me! I couldn’t resist trying one more thing. I do so want to bear your child.
Our
child.”
With a heartfelt sigh, he rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m not angry at you, darling. I’m angry at myself. For leaping to conclusions, for not listening to what you wanted.” His voice dropped guiltily. “For not trusting you. I’m a jealous—”
“—‘idiot’ works nicely for me.” All her anger had returned. To think that he could believe her capable of such a betrayal!
He nodded earnestly. “Yes, idiot. If you only knew the tortures I’ve put myself through…”
“You deserved every one if you thought I’d even look at another man in that way!”
She walked up to him, and he held out his hands defensively. “No more hitting,” he warned.
“No more hitting.” She clasped his hands in hers. “Look at me, Griff.”
After a second, his troubled gaze shifted to her.
“I love you,” she said fiercely. “I’ve loved you almost from the day we met. That has never changed. It will never change. And I’d certainly never be so foolish as to yearn for a piece of pie when I have a whole feast at my disposal.”
Some of the bleakness left his face. “I thought I was losing you,” he whispered. “You’d been so short-tempered lately. And so disappointed about not conceiving that I thought you might blame me.”
“I’m sorry you thought that. I didn’t blame you. And if I was short-tempered, it was because my inability to
give you a child frustrated me.” She flashed him a wan smile. “I’m not used to failing at anything, as you well know.”
“It doesn’t matter if you give me a child or not, darling,” he said fervently. “As long as I have you, it’s enough for me.”
For the first time, she realized that it wasn’t just words. He truly meant it. He’d probably meant it all along when he’d said it, but she’d been so caught up in feeling flawed that she’d attributed the same feeling to him.
“I don’t want to…to raise your hopes prematurely,” she offered, “but my courses were supposed to begin last week and they didn’t. So it is possible—”
“If it is, then fine. If it isn’t, that’s fine, too. I can bear anything as long as I don’t lose you.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “You’re not going to lose me, you silly man.” She reached up to kiss his cheek. “And you simply must learn to
talk
to me when these things worry you, instead of creating mountains out of molehills.”
She added, to be fair, “But I swear I’ll never lie to you again. That was part of the problem, I know.” Then she thought a moment and scowled. “Though the reason I lied in the first place was because you started ordering me about, telling me what I could and couldn’t do and—”
His mouth cut off the rest of her tirade. He kissed her hungrily, reminding her of the first time they’d kissed in the plum orchard at Swan Park. When he drew back, her knees were weak and her anger gone.
He held her close, nuzzling her hair. “I’ll never doubt you again, my darling, I swear it.”
They stood like that for some time, long enough that she remembered what had begun their argument in the first place.
“Um, Griff?” she murmured into his coat, loath to ruin their renewed bond, but all too aware of time slipping
away. “Now that you understand about Lord Templemore, and you know he was never anything to me, do you think you could—”
“No.” He stiffened in her arms. “The duel is set, Rosalind. I won’t let him get away with mistreating Juliet.”
Gritting her teeth at his stubbornness, she drew back. “Even if
she
is perfectly happy with how things have turned out?”
“Can’t you see he’s taking advantage of her good nature to muddy her reason?”
“The way you took advantage of my fondness for certain…naughty vices to muddy
my
reason when we met?”
“It isn’t the same,” he grumbled. “What he did was worse, and he must pay for it.”
“Curse you, Griff, I don’t want you to die!”
He looked annoyed. “I wish you’d stop talking as if I’m completely inept with a pistol. I can handle a firearm, you know.”
“
You’re
the one who touted Templemore’s skill, so don’t be grousing at me for believing what you said.”