Dreamspinner (5 page)

Why did she feel surprised that everything around her appeared so normal? she wondered whimsically. Had she expected a hue and cry to be raised over her brief disappearance?

As they reached the terrace steps, Kent caught her wrist. “Let’s not go in, Juliet. Not yet.”

He spoke her name like music, and those devilish eyes radiated an invitation that beckoned to her. Despite the barrier of her glove, the caress of his thumb against her inner wrist sparked shivers over her skin. Somehow the night seemed charged with magic, and a scandalous longing flamed inside her, a longing that quickened her blood. She wanted to press her cheek to his silk shirt, to feel his arms holding her close, to smooth away the harsh lines etching his face...

A movement near the house caught her attention. Emmett Carleton had emerged from an opened French door at the far end of the terrace. As he paused to peer toward the gardens, dismay drove the joy from her. As much as she wanted he and Kent to settle their differences, she felt a half guilty desire to avoid a confrontation.

“There’s Papa now,” she said.

Even as she spoke, Emmett started straight toward them, and his vigorous stride bespoke displeasure.

Kent tightened his fingers around her wrist. “Meet me tomorrow at the Embankment,” he murmured. “Eleven o’clock by Cleopatra’s Needle. Can you manage that?”

Torn between prudence and passion, she shook her head. “I don’t know...”

“Promise me, please. I must see you again, Juliet. I want the chance to know you better.”

His eyes glowed dark and fathomless as the midnight sky. A drowning sensation swept over her, and she yearned to succumb to the whirlpool, to give herself in to his keeping, to let him spin her away wherever he willed...

“Yes,” she heard herself whispering. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

The approach of footsteps shattered the spell as Em-mett descended the marble steps. Fury tightened his leonine features, a fury thinly concealed beneath a rigid mask of civility. His fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides, as if he contemplated violence and held himself back through force or willpower.

“Take your bloody hand off my daughter,” he bit out in a brutal undertone.

Kent aimed a lordly look at her father; then he let his arm drop to his side. “Hello, Emmett.”

“You aren’t welcome here. Get out.”

Though her father spoke quietly, rage radiated from him. Juliet hastened to his side. “It’s all right, Papa. The duke means no wrong. He came here tonight to make peace with you.”

“Yes,” Kent agreed, “I thought it was long past time you and I wiped the slate clean.”

The men exchanged a hard stare. Then Emmett said, “The only thing I want to wipe clean is the floor with your face.”

The vicious statement shocked her. “Father!”

“Stay out of this, Princess,” he said, without taking his eyes from the duke. “This scoundrel isn’t fit to kiss your feet.”

Kent wore a slight smile. “I heard a rumor that you’re angling for a knighthood. Shall we engage in fisticuffs in the ballroom? Or would that ruin your chance at impressing the queen?”

Emmett’s lips tautened beneath the handlebar mustache. He swung toward Juliet. “Go wait by the door. I’ll have a word alone with this villain.”

She had no choice but to obey. Kid slippers dragging, she walked away, casting a worried glance over her shoulder at the two men.

The moment she was beyond earshot, Emmett said, “I’ll accept your presence here under one condition. If you’ve come to sell me Dreamspinner.”

Kent gave a brusque laugh. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“It should belong to me. If William hadn’t stolen it–”

“My father stole nothing. I’d have thought you’d have given up on Dreamspinner. Since it brought about Emily’s death... or have you so conveniently forgotten that fact?”

Sweat beaded Emmett’s upper lip. Fists tight, he took a step closer. “Why, you devil—”

“You murderer.”

The quiet words were almost lost to the lovely music from the ballroom. The blood drained from Emmett’s face, leaving it chalk white. His chest swelled with the effort to draw in air.

“I’ll give you one chance to get out,” he snarled. “Then I’ll summon a pair of footmen to toss you into the gutter like the rubbish you are.”

The duke clenched his jaw. For a long, fierce moment he stared before lifting his hand in a sardonic salute. “As you wish, then. Far be it from me to provide the evening’s entertainment.”

Pivoting, he retraced his steps down the footpath.

From her stance by the door, Juliet watched in despair as his tall form vanished into the shadows. She forgot her father’s presence until he appeared at her side. Burning to know why that short exchange had driven all color from his cheeks, she asked, “What did the duke say to you?”

“Nothing of consequence.” His fingers bit into her arm. “Now come along.”

“Where are we going?”

“Inside. The gossips have had long enough to speculate. Let’s hope it’s not too late to undo the damage that devil has wrought.”

“But Papa, the duke was the soul of kindness—”

“We’ll speak of him later,” Emmett cut in, his eyes frosty. “And your behavior as well, young lady. Now, by God, look as though nothing’s happened.”

His blunt words stung, but she couldn’t reply, for he was half hauling her into the ballroom. After the cool night air of the garden, the heat smothered her. At his side she worked her way through the press of people, stopping occasionally to speak to a guest. Now, more than ever, her father brought to mind a lion who prowled his domain and dared anyone to challenge his authority. With mingled awe and dismay, she realized the extent of his power. Though a few lords and ladies looked speculative, no one openly questioned her scandalous disappearance with the Duke of Radcliffe.

While she smiled and chatted, her mind remained fixed on the encounter between Kent Deverell and her father. Had so many important people not been present, Papa would have instigated a fist brawl. The thought staggered Juliet. She had always suspected he had an aggressive side, but the proof of such poisonous hatred left her sickened.

Once they’d made the rounds, Emmett delivered her to his wife’s side. “Dorothea, I’d like to return to my business discussions. Can you manage here?”

Mrs. Carleton nervously touched her diamond pendant. “Yes, Mr. Carleton, of course.”

“I trust you’ll do better at chaperoning this time.”

He swung to Juliet, and the stern warning on his face transmitted clear: she was to behave like the perfect lady. Chin held high, she met his angry gaze.

The moment he strode away, Dorothea murmured fretfully, “Oh, dear, he’s so very furious. How could you have done this to me?”

Regret assaulted Juliet; she’d never meant to cause her mother any trouble. As several suitors assembled to request their dances, she forced herself to flirt and converse. Maud ventured by, bubbling with questions about the duke and whispering commentary on the guests. But not even her cheery chatter held much interest for Juliet.

The sparkle had gone out of the evening... gone with a man who had midnight eyes.

“What the devil induced you to go waltzing off with that scoundrel?”

Her father clicked the library doors shut. His glare pinned Juliet as she sank into a gold brocade chair, her legs aching from hours of dancing, her cheeks cramped from smiling. The instant the last of the guests had departed, he’d marched her straight into his private den.

“You raised me to be gracious to all guests,” she countered, peeling of her gloves and laying them aside. “He acted the perfect gentleman.”

“Gentleman, pah.” Emmett prowled the Persian carpet. “Give him half a chance and he’d have tossed up your skirts and had his way with you.”

“Father!” Hot color seared her cheeks; fighting a scandalous warmth, she gripped the chair arms. “We only went for a walk in the garden, no different from scores of other couples.”

Emmett splashed brandy into a glass and took a swallow. The gesture gave testimony to the degree of his displeasure; he never drank alcohol or smoked cigars in her presence.

“Pardon my indelicacy,” he said gruffly, “but it’s best you realize the sort of man Deverell really is. Despite that smooth appearance, he isn’t to be trusted.”

She leaned forward. “He came here to offer peace, an end to this hostility.”

“He came here to mock me,” Emmett snapped. “Deverell knows how important it is to me to secure a proper marriage for you. He knows and he tried to ruin your reputation.”

“He didn’t ruin anything.” To herself, she added,
And he did have the opportunity.

“Because I caught him in time.”

Studying his ruthless expression, she shook her head. “Surely you can separate a professional rivalry from a personal one. I don’t see why you despise the Deverells so much.”

“It’s a business matter, Princess. A lady might find it difficult to comprehend.”

Vexed by his supercilious attitude, she struggled to keep her voice level. “Tell me anyway, Papa.”

He hesitated, then set his glass down with an abrupt click. “Perhaps it
is
better you know.” His eyes took on a distant look. “Some twenty years ago, I owned a vast tea garden in the Assam region of India. I sold the plantation to Kent’s father, William. When the tea market crashed just days later, William said I’d deliberately misled him... and cheated him by charging an inflated price.”

“Cheated!” Indignant, Juliet sat up straight. “Surely you couldn’t have predicted what would happen.”

“That’s what I said, too. But he’d suffered a huge loss and had to blame someone, rather than face his own faulty judgment.” Emmett picked up a small ivory elephant and studied it. “Not long afterward, he embroiled himself in a scandal. You see, the Indian government was shipping all their opium to China under a trade agreement. William got caught bringing a pilfered supply into England along with a tea shipment. The incident might have died, except that an anti-opium group got wind of it and decided to make William their scapegoat.” Putting down the figurine, Emmett gave a snort of disgust. “They blasted him as the high-and-mighty duke who’d stooped to drug peddling. William had the audacity to blame it all on me.”

“How could he do that?”

“He claimed I’d planted the opium to invent a scandal. And when his business enterprises went into a downslide, he said I’d used my influence to induce the banking community to refuse him loans. He was just a gambler who never learned how to hedge his bets.” Emmett waved a hand around the room. “Everything I have, Princess, I earned. I wasn’t born with a fancy title and a castle. William Deverell never knew the value of hard work.”

“That’s no reason for you to hate his son.”

“Isn’t it, now.” Stroking his handlebar mustache, he went on scornfully, “Kent inherited the tendency to make poor investments. He squandered the last of the Deverell fortune developing some newfangled threshing machine that never worked.”

“What he does with his money is his own concern.”

“Perhaps. But mark my words, he’s cut from the same cloth as his father.”

“You’re not being reasonable—”

“You don’t know the whole story.” Yanking back a panel of Nottingham lace, Emmett peered into the black night. In a flat voice, he added, “Kent Deverell drove his own wife to suicide.”

Despite her knowledge, shock shook her. “That’s hearsay.”

“Hearsay usually has a grain of truth. He neglected his wife in favor of his farming.”

Unable to contain her agitation, Juliet rose on weary legs and paced the library. “I thought you disliked gossip. Won’t you even give him a chance to exonerate himself?”

He swung around, his gaze keen. “Why should it matter to you? I trust you aren’t entertaining any notion of letting that devil court you.”

Recalling her promise to meet Kent, she hid a throb of guilty longing by pretending to examine an engraved brass vase. “Or course not.”

“Good. Because by God, he’d better not lay a hand on my daughter again.”

“I doubt he’ll return here, Papa. I just wish ...”

His heavy footsteps came closer. “Wish what, Princess?”

Juliet raised troubled eyes to his face; those robust features, so dear to her heart, now seemed harsh and obstinate. “I wish I could wipe away the past. Why must your feud be mine as well? It’s not fair to make your hatred a family tradition.”

As the mantel clock chimed four times, Emmett patted her shoulder. “You let me worry about the Deverells, Princess. They’re not worth bothering your pretty head over. Now, you’d best get some sleep.
Come the afternoon, we’ll doubtless be under siege by gentlemen callers.” Looking considerably cheered by the prospect, he motioned her to the door.

On leaden feet she mounted the grand staircase. She’d been dismissed, dumped back into the category of vacant headed debutante. Rebellion flared, fueled by resentment. Why did everyone assume she
wanted
gentlemen callers, that she looked forward to a life empty of all but inane conversation about the latest fashion or a dull tidbit of gossip?

In the confines of her elegant bedroom, she barely noticed as a sleepy maid helped her undress and settle into bed, then extinguished the gas sconces. Alone, Juliet stared up at the darkened canopy and imagined how furious her father would be if she dared disobey him.

She tossed onto her stomach and restlessly rubbed her cheek against the smooth feather pillow. Something ached inside her, a frustrated yearning for adventure, a feeling akin to reaching out for a perfect foxglove only to have the wind snatch it from her grasp. An image burned into her mind and fired her with unbearable longing: Kent Deverell with his devilish eyes.

Should she go meet him or shouldn’t she?

Chapter 3

She’d kept her promise. As Juliet Carleton followed the path through the Embankment gardens, elation and guilt battered Kent in a storm of emotion. With studied nonchalance he stood with one elbow propped on the pedestal of the bronze sphinx. He spared only a glance for her girlish companion; then his eyes fixed on Juliet. Slim and graceful in a high throated gown of lemon yellow silk, she shone like a ray of sunshine, brightening the overcast day and piercing the darkness of his heart.