Unraveled By The Rebel (25 page)

T
he following day, Juliette walked alongside her aunt Charlotte in the morning sunshine. She couldn’t stop her smile as she drank in the sight of Matthew, happily swaddled in blankets. He was nearly a year old, and his brown eyes shone with happiness. She loved his rosy soft cheeks and his nonsensical babbling.

I can’t leave him,
she thought to herself.

There was no denying that her aunt adored her son. Matthew would never want for anything as long as he lived. It should have made it easier to walk away, giving him up to the woman who treasured every breath he took.

And yet, her heart bled whenever she spent time with them, knowing she could never be his mother.

“I presume you won’t be attending Lady Rumford’s ball tonight,” her aunt commented. “As we discussed.”

Juliette hesitated. “I haven’t decided yet.” Although Paul’s offer had been on her mind all night, she did not yet know what her answer would be.

“There’s nothing to decide,” Charlotte retorted. “We agreed that you would remain behind doors until Strathland is gone.”

She didn’t know what to say, and decided the truth was easiest. “Dr. Fraser asked me to marry him last night. He wants my answer tonight at the ball.”

Aunt Charlotte frowned as she passed Matthew over to Juliette to hold. “As I’ve told you before, I think it’s highly inappropriate. You’re a baron’s daughter. You can do far better than a physician.”

Juliette held the baby close, not surprised by her aunt’s aversion. “And as I told you, it’s my choice to make.”

Charlotte let out a sigh. “There’s something I don’t understand about him. I know why your uncle and I didn’t expose him, but why has no one else investigated his claim of being a viscount’s heir? All of London loves a good scandal.”

“Perhaps they had no way to disprove it,” Juliette answered. “And he behaves like a gentleman. No one would know he
wasn’t
a future viscount.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t think you should marry him.” She adjusted Matthew’s blanket and dropped her voice to a whisper. “No one knows what happened to you, and you have the chance to start again. Now that His Grace, the Duke of Worthingstone, has sponsored a Season for you, you have so many more choices.”

No, she didn’t, despite what Charlotte believed. “Who would marry a young woman who doesn’t wish to have children? You know what happened when I went into labor. And there’s only one way to prevent conception.”

“There are a few elderly men who already have heirs,” Charlotte suggested. “Perhaps a widower.” The flush on her face suggested that she hadn’t truly considered this. And Juliette had no desire to wed a man old enough to be her father.

She ignored her aunt’s suggestion. “You both know that Lord Strathland will attempt to spread stories about me,” she reminded her aunt. “Stories that will hurt Margaret’s and Amelia’s chances of finding a husband.” Juliette tightened her hold on Matthew. “I won’t let that happen. If marrying Dr. Fraser will prevent the earl from revealing everything, then I shall.”

She said nothing of her own reasons for wanting to be with him. A marriage to Paul was a grave risk, but he wanted to make her happy. And that was worth something. Her decision was beginning to take shape, even as frightening as the future might be.

“But why this man? Why not anyone else?” Charlotte insisted.

“Because I believe him when he says he’ll protect me,” Juliette admitted. When she was near Paul, it felt as if no one could ever harm her. “And I’ve told him I won’t have any children. He loves me enough that it doesn’t matter.”

Her aunt stopped walking, her face drawn in. “You don’t know for certain that you can’t have more children. It was a difficult birth, but it’s possible—”

“No. I won’t take the risk.” Too many women died in childbirth. Juliette wasn’t at all eager to be one of them.

“There are other ways to have children,” her aunt reminded her. “Even if you never bear another yourself.” She touched Matthew’s head, and the silent message wasn’t lost on Juliette. She could take care of an orphaned child, if need be. There were many, many children in need of love.

“Perhaps,” Juliette agreed.

Her aunt frowned suddenly, caressing Matthew’s cheek. “Before you agree to wed Dr. Fraser, you need to tell him what happened, Juliette. Not all of it… but enough so that he understands how you were hurt.”

“And shall I tell him about Matthew?”

Charlotte shook her head. “No. He must be protected at all costs. Tell Dr. Fraser that your baby died, if you wish.”

She knew her aunt was right. Before she bound Paul into marriage, he needed the chance to refuse. Likely he thought she was only scared of bedding him. He didn’t know that another pregnancy could cost her life.

And yet… he’d offered a celibate marriage. For him to agree to such a thing meant that he really did care for her.

A fragile warmth encircled her as Juliette believed she could truly find a happiness with him. She was weary of being a victim, of feeling as if she didn’t deserve the life she wanted. If Paul were by her side, she could make
him
happy. And perhaps that would be enough for both of them.

She held Matthew close, and he nestled beneath her chin, as if to burrow more deeply against her. His baby skin smelled of soap, and the downy hair was soft against her throat. Giving him up had been the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. No matter that he was conceived in a moment of terror, he was a living piece of her heart and always would be.

She met her aunt’s eyes and saw the sadness within them, as if she wanted to take the baby back from Juliette’s arms. In the end, Charlotte admitted, “Matthew is the greatest gift I’ve ever had.”

Juliette kissed her son’s head and closed her eyes as she embraced him. “Thank you for letting me have this time with him.” She feared it might be years before she saw her son again.

They started walking back, and along the way, Charlotte said, “If a marriage to Dr. Fraser is what you want, I won’t stand in your way. I’ll speak to my sister and do what I can to help you. But you’ll have to wed in Scotland, since you won’t have your father’s permission.”

“It’s what Paul wants,” she agreed. “To return home to Ballaloch.”

“But what about what
you
want?” Charlotte asked.

“I want to protect my sisters. And if that means leaving London, I shall.”

“Answer me this, then,” Charlotte prompted. “If Lord Strathland had not come to London, would you still agree to wed Dr. Fraser?”

She didn’t know the answer to that. The more time she’d spent with Paul, the more she felt like he’d given her back her life. He’d made her realize how much she’d been hiding behind Matthew.

“Paul wants to make me happy,” she assured her, avoiding a direct answer. “And I think I will be.”

Her aunt led her along the gravel pathway. “If you do this, you’ll be living a life of poverty. Physicians do not earn as much, and it will not be what you’re accustomed to.”

“I have no intention of being poor.” Especially now, when she had the sewing business earning such strong profits. She intended to continue her work with Aphrodite’s Unmentionables, even from Ballaloch. Although Victoria still made the design decisions, all of the accounting had fallen to Juliette. She loved the freedom of setting prices and tallying the results of their labor. Perhaps the profits would grow enough, over time, keeping her so busy that she would forget about losing Matthew.

Just as they reached the end of the path, they saw the Earl of Strathland approaching. The sight of the man made her blood freeze, and her grip tightened upon the baby.

“Don’t run,” Charlotte warned. “Behave as if there’s nothing at all wrong.”

But Juliette had to resist the urge to flee with her son. Thank God, the earl didn’t know anything at all. The fervent need to protect Matthew went deeper than any fears. “Keep Lord Strathland away from me,” she whispered back.

The earl had stopped his approach when his gaze narrowed upon Matthew. Juliette didn’t look at him but kept her eyes focused upon the child. Her heartbeat trebled, and she prayed he wouldn’t guess the truth.

At that moment, Matthew reached up to her cheek, babbling, “Mum-mum-mum.” Juliette’s face went scarlet, and she tried to ignore her son’s chortling. Had the earl heard?

“Give him back to me, Juliette,” her aunt murmured beneath her breath. “Now.”

She obeyed, careful not to make eye contact with the earl as she handed him over. When she glanced up again, Strathland’s eyes held the fury of a violent storm. Instead of approaching her, he kept his distance.

“Keep calm and say nothing,” Charlotte ordered, holding the boy close. But against her body, he began to squirm, his face puckering as he began to whimper. The fussing grew noisier, and
no matter how her aunt shifted the child to different positions, his cries worsened.

It was killing Juliette not to take her son back. She knew that at a deep level, the infant knew she was his true mother. He would quiet down if she took him into her arms. But if she dared to claim him again, it would only draw more attention. Her instinct to protect Matthew was greater than the need to comfort him.

The earl was watching them, and she could do nothing to arouse his suspicions. He departed from both of them without saying a word. Even so, she strongly suspected that he would not forget what he’d seen.

And that terrified her most of all.

After Sarah’s efforts, Brandon Carlisle, the Earl of Strathland, had managed to attend Lady Rumford’s soirée as his sister’s escort. He had arrived early, and he’d spent the first hour dispelling rumors spread by Lady Arnsbury. He’d charmed his hostess and made it known that he was seeking a wife.

He’d dropped enough hints about his wealth that the matrons were circling like vultures, ready to offer up their young. He smiled warmly at them, enjoying their daughters’ coy glances from behind their fans. He granted a few of them his attentions, while awaiting the arrival of the Countess of Arnsbury and the girls. Though he would not say anything against Lady Arnsbury, she would regret using her influence to cast aspersions upon him.

He was well aware that Juliette loathed the sight of him. It made no difference at all. He had enjoyed seeing the flash of anger on her face, followed by the fear, when he’d seen her out walking earlier today. Perhaps she’d thought he would abandon his efforts. Not at all. Brandon reveled in a game of cat and mouse. He’d given Juliette time enough to believe herself safe.
But he wasn’t at all averse to spreading a bit of gossip to get what he wanted.

If he let it be known that she had given herself to him, no titled gentleman in London would have her. He had every intention of doing whatever was necessary to gain her as his wife.

The first to enter the ballroom was Miss Margaret Andrews, the eldest unwed daughter. She put on a bright smile and eyed the room with all the subtlety of a predator. Despite her dowry, her prim manner had put off most of the eligible bachelors, including himself.

Next came Miss Amelia Andrews, the youngest. Brandon crossed his arms, considering her as a possibility. Though her incessant chatter drove him mad, she could be used as leverage. Juliette would do anything to protect a family member.

A surge of satisfaction came over him when he saw that Juliette had arrived after all. She wore a demure gown of cream satin, trimmed with a sapphire ribbon. Her hair was tucked away in a simple chignon, and she wore no jewels of any kind. There was a flush in her cheeks, and she braved the room, greeting other women and smiling.

It was good to see her in a better humor than she’d presented in the past. He slid behind a small crowd of people, watching her surreptitiously. She trailed behind her sisters, but not once did she glance at the gentlemen. That pleased him, and he made his way closer to her.

When she stood with her back to him, speaking to other young women, he moved into position. He remained patient until her conversation ended and the ladies went to speak to someone else. Before Juliette could join them, he interrupted, “Might I have the pleasure of a dance, Miss Andrews?”

She spun, her face appalled. It took a moment for her to gather her thoughts, but she shook her head. “No, Lord Strathland. I would rather not.”

Her refusal didn’t deter him a whit. “Or I could ask your younger sister, Miss Amelia Andrews?” he suggested. “She looks as fresh and innocent as you used to be.”

That
earned him a reaction, and anger flashed in her eyes. “Leave Amelia alone.”

“Your sister does not hold the same hatred as you,” he remarked. “She would dance with any man here and not care.”

“
I
care.”

“Then dance with me. If you do, I promise I’ll leave her alone.”

She glared at him. “I’d rather dance with the devil than spend any time in your presence.”

He sent her a thin smile. “I may be a devil in your eyes, Miss Andrews, but I have fond memories of you.” From the way she blanched, she knew precisely what he was talking about.

Fond memories indeed, especially when he’d taken her virginity. Just thinking of holding her down aroused him more.