Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love (28 page)

“Consider yourself fortunate that is all you’ve suffered.” Jonathan straightened. He looked about for the second reason for his visit.

An ashen Sir Albert searched around as if looking for an escape.

He forced a hard grin. “Sir Albert, join me. We have several matters to discuss.”

The baronet’s throat bobbed up and down.

Jonathan flung an arm around the bastard in a forced jocundity and guided Juliet’s brother from the hall.

The sniveling coward tossed a backwards glance longingly at the coin he’d left behind. “I had a winning hand this time, Sinclair. P-perhaps w-we might s-speak later?” He winced when Jonathan squeezed him hard about the shoulders.

The majordomo opened the door, and as soon as it closed behind them, Jonathan shoved the other man down the three steps onto the pavement.

Sir Albert tumbled forward and landed hard upon his hands and knees with a grunt. Juliet’s brother cried out when Jonathan yanked him to his feet, and pushed him in the direction of Jonathan’s carriage. He turned a sickly shade of white and allowed Jonathan to all but throw him inside the waiting carriage. Jonathan’s driver closed the door behind them. Sir Albert huddled in the corner, a cowering, whimpering pathetic excuse of a man. Not like his sister Juliet who’d sat on that very bench and boldly demanded the return of her home.

Grief scissored through him at the memory of that night. Jonathan sat there; his hands braced upon his legs and studied Juliet’s brother. He tried to find even a glimpse of Juliet in this shell of a being.

Sir Albert tugged at his rumpled cravat, his throat quickly moving up and down. “Wh-what—?”

Jonathan narrowed his gaze, immediately silencing the other man. His eyes remained focused on those hands; hands which had shoved Juliet from a tree all those years ago, forever injuring her splendidly beautiful legs.

Had those hands dared to touch Patrina?

“You have now taken two people I love more than anything,” Jonathan said on a silken whisper. “We shall begin with the matter of my sister. If you even so much as breathe Patrina’s name, if you make mention of anything that transpired between you, there will be no place far enough for you to hide. I will track you down like the rodent you are and destroy you. I will do it deliberately and gleefully. I will ruin you financially, and I will ruin your name beyond repair. And then, I will kill you. Are we clear?” His mother had begged him not to duel the other man, and he would honor that promise, but if Sir Albert bandied Patrina’s name about, Jonathan would have little choice.

Sir Albert quaked in his seat, and nodded jerkily.

Only…

For the wrong he’d done Patrina, Sir Albert was still Juliet’s brother. Could he bring himself to face him in a duel? He feared he didn’t know the answer to that. Fortunately, Sir Albert didn’t know the moral battle that waged internally within Jonathan. After all, a man so lacking a conscience should not know even a hint of his inner strife. “Then there is the matter of Juliet,” he said softly. “Where is she?” he repeated.

Sir Albert sat up straighter, seeming to know he had a foothold over Jonathan, at the mention of Juliet. He gave a tug on his coat. “Go to hell, Sinclair.”

A primal growl climbed up Jonathan’s throat.

The other man recoiled. He made a quick lunge for the door. Jonathan closed his hand so hard about Sir Albert’s wrist, the baronet cried out. “Y-you’ll b-break it, S-Sinclair!”

Jonathan squeezed all the tighter. “Out with it, you bloody bastard. Where is she?”

Sir Albert’s eyes snapped fire. “She said she doesn’t want to see you again.”

Jonathan released him so quickly he collapsed against his seat. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. His Juliet was not vindictive and bitter. She’d had every right to be with the life she’d known, but she was neither of those things.

The other man smoothed the rumpled fabric of his coat. “You act so high and mighty, Sinclair. You act so indignant, when in truth, you’re just like me.”

“The hell I am, Marshville,” he hissed.

“Oh?” Sir Albert arched a ginger eyebrow. “Aren’t you? I used your sister to accomplish my goals, and well, you did the same with Juliet. So therefore, I consider us squared where our sisters are concerned.” With his free hand, he motioned to Jonathan. “You come here outraged and ready to call me out, and yet your intentions toward my sister were never honorable. Your governess,” he sneered. “Wager me this right now. I would wager all the remaining land and wealth I possess, you tried to make my sister your whore. If I’m wrong, it is all yours.”

Silence filled the carriage. Never before had Jonathan hated himself more than he did in that moment.

“It is as I thought, Sinclair. So, what was the difference, you or Lord Williams? Both of you wanted her for the same purpose.”

Agony knifed at his gut at the loathsome fiend’s charges. Because the one, singular difference between him and Lord Williams was that Jonathan had fallen helplessly and hopelessly in love with Juliet. Yet, even with that, he’d not offered her marriage.

God help him—Sir Albert was correct. He wasn’t different.

Bile climbed up his throat and threatened to choke him. “Where is she?” This time, he didn’t demand, but rather asked.

For a moment, Sir Albert opened his mouth as if to reply, but a cold grin turned his lips. With a surprising show of fearlessness, he opened the door and jumped out of the carriage. He spit onto the pavement. “Go to hell, Sinclair.”

I’m already there.

Jonathan stared blindly at the opened door until the driver slammed it closed, jerking him out of his reverie.

All the steely determination to find Juliet left him as he confronted the ugly truth of Albert Marshville’s words. Jonathan didn’t deserve her. He’d never been deserving of her. With his dishonorable intentions he would have ruined her reputation as surely as Albert had ruined Patrina’s.

No, he’d taken her home and…

Rosecliff Cottage.

His heart sped up. She was at Rosecliff Cottage. Of course! His undaunted, independent Juliet would lay claim to her childhood home like a lady defending her keep from outside invaders.

He pounded on the roof of the carriage.

His driver opened the door and stuck his head inside. “My lord?”

“To…”
You act so high and mighty, Sinclair.
“To…”
You act so indignant, when in truth, you are just like me.”

“My lord?”

So, what was the difference, you or Lord Williams? Both of you wanted her for the same purpose.

“Home, Marshall.”
You tried to make my sister your whore.
“I’d have you drive me home.”

Marshall’s mouth screwed up. “You’re certain, my lord?” It was the closest the servant who’d clearly heard the entire exchange with Marshville came to questioning his employer.

Jonathan nodded once. The driver slammed the door and the carriage dipped slightly as he climbed atop his box.

A moment later he snapped the horses forward.

Jonathan stared blankly at the window. Albert Marshville had been shockingly correct in all the biting charges he’d leveled. Like Lord Williams, Jonathan had been less than honorable where Juliet was concerned.

There was one slight, yet significant difference.

Jonathan loved her enough to finally do the honorable thing.

Stay away.

Chapter 20

July 1819

Jonathan picked up his glass of whiskey and rolled it between his hands. He stared into the amber depths, the burnished orange-red hue put him in mind of hair the same color as a burnt sunset.

He set the glass down with a thunk. Liquid droplets splashed the surface of his desk, and onto the opened sketchpad.

He fixed his gaze on the book left by Juliet more than three months ago. The grinning visage of a gentleman who looked a good deal like him stared up from the page. Only this gentleman possessed an easy grin and a carefree spirit.

He no longer knew that man. That gentleman had died sometime in the days after he’d made the decision to not fight for Juliet.

Oh, that wasn’t to say the selfish scoundrel in him had at all respected his silent pledge he’d taken to stay away from Juliet. He’d gotten on his horse more times than he could count and galloped in the direction of Kent but always dug deep and found the strength to double-back around. A humorless grin turned his lips. Who would have imagined that someone else’s very happiness mattered to him more than his own?

“I have doubts you’ll be able to stand this evening, if you continue in this manner,” his mother snapped from the doorway.

He grinned and poured himself another. “Mother!” he said jovially, and raised his glass in mock salute.

Her frown deepened. She entered the room, and then trotting behind her came four dark-haired devils who’d tormented him for most of his life. They lined up in a single, determined line, arms folded across their chests.

Penelope glowered at him. “You smell hor–
disgusting
, Jonathan.” She bristled at the pointed looks thrown her way by her sisters. “What? I didn’t say horrid. I said disgusting.”

A still familiar pain pierced his heart. Juliet had tried valiantly to strike that single word from his sisters’ vernacular. It appeared in the end, she’d proven mostly successful. Would the pain of losing her ever fade? He forced a smile for their behalf. “How lovely it is to see—”

Poppy stuck a finger out, silencing him. “Stuff it, Jonathan.”

He blinked. “You called me Jonathan.”

She threw her arms into the air. “Of course I did. No decent, proper young lady would refer to her brother as Sin. Surely you know that?”

“Neither do young ladies throw their arms up in a dramatic fashion,” Prudence muttered under her breath. Four pairs of eyes swung in her direction. She shifted back and forth upon her slippered feet. “I was merely pointing out that detail. Not that I don’t agree with Poppy. Because I do. A young lady mustn—”

“Please, ladies.” Patrina shook her head with the somberness of a Society matron and not the young minx who’d done something so foolhardy as to nearly elope with a heartless cad. “We mustn’t lose focus on the purpose of this visit.”

Five pairs of eyes swiveled back to Jonathan. He swallowed a groan at the determined sets to their mouths. He’d well learned over the years when the ladies in his household wore those defiant expressions, the best course was either to flee or hide. Alas, between the five of them fixed between him and the door, they posed quite an impenetrable wall. He propped his hip on the edge of the leather sofa. “Well, on with it then? Is it more pin money you seek?”

Penelope gasped. “You are hor—
reprehensible
, Jonathan. We are not here to discuss the matter of pin money.” Pause. “Though if you’d care to increase your generousness—”

“Penelope,” Mother said with a pointed frown.

The girl colored. “I was merely saying if he
wanted
to increase it, we shan’t protest. But, yes, that isn’t the matter for this visit.”

His heart pulled at the change wrought by Juliet on his incorrigible sisters. Horrid stricken from the vernacular. Well, nearly anyway. The girls were making a marked, and impressive attempt. He was Sin no more, but Jonathan to the girls who’d always appreciated a flourish for the dramatic.

Poppy took a step toward him. “You know, Penelope is correct,” she said, as though it pained her to make such an admission.

Time should have taught him to not respond to Poppy’s bait. He quirked an eyebrow.

She sniffed the air. “You smell horr…” She glared at her sisters’ deliberate looks. “I was
going
to say horrendous.”

Patrina nodded her head once. “I don’t normally agree with Poppy, but you smell as though you’ve been bathing in brandy.”

“Whiskey,” he corrected.

Penelope’s eyes went wide. “You’ve been bathing in whiskey?”

“Have I been…?” Jonathan pressed his fingers against his temples and rubbed. They were giving him a dashed megrim. “No, I have not been bathing in whiskey, I was merely...” He waved a hand. “Never mind, what are you all on about?”

His sisters looked toward Mother. She smoothed her hands along her skirts, and cleared her throat. “We are here about your Miss Marshville,” she said as calmly as if she’d said, ‘I’ve ordered tea and biscuits for refreshments’.

He took a sip of whiskey. “
My
Miss Marshville?”

“This…” Mother gestured to his rumpled garments, “is all about Miss Marshville, isn’t it?”

This is about how little my life means without her.
Jonathan said nothing. He expected his mother to launch into a diatribe about all the ways in which Juliet was an unsuitable match, fully prepared, nay looking forward, to launching into a defense of the woman who’d claimed not on his heart but the hearts of his sisters. So he was startled at her next words.

“I’ve come to the realization that we—”

Patrina cleared her throat.

Mother blushed. “Very well,
I
came to the realization that Juliet, she…” She paused, as if searching for the right words.

“You love her,” Patrina put forth. “You love her, and you’re not the same man without her, and…you really do need to go get and bring her back, Jonathan.” She glanced over at their mother. “Isn’t that what you were trying to say, Mother?”

His mother nodded. “It is.” Her lips tightened. “Furthermore, it has come to my attention,” she fixed her disappointed stare on Prudence. “That lies were told where you and Juliet were concerned.”

Prudence glanced down at the tips of her slippers, head hung in shame.

It had only been a lie because Juliet had too much honor to agree to a position as his mistress. Otherwise, Pru would have been right. He’d have been the roguish scoundrel Society took him for and ruined a respectable young lady’s reputation.

Mother sighed. “Juliet is a good woman, Jonathan. She sacrificed herself without question to salvage Patrina’s reputation. I am sorry I sent her away.” She turned her hands up. “At the time, I believed I was acting in the best interest of all my children.”