His For The Taking (2 page)

"Sit, Lord Denbigh."
There was an edge to her voice that had him plopping down on the nearest
wingback like a five year old in trouble for pulling a little girl's braids.

She closed her eyes, her lips
pursed.

"I'm sitting," he
grumbled, setting his elbows on his knees. "Was there something you wanted
of me? For if not, I think I'd like to return to Denbigh Hall. I'm tired and in
need of a strong drink."

"My how you do go on,"
Lady Chesterfield mumbled.

He stood feeling utterly annoyed
with the woman. Where was the hostility coming from? By God he wasn't going to
stand there and take it. As fond as he was of Lady Chesterfield, as much as he
respected her, he really was no ones whipping boy. "Yes. And I'm going to
return home. Please give Julianna my warmest regards and tell her I'll call on
her in the morning."

Her lids popped open and her silver
eyed gaze came to rest on him. "Stop!" she shouted. "Sit down. I
haven't given you leave yet."

He crossed his arms over his chest
and smirked. "I didn't realize I needed your permission."

"This is my home. Julianna is
my granddaughter. You sir, are too close to her for her own good."

"What?" he asked, the
smirk slipping from his face. "Too close?"

"Yes, that's what I
said." She too stood, the formidable woman was locked in a tiny body. Yet
she may as well have been six feet tall and three hundred pounds. For she had
him trapped with her words. "She hasn't had a suitable caller in
months."

"And that's my fault
how?" he asked, hating the direction this conversation was taking. Hating
the notion that he caused Julianna any hardship. Hating the idea of her with a
suitor of any kind. She was his friend first and foremost, not some sop’s
lover.

"It's your fault because by
all appearances, you two are connected. You walk with her to town. You come to
play whist. You dance with her at balls and sing with her at parties."

He sank back down in the chair and
brushed a dark blonde curl from his forehead. "She has been my closest
friend since childhood," he mumbled impotently. "I didn't
think…"

"And neither did I. Not until
your brother married Abby and I saw the sorrow in Julianna's eyes. She is the
eldest. She should have wed first."

"I see."

"No," Lady Chesterfield
replied. "I don't believe you do. You must sever ties with her."

His gut tightened and he sprang
once again to his feet. "I'll do no such thing! How can you ask that of
me?"

"Because I love her and if you
care for her at all, you'll let her go. She needs to move forward and find
someone to make a life and a family with. Bennett Nesbitt showed a great deal
of interest in her until he saw the pair of you huddled together after the
wedding."

He paced back and forth before the
fireplace, his hands shoved deeply in the pockets of his jacket. "You're
asking me to leave and never come back? Don't you think Julianna will find that
rather odd? I don't want to hurt her." Hurt her, hell. The thought of
never seeing her again, never hearing the sweet tinkle of her laughter, never
ever spending another relaxing moment in her company…
 
Well, that hurt him. Hurt him more than he
ever expected. And the very idea that Lady Chesterfield would see her with that
fop? Blast it, it was unconscionable.

Lady Chesterfield pounded her cane
against the floor so hard that it echoed against the thick plastered walls. He
stopped pacing and faced her. "Then you marry her."

His mouth dropped open. Was she
serious? Surely, he had misheard. Marry Julianna? "That would be like
marrying my own sister."

"She's not your sister. She's
a beautiful woman. Open your eyes man."

The thought of her silky brown hair
and wide blue eyes had him momentarily forgetting what Lady Chesterfield had requested.
Yes, she was indeed beautiful, and smart and sweet and he most certainly did
have feelings for her. Why just this night, he wondered, and not for the first
time, how it would be to kiss her full lips.

"So, you either marry her or
sever your ties with her. Those Lord Denbigh are your choices, for at this
moment I am considering terms for her engagement."

She stared at him through those
eerie eyes, her graying brow lifted as she waited for him to answer.

"Does Julianna know of your
plans? I hardly think--"

"Marry her or sever
ties," she interrupted. "Those are your options, for she will be
engaged by summer’s end and every single person of the ton will know it is
coming well before then."

"I'm not prepared to
wed," he said, clenching his jaw so tight his teeth threatened to shatter.
He would not be forced into a marriage, not by anyone, not even Lady
Chesterfield.

"Then you've made your
decision." She pointed a crooked finger at him. "You’re
dismissed."

"Good luck to you and God
bless Julianna," he shouted bitterly.

Lady Chesterfield shook her head, a
wicked smile lifting the corners of her lips. "Look at Julianna through
fresh eyes Lord Denbigh. Who is truly the loser here? You have taken her for
granted too long and if you wait much longer, it will be too late. She will be
the wife of another and lost to you forever."
          
Jonathan stared at the woman. "You dismiss me as if
there are no feelings between Julianna and me."

"You dismiss her as if her
feelings don’t matter. She is deeply enamored with you, Jonathan. Does that not
mean anything?"

Jonathan bit back the disbelieving
chuckle that nearly popped from his lips. "Julianna in love with me? Don’t
be silly. She couldn’t possibly—"

"I know," Lady
Chesterfield agreed, nodding her head with vigor. "She is entirely too
good for a man who would disregard her as you have. And yet she has the
tenderest of feelings for you." She leaned back in her chair and steepled
her fingers, eyeing him as if he were the most fly ridden platter at a picnic
luncheon.

"I can’t disagree. I have
lived my life as a single man doing what I please with whom I please. Surely,
if she loved me as you say, she wouldn’t have allowed me to continue pursuing
my passions without as much as a word. Without as much as a hint of jealousy."

"I have born witness to your
philandering ways, Jonathan and if you recall properly, not once did Julianna
condone your rakish behavior. Why when she learned Constance Whitcomb was
coming to the wedding she very nearly lost her breakfast."

"Lady Constance is a
weed," Jonathan retorted and glanced toward the door. Maybe he should rush
up the stairs to Julianna’s room and confront her. Surely, they would have a
good laugh. Love him? Poppycock!

"A weed?" Lady
Chesterfield interjected. "What does that mean?"

He sighed. May as well show his
true colors once and for all. "It means she is pretty enough but not
something I want in my garden."

"Disgusting Lord Denbigh. I
would have liked to think more of you."

He deserved that and he knew it.
"I beg your pardon."

"The time for pleasantries is
obviously over," Lady Chesterfield said, standing. "Is Julianna
someone you’d like to plant in your garden, for if she is not the best flower
you have ever seen, then it is time to end her torment. Allow someone worthy to
pluck her and make her his."

Chapter Two

Julianna opened her eyes. The light
from the window was a glaring reminder of the night before, a night that had
taunted her fatigued mind with promises of sleep. Sleep that arrived alongside
the harsh call of the barnyard rooster and lasted less than two hours. She was
awake now. Awake and dreading the lonely day to come.

As if she'd aged a hundred years in
the course of seven hours, she slowly sat up, her limbs heavy, her back aching.

Still, today was a new day and a
new day always held mystery and promise. With luck she would meet Jonathan on
her daily stroll into town. They would talk, he would tease her and all would
be right with the world

A soft smile touched her lips at
the thought of him. He made getting up worthwhile. That was for certain and yet
her heart ached with a longing that she knew would never be satisfied. He was
for her and yet he hadn't realized it. He never would.

At the light tapping on her bed
chamber door, she stood and pulled a robe over her shoulders.

"Julianna dear? It's
Grandmother."

"Do come in," Julianna
called, tightening the belt around her waist.

Grandmother entered, her usually
stern gaze warm, a smile creasing her weathered face. "How is your
headache? Nancy told me you refused
to touch your supper last night."

"All is well," Julianna
assured her but the lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She was not well. She was
tired, sad, lonely.

"I hope so, for I have a bit
of a surprise for you."

Julianna forced herself to smile,
wondering just what version of surprise her grandmother would offer. A day of
laboring over daffodils? Food delivered to the poor? The lighting of candles in
church? All nice, but not what she needed.

"You know I love
surprises," Julianna replied, reaching for her hairbrush. It would take at
least a hundred strokes to repair the damage tossing and turning had caused.

Of course, what did it matter? The
man she loved looked through her as if she didn't exist. She may as well allow
the locks to do their worst.

She was destined to be alone. Her
heart would allow her no happiness with another. And Jonathan was a lost cause.
The knot in her throat that accompanied the realization had fresh tears burning
her already aching eyes.

Grandmother sat down on the bed and
stared expectantly at her. "Are you listening, child?"

"I'm sorry." She sighed.
"I suppose I don't feel very well. I feel out of sorts."

"I know." She patted the
bed. "Come sit by me. Let me comb your hair as you did when you were but a
little thing."

Julianna sat and handing
Grandmother the brush and closed her eyes, enjoying the relaxing strokes of the
soft boar's hair bristles. She would be back to sleep in no time if Grandmother
continued. And would that be such a terrible thing?

"Now, for the surprise."

Julianna didn't respond, just
listened and savored the welcome lightening of her mood.

"We are going to London."

Her eyes popped open. London…oh
dear. She didn't like London. The
air was thick with fog and humanity. The streets dirty. And the ton. Dear lord,
she never fared well with those people.

"We are?" she asked,
wondering how Grandmother could think a trip to London
would be a surprise. Of course, she didn't say a
pleasant
surprise.

"Yes, we will be staying at
Lady Martha Whitcomb's townhouse. She and her daughter will be coming in from
the Inn to stay here. A sort of swap of properties for a
month or two."

Anxiety twisted her stomach into a
knot. "Constance Whitcomb staying here at Oak Park?
A stone's throw away from Denbigh Hall? You can't be serious."

"I most certainly am serious.
We need to be away from here. You need a change of scenery. Besides, Bennett
Nesbitt and his family so want to get to know you."

"But Jonathan…"

Grandmother stopped combing her
hair and instead set her hand upon Julianna's shoulder. "Is never going to
marry you."

Hearing the words that constantly
picked at her resolve said aloud and her hand flew to her mouth. "He may
change his mind," she muttered weakly, knowing there was no use in denying
her words.

"No," she replied
sternly. "I asked him straight out last night if he would consider
marriage."

Julianna's lower lip trembled, the
ache in her heart so severe she thought it may kill her. "You did?"

"And he said he wasn't ready
to marry."

"You shouldn't have placed him
in that situation. He felt trapped. Of course he declined." Julianna
sprang to her feet and wrapped her arms about her waist.

Grandmother lifted her gaze, the
sorrow in the depths of her eyes profound. "No child. He said marrying you
would be like marrying his sister. He loves you, but not in the way you
need."

Julianna stared at her grandmother,
not knowing what to say or how to feel. "All this time he has viewed me as
a sister? But just last night I thought I saw something in his eyes."

"Just last night he told me he
wouldn’t marry you. I asked him to leave and never come back and he left. He
doesn’t want you as his bride. He only wants you as his friend when he’s
lonely. There’s nothing for you but what scraps he tosses your way. You’re my
granddaughter. You deserve better." Lady Chesterfield reached up and gave
her arm a gentle squeeze.

"I know how badly you had
hoped for a marriage but it's not too late for you to have a happy life."

"But with another man?"
Julianna interrupted, her voice rising with the question. The room seemed
suddenly too small, too hot. Hopelessness washed over her and she fought for
her breath.

"Yes."

"I don't think I will ever
love anyone the way I love Jonathan." Tears poured from her eyes and deep,
wracking sobs had her stomach muscles aching.

"I know," Grandmother
said, standing and wrapping her arms around Julianna, her embrace surprisingly
strong. "But there are so many people in this world. There is destined to
be a man out there who will love you with all of his heart."

"And we will find this man in London?"
she asked through her sobs.

"Perhaps you already know him.
Bennett Nesbitt was truly interested in you until he saw you with Jonathan. He
told me as much. He is a good match and my heart is set on seeing you
settled."

"Bennett?" she asked, her
hands shaking, her head suddenly light. "We hardly know one another and I
don’t think I could ever love him. I wouldn't wish to put him in the position I
now find myself."