The Rake's Redemption (2 page)

Early the next day, content that her own secret plan to get Juliana away from the sad memories and into the
ton
had succeeded, Sophia Thatcher leaned back against the crimson squabs of their luxurious traveling coach and surveyed her niece. Juliana’s mouth curved with a small, secret smile as she peered out onto the pleasant Berkshire countryside they traveled through.

The spring rain had ceased two days earlier. Now brooks gurgled merrily over their banks and purple violets and daisies eagerly pushed through the young meadow grass. Birds sang to one another from the low hanging branches of elm trees bordering the road. With pleasure Juliana breathed in spring and laughed softly.

“You have every reason to be smug. My congratulations,” Sophia complimented. “Wellington himself could not have maneuvered so well, my dear. I can’t believe George is at last going to forsake his cattle and crops for the pleasures of London.”

“Is it not marvelous, Aunt?” Juliana’s eyes flashed with happiness. “He feels honor bound to join us in London, since you are such a lamentable chaperon.”

“The dear boy has turned into a deplorable prig for one so young. Just like your father. I will never forget the first time I let you ride without a groom. I thought your father would have an apoplexy.” Sophia chuckled. “Such foolishness!”

The heavy traveling coach lurched when its right rear wheel caught in a deep rut formed during the recent rains. It tilted crazily and instinctively both ladies grabbed for a strap. Sophia gasped in surprise when a crimson pillow flew past her cheek as the coach toppled precariously to the right. She slid against the door frame and the coach succumbed to gravity.

Juliana reached for her but missed, losing her own balance, and struck her head on the door frame landing heavily on Sophia’s outstretched leg as they both tumbled to the floor.

Juliana’s heart was banging loudly against her chest. The jolt she had received when her head struck the wooden door came sweeping over her in a paralyzing aftershock so that she lay motionless until a slight movement and a loud moan brought her to her senses.

Aunt Sophia! She must be hurting Aunt Sophia!

Benjamin, the coachman, appeared in the open doorway. “Oi, miss, be you all right!” His face creasing into dozens of worried lines, he reached in, his two thick, burly arms lifting her out and to the ground.

Juliana closed her eyes for only a moment, the side of her head throbbing painfully, before she clutched at the coach door, calling “Aunt Sophia!”

Her aunt’s face appeared suddenly from beneath a crimson pillow. “Here I am, dear,” she replied calmly, reaching out both hands. “Benjamin, I believe I need your help.”

Juliana felt ridiculously weak. But using what little strength she possessed, she helped Benjamin ease her aunt from the precariously tilting coach, which groaned menacingly, shifting even deeper into the mud when they pulled Sophia to safety.

To her great relief Sophia appeared unhurt, except for a long rip in the skirt of her dove gray traveling gown and a ruined blue feather dropping over the bent rim of her once fashionable hat.

“I am quite all right. There is no need for this fuss,” Sophia said before taking a deep, shaky breath. “However, I do believe I must sit down, for this was a bit more excitement than I bargained for.”

“It warn’t really my fault, Miss Juliana,” Benjamin blubbered. “The pole must’ve snapped with all that jouncing.”

“It’s all right, Benjamin,” Juliana soothed, anxious only to see her aunt comfortable. “Let us settle Aunt Sophia under that tree.”

With Benjamin carefully taking most of Sophia’s weight against his broad shoulder, Juliana helped her slowly to the shade of an elm tree several yards from where young Ben, the postboy, held the still rearing and stomping horses.

Lumbering back to the coach, Benjamin stroked an experienced palm over the sweating side of one of the chestnuts. Juliana knew he loved his horses and would have no trouble calming them. She was more concerned about caring for her aunt so far from help. Searching in vain through her reticule for a restorative, she frowned, angry with herself, and looked up at Sophia, but that good woman was calmly fanning herself with the ruins of her traveling hat.

“Juliana, love, don’t look so distressed.”

Slumping down beside her, Juliana untied the wide blue satin ribbons on her own crushed bonnet. “What a beginning for our journey!”

Juliana leaned her head to one side in the hope
of
easing the painful throbbing at her temple, which was worsening, so that she spied Benjamin unharnessing the horses through a filmy haze. Nevertheless, she pushed herself to her feet, leaving her aunt resting on the cool grass. She made her way carefully, for the earth seemed to be slightly unsettled under her boots, to where he was tying one of the chestnuts to a sturdy looking sapling.

“What can be done, Benjamin?” she asked softly.

Carefully, he peered both ways down the muddy road. “Best for me to go for help, Miss Juliana. Axle done for.” He looked at her from under his thick, sandy eyebrows. “Be you all right? Young Ben will stand guard … Lad!” he bellowed and Ben ran forward, his face as red as the thatch of hair sticking out in a profusion of cowlicks all over his small head. “Be you on watch while I go for help.” He placed a heavy hand on his son’s slim shoulder. “Can you do it, lad?”

“I ain’t afrait!” Young Ben lifted his chin, gazing solemnly at his father. “You go on, Pa. I’ll take care of Miss Juliana.”

Although the throbbing at her temple caused her to feel light-headed and nausea sat heavily in her stomach, Juliana forced a smile, placing a caressing hand on ten-year-old Ben’s unruly curls. “Yes, you must go, Benjamin. We shall be fine here until you return.”

Benjamin nodded, swinging himself upon the untethered chestnut, and cast a last stern look at his son before turning and galloping down the road.

Ben looked up at her, his toothy grin causing her to feel a great rush of affection. “This be a great adventure, ain’t it, Miss Juliana?”

She hugged his thin, wiry body to her side, then glanced to where Sophia sat fanning herself, and finally down into Ben’s excited face. The peacefulness of Wentworth Park seemed very far away and, at this moment, very, very dear indeed.

The sun was just beginning to invade the small square of shade where they rested when a glistening curricle drawn by a pair of matched grays swept past them. Juliana lifted her hand, shading her eyes, to watch the driver bring the team to a neat halt, expertly turn them, and drive back to where they sat. Whoever he was, Juliana couldn’t help but admire his superb driving skill.

Ben, however, was not lost in admiration. He leapt to his feet, taking a firm grip on the large stick with which he had been idly digging pictures in the mud.

She rose to put her hands on his rigidly held shoulders. “You needn’t worry, Ben. These gentlemen appear quite harmless.”

The gentlemen looked just as occupants of such a racy curricle ought. The shorter of the two walked toward them, his black Hessians gleaming, his bottlegreen jacket fitting his wide shoulders to perfection.

Pausing beside his horses, the driver’s face was lost in the glare of the sun. “Here, lad, attend to the team!” he demanded.

His voice held such a note of authority that Ben did not hesitate for a moment. He ran to do as he was bidden, the stick forgotten in the dirt.

Juliana knew someone had to hold the horses, but the driver’s autocratic manner struck her as a bit arrogant. He has no right to order Ben! He may be rescuing us, but he needn’t be so overbearing. She took a sudden dislike to the faceless stranger and thrust up her chin. Making a point of ignoring the driver, she turned back to her aunt.

The shorter gentleman with the wide, cheerful face and the light, fluffy brown curls had knelt beside Aunt Sophia.

“May I be of service?” he asked, his hazel eyes round with concern. “I’m Lord Freddie Liscombe, and this is the Marquis of Aubrey,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the driver, who finally relinquished the reins to Ben.

Although she pretended to pay the Marquis of Aubrey no heed, she did steal a peek from beneath her lashes to watch him walk toward them, but all she could see were his Hessians, only slightly smudged from the muddy road.

Finally she decided to acknowledge him. Tilting her head, she slowly looked up and her eyes widened. She had never been a great worshiper of male beauty, not even as a very young girl, but the marquis possessed a face so arresting that he could be called beautiful in a uniquely male way. She felt a confusing blend of fear and delight that so startled her, she literally ceased breathing for an instant. He was above medium height, his dark chocolate velvet jacket fit smoothly over broad shoulders, revealing hard, flowing muscles that rippled across his back when he bent over her aunt. His burnished head turned a dozen shades of gold in the sunlight, his long, firm mouth turned up at the corners, a dimple appeared in his chin, and his heavy cornflower blue eyes, spaciously set, looked straight into hers.

Good God, she was staring at him! The throbbing at her temples increased so that she had to close her eyes for a moment against the bright sun as the terrible dizziness assailed her again. A pair of light, strong hands steadied her, but released her when her lids flew open and she stepped away.

“Are you all right?” asked the Marquis of Aubrey, his wonderful face radiating sympathy.

Juliana only nodded, confused by this show of concern after his autocratic commands only a moment before, attempting to recover her wits and find her tongue, which seemed to be tied. She stood like a ninny staring at the marquis.

“I’m Mrs. Sophia Thatcher and this is my niece, Juliana. As you can see, we’ve suffered a mishap.”

Juliana went limp with relief when Sophia’s voice broke the silence. Both gentlemen performed neat bows and, the spell broken, Juliana took a shuddering breath as the Marquis of Aubrey turned to their ruined carriage.

Lord Liscombe shook his head. “By jove, it’s really done for!” he said with a grimace before joining in a swift inspection of the broken axle wheel and their once fashionable coach now resting deeply in the mire.

Juliana’s head started to ache again, deep throbs pounding up the back of her neck. Feeling too weak to stand and face the marquis as she longed to—on equal territory—she sunk slowly to the ground.

Her usually pleasant countenance creased in a small frown, Sophia reached out to touch Juliana’s hands. “Are you all right, love? You look pale.”

“I’m quite well,” she murmured softly, disciplining herself not to show in any way that the pain throbbing in her head was nearly unbearable. “I only wish Benjamin would hurry.”

Her words were caught by the marquis. “Your coachman has gone to the Blue Boar for help?”

“If that is the nearest inn, yes, my lord, he has,” she answered with a firmness she just mustered, priding herself on how smoothly she rose to her feet.

She lifted her chin, unaware that her three companions could plainly see the discomfort marring her flushed face. The marquis’s eyes remained fixed on her and her spine tingled when his gaze flickered over her, so she held her shoulders unnaturally straight, concentrating on the pain throbbing at her temples, willing it to go away. Instead the darkening world pitched and spun, and for the first time in her life she fell into a dead faint.

Juliana felt warm and very secure. She attempted to open her eyes, but failed for her lids were too heavy. Rather desperately she fought the languishing stupor of her body, to concentrate on bringing herself into a more stable orbit. Her lashes lifted slowly and her world was filled with deep, rich chocolate velvet much like the jacket the marquis had been wearing. Tilting her head just the tiniest bit, her world expanded to include cornflower blue.

“How beautiful your eyes are,” she heard herself whisper. His thick, silky lashes lazily flickered and his eyes seemed to expand and lighten, but she closed her lids against their brilliance, for the dark mist was again swirling at the edges of her consciousness. Tucking her cheek back onto that one certain spot felt so right, she sighed deeply and once more let the mist of darkness envelop her.

Dominic wondered at his reluctance to move away after laying her on the feather quilt in the bright chamber upstairs. Finally he had removed his arms and backed slowly until he reached the door, wanting her to open those luminous green eyes again—to be sure that the trusting innocence would still be there. But Mrs. Forbes, the innkeeper’s grandmother, had firmly shut the door on him. He’d walked down to the taproom, careful to stay within call should he be needed.

“Dom!” Freddie hailed from the hallway.

“In here, Freddie,” Dominic answered, leaning back to stretch at ease in one of the comfortable armchairs set around the fireplace in the taproom of the Blue Boar.

Freddie’s face was flushed with impatience. “Dom, the horses are standing. If we’re to be in London by tonight, we should leave.”

“I think we’ll stay here for the night.” He slowed his voice to its habitual drawl. “The ale is quite good.”

“And Juliana’s a dashed pretty girl,” Freddie snapped back.

Dominic lifted one eyebrow sardonically. The disdain written across his face was not wasted on his best friend.

Sighing, Freddie shrugged. “You’re right, of course. It’d be damn ungallant of us to leave before the poor girl’s even awake.”

Consciousness returned with the scent of roses. Juliana opened her eyes to the late afternoon sun slanting through small window panes in a room she had never seen before. Turning her head wearily, she found with relief that the terrible pain was gone and saw her aunt sitting, peacefully knitting, in front of a stone fireplace.

Memory returned to her and with it a curious dread that she had taken the first step down an unfamiliar and frightening path. Where was she? And how did she come to be in this pleasant low-ceilinged bedchamber?

Anxiety made her sit up suddenly, glancing around for her blue merino traveling gown. “Where are we? And how did I get here?”

Sophia looked at her as if it was the most normal thing in the world for her to awaken in a strange bed with nothing but her chemise covering her.

“You are awake at last, love.”

“What happened! And where are my clothes?” she asked in alarm.

“One question at a time,” laughed Sophia. “We are at the Blue Boar Inn. And the Marquis of Aubrey carried you here.”

“The marquis carried me!” Juliana sunk back onto the surprisingly soft pillows, a groan rising in her throat.

A smile came into Sophia’s eyes. “Well, yes. He could hardly do less after you so neatly fainted right into his arms.”

“I felt sure it was only a dream,” she mused in a hopeful voice, “that at one point I appeared to enjoy being carried.”

Sophia gave her head a small shake.

“I thought as much.” Juliana closed her eyes, a wave of acute, hot embarrassment making her again feel ill.

She felt Sophia sit on the side of the bed. “No need for worry, love,” her aunt said, gently stroking back Juliana’s tousled auburn curls and touching with great care the sore spot on her temple. “When we discovered the lump on your forehead, we realized you were not yourself.”

“I have a lump on my forehead!” Juliana’s lids flew open. “Tell me the truth, Aunt Sophia. Do I also have a black eye?”

“I do detect a bruise over your eyebrow, my dear. But nothing to signify.”

She had never been overly vain, but the vision of confronting the splendor of the Marquis of Aubrey and his friend Lord Liscombe with a great lump upon her head, and an unsightly bruise above her eye lowered her spirits considerably. The happy thought came to her that, perhaps, they had already departed. When asked, Sophia brightened with a smile.

“Of course not, love. They were both most concerned about you.” Patting Juliana’s hand she rose from the bed. “When I’m downstairs preparing your gruel, I will inform them that you are awake. And I’ll tell Mrs. Forbes that her headache potion was successful.”

Her aunt moved briskly toward the door. “Aunt Sophia, who is Mrs. Forbes?”

Sophia drew back into the room and clapped her hands in delight. “She is a marvel, my dear! I was quite frantic when you fainted, but she took one look at you and declared her potion would cure you. And so it has. Before we leave, remind me to get the recipe.”

Juliana lay back, dazed by her aunt’s bright spirits, and fell promptly asleep.

A short time later the door opened waking her instantly. Sophia came in bearing a tray with a bowl, a spoon, a pristine white napkin, and a single, perfect red rose. She set the tray across Juliana’s lap and handed her the napkin. Juliana noticed an unusual sparkle in her aunt’s normally serene gray eyes.

She hesitated, but couldn’t keep herself from asking, “Wherever did you find such a lovely rose?”

“I did not,” replied her aunt. “Freddie asked for permission to cut it from Mrs. Forbes’s rose garden, which is below our window. I thought it quite sweet of him.”

The marquis’s marvelous face flashed through her mind, and Juliana was aware of a slight feeling of disappointment, but she instantly put such thoughts from her. “Yes, very considerate,” she said brightly. “But, Aunt, when did you begin calling Lord Liscombe, Freddie?”

“Oh, we are quite comfortable with one another now, my dear. You were asleep for several hours, you know. I allow them to call me Sophia. And they have asked me to call them Freddie and Dominic … you know, Juliana,” her aunt stood, chewing on her lower lip, a habit she had whenever her memory failed her. “Dominic reminds me of someone. Something in the way he speaks or moves. And his name … I’m sure it has a familiar ring to it.” A frown marred her pleasant countenance. “I have this dreadful feeling that it is extremely important for me to remember where I have heard of him.”

The next morning Sophia was still trying to recall why Dominic seemed so familiar. Juliana was tempted to tell her that the marquis was not the kind of man who could be easily forgotten, but decided not to feed her aunt’s interest. To tell the truth, she could not share Sophia’s excitement that their two rescuers were still in attendance. She was not a fanciful young woman; indeed, her father had often told her she was alarmingly pragmatic, but she found the marquis … unsettling. Which was why she felt shy at the breakfast hour, even though she had pinched her cheeks so that they had a tinge of color and had skillfully pulled an auburn curl forward to hide both her lump and bruise. She found the marquis and Lord Liscombe in the small private parlor with her aunt, who had preceded her by a few minutes, when Juliana felt the need to spend a bit more time on her toilette.

“We have been waiting for you, love.” Both gentlemen rose to their feet as Sophia gestured toward the chair nearest her.

Lord Liscombe eyed her with undisguised appreciation, which did bring back a little of her usual confidence. “Good morning, Juliana.”

The marquis sketched a bow and Juliana, her face feeling stiff from her forced smile, sat down next to her aunt.

“We have just been sampling Mrs. Forbes’s marvelous tea. The woman is a genius in the kitchen,” Sophia remarked serenely.

“I’d say so,” promptly replied Lord Liscombe. “Dominic offered her a place in charge of his kitchen in town, but she turned him down. Flat!” Crowing with laughter, Freddie’s round hazel eyes were as bright as new buttons. “Even the legendary Aubrey charm couldn’t change her mind.”

“Indeed!” Relaxing a bit more, Juliana glanced at the marquis and found it difficult to believe any woman could refuse him when he set out to be charming.

Dominic Crawford, Marquis of Aubrey, heir to one of England’s oldest and wealthiest dukedoms, felt his boredom lift. There was a decided sparkle of amusement in Juliana’s lovely eyes, and his interest, tickled at the first sight of her and aroused when she cuddled in his arms like a purring kitten, had been most definitely caught. He placed his cup firmly on its saucer. “Yes. She informed me that she could not allow herself to be dictated to by a demanding schoolboy.”

“Schoolboy!” Juliana’s perfect brows rose in apparent delight to meet her glossy curls. He could still remember the fragrance of her hair, fresh, clean, and slightly perfumed when it had fallen over his chest.

His lips twitched and his eyes watched the play of emotions across her face. “Yes. Mrs. Forbes is our innkeeper’s grandmother. Not his wife. She views all of us in much the same way she does Robbie.” Seeing Juliana’s inquiring look, he added, “Mr. Forbes. His grandmother refers to him either as Robbie or lad.”

The marquis remarked that in many ways Mrs. Forbes was a great deal like his own grandmama. Juliana was never to discover where this interesting thought might have led, for the parlor door opened and a robust young serving girl carrying an enormous tray entered. Kidneys grilled to perfection, succulent chops, eggs plucked fresh from the henhouse that very morning, flaky, marvelous-smelling rolls, jams and jellies, and more of Mrs. Forbes’s strong, rich tea was laid out before them.

Some time later, Sophia sighed, leaning back in her chair. “That was truly wonderful. I shall miss Mrs. Forbes’s tea. I do hope she will share that secret with me.”

Juliana laid down her napkin, feeling much stronger after eating, ready to again take charge. “Recipes will wait, Aunt Sophia. First we must inquire from Benjamin about our coach.”

“I’ve already spoken to him,” Dominic stated, causing Juliana’s eyes to widen in surprise. Her first assumption had been correct. The man was overbearing! If he sensed her surprise at his presumption, it did not seem to bother him in the slightest, for he continued in the same casual voice. “A new pole is needed. The wheelwright told Benjamin it will take at least two days to repair. But I would be happy to send to London for one of my own coaches. It could be here by tomorrow morning.”

A faint clucking from Sophia indicated her dismay, but Juliana lifted her chin, returning the marquis’s level look. “Thank you, my lord. But we would not think of inconveniencing you. Aunt Sophia and I shall be quite comfortable here until our coach is repaired.”

“Whatever will you do to amuse yourselves for two days?” Freddie asked in frank bewilderment.

“We shall walk in the lovely gardens I saw below my bedroom window, copy Mrs. Forbes’s excellent recipes, perhaps, even picnic in the woods. It shall be quite pleasant!” Juliana declared, glaring at the marquis, defying him to disagree.

A smile played at the corners of Dominic’s lips. Juliana was not in the usual fashion of women of his acquaintance. That in itself was an enticement. “Indeed, Juliana, that sounds most intriguing. So much so, that I believe Freddie and I will break our journey here for a day or two.”

At his words Juliana’s face became a delight, the long-lashed slanting eyes widened and her luscious, full lower lip fell open slightly.

Freddie directed an astonished look at him, which he blandly returned. “But Timmings only packed three fresh neck cloths! Told you it wasn’t a good idea to send Pringle and Timmings ahead to London from Carstair’s hunting box.” He gestured toward Dominic. “Of course, you as creator of the Aubrey Nonpareil haven’t a problem. But I need Timmings’s touch to accomplish a respectable fold.”

Sophia smiled complacently. “Nonsense, Freddie. Your cravat is all we could ask for. Besides, our lady’s maid has gone ahead of us, too. So we can be quite comfortable and informal here.”

“Sophia is right, Freddie. And if need be, I’ll teach you my trick for the Waterfall,” Dominic offered lazily.

Freddie’s response was ludicrously serious. “Is that so, Dom? Why now after all the times I’ve asked before?”

“Because it pleases me now. As it pleases me to stay here with this charming company. After all, there is nothing pressing to attend to in London.” It was true. The endless soirees, gaming halls, and bagnios in which he sought surcease were not of the least importance.

Juliana was a dazzler, and she intrigued him. She appeared to know nothing about him, so for these few days he would allow himself the pleasure of her company. No doubt, by then he would have his answer. She was either an exceptional actress who was playing her cards just right to interest him, or she would reveal herself to be as boring as all the other women of his acquaintance. Then he would be eager for London. But not just yet.

His eyes encountered Sophia’s for a fleeting instant, just long enough for him to catch the glimmer of her amused smile. She rose from the table, picking out the folds of her gown. “That will be quite pleasant, Dominic. Now, I believe I shall begin in the kitchen with Mrs. Forbes. She spoke of gathering herbs that I might take to London with me.” She turned to her niece. “There is a stone bench in the center of the garden. You should rest there in the sun this morning, love, but be sure to take your sunshade.”

Doing his best to engage Juliana’s attention, Freddie hovered beside her. “I would be most happy…”

“To assist Sophia in gathering herbs,” finished Dominic, a man famed for his sword play.

Freddie shot him a withering look, which had no affect whatsoever. Dominic sat draped back in his chair, his long legs stretched in front of him.

With a nearly inaudible sigh, Freddie offered Sophia his arm and swept her out of the room, casting a last exasperated look at Dominic before shutting the parlor door with a bit more force than absolutely necessary.

Finding himself alone with Juliana, a situation no chaperon in London would have allowed for an instant, especially given his reputation, Dominic was surprised to see her square her shoulders and look straight into his eyes. She looked proud, resentful, and begrudgingly grateful. She looked like a ruffled kitten.

“I would like to take this opportunity to thank you, my lord, for your assistance yesterday,” she said properly.

“It was my pleasure.” He deliberately kept his face and voice utterly innocent, but still a rush of color stained her lovely cheeks. He thought perhaps she recalled how she had snuggled against him, apparently enjoying being carried so intimately by a stranger.

Nodding, she stood and moved quickly away from the table, but in one fluid motion he was in front of her. He could not allow her to leave him so quickly. Smiling, he took her hand leading her through the door, down the hall, and out into the sunlight before she quite realized what was happening.