How to Romance a Rake (18 page)

Alec would not hesitate to inform Lord Shelby of just what his wife was up to, but that gentleman was currently in Paris on diplomatic business. And by the time he returned, it might just be too late to rescue Juliet from her mother’s machinations.

Now, he watched Turlington carefully to ensure that the blackguard took no liberties as he leaned over Juliet’s shoulder to turn her pages. He saw her flinch away from him a couple of times, but for the most part she was so lost in her playing that he doubted she was even aware she had an audience.

What a talent she’d been hiding, he mused. He had suffered through enough poetry readings and musical evenings to know that the majority of young ladies were not all that proficient at the talents they professed to possess. Anything that would set them apart from the sea of other pastel-wearing young ladies—anything short of scandal, that was—was to be grasped with both hands and paraded before the assembled army of eligible males again and again until one unsuspecting fellow fell into the trap. But Lady Shelby had her own plans for Juliet, and so this asset had been hidden just as her others had been.

Alec burned with indignation on Juliet’s behalf. The notion of this vibrant woman at the pianoforte being married off to the lecher currently standing behind her sickened him. Even if he could not marry her himself, he might be able to use his influence to introduce her to some eligibles. There were any number of decent fellows he counted as friends who would make decent enough husbands for Juliet. He suppressed the twinge of jealousy he felt at the idea of her married to someone else. It was for the best, he told himself. She’d be much better off with a steady chap. Someone who could take care of her as she deserved. Someone without the blood of Devil Deveril running through his veins.

If he suddenly felt disheartened by the notion, he told himself it was simply the music. He would do the right thing by Juliet.

Seeing her happy would be worth the discomfort to himself.

*   *   *

The sound of applause ringing in her ears, Juliet lifted her head to see genuine appreciation in the eyes of Lord Turlington’s guests.

Eschewing that gentleman’s arm, she rose from the piano herself, using her walking stick to bolster her strength.

“Miss Shelby, you play marvelously,” Lord Fortenbury said from the small crowd of well-wishers who had gathered around her. She was surprised to see that the group consisted primarily of gentlemen. Wasn’t that a change?

“You must promise to let me accompany you to the opera next week,” one young buck, whose shirt points threatened serious damage to his eyes, gushed.

“I know my mama sent an invitation to her rout next week, but I’ll make sure that she sends another, just in case the first was misdirected.”

“Would you care for a trip to the park tomorrow in my new curricle, Miss Shelby? I should like to speak to you about Mr. Schubert’s latest composition.”

It was almost too much, and Juliet found herself in the novel position of being overpopular.

Before she could respond to any of the questions, however, her mother stepped into the room, casting a pall over the erstwhile happy chatter.

“You will excuse us, won’t you?” Lady Shelby said through a frigid smile. “I am afraid there is something my daughter and I must discuss.”

Juliet nearly fell as her mother pulled her, with little care for her stability or her injured limb, into an antechamber.

“What do you think you’re doing, Juliet?” her mother demanded once they were out of earshot of the rest of the gathering. “You are not to attract the attention of anyone but Lord Turlington. I thought I’d made myself clear on that matter.”

So vehement was her mother’s wrath that Juliet stepped back from her. “Mama, you knew Lord Turlington was going to have me play. You were there when he suggested it. I thought that if you had some objection you would say so then.”

“Well, I thought perhaps he would be pleased to see that you have some talent after all, but he seemed unimpressed. And he did not like to see you as the center of all that gentlemanly attention. If you think to give him a disgust of you that will keep him from marrying you, then I warn you that with or without the benefit of matrimony the man will have you. Make no mistake on the matter.”

“You cannot be serious!” Juliet cried. “You are no better than a Covent Garden abbess if you threaten such things.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Juliet knew she’d made a mistake. Her mother’s hand, even encased as it was in a glove, struck with such force against her cheek that Juliet felt her neck snap with the force of the blow.

“Get away from her.” Lord Deveril, his eyes blazing with cold fury, stepped into the room and pushed Lady Shelby away from her daughter.

When she did not move as quickly as he would have liked, he pulled Juliet back away from her. She stumbled, but Deveril’s arm was strong and she appreciated the uncommon sensation of being able to trust someone else to prop her up.

“I said get away, madam,” Deveril continued. “You will not lay another hand on her as long as there is breath in my body.”

Stunned at being so spoken to, Lady Shelby gaped. Then her eyes narrowed on the pair. “So, I was not mistaken, then,” she said silkily. “I would never have guessed that you would be one to succumb to such low desires, Lord Deveril, but then I suppose a bit of novelty would be difficult for one like you to come by. And I suppose you
are
your father’s son.”

“Lady Shelby,” he said, his voice taut with anger, “you would do well to be quiet before I forget that you are a lady. You are not fit to call yourself a mother, much less to someone of Juliet’s worth. If you continue in this manner I will have no choice but to let the rest of the
ton
know just how low you’ve sunk.”

“Your concern for my daughter is touching, my lord,” Lady Shelby said nastily, “but you forget yourself. You are nothing to my daughter. And until she is of age, she is mine and her father’s to do with as we please.”

She stepped closer, and boldly ran a finger down Deveril’s cheek. “Come, my lord, surely you would prefer to be entertained by a woman of some experience rather than a trembling innocent like Juliet.”

Bile rose in Juliet’s throat as she watched her mother trying to seduce Alec.

“Thank you, no, madam,” he told her, stepping back and away from her touch. “I would sooner bed a venomous snake.”

Anger flashed in Lady Shelby’s eyes, then she flicked her gaze to Juliet. As if she hadn’t just been rebuffed, she said, “Come along, Juliet. I find myself weary of the company tonight.”

Not pausing to see if her daughter would follow, Lady Shelby left the room.

When Juliet made as if to follow, Alec refused to let her go. “We’re getting out of here.”

“What do you mean?” Juliet demanded. She’d never seen anyone as angry as Lord Deveril had been when he saw her mother strike her. Her cheeks flamed with shame at the memory. It was humiliating to have him witness her mother’s ill-treatment of her. Almost as humiliating as seeing her mother attempt to seduce him. She closed her eyes against the memory.

“Come,” he said simply, careful to make sure that she had her footing before hurrying her through the kitchens to the mews beyond.

Nine

Alec led Juliet up the steps of Winterson House, and to his credit, the ancient butler didn’t raise an eyebrow at the appearance of two unexpected visitors at this hour of the evening.

He was still too angry to speak in anything but monosyllables when Winterson and Cecily entered the room—Winterson in shirtsleeves and hastily donned breeches and boots, and Cecily in a robe that was more modest than many evening gowns.

“Deveril, you’d better have a damn good reason for pulling us out of bed at this hour,” growled the duke.

“We did not go out tonight for a reason,” he added with a speaking glare.

But Alec didn’t much care why the duke and duchess had remained home.

“Cecily, perhaps you can take Juliet to your sitting room for some tea?” he asked, not missing the way her eyes widened at his use of her cousin’s given name.

With a brisk nod, Cecily moved to her cousin’s side.

“Come, dearest,” she said, wrapping an arm about Juliet’s shoulders. “We’ll go and let these two have their gentlemen’s talk.”

But Juliet was not to be pawned off so easily. She refused to be moved from her position near the window.

“I have a right to be involved in my own fate, Alec,” she said, resentment flashing in her green eyes. “I am not an imbecile.”

“No one is saying that you are,” Alec said, his gut tightening at her bravado. Most young ladies of his acquaintance would have dissolved into a puddle of tears by now. But not his Juliet.

“Please,” he continued. “Go with Cecily and let me talk things out with Winterson. I won’t make any decisions without consulting you first. All right?”

Her turmoil was evident in her porcelain features, which were just now beginning to regain some color after her earlier upset. Finally, she gave a short nod and let Cecily take her from the room.

He did not miss the sharp look the duchess gave her husband as they passed. Nor did Winterson, who squeezed her shoulder.

They had barely left when Winterson moved to the sideboard.

“So,” he asked, pouring them both a glass of brandy, “what happened? Did that bitch of a mother finally go too far?”

Alec took the glass and lowered himself wearily into an oversized armchair.

“Your question implies that you are already aware of how Juliet has been treated by her mother,” he said, stretching his long legs out before him. “If that is the case then I would like to know why you’ve done nothing about it.”

Winterson raised a brow at the younger man’s leashed fury.

“I have done nothing about it,” he told Alec, sitting in the chair opposite, “because while it is disgusting to see the sort of trauma a parent can inflict on a child, there is nothing illegal about it. I could hardly kidnap Juliet and force her to move in with us. She is, for the next few months, a minor.”

Alec grunted. “In answer to your question, yes, she has gone too bloody far. She’s all but pimped the girl to that bastard Turlington. And she has threatened to—”

He paused, not wanting to tell secrets that were not his to begin with.

“Let’s just say that she has made Juliet’s life a living hell for the past few weeks and promises to continue unless something can be done about it.”

“Well, what do you suggest?” Winterson asked. “I can offer to let her come here, but there’s nothing I can do if Lord and Lady Shelby demand to take her back.”

“A solution has occurred to me,” Alec said, staring into the dark liquid in his glass, “but I’m not sure that Juliet will agree to it.”

“So,” Winterson said carefully, “the wind blows in that direction, does it? I must admit, I thought you were moving toward a match with Madeline, but I do think you are better suited for Juliet.”

Alec stood, stalking over to stand before the fire.

“I did,” he said, “at one time consider asking for Madeline’s hand. She would be a much … safer choice for me, I think. We are friendly and I think we would get along well enough together.”

“But?”

“But Juliet needs me more,” he said. “And there is the small matter of the fact that I have all but compromised her already.”

Winterson’s smile turned to a frown.

“Perhaps you’d care to tell me what the hell that means,” he said with deceptive calm. “Did you compromise her a little? Or a lot?”

Alec turned from gazing into the fire.

“It depends, I think, upon what your definition of the term entails. Did I take her virginity? No. But I certainly have done more with her than is allowed by convention. Enough so that I was considering marrying the girl even before tonight’s incident.”

Since Winterson himself had been forced to marry Cecily by special license under much more scandalous circumstances—well, discounting tonight’s midnight escape—Alec hardly thought the duke was in a position to judge.

But apparently, Winterson did not see the matter that way.

“You were ‘considering’ marrying her before tonight? Are you saying that you compromised her and were thinking about not marrying her?”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds dishonorable,” Alec protested.

“If the shoe fits,” Winterson ground out. “I should thrash you. The only thing saving you is the fact that it would upset Cecily. And I do not wish to upset her.”

“There is no reason for you to thrash me, or for Cecily to be upset. I did not compromise Juliet…”

At Winterson’s glare, Alec conceded, “All right, I compromised her, but I’m going to marry her.”

“Only if she’ll have you, old son,” Winterson said, his blue eyes like steel.

“Of course,” Alec said. He wasn’t a monster, after all. If Juliet wouldn’t have him, then he wouldn’t force her. Which was a damned sight more than her parents could say.

“So, what exactly happened tonight to make you make a run for it with her?”

Alec explained about the scene he’d witnessed between Lady Shelby and Juliet earlier that evening. And what he’d heard Juliet’s mother threaten her with. Even now his hands curled into fists thinking of it.

“Damn,” Winterson said with an answering frown. “I’ve never liked Lady Shelby much just on her own merits, but if what you say is true she’s even worse than Cecily and I thought.”

“Oh, it’s true,” Alec said, his jaw clenching in anger at Juliet’s ill-treatment. “If she were a man she’d be meeting me at Hampstead tomorrow.”

He did not elaborate on his own history of abuse at his father’s hand or how he’d failed to protect his mother from a similar fate. It was enough to know that he could help Juliet escape now.

“So, the fact remains,” Winterson said, “that Juliet is still a minor. I take it you’re making a trip to Scotland?”

Alec nodded. “I’m not going to let her remain here and be forced into marriage with Turlington. I would like to hope that Lady Shelby hasn’t heard the talk about just what sorts of pleasures he indulges in Covent Garden, but it hardly seems possible. She runs in a fast set herself so I have little doubt she knows something of his reputation.”