Lord Heartless (4 page)

The horse nudged her hand.

“Sorry, no treats today.”

“Ah, wait.”

She pulled a curl that made its freedom from her bun away from her face and watched as he produced a sugar cube from his pocket.

“Here.” He placed the cube into her palm.

“This is what you were doing when we called to you from the hallway? Pilfering my sugar?”

He shrugged.

Palm flat, she extended her hand and the horse took the treat.

“Lady Juliet, I have a proposition for you.”

The world seemed to stop spinning. Juliet’s heart took a painful beat and slowed.
This is where he shall ask me to be his mistress in return for taking my home
. Mouth dry, she swallowed. “Proposition?” she repeated and stroked the horse’s neck. “I am not in the habit of entertaining propositions from men of high birth or low.”

“No, I suppose you are not.” He waited a beat and it gave her time to think.

She wondered if he could hear the gears of her mind shifting to find the logical response. When she did not reply, he spoke again.

“Let me assure you, this is something that will benefit us both.” He glanced back at the reverend and his wife mulling behind them closing the gap. “Is there a quiet place where I can speak to you uninterrupted?”

Juliet’s gaze followed his. Not wishing to cause any more scandal than necessary, she declined his offer of privacy. “The reverend and his wife are speaking to Mr. Black. I believe you are free to speak.” She caught the bobble of his cravat as if what he swallowed was so thick it would not go down.
Good
, she mused. He was embarrassed—as he should be, putting her father in that position. Then, her conscious raised its head and Juliet added, “Besides, if we were to disappear, it would cause more of a twitter. Neither of us can support the addition of another waggle of a gossip’s tongue.”

“So be it.” He gave a nod.

“After your father’s death, something was delivered to my solicitor.”

“Delivered?”

“Yes, a note.” He opened his coat and removed a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “Your father asked me for pity.”

His words caused a slow boil of anger to rise. She pulled her cloak tighter about her body. “So like my father, expecting others to take up the slack.”

“Perhaps.” He focused on the note. “His death has left both of us in a precarious position. I am seen as the black-hearted rake swooping down in order to fill his pockets with ill-gotten gain.”

“Aren’t you?” Their conversation skipped a beat.

“Far from it,” he assured her. “Here.”

She reached out and took the paper. Turning away, she unfolded the letter, recognizing the shaken pen strokes, the blotches of ink where he forgot to tap the side of the well. London’s favorite drunk, yet he was still her father. In a single moment, her heart rose and plummeted with the lines he had written.

“I ask, sir, that a man of your noble station, do what is right.” She drew her eyes away and stared at Landon. “Do what is right? You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, but I am. You see both of us have our dark marks. You, your father’s death by his own hand.” He sighed. “My reputation, one foolishly sculpted and destined never to go away.”

“So for that matter you are serious….” She stared down once again at the paper before looking up into his intense stare. “Lord Montague, this no spontaneous gesture given today and taken away tomorrow.”

Landon gaze focused on her face. “Have you tried to get a job?”

Juliet straightened her shoulders. “I have.”

“You have had no luck.”

His comment was made matter of fact, as if he knew all along what the outcome had been. Juliet could feel the earth pull the corners of her mouth toward the ground. Her heart tightened and she replied, “None. But I suppose you knew that already.” Her words were short and clipped, which brought on a sigh from the man standing beside her. If possible, at that moment, Juliet felt close to hate. If only the laws would permit her ownership of her own means. If only she had been left some sort of resource to try and bring Holly Grove back to its glory. If only…. The words no longer brought her any comfort. “If only” existed in the frame of those silly words found at the end of fairy tales, for there would be no prince to redeem her reputation.

“Then, let us join forces to put this misery behind us. I propose we marry.”

“Marriage!” She gasped and walked a few feet beyond the where he stood. Then turning she shook the paper in his direction. “My lack of financial support and your blackened honor are no reason to wed.”

“On the contrary, it is the very reason to join our two houses. If nothing else, then to thumb our noses at conventional society.”

Dumfounded, she stared at him. “You are mad.”

He closed the gap, his eyes growing fiery. “No, not in the slightest. It is not a love match, of course, more marriage of convenience. I would lend you my name, provide resources to bring Holly Grove back to its greatness, thereby raising your station in life.”

“Raising my station!” she snapped and stared at him in disbelief. “And in return, what would I have to do?”

“Be my wife, give me legitimacy. By doing this, you will help me salvage what my family has held against me. I see how much you care about the town, its people. I could raise my horses here and bring jobs to bolster the economy. All I ask is that you accompany me to London four times a year, host a party or two at my home, and allow me to visit you….”

Suddenly, his meaning was more than clear. Juliet lost reason as her anger mounted. “You mean to warm your bed?”

Lord Montague hung his head like an errant schoolboy scolded. “I should like a legal heir.”

“How generous of you.”

“I admit it is not the best situation.”

“No, it is not,” she agreed. Her voice grew low and her teeth clenched together as she spilled out the words with all the indignity she could muster. “Milord, even in the country, words and tales of your exploitations fill the ears of the gossips. You perhaps have forgotten Lady Richard’s summer home is but three miles from town. Both of us remember well how easily your exploits take flight.”

“You were at Lady Richard’s party?” Landon asked. “I must admit I don’t remember seeing your face. Did we dance? No, we couldn’t have, you would have been barely ten and six at the time.”

Juliet gave him her best look of distain. “I accompanied my father and watched from the landing at the second floor as you tried to seduce Lady Scarborough in the shadows, only to be brought to heel by her husband.”

“Yes, I remember the scandal. But in my defense, no man is perfect. She did manipulate the situation to her advantage.”

“Did she? Or is this your way of a defense?”

“You have done your homework. But she was a flirtation, a woman starved for attention.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” Landon asked, his disbelief obvious.

Juliet paused and let his answers sink in before she spoke. “I admit, I do not understand the situation fully,” she replied. “Then, you’ve never made a secret of your carousing.”

She would have rambled on had Landon not reached out and touched her arm. Juliet snatched hers away and walked down toward the horse, who was calmly eating the few bits of hay left to the ground.

“Hear me out, Lady Juliet,” she heard him call as the sounds of his footsteps followed. “Should you agree to this marriage, you need not suffer another scandal.”

“An empty promise.”

Juliet watched as Landon paused. The look on his face would have been the same had her hand found his cheek. A darkness seemed to overtake his eyes. He drew himself up to his full height and peered down at her.

“I only thought to provide you with a home rather than a bed of straw in the county poor house.”

As much as she hated it, his words were true. She had few options at best. He knew it as did she. All that was left to her now was to become a whore or to be sold into marriage to pay her father’s debts. While she would not sell her soul on the street, was his offer any better? For so long, she’d been her own woman, left to her own decisions in running her life. Now, to become subjected to a man whose nature by all accounts in the papers was no better than her father’s. A throb started behind her eyes.

Think of the security. Your duty first is to look after Holly Grove and our people
. Juliet closed her eyes at the sound of her father’s voice and steadied her nerves before answering. She had others to think about. The old proverb came to her: pride goes before the fall. “Forgive me, I spoke out of turn. What you offer is indeed something to consider.” She heard his ragged breath give way to relief. “Lord Montague, should I accept, what happens to my staff?”

“It would not change. In fact, I would ask that your groundskeeper hire a few more men and boys to help restore the gardens.”

She nodded.

“We would have to buy furnishings to fill the rooms. I have some furniture in storage but not nearly enough.” He stepped forward and took her hand, pulling it to his breast. “Lady Juliet, feel the beat of my heart. It holds you no malice nor do I.”

She reached out, hesitantly and her fingers brushed the starch of his shirt. Below the fine white cotton, she could feel the strong beat of his heart.

“I do not lie, Lady Juliet. I shall respect you in all matters. Please, allow me to take care of you and in some small way amend my wrong.”

Her mind whirled as thoughts rambled through the haze of excitement. Should she accept his offer, her home and a place for the loyal staff that labored so hard under her father’s failing money woes would be secured. It did seem to be the answer to her prayers. “I-I have bills,” she stammered.

“Considered them paid.”

“You know not the amounts.”

“I have an idea. I would be a fool not to have checked. Fear not, I have the money.”

She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Like a cart rolling fast toward the cliffs of Dover, she could not stop the fate that awaited her. Her pulse began to race. “This is all so sudden. There are banns that must be read.”

“My solicitor can take care of that and pay for the special license.”

“How much time would I have?”

“Today is Wednesday. We could have them printed, then read.” He looked to the Reverend Phelps locked in conversation behind them. “Perhaps, the reverend would do the honors here in a quiet ceremony before your chapel next Sunday. Then we could go to London, where you would meet my family, while I make some improvements here.”

“I-I don’t know.” She turned away.

Leaves crunched beneath the soles of his boots as his palms found her shoulders. Their warmth seeping through her threadbare cloak scorching the skin below as his words filled her ears. “I know. I know it is quick. It would not be the marriage a woman in your position wanted; however it would be best for both of us if you would accept.”

“So little time,” she whispered.

“We must act with haste. I know it asks a lot of you, no parties, no presents, no planning. Your life will be forever changed.”

The silence deepened. She waited, yet no sense of dread filled her breast.

“Lady Juliet?” Mrs. Phelps called to her.

She turned and caught the look of fear upon the woman’s face.

“Is everything all right?” the minister’s wife asked, huffing as she hurried up the walk toward the paddock.

Juliet smiled. “Yes, yes, Mrs. Phelps, everything is fine.” With nervous smile, she looked toward the man standing beside her, waiting for an answer. “Lord Montague has proposed marriage.”

The reverend’s wife gasped. Her hand flew to her breast.

Juliet swallowed the last of her pride, then turned and took his hands. “And I have accepted.”

How? Better yet,
why
had she agreed to this? “I am forever jumping from one fire into another.”

Standing in the foyer of the town chapel, Juliet waited for her cue. A steadying breath calmed her nerves as she listened to the organist play a selected hymn. The past few days had been a whirlwind. Lord Montague stayed, taking a room at the inn for his nights. During the day, he roved the grounds with Mr. Nichols by his side. They inspected the grounds and countryside, consulting with tenants and keeping the ideas in the doeskin notebook in order to bring Holly Grove back to its former glory. His bottomless pockets filled their larders to Cook’s happiness and in her eyes he could do no wrong.

Juliet moved to the doorway and looked out. She should be grateful, and yet when his solicitor posted the banns on Friday and the reverend read them again on Sunday during service, she’d held her breath for he’d given a longer than necessary pause, in hope someone might object. Her heart was torn between wanting to be saved and wanting the man she’d yearned for.

She sighed and glanced down at the small worn prayer book she held beneath the Belgium lace handkerchief, the one item left of her mother’s. “Am I that insignificant that no one bothers to wonder about my safety? Or is it the money which satisfies the bills, that brushes aside queries?”

The door to the chapel opened and the swell of music drifted in followed by the whisper of Mrs. Phelps slippers. “It is almost time,” she said and moved toward her rolling that all too critical glance about her dress. “Not even a veil.” Mrs. Phelps fumed as she brushed her hand down the silk on the back of her gown.

“It is all well,” Juliet whispered.

“Well indeed.” The reverend’s wife harrumphed. “This dress has the humor of a funeral, not a wedding.”

Juliet gazed down at the dove-gray suit. The seamstress in town had tried to revive the gown by sewing a trim of black velvet ribbon along the frayed edges of the sleeves and bodice. It was after all a very functional piece and lent her comfort in this painful setting. “Mrs. Putnam did a fine job redoing this in such short notice.”

“Short notice. It is indecent if you ask me. With no season, those ladies in London will have their talons out, ready to shred you—and you nothing more than a poor, innocent lass,” she clucked. “He knows what he’s taking into a den of vipers.”