Her Secondhand Groom (22 page)

Patrick’s heart slammed in his chest and beads of sweat streaked down his face, and all he could do was stare straight ahead as those gut wrenching images flooded his mind. Stirring all the old painful memories of that day and planting them fresh in his mind.

“
Ye coming, milord?” Cruxley asked, peeking his head into the carriage.

Patrick jumped, startled. He cleared his throat, but it did no good. His voice still came out rough when he finally spoke. “Leave.” He pressed his thumb and forefingers against his closed eye lids. His mind cleared and reality gripped him again. He still needed to decide where to put Juliet for the night, or what remained of it anyway.

She’d taken up residence in the governess’ room again after he’d told her not to last week. He wasn’t taking her back there. Not only was it demeaning, it was not where she belonged. But his unyielding reluctance to so much as flicker a glance into the viscountess’ suite, excluded that room from his list of possibilities, too. He gulped. That only left his bedchamber. His pulse sped up. He’d never invited a woman into his bedchamber. Due to his crushing responsibilities, he hadn’t had a single night of carousing before marrying Abigail. She’d been the first woman he’d ever been intimate with, and consequently his last. And never in is room. Always in hers.

A weight lowered on his stomach. Could he take Juliet to his room? Sure, her light body posed no difficulty to him physically, but could he actually take her
there
? What would she think when she woke up in is bed? Their closeness tonight at Caroline’s had been undeniable, but would she feel pressured to be intimate with him? He swallowed convulsively. He wouldn’t deny he wanted her that way. He did. He’d have never imagined this burning desire six weeks ago when they’d met. It wasn’t until last week when he’d so shamelessly stared at her while she’d bathed that he’d felt any spark of desire for her. But no amount of physical wanting he had for her would move him to do something to ruin the relationship they’d formed tonight.

So where should he take her?

A candle burning by a window in the East Hall gave him the simple answer. “Of course,” he muttered to himself, securing Juliet into his hold.

He carried her into the house, up the stairs, and settled her into the bed, impulsively loosening her gown so she’d sleep a bit more comfortably.

***

A bright ray of sunshine streamed into Juliet’s bedchamber from the break in the curtains. Blinking rapidly at the blinding light, she fumbled for her spectacles. After slipping them on, she brought one hand up to shield her eyes from the offensive light and reached over to readjust the drapes with the other. She frowned. Her arm couldn’t reach the drapes, and it had nothing to do with the actual length of her arm, but rather her ability to use it. More specifically, she couldn’t straighten it because the capped sleeve of her gown had slipped from her shoulder and was wrapped around her upper arm in a way that made it impossible to stretch. She stared down at her arm. Why was she in her green ball gown?

She remembered going to Caroline’s house and how she and Drake had danced. She blushed. The memory of the empty dance floor flashed in her mind. After they’d finished dancing, Caroline’s husband had seen them out. Then what?

She lowered her hand that was acting as a shield and racked her brain. What happened after they left and how had that ended with her... With her what? Or more importantly
where?
She blinked. She had no idea which room she was in any more than she knew why she was still wearing her emerald gown from last night.

She threw her feet over the side of the bed and stood, letting her eyes wander around the room. Nothing about it was familiar or overly welcoming. The bed she’d been sleeping on was a large tester bed with a plush feather mattress, covered with a fine crimson counterpane and about a dozen pillows. Next to the bed was a barren nightstand. She slid open the drawer, frowned, then closed it again. The inside of the drawer was just as stark. A wardrobe across the room caught her eye and she padded across the wooden floor to the oversized piece of furniture. Not sure what to expect, she opened the door and shook her head. Just like the nightstand, it appeared this piece of furniture had been barely used, either. She glanced at the vanity, but didn’t bother to go have a look at it or the bureau. She had a fairly good idea of what she’d find: beautiful wood with nary a mark to indicate they had ever been used.

She sighed. It really didn’t matter so much, did it? What did it imply that she didn’t already know? Nothing. It didn’t take being published in one of those fancy circulars Alex Banks read to know Drake neither had the time nor the inclination to host house parties. He just didn’t have that type of personality. Likely, these furnishings had been here as long as he had, and just as likely, they’d be passed onto Drake’s heir in the same pristine state. Juliet swallowed. Drake’s heir. Who was Drake’s heir? All he had were daughters. Ladies couldn’t inherit. Drake needed a son. An eerie feeling crept over her.

He’d never mentioned his need to secure an heir to her before, but that didn’t mean he didn’t need one. It just meant... Meant what? Meant he didn’t want one? Surely not. All men, whether titled or not, wanted a son to pass on their legacy to. Whether a smithy shop or a duchy, it didn’t matter, it was a point of family pride. She understood that. So why hadn’t he pressed her for an heir? Perhaps it was because he didn’t wish to be too forward or imposing. She snorted.
That
wasn’t the reason. He was Lord Presumptuous, after all. If he’d wanted an heir, he’d have pressed her to create one on their wedding night.

An uncomfortable knot formed in her stomach at the memory of their wedding night. That was the only night she’d slept in the viscountess’ room and he hadn’t come to her room that night. Not that she’d
wanted
him to, but she hadn’t
not
wanted him to, either. It was difficult to place exactly why, but for as much as she wouldn’t have wanted to be intimate with him, she’d been disappointed he’d not been the least bit interested in her in that respect. Her frown deepened and she swallowed the lump in her throat, awareness sinking in. He didn’t want her. He hadn’t wanted her then, and he didn’t want her now. That’s why she was in this room. A room meant for merely a guest in his home. That’s what she’d always be, wouldn’t it? A guest. Sure, his gentlemanly side would make him reluctant to house her up by the schoolroom, but after last night, she’d thought― It didn’t matter what she’d
thought,
the truth was, while he’d moved up in her regard, perhaps she hadn’t moved up in his.

Exhaling, she pushed the thoughts from her mind. Fretting over why he stuck her in any particular room besides his―or even the room intended for the viscountess, at that―wasn’t getting her anywhere. She had things to do today. One of which was attending to the girls, and the other was taking a bath.

Chapter 17

Juliet closed her eyes and leaned her head back, determined not to think about Drake anymore this morning. She’d thought things had changed between them last night, but apparently she was wrong and she wasn’t going to dwell on it. This was her time of solitude and she was going to enjoy it.

Unfortunately for Juliet, her moment of solitude came to an abrupt end when the person she least wanted to see at present barged into the room.

“
What the devil are you doing?” Drake exclaimed, his brown eyes held an intense spark.

The water splashed and spilled out the side of the tub as Juliet scrambled to put on her spectacles then cover her breasts as best she could. There may not be much there, but she still wanted to preserve as much dignity as she could. Which wasn’t much considering they’d been in this exact situation only a week prior. “I should ask you that,” she fired back, crossing her legs and turning her hips to keep the triangle of hair positioned between her legs out of his view.

He blinked at her. “Why are you bothering to cover your―” he waved a hand in the direction of her breasts― “now, when last week you didn’t turn a hair about the fact that I was seeing you naked?”

She started. He had a point, he had seen her breasts last week. And not just her breasts, either, if recollection served. Her face heated. Recollection did serve. He’d seen
all
of her last week. She remembered vividly that she’d actually gotten out of the tub, allowing him to see everything. Shame flushed over her at that bold action. She’d seen the effect she’d had on him when she’d first realized he was in the room and was hoping to tempt him. Tempt him to what? To want her? She knew now he’d never want her. Now that she knew that wouldn’t happen, she suddenly felt insecure and modest. But she couldn’t tell him that. Instead, she inclined her chin. “Circumstances have changed.”

“
How so?”

“
What does it matter? Did you barge in here to sneak a peek, my lord?” she charged, daring him with her eyes to answer.

His face flushed crimson. “No, that was not my original intent.”

“
Then why mention it?”

“
Sorry,” he murmured. He ran his hand through his hair and dropped his gaze to the floor. “No, I’m not sorry.” He raised his eyes up to meet hers again. “Now that I think about it, I have some questions, and you’re not leaving this room until I get some answers.”

Juliet glared at him. “And just who do you think you are to demand I give you answers or else you’ll keep me locked in this room.”

“
Lord Presumptuous,” he said with a shrug.

She would have laughed at his gesture and even his words if she hadn’t recognized just how forced they’d been. Normally Drake was calm and reserved, able to present a casual air. But he didn’t look so calm and reserved right now. Instead, he looked rigid and stiff. Uncomfortable. Uncertain, even.

Her hands tightened their hold on her breasts. “Since I’m in no position to flee your presence at the moment, you may ask whatever you want, but you cannot demand I answer.”

He stared at her.

She did the same. Just because he had leverage in the form of his clothes, didn’t mean she would let him get what he wanted without a fight. “Why are you even here?” she demanded when he hadn’t begun his interrogation of her yet.

“
I was told my wife was in the kitchen getting things ready for a bath.”

“
Oh, so you
were
expecting to take a peek.” She would have been thrilled at that information a few minutes ago. Now she just plain didn’t care. Actually, no. Now, the knowledge was insulting.

“
No, I wasn’t looking for a peek. I thought you were helping boil the water or some such nonsense, not naked as a newborn soaking in the tub.” An unusual smile took his lips. “Besides, even I’m that much of an imbecile when it comes to you, if I’d wanted a peek I wouldn’t have stormed in here like that. I would have opened the door as slowly as possible so it didn’t creak then stood in the doorway and looked my fill.”

“
You’re perverse.”

“
No. I’m honest. But that’s not what we’re talking about. I want to know why you’re bathing in such an open place where anyone could see you.”

She implored him with her eyes. “It seems to me, you’re the only one in here seeing me who shouldn’t be.”

He scowled. “That’s only because I’m standing in front of the door, making sure everyone else keeps his eyes to himself.”

“
I have no idea what your complaint is. I’m just taking a bath.”

He took a step closer to her and she tightened her legs. “Is that what you think?”

She blinked. “Did you hit your head on the ceiling in the carriage when Cruxley drove over a tree trunk last night?” He was making no sense, and acting like an imbecile, at that.

“
No.” He folded his arms, standing next to her tub. “I don’t like the idea of your bathing for all the world to see.”

“
I am not.”

“
Yes, you are,” he countered, his expression impossible for her to read. He cocked his head to the side, then suddenly his eyes widened and he blinked. “I’m sorry, Juliet. I understand now.”

“
Understand what?” she asked, more out of frustration than curiosity.

He flushed and tore his gaze away. “You―” he gestured to her as if she didn’t know who he was talking about― “are used to people watching you bathe. All those younger siblings and all.” He shuddered. “I imagine you didn’t have much in the way of privacy. So you’ve no qualm with others seeing what some might consider to be...er...private.”