Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) (26 page)

She did not trust his light mood. "I am serious, Julian."

"So am I." He knelt down in front of her and pressed her hands in his. "I know I have been hard on you, Lavender. I should have taken into account your youth, and your being so far away from home. If something is bothering you, why don't you tell me what it is?"

Lavender still did not trust Julian and she hesitated to mention the main cause of her distress, fearing that it would invoke anger in him. But they could not go on indefinitely without talking about his brother's death. It stood between them like a double-edged sword.

"I would like to know what really happened to your brother. Will you tell me?"

She watched his eyes darken and his eyebrows come together in a frown. Standing up, he poked his hands in his pocket, and leveled a cold stare out the porthole. "What do you want to know?"

"You never did tell me how he died, Julian. Since I have never killed a man, I know I could not be responsible for his death."

"Were you ever at the Cargo Inn at Philadelphia, Lavender?"

She felt a lump forming in her throat. "Yes, I have been there."

His eyes were questioning, and it seemed he was reluctant to discuss his brother. "Are you sure you want me to go on with this?"

"You have to, Julian."

"All right. My brother William was lured to a rendezvous at the Cargo Inn by a beautiful woman he had met at a social. Does this sound familiar to you?"

She could not meet his eyes, because it sounded all too familiar to her. She remembered the night he was referring to, but she could not recall anything about the man she had enticed to the Cargo Inn. It had happened so long ago. "Yes," she whispered. "I know of the incident,"

"Shall I continue?" Coldness laced his words. "Is there anything you would like to add before I go on?"

"I have nothing to say at this time, Julian. Please continue."

"I can only tell the story as it was relayed to me by William. If I make any mistakes, you can correct me." He waited for her to comment, and when she said nothing, he continued. "It seems this lovely woman led my brother to believe they could have a tête-à-tête at the inn. Of course, at that time my brother had important dispatches from the king that he was to deliver the next morning." Julian's face was stoic. "Are you following me so far, Lavender?'

She rose, unable to take any more. "I remember the incident, although I did not recall your brother or his name when you asked me about him before."

"Then you are the woman?"

"I recall being sent to Philadelphia to intercept several documents. I took the documents from a man, but I did not kill him, Julian. I have never taken anyone's life."

"No, but you were responsible for my brother's demise all the same. He was drummed out of the Army and sent home to Mannington in disgrace. He was proud, Lavender, so he could not live with the dishonor and humiliation. One night he loaded my father's old dueling pistol and shot himself, Lavender!"

She gasped, feeling sick inside, and her hand went to her throat. "Julian, I never ... I would not have wanted . . ."

"You have never before been faced with the consequences of your deeds, have you, Lavender? You just enticed men, got what you wanted from them, and left, never caring that you had done irreparable damage."

Tears formed on her eyelashes and dropped onto her cheeks. "That was the nature of my job, Julian. Believe me, if I could bring your brother back to life, I would. But you have to understand it was not my hand on the gun that shot him. I did not kill your brother!"

"Yes, you did. Shall I tell you what he told me about you?"

She placed her hands over her ears. "No, I do not want to hear any more."

"You will hear it anyway. William talked about a lovely young girl with the face of an angel. He told me how badly he wanted to take her to bed and make love to her. Shall I go on?"

"Julian, England and America are at war, and I chose to help my country in the only way I knew how. 1 will not apologize to you for my actions, but I do so humbly apologize if any action of mine contributed to your brother's death."

"Is that supposed to make everything all right, Lavender?"

"No, but loving my brother Chandler as I do, I can understand how you must have suffered from your brother's death. But, Julian, nothing would ever induce my brother to take his own life. There had to be a weakness in your brother that drove him to such a desperate act."

She could feel the chill from his cold stare. "Not everyone can be as strong as you, Lavender. Some people make mistakes and fall by the wayside. You can try to judge my brother all you want, but that will not change the fact that you are responsible for his death, Lavender."

Now Julian stared past her as if he were seeing something she could not see. "William was a sensitive young man. He was so gentle that he couldn't stand the sight of blood. Everyone loved him because of his kindness and consideration. Besides my grandmother, whom I love, and several cousins I do not, William was the only family I had left."

Her heart was breaking for what Julian had suffered. But even if she could turn back the clock and relive that night at the Cargo Inn she would have done the same. She had been told that her interception of those documents that night had saved over a hundred American lives.

"I can see that you will never forgive me for what you think I did, Julian. I am sorry for your brother, but I will never feel his death was my fault. We are all responsible for our own actions. Dear Lord, Julian, men are dying every day in this war—honorable men, who stand up and fight for what they believe in. Your brother was not my only victim, but to my knowledge he was the only one who took his own life."

He shrugged his shoulders, as if he had been only half listening to her. "You are right about one thing; I will never forgive you, Lavender. When I look at you, I will always see my brother's face."

She raised a pleading hand to him. "Then why did you marry me, Julian? None of this makes any sense."

"1 told you why 1 married you. I will take your child to replace my dead brother."

Seconds ticked away as they stared at each other. Lavender could feel her heart drumming and wished she could run into Julian's arms and be comforted, while also comforting him.

He loosened his cravat and sat down at the desk. "As far as I am concerned, this subject is closed for now. I would appreciate it if you would not distract me since I have important correspondence to attend to."

She stared at the back of his head, wishing she could shut him out of her mind as easily as he seemed to shut her out. She tried to remember the face of Julian's brother, but it was a complete blank to her.

She watched Julian take up the quill pen and begin writing, knowing there must be many things for him to attend to now that he was home. Overcome with homesickness, she fought against her tears. Virginia would be beautiful this time of year, with the brilliant autumn colors. She longed for the day she could return home and walk on American soil.

With determination, she moved across the cabin, bringing a look of disapproval from Julian. As he applied his seal to the letter he had been writing, he stood up and waved it at her. "You might be interested in knowing about this letter that will soon be delivered to Lord North."

She tensed. "I don't know a Lord North. The name sounds familiar, but I do not—"

"It is a letter that would be of great interest to the Swallow, Lavender," Julian interrupted.

"Again you play games. If you have something to say—say it!"

He was amused. "I have merely made a written account of my stay in Virginia for Lord North, who had the king's ear."

"I'm not interested in your letter," she said, burning with curiosity.

"No. Well, I'll tell you anyway. I informed Lord North that to all intents and purposes the Swallow is dead."

Lavender frowned and her eyes shot sparks. "That man, now I know who he is. He was responsible for the Tea Act in seventeen seventy-three that started the war in the first place."

Julian smiled slowly, his eyes lingering on her face. "Frederick North, in his modesty, would say you give him far too much credit. He would decline the honor of being the cause of the war."

"I suppose he is a friend of yours?" Lavender snapped.

"I would say he was more of an acquaintance than a friend. However, I have entertained him at Manning-ton on occasion."

She became indignant. "You may as well know at the onset, I will never stay under the same roof as that man. If you invite him to your home while I am there, I will leave!"

A smile played on his lips. "I shall endeavor to keep that in mind." He waved the letter before her eyes. "Now back to the letter. I have informed Lord North that the Swallow will no longer be a problem. I stopped just short of saying she was dead, but I believe that will be a conclusion he will draw for himself."

"I cannot see why that monster would be interested in me."

His laughter filled the cabin. "You would be surprised at the Englishmen who have been interested in the Swallow. I hope you will not resurrect her and make me out to be a prevaricator."

"I did not tell you to prevaricate on my account. For all I care, you can tell all your friends that you are married to the Swallow. It might prove a novelty. Besides, I am not ashamed of what I have done."

"Oh, no, my dear. You will never tell anyone that you were the Swallow. You could still swing by that pretty neck of yours."

She tossed her head. "1 thought you said your name would protect me."

He laughed again. "Only as long as I want it to," he said in a light tone. "You are safe as long as you do not provoke me too far."

She sighed heavily. "I have the notion that everything I do provokes you. Anyway, I am probably safe from hanging until I deliver your child."

"You can depend on that." He raised an eyebrow. "And, by the way, not everything you do provokes me."

He moved across the cabin and pulled her into his arms. At first she was cold and unyielding, but when his lips brushed against her mouth, she melted against him. Why could he so easily overcome her resistance? she wondered. She could almost sympathize with Julian's brother William, who could not control his emotions. Where Julian was concerned, she had no control over her emotions.

When he picked her up and laid her on the bed, her eyes were laced with desire. As his hands moved across her breasts, she pulled him down to her.

Loyalties, and families were forgotten as their passions ignited and they slipped into a world where only love and desire existed.

18

The gray sky that hovered above London seemed to suit Lavender's mood as the
Monarch
made its way majestically up the Thames with all sails flying. Lavender did not know what she had expected of London, but she certainly had not expected the dense pall of smoke that hung over the city. Buildings she had read about all her life, but had never expected to see, she now identified: St. Paul's Cathedral, the Tower, Westminster Abbey.

Julian had escorted her on deck over an hour ago, then disappeared below deck, leaving Hendrick to look after her. Working her fingers into her leather gloves, she leaned on the rail and watched Captain Foster maneuver the busy bottleneck with a smoothness that surprised her. The anchor came grinding down, and all hands scurried about, tossing ropes over the side, lowering the sails, and bringing the gangplank into place.

Lavender tried to compare London with her beloved Virginia, and this queen of cities came out second best in her mind. Along the waterway she could see a mass of humanity and wondered why so many people would want to live in such close proximity. She felt as if she could not breathe in such confinement.

Her eyes scanned the skyline, and she saw the smoke from the chimneys merging with the clouds. To make matters more unfavorable, it had started to mist, and Lavender was forced to move back down the companionway to the shelter of her cabin.

Lavender had expected to find Julian in the cabin, but there was no sign of him. As she stood in the middle of the floor, observing the cabin that had been her home for weeks, she felt acute sadness. She had been happy in this cabin on the nights Julian had taken her in his arms. Now she wished she did not have to go ashore and could make the return voyage to America with Captain Foster and his crew.

She tried not to think about home, Chandler, Nicodemus, or her aunt; it was too painful to deal with today. Her mind was invaded with thoughts of bright autumn leaves, wood smoke clinging to the crisp morning air, ripened pumpkins in the fields. She was so homesick she wanted to throw herself down on the bed and cry her eyes out, but that was a luxury she could ill afford. She was the Duchess of Mannington, and apparently great things were expected of her.

Lavender moved lo the mirror, and a young girl's face stared back at her. She was not old enough to be a duchess. Her hand rested momentarily on her stomach. The child that was nourished and growing there was still not real to her.

The sound of scurrying feet over her head brought her back to the present. A light tap on the cabin door took Lavender across the room and she opened the door to find Hendrick waiting for her.

"If Your Grace is ready, I am to escort you into London."

"Where is my husband?" she asked, nodding to the two sailors who hovered just behind Hendrick. She assumed they had come to remove her trunks.

"His Grace has already left the ship. He said to tell you that having important matters to attend to, he would see you at dinner tonight."

"I see," she said, trying to mask her disappointment. She had hoped Julian would be with her when she first crossed the threshold of his house. Glancing about the cabin for one last time, she stepped to the door. "Shall we go, Hendrick?"

He rushed forward to hold the door for her. "After you, Your Grace," he said respectfully.

Once on deck, Lavender discovered that the rain had stopped, but the clouds still clung threateningly to the sky. She looked neither left nor right as she passed between two lines of sailors who stood at attention out of respect for her. Stopping in front of Captain Foster, she offered him her hand.

"Thank you for all your kindnesses, Captain Foster. You will always have my heartfelt thanks."

He beamed down at her. "As captain of the
Monarch
, Your Grace, I know I speak for the crew as well as myself, when I say we have never had a more beautiful or admirable passenger aboard." His face reddened, and he found he could not meet her clear blue eyes.

Lavender withdrew her hand from his grasp and raised it in a gesture of farewell to the crewmembers. She wondered at what point she stopped thinking of them as her enemy. "You have all been wonderful." Her eyes fell on the redheaded sailor who had played the guitar so beautifully. "Mr. Pitkin, I will think of you each time I hear an Irish ballad."

The little man looked pleased, and his chest swelled with pride. The lovely duchess had remembered his name and singled him out once again.

Lavender smiled at the captain and turned away, not knowing that many adoring eyes watched her move down the gangplank to the waiting light town coach with the Mannington crest of arms on its door.

Without looking back, Lavender allowed Hendrick to help her into the coach. The valet then directed the loading of her trunks, and was about to climb atop the carriage when she motioned for him to join her inside. He obeyed at once, but Lavender saw the look of disapproval that passed over his face. She was not sure if the valet liked her, but she dreaded the thought of riding through the streets of London alone.

"I hope you will not mind keeping me company, Hendrick, but I would like very much if you would point out the places of interest as we drive past them."

His face was stiff, his back rigid as he seated himself across from her. "Yes, Your Grace."

At first Lavender regretted asking Hendrick to join her, because she had to drag everything out of him. When she would ask him a question, he would answer it in monosyllables. Finally, in exasperation, she realized this man was going to be a part of her life and it was best to clear the air. She had always thought honesty was the only way to bridge a subject, so gathering up her courage, she forged ahead.

"I can feel your disapproval, Hendrick, and no doubt you are thinking that this American has no conception of what is expected of the nobility, and you would be right. I am frightened that I will make a mistake and embarrass the duke." She gave him her most woebegone glance. "If only someone would help me so I would not commit a
faux pas
."

His face showed his amazement. "You have completely misconstrued my feelings, Your Grace. If I seem disapproving, it is with myself, and not with you. I have been ashamed to face you because I was at fault when you were arrested by Colonel Grimsley. At that time, a word from me would have saved you so much misery. I have long felt the burden of my guilt." His eyes were searching. "Can you ever forgive me, Your Grace?"

Her laughter bubbled out. "I have been thinking that you did not like me."

"Quite the contrary, Your Grace. I believe you will be the saving of His Grace." He shook his head, looking bemused. "I should not have spoken so familiarly, Your Grace, but, you see, I have been with the Westfield family for many years, and at times I do take liberties."

She placed her gloved hand on his. "I hope you will always be truthful with me, Hendrick. And as for your guilt about my arrest, I hold you completely blameless."

He bestowed upon her one of his rare smiles. "I would be honored if I can ever aid you, Your Grace." He suddenly looked embarrassed and quickly changed the subject. "If you will look to your right, Your Grace, you will see Buckingham House where the king and queen reside. We will soon be turning onto St. James's Street, where the Westfield town mansion is located."

She clasped her hands together in her lap. "I am frightened, Hendrick. Everything here seems bigger than life. I feel as if I am out of my depth."

Again he smiled. "You will do just fine, Your Grace. Even though the London season is over, I predict that you will become a splendid success."

Lavender was not convinced. She stared out the carriage at the shop windows that displayed glass and silver. A millinery shop displayed the latest vogue in hats and bonnets. The horses' hooves clopped on the cobblestone streets as the coach turned onto an elegant tree-lined street. She admired the streetlamps and the cleanliness of the streets and byways.

One huge, imposing house drew her attention away from all the others. It was an elegant, stately three-story mansion at the end of the street. She said a quick prayer that the majestic gray stone would not be their destination. However, her prayers were not to be answered, and her greatest fear was realized when the carriage came to a halt and a liveried servant came rushing out the door to greet her.

"Courage, Your Grace," Hendrick said to calm her. "You are home."

"Do the servants know who I am?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"Yes, word was sent ahead that they were to expect you."

Lavender knew only one way to deal with her fear. As she always did, when she was unsure of herself, she raised her chin and squared her shoulders. The smile that Hendrick conferred upon her told her that he approved. The valet opened the carriage door and helped her alight. Lavender gasped when she glanced up and saw an army of servants wearing dark blue livery with gold buttons. There were doormen, footmen, and over a dozen maids in black-and-white uniforms lining the steps.

Hendrick offered her an encouraging smile and whispered so only she could hear, "You faced the gallows with far less fear, Your Grace."

"I know," she murmured, "but there was far less to fear then. I had only my life to lose."

"I will stay beside you. Just remember, the servants are all in awe of you. Act the part of a duchess, for you are already a duchess in their eyes." He added as an afterthought. ". . . and in mine."

Lavender gave the valet a grateful smile. Evidently she had one friend in England. As she ascended the steps, the servants bowed and curtsied, each one stealing a peep at the new Duchess of Mannington. She appeared calm and poised on the outside, but on the inside she was quaking. As if she walked the gauntlet, she measured each step, telling herself that she had only a few more steps until she reached the door. Heaven only knew what new challenge would be waiting for her on the other side, she thought.

Standing on the top step, looking imposing and unapproachable, had to be the head housekeeper. With her regal bearing, she could have been mistaken for royalty, but for the black-and-white uniform she wore.

Hendrick stepped forward to make the introductions. "If Your Grace pleases, may I present the housekeeper, Mrs. Forsythe."

A bright smile softened the elder woman's face. "I am delighted to meet you, Your Grace. Myself, and the rest of your staff, are completely at your disposal."

Suddenly Lavender was so exhausted it was an effort to even stand erect. She wanted to be somewhere by herself so she could lie down. "Thank you, Mrs. Forsythe." She turned back to the row of servants behind her. "At a future time, I would like to meet each of you individually, but for now, could you show me to my room, Mrs. Forsythe. I find I am very weary."

"I'll leave you in very capable hands, Your Grace," Hendrick said, smiling. He bowed, taking his leave and disappearing into the house.

The housekeeper's face softened when she gave Lavender a motherly smile. "If you will come with me, Your Grace, everything has been prepared for your comfort." As Mrs. Forsythe stood aside so the young duchess could enter the house, she noticed how pale she was, how childlike and frightened she seemed, which immediately brought out the protectiveness in the housekeeper. "After you have rested, Her Grace would like you to attend her in the green room."

Lavender stepped into the doorway as her heart plummeted. "Her Grace?"

"Yes, that would be the duke's grandmother, the dowager duchess."

"I was not aware that my husband's grandmother lived in London. For some reason, I assumed she would be at Mannington."

"Usually she is, but she has been so concerned about the duke that she arrived in London a fortnight ago, so she could be here when he returned from America."

Lavender stared up at the high ceilings, then she looked around the vast white-and-gilt entryway that would swallow most houses. She was reminded that just a short time ago she had often scrubbed her aunt's house on her hands and knees. Now, she was supposed to be mistress of this mansion. That thought was very unsettling to her.

Mrs. Forsythe led Lavender toward the grand staircase. "The dowager is most anxious to meet you, Your Grace."

Lavender could only imagine what the dowager must think of her grandson's American wife. Her hand trembled on the mahogany banister. "You may inform Her Grace that I will join her after I have freshened up."

"Very good, Your Grace."

Lavender moved down the corridor and watched the housekeeper throw open the double doors and stand aside for her to enter. Lavender could not smother the gasp that escaped her lips when she stepped into the room. One whole wall was windows, giving a bright cheery look to the cream-and-blue walls. Her feet sank into a powder-blue rug, and she was awed by the size and majesty of the bedchamber.

"This is your room, Your Grace. I will have your trunks brought to the dressing room, which is through that door." She indicated a door to the right of the room. She then nodded to the double doors to the left. "Through there would be His Grace's rooms."

"Thank you," Lavender said, feeling overwhelmed by the magnificence of her surroundings. The bed was the largest she had ever seen, and was covered with light blue velvet. The bed hangings appeared to be very old, delicate lace.