Tis the Season to Be Sinful (23 page)
Her head lifted in surprise when she heard the bedchamber door open. She stood, her gaze widening as she saw her husband saunter into the room. He paused at the sight of her and smiled. Juliet’s heart began to thump madly.
“Am I disturbing you?”
The deep softness of his voice sent a ripple of awareness up her spine. But his formality bothered her. They should be sharing a bedchamber, not asking permission to enter one. She blinked, trying to accept that it was yet another part of this complex man she had married.
“Has Mr. Dixon gone to bed?” she inquired, deliberately ignoring Richard’s question.
“Yes. Just now. I decided to take your advice and allowed him to beat me in a game of billiards.”
As he spoke, Richard stripped off his black evening coat and dropped it on a chair. His cravat came next, followed by his silver waistcoat. Lit by candlelight, his face was cast in half shadows, the masculine profile handsome and classic.
There was a tap at the door. Since he was closest, Richard pulled it open. Juliet saw a housemaid standing with a long-handled covered pan. “Would you like me to take the chill from the bed, madam?”
His back to the servant, Richard cast a suggestive glance at the ceiling. Juliet barely contained her giggle. “The warming pan won’t be needed tonight, Mary. Thank you.”
“Hmm, I feel as though I should make some remark about keeping you warm all night,” Richard said after the servant had left.
“That would be undignified,” she joked.
He regarded her dourly. “Isn’t vulgarity expected from the uncouth, inferior American?”
She almost answered the comment with a teasing remark, but his expression told her this was a subject that should not be lightly dismissed.
“I have never once thought of you as inferior,” Juliet said sincerely. “There might be some people who believe that by marrying you I made a tremendous sacrifice for my children’s future. What they fail to understand is that I went into this arrangement willingly, almost eagerly. The truth is that I married you because I am selfish. Because I wanted you. I wanted you, Richard.”
“Ah, wanting and having.” He listed to the left, slightly unsteady on his feet. “Have you discovered that you no longer want me now that you have me?”
“I hardly have you, Richard.” He raised his brow and she continued. “All right, perhaps physically I do have
you
, but we both know there is more to a relationship than sex.”
you
, but we both know there is more to a relationship than sex.”
“I’m trying, Juliet.”
“Are you?” Her sudden frustration made her agitated, pushing her to say things she would normally keep hidden. “We seem to achieve a level of closeness at times, yet it disappears like a wisp of smoke and once again I feel that I must struggle to find it.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Am I? Be honest, Richard. You shut me out. Not always, but enough that it hurts.” Annoyed at the quiver in her voice, Juliet strove to sound calm and dignified. “Why do you feel so strongly about not having a child?”
He sat down on the small upholstered chair near the fireplace. “I’m too old.”
“What rot! Who said that you were too old?”
“Me.”
“I’m serious, Richard. Please don’t insult me with sarcastic quips.”
“You don’t know what you are asking of me, Juliet.”
“Then explain it to me, Richard. Tell me why. Please.”
A stark, sad expression slid across his face. Breath held, Juliet waited quietly for him to explain. But he remained silent. She stared at him, desperation growing at the sight of his teeth and lips firmly pressed together.
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t keep yourself so distant from me.”
He was quiet for several more moments. The only sound in the bedchamber was the rhythmic rise and fall of their breaths.
He isn’t going to answer.
The realization depressed her. She had thought, nay, she had believed that he was starting to care for her, that he—
He isn’t going to answer.
The realization depressed her. She had thought, nay, she had believed that he was starting to care for her, that he—
“I was married many years ago.”
His voice was hoarse, the words rusty. The darkness in his eyes told her that he rarely, if ever, shared this part of his past with anyone. Juliet went very still.
“What happened to your wife?” she asked, almost afraid to hear his answer. Details about death were never easy to impart, and judging by the bleakness in Richard’s eyes, she knew this was going to be an especially tragic tale.
“She died giving birth to our son.”
Juliet’s knees buckled. That was the very last thing she had expected to hear. He had a child somewhere?
Why had he never told her? “Where is the boy?”
The pain in Richard’s eyes deepened. “He’s buried in an unmarked pauper’s grave. I begged to have him placed beside his mother, but her common grave site had already been covered, and there was no money to make other arrangements. He lived only a few days after she died.”
A lump of sorrow caught in Juliet’s throat. She could not imagine the magnitude of misery Richard had endured, losing his young wife and an innocent babe who never had a chance at life.
Juliet did not say another word. She crossed the chamber and knelt before him. She sank to her knees, set her head in his lap, and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.
The hollow bleakness that always took hold deep inside him whenever Richard dared to remember his wife and infant son was sharp and fierce. Yet as the moments passed, he allowed himself to draw comfort from Juliet’s arms. The warmth of her touch, the soothing sound of her quiet murmuring.
He knew her gentle heart would be sympathetic to his pain, his loss. What he hadn’t realized was that it helped. That it would make him feel less alone, less adrift.
“It was my fault that they died,” he confessed, acknowledging the guilt that had weighed him down for so long it had become a part of him. “I vowed to take care of her, to cherish and protect her, yet in the end I did none of those things.”
“It was not your fault that she died, Richard. It was horrible and unfair, but it was God’s will.”
“No!” He could feel his body begin to shake as he fought to gain control of his emotions. “It was my job to provide for my wife. She was so young, so sweet. I adored her. She didn’t want to marry until I was more established, more financially secure, but I loved her so much I couldn’t wait and convinced her otherwise.
“She became pregnant right away. It sickened and weakened her and then there was a strike at the mill and I lost my job. No wages, no money for proper food, proper medical care. The baby came weeks early. She labored for almost two days, using the last of her strength to push the child from her body.”
“Oh, Richard.”
He laid his hand on Juliet’s head. “The babe was so tiny. He never had a chance, really. The midwife said he would have been bigger, healthier, if my wife had eaten a proper diet during her pregnancy. Good food, a warm home, worry-free days—these were the basic essentials that I failed to provide for her, because I was foolish and reckless.”
“You were young and in love, a combination that almost always guarantees impulsive behavior.”
“Two lives,” he whispered. “It cost two lives.”
She lifted her head and looked up at him. In the faint moonlight that beamed through the window he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes as they contemplated each other.
“I was numb when Henry died, barely able to function. But later the guilt set in and stayed for months,” Juliet confessed. “Why was I still alive? Why did he fall ill? Why wasn’t it me?”
The pain in Juliet’s eyes was achingly familiar. For too many years he had seen it reflected back at him whenever he chanced to look in a mirror.
She does understand.
A sob tore at his throat. Christ, how unmanly! He contained the cry in a shudder that shook his entire body, holding his emotions in check.
She does understand.
A sob tore at his throat. Christ, how unmanly! He contained the cry in a shudder that shook his entire body, holding his emotions in check.
Barely.
“I, too, often felt it would have been better if I was the one who had died,” Richard admitted.
“Alas, we don’t get to choose. Yet another frustrating, unfair aspect of life.” She moved her hand and laced her fingers with his. “But there are still opportunities for happiness and joy. Even for love. If we allow it.”
He shook his head slowly, wanting to be convinced, yet not fully believing he had the right to that kind of happiness. “I’ve worked tirelessly to become a rich man, finding small comfort in knowing that a lack of money will never again hinder the care I can provide for the individuals that are my responsibility. Still, none of the success I have achieved will ever ease the guilt.”
“Perhaps it shouldn’t. The pain, the sorrow, the guilt are all a part of who you were, are very much a part of what drove you to become the man you are today.” Her features grew pensive. “You never struck me as the type who would embrace martyrdom. Being alone and miserable for the rest of your life won’t atone for the past. Nor will it bring back your wife and son. Trust me, Richard. I know that to be the truth.”
Was that what he had been doing? Channeling his grief into his business had created financial security and independence, had brought him a measure of satisfaction and pleasure. But happiness? Nay, that had eluded him. Or had he simply refused to embrace it?
“Tell me about your wife,” Juliet asked gently. “What was her name?”
“Lillian.” A sob choked his voice. “I called her Lily.”
It was painful, yet at the same time it felt good to remember. Richard began talking slowly, allowing the memories to surface. Time slowed, rewound. He could hear the rasp in his voice as he spoke, could feel the emotion in his chest as he remembered.
It was like unlocking a trunk that had been buried for decades. There was dust and dirt and unpleasant smells, but there was also treasure to be found, the kernels of youthful delight and first love.
Richard had no idea how long he talked. It could have been an hour. It could have been ten minutes. When he was done, he inhaled slowly, then let the breath out with an audible sigh. His eyelids fluttered, feeling uncomfortably heavy.
I drank too much brandy tonight.
He tried to shake away the lethargy, giving his wife a sheepish smile. For several moments they sat in reflective silence. Then Juliet pushed herself up from her knees and pressed her mouth to his.
The kiss was soft, tender, and loving. Caring, not passionate. She didn’t try to entice him or arouse him; instead she was comforting him, loving him. Unselfishly and completely. It was devastating. Her caring ignited a longing buried so deep inside him, Richard believed it no longer existed.
Yet Juliet just proved that it still did.
“Come to bed, Richard.”
He bent to place a soft kiss on her lips. “I fear I’ve had too much brandy tonight to be a proper husband.”
She reached up to brush a lock of hair off his forehead, her hand lingering at the side of his face. “You sent the maid with the warming pan away. My bedchamber has grown chilly. Therefore, you must warm my bed. I require nothing more than your nearness.”
“As I recall, it was you, dear wife, who dismissed the servant.”
She smiled slightly. “Only because I expected you in my bed.”
He grinned, pressing forward until their noses touched. “That is the most ridiculous example of rationalization I have ever heard.”
“Isn’t it just?”
He leaned into her hand. Her sexual touch was always thrilling, exciting, but it was this sweet, gentle touch he needed. It seemed to reach through the layers of pain and offer a sense of healing.
The mattress sagged as they lay down. He was acutely aware of her nearness, wondering if it was the excess of brandy that kept him from an instant sexual response. Or if it was the excess of emotional highs and lows.
He never spoke of Lily and the baby. Never. Yet sharing his past with Juliet had felt almost natural. Still, it was embarrassing to be so vulnerable in front of her. He felt raw, exposed. Terror gripped him for a moment as he realized what he had risked, but then he felt her cuddle close, burrowing herself into his shoulder.
After such a tumultuous evening, he ought not to have been able to sleep, yet the moment he cradled Juliet in his arms, Richard felt himself relax.
Within minutes he was snoring softly.
Chapter 15
Richard awoke the next morning to cloudy skies and chilly temperatures. The bed was empty, the sheets beside him cool. Juliet must have left some time ago. He was disappointed that she hadn’t woken him, but perhaps that was for the best. His emotional revelations last night had a lasting, raw effect that he could still feel.
Yet while the events of the previous night might have seemed like a restless dream, Richard was determined to begin the day with optimism. It was past time for him to accept what he had lost and move forward with what he now had in his life—a wife and three stepchildren.
Richard left the warmth of the bed, grinning when he realized he had slept in his evening trousers last night. Hallet would have fits when he saw the state of the garment, proclaiming it would be nigh on impossible to have them ready to wear again this evening. Fortunately, Richard owned several sets of formal clothes.
As he left Juliet’s bedchamber, he could see the frost forming on the window glass and wondered idly if Uncle Horace would get his much-wished-for snow. It would make the perfect excuse for additional outdoor activities and even more holiday merriment. Sledding, sleigh rides, ice-skating on the frozen pond, even a few snowball fights.
Oh, joy.
Not certain how he felt about the addition of more holiday festivities, Richard turned away from the window. Freshly bathed, shaved, and dressed, he ate a solitary breakfast in his room, then headed for his study, intent on reviewing the partnership papers he wanted to discuss with Dixon today. As he turned the corner, he caught sight of James and Edward hurrying down the hallway. They came to a complete stop when they saw him, then glanced at each other warily.
Richard locked gazes with the boys. “Edward, James. Good morning.”
“Good morning, sir.”
They replied in unison, in a perfectly polite tone, but Richard could almost feel the boys backing away from him. It was a jarring sight, yet he couldn’t entirely blame them. He had not bothered to make any friendly overtures to either of them, though to be fair he had tolerated their pranks with no censure. Or acknowledgment. Perhaps that was also part of the problem.
“Do you know where your mother is this morning?” Richard asked.
“She’s gone into the village with some of the other ladies,” James answered.
“Fine. I will see her at luncheon.” Richard considered the boys for a moment, an uncomfortable sense of obligation nagging at him. He needed to make some sort of effort with them, but hardly knew where to start. “What are the two of you doing today?”
James’s eyes rounded. He cast a nervous eye at his brother. Edward seemed to brace himself, but recovered quickly. “We have our lessons with Mr. Johnson this morning. But we won’t have any studies after lunch so we can help Reverend Abernathy at the church.”
“A group of boys have been asked to help build the manger for the Christmas pageant,” James added.
“Sounds like dull work,” Richard commented.
“Oh, no, it’s lots of fun,” James volunteered. “We’ll also get to paint the scenery and gather the props.” He took a deep breath, ready to elaborate further, then caught his brother’s gaze and stopped abruptly.
Richard waited. He was surprised at how sharply he felt their dismissal. A rising sense of determination to develop some sort of relationship with the pair swelled inside him. But the problem was, Richard had no idea how to proceed.
And even worse, the boys seemed to know it.
The admission was galling. Richard was an expert at solving problems, but he was also wise enough to realize he would need help with this one. He tried in vain to remember what it was like to be a boy, yet his memories were vague. Perhaps George could offer some insights; he seemed to have little difficulty slipping into a childish frame of mind.
The silence between them lengthened. James’s stare soon turned to fidgeting, while Edward’s expression remained sullen.
“I suppose your tutor is waiting for you,” Richard said finally, admitting defeat.
“Yes,” Edward answered promptly.
“Then I imagine I’ll see you both sometime later today,” Richard replied.
“Come along, James. We’ll be late for our lessons if we don’t hurry.” Edward skewered Richard with a look suggesting that the problem was Richard’s fault before the pair rushed away.
In a slightly less optimistic mood Richard entered his study. He found the papers he had requested on the top of his desk. Lifting the first page, he began reading, frowning when he discovered an error. Miss Hardie was usually so careful.
Richard reached for a pen, then swiveled his body to sit in his desk chair. As he began to descend, a memory of James’s nervous twitching flashed into his mind.
Was the reason for the child’s nerves another prank?
Pulling up short, he thrust his hand on the chair seat, checking for glue. Or molasses. Or any other substance that did not belong.
Was the reason for the child’s nerves another prank?
Pulling up short, he thrust his hand on the chair seat, checking for glue. Or molasses. Or any other substance that did not belong.
After confirming the seat was clean, Richard settled into the chair. Gingerly. He had just finished reading the papers when Miss Hardie arrived. He explained the changes required and she sat at her own, much smaller desk to complete the work.
Richard played idly with the pen on his desk as he watched his secretary. Her elegant hand moved with deft precision as she wrote, her eyes darting back and forth between the two documents. Her brown dress emphasized her plain looks, but in his opinion it was the spark of intelligence in her eyes that saved her from being ordinary.
Miss Hardie sat with her back held so straight it didn’t touch the chair, a gesture he always thought bespoke a prudish nature, but now he wasn’t as certain. She was proper and well mannered and had most likely been told that was how a genteel woman should sit. Even one who was required to work for her living.
After ten minutes Miss Hardie set down her pen, tidied the pile of papers, then glanced up at Richard. Her brows knit together in a frown. “Was there something else?” she asked.
“A personal question, if you don’t mind?”
He saw her stiffen. Damn. He probably shouldn’t have asked, but she was not the type who would tell him only what he wanted to hear. She would be truthful. And honest.
“I was wondering about your brothers, Miss Hardie.”
“My brothers?”
“Were you very close growing up?”
She appeared startled by the question. But then her eyes softened with memory and she smiled, ever so slightly. “Raymond, David, and Matthew were all younger than me. When they were little, they greatly enjoyed the attentions of their big sister, but alas as they grew older they preferred to play amongst themselves or with the other boys.
“Though they were protective in their own way and always quick to defend me against anyone who dared to taunt or tease me. Why do you ask?”
“I never had any siblings. James and Edward seem to share a unique bond. I was curious about it.”
Miss Hardie’s smile broadened. “I believe the expression ‘thick as thieves’ is an accurate description of many a sibling pair. Including your stepsons.”
“They don’t like me very much.” Just hearing the words spoken aloud made Richard cringe. He sounded like a sap.
Miss Hardie’s expression softened. “Boys like men who treat them as equals, who listen to their opinions. My brothers were always thrilled whenever my father praised their actions or complimented their work.”
“Even when they were young boys?”
“Especially as boys. They wanted nothing more than to make him proud, but in order to receive praise, it was necessary to do something that would cause Father to take notice of them. Once they built a tree house with scraps of wood they found, only to discover the wood was meant for a fence to be constructed around the garden.
“My father had a fit when he discovered what the boys had done. It’s a wonder they didn’t break their necks tearing that tree house apart, each trying to best the other to finish the job first. Truly, they were quite shameless at times when they vied for my father’s attention.”
Richard’s mouth drooped. “I’m not sure Edward and James want my attention. Frankly, I get the distinct impression they would prefer it if I simply disappeared.”
“You are an unknown element in their lives,” she said earnestly. “Naturally they resent you. Additionally, they know so little about you. I think in this case you have two choices—either conquer them or win them over.”
Richard settled back in his chair, weaving his fingers together. Conquering didn’t appear to be going all that swimmingly. Winning them over might be the preferred method, but how? “Bribery?”
“That might work with the younger boy, but the older one is too shrewd to be so easily swayed.”
Richard rubbed his hand along his jaw. Miss Hardie was right. The last thing Edward seemed to want was to give him a chance. He and his brother had been against Richard from the start.
Well, maybe not James so much. He’d been eager, even friendly. Edward, on the other hand, had always acted with sullen, stubborn pride, making little effort to hide his disdain.
Richard supposed it wouldn’t hurt to compliment the boy. That would certainly be a different approach. Though it would be a stretch to find something positive to say and an insincere remark would only make things worse.
The clock chimed the hour. His meeting with Dixon was due to start any minute. Miss Hardie scurried back to her desk, retrieving the rest of the documents that were needed.
“I hope you haven’t found all these holiday activities too distracting from your work,” Richard said as they waited for Dixon to arrive.
“Quite the contrary. It feels good to be around so many happy people. Surprisingly, it’s also helped to ease the pain of not having my father and brothers with me. It was very generous of you and Mrs. Harper to include me.” Miss Hardie smiled, her eyes sparkling in a most attractive way. “There has been a great deal of work, but Mr. Barclay has proved to be a tremendous help with various matters.”
Barclay? Richard had almost forgotten his former secretary was still in residence, ostensibly working for Juliet, though she was far too busy organizing Christmas to be working on further renovations.
“I’m pleased to learn that Barclay is making himself useful,” Richard said, brushing his hand across his mouth to hide his smile. Barclay seemed to have made quite an impression on Miss Hardie. Her color had spiked noticeably when mentioning his name. Interesting.
Richard wondered how George would take the news of a rival for Miss Hardie’s affection. Not very well, he suspected.
Dixon arrived. Miss Hardie faded into the background, pen poised to take the notes Richard would review later. Dixon was the kind of man who firmly believed he knew what others were thinking better than they knew themselves. On occasion he even credited someone with words that had never been spoken. Previously, Richard had used that flaw to his advantage, but the terms of this partnership demanded complete accuracy.
The men sat opposite each other in leather chairs before the fire. The informal setting did little to ease the intensity of the negotiations. Dixon grumbled, argued a particular point, then stopped suddenly in midsentence.
“What’s that noise?”
Richard paused, hearing only the crackling of the logs burning in the fireplace. “Miss Hardie?”
“I also heard some sort of scratching sound, but it has stopped,” she answered.
All three waited another moment, but nothing further was heard. Dixon’s gaze sharpened. “I insist that this section of the contract be changed to—”
“What in the hell,” Richard exclaimed, rising from his chair. A blur of black-and-white fur scurried across the rug, nearly colliding with his foot. “Did you see that?”
“Couldn’t miss it,” Dixon replied, scratching his head. “I saw it run under the sofa. I think it might have been a cat.”
“A cat?” Richard asked. He had seen a few plump tabbies in the stable yard, but to the best of his knowledge there weren’t any house cats. Then again, he was woefully ignorant of all the workings of the household. “I don’t believe the children keep any house pets. But if they do, the creatures certainly don’t belong in here.”
“Cats tend to seek warmth and the fire in here is blazing,” Miss Hardie said. “Though I am puzzled as to how the animal got in here in the first place.”
Richard’s jaw tensed.
The boys!
A cat suddenly appearing in his study was no accident, and the inquisitive animal could certainly cause a most annoying distraction. As it already had. Striding across the room, Richard knelt down in front of the sofa, attempting to see underneath.
The boys!
A cat suddenly appearing in his study was no accident, and the inquisitive animal could certainly cause a most annoying distraction. As it already had. Striding across the room, Richard knelt down in front of the sofa, attempting to see underneath.
His movements must have frightened the animal, for it bolted suddenly, scampering to the opposite side of the room before disappearing behind the velvet drapes.
Miss Hardie squealed. Dixon shouted.
“Damn! Did you see it, Harper?” Dixon asked.
“I saw something,” Richard answered. “But it moved so swiftly I barely caught a glimpse.”
Miss Hardie turned wide eyes toward Richard. “Could it be a rat?”
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