Only Marriage Will Do (20 page)

“You must rest, my dear. This has been an exhausting day for you. Let me see you to your room.” He offered his arm.

She rose in a trance. He’d used endearments she’d never expected to hear from his lips again. He also seemed pleased with the child. Most wonderful, though, he’d offered to escort her to her room. Happiness washed over her like a wave. She wound her arm through his, unaware of anything except Amiable beside her until they reached the upper landing.

“Which way to your room, Juliet?”

She indicated the corridor to the right and glided along, squeezing his arm gently to assure herself he was real. They stopped before the door to her chamber and she reluctantly released him.

“Thank you,” she murmured with sudden shyness. To her amazement, he lifted her hand. Heat rushed through her body at the velvet touch of his lips.

“Good night, Juliet. I will see you tomorrow.” He released her fingers and with a nod withdrew. He retreated along the hallway, and she admired every stride until he turned the corner. Once he disappeared from sight, she entered her room on weightless feet. The future now held more promise than she’d expected when she’d left it. Pray God tomorrow proved an even better day.

* * * *

Amiable departed Dunham House, reeling at both Juliet’s revelation about St. Cyr and the feel of his child’s presence beneath his hand. He entered his carriage and gave the order for home. Juliet’s woebegone face surfaced before him, as it had ever since he had left the north almost three weeks before. Those weeks had served to clear his mind, to help him focus on his supposed wife’s numerous sins, and had solidified his goal to have her marriage to St. Cyr proved valid.

His hurt and anger at her deceptions had given way to a cold, calculated disdain for her. He knew he could not live with a woman he could not trust, and his trust in Juliet had been shattered that last day at Guinevere’s Keep. She had been nothing but untruthful from the moment he had met her. He might have seen it had he not been so entranced with her. She obviously had no compunctions about lying and was very good at it as well.

After this evening, though, he understood and forgave her lies to Philippe St. Cyr the day they had met. He had never really held them against her. Hell, he’d dissembled as well on her behalf, not realizing just how desperate she had been. Knowing the whole story, he regretted he had not challenged the bastard. That might yet come to pass.

He supposed he could also forgive her deception with Glynis. Rather flattering to know she had been so enamored of him she had gone to such lengths to arrange for them to be together and alone almost the whole journey. And in the end it had been he, not she, who had pleaded for the ultimate intimacy. She had been willing to let him go. If looked at that way, their marriage could, indeed, be laid at his door.

One lie he could never forgive, however. He had put off meeting Randolph Sutton, unsure how soon Dalbury’s letter to him would be received. Today he’d learned Sutton had indeed been informed his betrothed had wed another. The marquess’s steward himself had put the letter into the hands of the man last week. He had not, however, waited for an answer. Amiable thought he knew what that answer would be. Had it been him, the paper would not have hit the floor before his challenge would have been offered.

He’d neglected to ask if Sutton knew whom the offence came from. Amiable determined to remedy that in the next day or so, call on Sutton, and give him the chance of satisfaction. He had hoped to have the matter of his marriage settled by now, but the solicitor had had no word from France. He supposed, however, if he were killed in a duel, the matter would resolve itself naturally. Except…

Except he could no longer countenance the idea of Juliet married to St. Cyr. He would fight tooth and nail to keep her out of his clutches. Her and his child.

The carriage deposited him in front of his father’s house. As he climbed the steps, the wonder, the awe of the small, strong movements in her belly flooded him with pride. She would be the mother of his child and no matter what she had done, that single fact trumped any other circumstance in their relationship. Even though anger at her perfidy still rankled his soul, God help him, he could not deny his love for her.

His duty now lay in securing their future. He must assure their marriage judged valid so the child could be born legitimately with his name. Though he had not yet forgiven Juliet for lying to him, he would damn well fight for her. He only hoped if given the chance to start anew, he could find his way to trust her again. If not, his life would become a misery he might not be able to endure.

Next morning, Amiable stood with legs wide apart, arms drawn behind his ramrod straight back, to the right of Dalbury’s massive office desk. His brother-in-law sat imperiously beside him. The clock struck ten as Grayson showed Mr. Josiah Grimes, of Messrs. Grimes & Clarke, and his clerk into the office. This firm of solicitors had attended to the affairs of the Ferrers family for generations. The current Mr. Grimes, an unimposing man of about forty-five with a fringe of graying hair around his shiny pate, trudged toward the desk.

Dalbury glared at him, every inch the disgruntled marquess. “Grimes, I am most displeased. You have had this matter for more than a month and still there is no progress. My brother-in-law told me last night you were no further along than when I gave it to you. I can scarcely believe him. I expected to return to London with this business settled.” He shot a glance at Amiable. “I trust Mr. Morley informed you of the dire necessity he and my sister are placed under? They contracted a marriage under the impression the laws of England do not recognize a proxy marriage as valid. Now you are telling me this is incorrect?”

“No, my lord.” The little man stuttered, then dove into his valise and hauled out a sheaf of papers. “As I told Mr. Morley, it is still not clear as to the legality of the marriage in France. I have written to the witnesses, a Miss Sophie DuBois and a Mr. Jacques Martineau, servants in the household of Count de Mallain. I’ve also sent a formal letter to the officiating magistrate. I have yet to receive replies to any of those queries, but that is not unusual with correspondence to the continent.” He eyed the marquess with apprehension. “I had hoped by this time the magistrate would have at least contacted me. Servants are less reliable, for one is never sure if they are literate.”

“I understand the nature of the delay, Grimes.” Dalbury peered at the man in a manner calculated to cow. The marquess had certainly perfected that look. “I still find it unacceptable. Have you pursued the woman who stood proxy? Jeannette Valois?”

Grimes’s eyes widened and he shifted from foot to foot. “Neither you nor Mr. Morley gave me instruction to do so, my lord. Is she also attached to Count de Mallain’s household?”

“I have no idea where she is, Grimes.” Dalbury smacked the desk, making the papers on it dance. “I employed her over eighteen months ago and have not seen her since she left for France. She told me she would take the post in order to get free passage to France. I assume after I revoked the proxy, she returned to her home.”

“I will be happy to send a letter to her, my lord, if you can direct me where to send it.” Looking ready to bolt, Grimes contemplated the door.

Dalbury’s left eye twitched.

“Perhaps the servants who returned will know something of this Mademoiselle Valois, Dalbury.” Amiable broke in before his brother-in-law routed the little solicitor. “We can send word this afternoon to Grimes.” Now the subject he hated to address, although he must know if the odds lay against him. “The true issue is the legality of the marriage in England. Even if we are unable to locate any of the people concerned with this document, Grimes, what do you predict would be the ruling of the courts?”

Grimes all but danced on the Aubusson carpet. “Well, Mr. Morley, if the documents are valid, then the marriage will stand in France, where such ceremonies are legal as long as one of the parties is domiciled in that country, which seems to be the case. Unfortunately, Hardwicke makes no mention at all of proxy marriage in the legislation. It assumes the Act’s stipulation that the couple must meet face to face logically prohibits a proxy marriage.”

“That would be the logical train of thought.” Amiable nodded to Dalbury.

Grimes sighed and winced. “However, St. Cyr argues that since there is no specific law against proxy marriage, then the form of the marriage is the issue. Since the marriage was performed
lex loci celebrationis
, meaning it conformed to the law of the place of celebration, then it should be deemed valid as would any ceremony performed in a foreign country.”

“Will that argument hold up in an English court?” God he wanted to grab the little man and shake an answer out of him. Legalities be damned, he needed to know his marriage would be upheld.

The attorney hesitated and Amiable’s heart sank. “It is hard to say, Mr. Morley. The argument might seem sound to the court, especially since St. Cyr insists he came to England in order to take Lady Juliet back to France where there is no question about the validity of the marriage. Then again, we are at war with France, so their sympathies may not lie with the viscount.”

Amiable clenched his hands and swore under his breath. Nothing seemed certain in this muddle at all.

“At any rate, the deliberations of the court on this ruling may take some time to complete.” He peered at Amiable. “I understand time is of the essence in your case, Mr. Morley. So it might be more expeditious to focus our attention on invalidating the French ceremony. If the document has been falsified, then there is no need for the English ruling.”

At last a glimmer of hope. “How do we proceed, Mr. Grimes?”

“One logical argument is that the proxy became invalid the day the marquess wrote the letter revoking it. Especially because no face-to-face ceremony had taken place.”

Promising. Amiable relaxed a trifle. “Would there be a counterargument to such an assertion?”

The solicitor sighed, deeper this time. “Their rebuttal would be the marriage had been performed in good faith, having no possible knowledge revocation was imminent.”

“Even though St. Cyr’s father had already broken the betrothal agreement?” From Dalbury’s tone, that affront rankled even now.

“The argument could then be made that you might not have revoked the proxy in hopes of a reconciliation between the parties.”

Amiable glared at the rotund solicitor.

Grimes took a step backward.

“Juliet is four months with child. My child.” Amiable stalked toward the man, who continued his retreat. “He or she will be born in my house and with my name. If you cannot find the legal means to assure me of this, I will make other arrangements to ensure there is no question about the legitimacy of my issue.” Images of St. Cyr skewered on his sword danced before his eyes.

“A moment, Morley,” Dalbury said.

Amiable strode back to stand beside the desk, his breathing labored as he tried to restrain himself. Something must be done or he’d go mad.

“What are the most prevalent reasons for the annulment of a marriage, Grimes?” Dalbury sat up in his chair, consulted a sheet of paper, and dropped it back to the desk.

Grimes reached for another sheaf of papers. He had obviously anticipated this line of thinking. “Annulment is another slippery slope, my lord. According to English law, it can be granted on any of four grounds: consanguinity, lack of consummation, previous contract by one or both parties, and age of consent. The first and last reasons are easiest to prove.”

“We have no common ancestors, no blood connection at all.” Dalbury folded his arms and sat back in his chair. “At the time of the betrothal Juliet was not yet one and twenty, but as I initiated the proxy proceedings we cannot cite lack of consent now.”

“When the proxy marriage took place did your sister consent to it?”

“No, she would not have consented to it.” Amiable spoke vehemently. He glanced at Dalbury, who looked stunned. “Juliet has made known to me certain events that took place. This knowledge leads me to believe her relieved that the marriage between her and St. Cyr did not take place.”

“What events were these, Mr. Morley?” Grimes asked.

“You will have to question Lady Juliet on that matter, sir. I will not betray her confidence.” He spoke to Grimes but stared at Dalbury.

He’d wager their conversation after this meeting would prove lively.

“Very well,” Grimes said, still shuffling papers. “Can she be called now? It would be best to expedite this matter as time is certainly a crucial factor.”

Amiable nodded and Dalbury rang for Grayson. When the butler appeared, he directed him to fetch his sister.

“She and the marchioness have left to pay calls this morning, my lord.”

Duncan shook his head. “Can you return at this same time tomorrow, Grimes? I will make certain Lady Juliet is present.”

“Might the other party also attend, my lord? Viscount St. Cyr? I need to take his statements as well and perhaps, if he is willing to proceed with the annulment, we can resolve the matter swiftly.”

Amiable wanted Juliet and St. Cyr in the room together about as much as he wished to share his bed with a viper. Perhaps they did not have to actually meet face to face. He gave a terse nod. “You will send to him?”

“I will, Mr. Morley.”

“Very well. Thank you, Grimes.” Amiable sank into a chair. The thought of tomorrow’s meeting filled him with dread already.

Dalbury sat stony faced. “Grayson will show you out.”

Once the man had gone, he paced to the sideboard and poured a generous splash of cognac into a pair of cut-glass tumblers. “Come, Morley, we have much to discuss, it seems.” He gave a withering look to his brother-in-law and thrust a glass into his hand. “What did he do to her?”

“As I said, that is for Juliet to tell you. Suffice it to say, she would not have consented to the marriage by the time St. Cyr left for France.” He’d kill the bastard now given half a chance.

“Did he rape her?”