Tis the Season to Be Sinful (16 page)
A faint flush stained his cheek. “I’m merely a novelty that helps sell papers, that’s all.”
“No,” Juliet insisted in a reproachful tone. “You are respected, admired.”
He gave a dismissive snort. “I’m a curiosity. A wealthy American willing to take great, foolhardy risks with his investments.”
She shifted, resting her forearm on one bent knee. “They admire your business sense.”
“Not really.” His teeth flashed white in the flickering candlelight. “Important men of business are circling around me like a school of sharks, waiting with great anticipation for me to fall flat on my ass.”
A jolt of shock thickened her throat. Was the risk truly that great? Could he in truth lose his entire fortune? “Then prove them wrong,” she advised. “Be more sensible, restrained.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, Juliet, don’t you know the first rule of business? The greater the risk, the greater the reward.”
Her heart skipped. “Your luck will eventually run out with that attitude.”
He shook his head. “Though my competitors firmly believe it, luck has very little to do with my success. It might appear otherwise to some, but my risks are never foolish or taken on a whim. I take the time to investigate and analyze each scheme before I invest.”
“A modern-day Midas,” she marveled, impressed with both his philosophy and his success.
“It takes far more than a mere touch to turn things into gold, my dear.”
“Believe me, I know.”
They exchanged smiles and Juliet gazed at Richard with fresh eyes, beginning to better understand the struggle he had endured. There were many in the world who claimed that you could not change the circumstances of your birth, yet Richard was living proof that it was possible to decide your own fate. He had fought long and hard for his success. Fought and won, yet he still felt the need to continue to prove himself.
Would he ever be able to simply relax and enjoy his success? Did he even want to try?
“I will do my very best to dazzle Mr. Dixon,” Juliet promised. She playfully placed a hand in the center of his chest. The muscles felt firm and taut. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
His eyes darkened with interest, sliding slowly from her lips to her shoulders to her breasts. Hypnotized by his searing gaze, Juliet raised her hands and wrapped them around his shoulders. “Speechless, sir? Well then, let’s start with a kiss, shall we?” Gripping Richard’s hair in her hands, she pulled his mouth down on hers.
His answering kiss was fierce and passionate, his obvious desire igniting hers. It nearly took her breath away. With a moan, she clung to him, pulling him closer, returning the kiss with wanton fervor.
“Mrs. Harper?” There was a knock on the door. “Are you in there?”
The door opened and Mrs. Perkins appeared. Richard pulled away from a startled Juliet as if scalded. Without the strength of his arms holding her steady, Juliet nearly tumbled off the chaise.
“Yes, Mrs. Perkins?” Juliet managed a credible calm. Though still fully clothed, she knew her mouth must be red from Richard’s kisses, her hair mussed. She tried to smooth it back and realized her hands were trembling. Folding them in her lap, she tried to concentrate on what the housekeeper was trying to tell her.
Mrs. Perkins looked from Juliet to Richard and back, embarrassment on her face. “I’m very sorry to interrupt, but it’s Lizzy. She’s a bit under the weather.”
“Lizzy is sick?” Emotions clogged Juliet’s throat.
“Nothing serious,” Mrs. Perkins added hastily. “She says her tummy aches, which is not surprising given how fast she gobbled her dessert tonight. And she ate the rest of Edward’s before Mrs. Bickford realized it. The poor lamb has been fussing something awful since she was put to bed. I believe a cuddle from her mother will set her to rights quick as rain.”
Juliet scrambled to her feet. Her poor baby! She was nearly through the door when she suddenly remembered Richard. She whirled to face her husband, who was now standing behind the chaise.
“Go,” he said quietly. “She needs you.”
“I’m sorry. This could take a while.”
His face remained expressionless. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Oh.” Disappointment slammed against Juliet’s chest. She didn’t want to wait until morning. She wanted to continue what they had started. Once she had assured herself that Lizzy was all right, she wanted to continue conversing with her husband. And the kisses. Most definitely the kisses. “You could come with me,” Juliet suggested, hitting upon what she decided was a brilliant solution. “Lizzy would adore the attention from you.”
“To the nursery?”
She nodded, warming to the notion. Lizzy had most definitely taken a shine to Richard. His presence would most certainly boost the little girl’s spirits and help settle her into sleep. And then . . .
She nearly smiled, but as she caught the appalled expression on Richard’s face, a sick feeling gathered in Juliet’s stomach. Swallowing a lump of hurt, she rushed from the bedchamber, not waiting to hear his fumbling excuses.
Chapter 9
Emotion caught in Richard’s throat. As George would say, that was not well done of him. At all. Juliet had not asked for the impossible. She wanted to include him, to bring him closer. From what Mrs. Perkins had said, it didn’t sound as though the child was critically ill. He would not have witnessed some sickbed horror, nor been exposed to any contagious disease.
It amounted to nothing more than cowardice to run so handily in the opposite direction. Even his intellect told him that behaving with such remoteness, acting as though she were intruding on his life with her simple request, was most unfair.
Richard fisted his hands and shoved them into his pants pockets. He had come to Juliet’s room tonight to tell her of the Dixons’ visit, to elicit her help. She had not hesitated for a moment when he explained what he required, promising to aid him in any way. And he knew she would keep that promise.
Yet when she had asked him for his assistance a few minutes later, he had categorically denied her. And hurt her in the process.
Richard felt a stab of guilt. Yes, it was not well done of him, though in truth he had not meant to distress Juliet. It was just that her request had caught him totally by surprise. How many times had he told her the children were her sole responsibility? Was it not obvious to her by now that he wanted no direct involvement in their upbringing?
Still, as he left Juliet’s bedchamber, he found himself making his way to the upper-floor nursery. It was not particularly late, but he met no one as he climbed, not even a servant. The open door and child-sized furniture easily identified the room he sought. Moving quietly to avoid detection, Richard stood outside in the hallway, protected by the shadows.
Juliet was seated in a rocking chair with Lizzy cuddled in her lap. A thick blanket encircled the pair. The chair moved back and forth in a comforting rhythm in time to the song Juliet was humming softly to her little girl.
An unfamiliar tenderness swelled in Richard’s heart. Juliet’s hair had fallen loose from its pins and cascaded around her shoulders. Her eyes were filled with love and assurance, her manner gentle. Lizzy’s head was nestled in the crook of her mother’s arm, her small hand clutching the bodice of her mother’s gown, almost as if she feared being separated.
Step inside. If only for a moment. Let them both know you are here if they need you.
Richard’s lips twisted with annoyance as his feet stayed firmly planted. He was not used to emotional dilemmas. He had created an environment for himself that was comfortable on many levels, not just financial. He had firmly believed he had no wish to change, no pressing need for anything else to give his days meaning and fulfillment. But he admitted now that Juliet’s presence in his life was gradually shifting everything.
Initially he had resisted, but Richard was starting to think he was being foolish. A passionate, intelligent, caring wife was not something to turn away from. There were great benefits to having someone special to share your life with, and Richard was smart enough to see that Juliet was indeed a very special woman.
He was trying to lower his defenses, attempting to graciously accept what she seemed so eager to give him. Yet allowing Juliet to gain a place inside himself was one thing; permitting her children the same privilege was quite another.
An unbidden picture came to mind of another child, an infant boy. Tiny, scrawny, and pale, swathed in a handmade blanket of white. His breathing labored, his eyes dull and listless. The hours spent in backbreaking work desperately trying to earn the money needed to care for the boy, money that in the end proved useless.
The disinterested wet nurse proclaiming in a flat voice that there was nothing she could do if the infant wouldn’t latch on and suckle. The angry, helpless feeling of panic as her words proved all too true. The plain pine box, so small it was constructed from wood scraps, lined with the same handmade blanket, lowered into the ground on a cold, gray day.
Richard closed his eyes tightly. His heart felt like a stone in the center of his chest every time he thought of it. That kind of pain changed a man, altered him forever. It seemed impossible to believe that he could ever get beyond it.
He consoled himself by remembering what he was able to do for Juliet and her brood—provide them with financial security, a place within the local society and a future with endless possibilities. Surely that would be enough?
Richard rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the stiffness. He wondered if it had been a mistake to return to the manor during the holiday season. Too much tradition, too much anticipation, too much family togetherness. All things he could easily do without.
The irony, of course, was his beguiling wife. He was fast realizing that she was something he did
not
want to do without.
not
want to do without.
Among the more significant benefits of his business success was the fact that he got his own way in most things. There were very few exceptions in his personal life where he did not receive complete and immediate compliance to every reasonable request.
Since returning to Highgrove Manor, that norm had gone off the rails, but there had to be a way to set it back to rights.
He simply needed to figure out how.
The following morning Richard awoke in an even frame of mind. A good night’s sleep had a way of putting a new perspective on matters. There was no pressing business to attend to today, which gave him the entire morning to spend with his wife and begin his campaign to set their relationship on the course he wanted.
Faint rays of early morning sunshine were just starting to brighten the interior of his bedchamber. He stretched, easing the tension from his back, and left the comfortable mattress. Nude, he padded into the bathing chamber where he began shaving.
His valet, Hallet, entered just as he was finishing.
“You should have rung for me, sir,” Hallet said in an imploring tone.
“No need. I can manage on my own,” Richard replied, pleased to have won this round in the ongoing battle between himself and his servant.
Richard tolerated a valet because he realized it was necessary to have someone to keep his clothes in proper order, but he refused to allow himself to be dressed and undressed as if he were a backward child. It was, he reasoned, just one more example of how he would never truly belong in this upper-class world, no matter how much money he acquired.
Hallet entered the dressing room and soon returned with Richard’s clothes, laying them carefully on the bed. Richard regarded the dark suit with approval, but a flash of silver caught his eyes. Good Lord, were those mother-of-pearl buttons on that heavily embroidered silver waistcoat?
“Is anything wrong, sir?” Hallet asked.
Richard managed a pained smile. He had a vague recollection of George insisting he order the garment, but no memory of agreeing. “It seems you are determined to make me into a dandy, Hallet.”
The valet sniffed. “I can assure you, sir, this waistcoat is the height of fashion and taste. I will however, be pleased to fetch another if you wish.”
They squared off. After a moment of hesitation, Richard yanked the garment from Hallet’s outstretched hand. He quickly buttoned it, then shrugged into his jacket, never once glancing in the mirror. Leaving the smug-faced valet behind, Richard strode from the room.
He made his way to the dining room, assuming with a house filled with guests, Juliet would be hard at work seeing to everyone’s comfort. His plan was to catch her alone before everyone began making demands on her time. It was therefore disappointing to find the room empty, except for the servants who were setting out plates, cutlery, and silver chafing dishes on the sideboard. The lack of any delicious aromas let Richard know those dishes were empty.
“Good morning, sir.” A young sandy-haired footman approached, looking uneasy. “Cook said breakfast won’t be ready for another half hour. May I bring you some coffee while you wait?”
“Where’s my wife?”
The footman drew in his breath and it occurred to Richard that he should probably not have spoken so sharply. He tried to temper his scowl but that only made the young man’s hands tremble. Where did his wife find such timid servants?
“Mrs. Harper is taking her coffee in the morning room, sir,” a second footman answered.
“Which is . . .”
“Right this way, Mr. Harper.”
The second footman led the way swiftly through a short maze of hallways. Richard stopped in the doorway. Juliet was seated at a cozy table positioned beside a long row of glass-paneled doors that opened onto a garden, busily writing on a piece of paper. A glow of light streamed across the entire room, warming the red accents on the rug, brightening the gold colors on the wall.
“The room is lovely,” he announced. “You’ve done an amazing job redecorating.”
Juliet stiffened at the sound of his voice, then lifted her head, turning a questioning eye on him.
“Good morning, Richard.”
Her tone was not quite sullen, but very close. He lifted his chin, determined not to squirm.
“How is Lizzy this morning?” he asked, diving right into the lion’s—or rather lioness’s—den.
Juliet pursed her lips. “Still sleeping, which means she is fine. It was precisely as Mrs. Perkins said last night; Lizzy’s stomach was unsettled by too much dessert. Not an uncommon occurrence at this time of the year, I’m afraid. ’Tis bound to happen. Children usually become excited during the Christmas holiday. With lots of tempting, rich food around, I’ll have to make sure someone watches what she eats more carefully.”
Answer delivered, Juliet turned her head dismissively and went back to writing her list. With her eyes firmly on the paper, she added, “Thank you for asking.”
“I was concerned.”
Juliet’s pen halted. She raised her chin, then lifted a brow, clearly displaying her disbelief. After staring at him for a long moment, she grunted softly before returning her attention to her paper.
Hmm. This was going to be a bit trickier than he’d first thought. Richard tried to look contrite. “I probably should have accompanied you to the nursery last night when you asked.”
“Yes,” she agreed. Her hand moved faster as she scribbled on the paper, her knuckles nearly white as she gripped the pen. “It would have been a kindness to me and a comfort to Lizzy.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
She kept writing. Perhaps she hadn’t heard? Well, he wasn’t about to repeat it. He watched Juliet’s pen fly across the paper for a full minute before reaching out and grabbing the end.
“That’s the problem with women,” he said, trying to pull the pen from her grasp. “They demand an apology, yet when you offer one, it’s rejected.”
“Oh, really?” Juliet’s eyes narrowed as she struggled to regain control of her writing instrument. “What about men? They think that by simply saying they are sorry, all is instantly forgiven and forgotten. I think not, sir.”
She yanked hard on the pen, her mouth curving in triumph when she successfully wrestled it away from him. Richard stood inert for a moment, staring at her lips. They were plump and rosy, perfect for kissing. Yet somehow he doubted his wife would be receptive to his kisses at this particular moment.
“Juliet, I’m trying to make amends for my behavior last night.”
“I understand that, Richard. What I don’t understand is why it is necessary.” She took a deep breath, as if to steady herself before continuing. “Answer me this, if you please. Do you dislike all children in general or my children in particular?”
Ah, so now she was going on the attack—tackling the problem head-on. He could not help admiring her courage, but this was where it got very tricky. How much was he willing to reveal?
He watched her for a moment, this lovely woman who was now his wife. Bringing him closer to her and her children was a mission she seemed determined to accomplish, and though a part of him firmly resisted the idea, another part was selfishly pleased that he meant so much to her.
“I don’t dislike children on principle,” he said, his mouth twisting at his own irrational emotions. “I’ve never been around any and therefore know virtually nothing of them.”
Her expression softened. “They are not so very different from adults. They appreciate attention and the effort by others to spend time with them. Basically, they wish to be noticed and acknowledged and valued by those they love.”
Richard flinched visibly. Love? What did he know about loving a child except the pain that squeezed the very breath from your lungs? The day he had buried his infant son—a week after burying his wife, who had died birthing the boy—Richard had truly felt as though every ounce of light and joy and hope had been blasted out of his life.
At first he had hardened, and turned bitter, but soon channeled the power of his grief into work. Endless, tireless work. A risky investment paid big dividends and he parlayed those profits into the next project. Bit by bit his fortune grew, but the need driving him remained.
Richard crossed his arms. “I’ll be rather busy with work, and Mr. Dixon, in the next few days,” he said, not meaning to sound so defensive. “There won’t be time for much else.”
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