Unraveled By The Rebel (34 page)

“We’ll only talk,” she said. “That’s all.”

“I’d rather talk over here.”

Juliette eyed him for a moment, then shook her head. “If you won’t come to me, then I’ll come to you.” She tugged one of the sheets and wrapped it around her, walking to him barefoot. The sight of her made him feel even more uneasy, for fear that he would lose command of his senses.

“You’re hurting,” she said softly. “And I don’t know how to ease you.”

“It will pass,” he said. “There’s naught to be done.”

She brought her arms around him from behind, pressing her face to his back. “The last thing I wanted was to cause you pain. And I just thought I could—”

“It burns me that he took you like that,” he shot out, before he could stop himself. “That he hurt you and made it so you can’t ever be joined with a man again.” He turned around and faced her, knowing that the words he spoke were a mistake. And yet he couldn’t stop them. “He had you in a way I never will. And it’s like acid in my veins.”

She looked stricken at what he’d said. Tightening the sheet around her, she whispered, “I wish I had never gone walking
alone that day. I should have taken Mr. MacKinloch or someone—anyone—with me. I thought it was safe.”

“It wasna your fault, Juliette. But I canna help wishing I could murder him for it.”

She folded her arms across her waist. “It isn’t that I don’t want to be a true wife to you, Paul.” Her face reddened, and her hands clenched into fists. “I believe that… it would have been good. And I can’t imagine a better man to be a father.”

He let her speak, though he was frustrated by a past he couldn’t change. “Who told you that you couldna bear another child?”

“The midwife,” she admitted. “I bled so much, and afterward, the fever took me. She advised me to never have a second child, or I would die.” She reached up to touch his face, and her cool fingers quieted the storm of frustration within him. “I can’t take that risk.”

And well he knew that there was nothing that would fully prevent conception, save celibacy.

She was quiet for a long moment, as if considering it. “You said yourself… that there were other ways of being together.”

But not in the way he wanted her most. Paul let out a sigh and took her hand, leading her back to bed. He removed his shirt and waistcoat, sitting beside her. “Go back to sleep.”

“I’ll sleep when you lie down beside me.” Her voice was soft, almost inviting. It killed him not to go to her and hold her in his arms. But if he dared to set one foot inside her bed, he would want too much from her. She tempted him far more than he could endure.

Paul touched her hair and covered her up with the blanket. Without another word, he squeezed her hand and left.

A voice inside made him wonder if she’d been right… that he would one day regret this marriage.

“T
here are other daughters,” Sarah reminded Brandon. “Miss Amelia Andrews and Miss Margaret Andrews are still unwed.”

Brandon ignored her suggestion. “Amelia is only sixteen, and Margaret is nearly on the shelf at one-and-twenty. I’ve no wish to marry either of them.”

“Then you must give up this notion of acquiring their land,” Sarah said. “Let it go.”

Perhaps he should. And yet, he loathed the idea of the Andrews family living so close to him. He wanted to command all of the western Highlands, increasing his fortunes tenfold. But more than that, it was a matter of pride. He was a man of means, one who ought to have half a dozen heirs running about.

Or at least one heir. He remained unconvinced about the child he’d seen and had sent inquiries to find out more about the boy. If there was any hint that the child could be of his blood, he fully intended to reveal the boy’s illegitimacy and take him.

It infuriated him that Juliette had eloped with Dr. Fraser. The little bitch had ignored her opportunity to wed
him
and had instead chosen a physician with hardly two coins to his name. He couldn’t imagine why. Brandon could give her everything. And she’d chosen a man who was a continual thorn in his side.

Now he knew that Fraser was the mysterious viscount who had talked to the wool buyers. He didn’t believe it was possible that the man could inherit a title. The doctor had to be telling falsehoods, for he’d been born in poverty and lived in filth all his life. Lies never changed a man’s blood.

Fraser mistakenly believed that he could influence the men not to buy wool from Brandon. And the Duke of Worthingstone had also joined in Fraser’s efforts to bring down his empire.

It would make no difference. Wool was in high demand, due to the war and the need for uniforms. Brandon had all that was necessary, and when some of the buyers refused him, he’d arranged for the wool to be sold under a different name. If his men took the fleeces, they could lie when necessary, and gain the necessary profits. It wasn’t difficult.

Let them try to end his fortune, and he would see to it that Paul Fraser was brought to ruin.

“Have you learned anything more about the Andrews daughters?” he asked. “Any sort of scandal that I could use against them?”

Sarah frowned. “I’m not certain. There is something different about their family, but I’ve not discovered what.” She stood and walked over to the window. “Have you thought of another woman you might marry?”

“No.” There was only one woman he wanted, and he’d not given up on her yet, though she had married another.

A thin smile crossed his face. Juliette hadn’t gone to her marriage bed as an innocent. He wondered what Fraser would say if Brandon revealed that he’d claimed her first. Had she told her husband the truth? Perhaps a letter might do well to remedy that. But then, he didn’t know where they’d gone. According to his sources, Dr. Fraser had taken Juliette away, and none could say their destination.

It didn’t matter. There were ways to coax Fraser back to Ballaloch, if he wasn’t there already. His mother was there, was she not? And Fraser would undoubtedly come to her aid, if she required it of him. Strathland smiled at the thought.

“Brandon, there is an assembly tonight that I wish to attend.” Sarah’s voice interrupted his plans.

“Go without me.” He had little desire to put on airs or pretend interest in brainless debutantes.

“You’re not living up to our arrangement,” she argued. “We would have no invitations at all, if it weren’t for me. I thought you intended to seek a bride.”

“My intentions are none of your concern. Go and throw yourself at men, if that’s your wish. I don’t care.”

“I want a good husband. One who’s wealthy and kind, who—”

“Then look among the men who have one foot in the grave, Sarah. God knows, none of the younger men would take a second look at you, unless they were blind and deaf. You’ve got the face of a horse, and there’s not a young man in London who would have you.”

Her cheeks burned red, and her gaze turned icy. “You needn’t be cruel.”

“I’m speaking the truth, dear Sister. Throw yourself on their mercy, if that’s your will. But I’m leaving for Scotland within the week. Whether you come or stay does not matter to me.”

“You know how much I loathe Scotland.”

“Then stay in London. Find an old woman, and be her companion. Join the ranks of the courtesans, for all I care. But I’ll not stay here any longer.”

Brandon waved a hand, and she obeyed the unspoken command, closing the door behind her. He didn’t doubt that she’d find a way to remain in London.

While he intended to put an end to Paul Fraser’s interference.

The coachman drove them down a winding path that led to a manor house atop a hillside. Juliette stared at the estate, made of gray limestone and windows that were taller than her. Smoke drifted from the chimney, making it clear that someone was there waiting for them.

“Is this your uncle’s house?” she asked. “I never expected it to be like this.” The house and lands were vast, with acres as far as
the eye could see. She guessed the house had at least twenty rooms, if not more.

Paul let out a breath, his gaze distant. “It was his, aye.”

She waited for him to explain more about it, but he said nothing. Then, too, she hadn’t known about his uncle’s death before yesterday.

After they disembarked from the coach, Juliette took his arm, noting the grim expression on his face. Something was weighing upon him, and she strongly suspected it had to do with her.

He hadn’t returned to their bed last night. She didn’t know where he’d gone, but the glassy stare on his face suggested that he hadn’t slept at all. His pace slowed along the gravel pathway, and she stopped walking. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you, or am I supposed to guess?”

He glanced at the house and then back at her. “My uncle was the Viscount of Falsham before he died a few months ago. This house now belongs to me, as does the title. Which makes you Lady Falsham.”

Had he announced himself as the King of England, she couldn’t have been more surprised. “Then… all of the rumors in London were true?” She’d never imagined it was possible. How could he have lived in such poverty all his life, only to inherit this?

“They were, aye. But I didna ken about my father’s family until I left Ballaloch to study medicine.” He continued walking, leading her up the stone steps.

She frowned, not knowing what to make of that. Others had told her that he was a viscount’s heir, but she’d not believed them, for she’d known Paul for so many years. It felt as if he’d given her lies of omission, leading her to believe they would live in poverty. And yet, he’d never denied the stories.

A footman opened the door and offered Paul a broad smile. “Praise be, and thanks to Heaven, His Lordship is home. Come
in, come in.” When he spied Juliette, the man’s eyes brightened. “My lady, we are glad to welcome you home.”

The butler joined them in the hallway, bowing low. With a silent gesture, he ordered the footman to fetch their belongings. “You are very welcome indeed, my lady,” he said.

“This is my new viscountess,” Paul said. To Juliette, he introduced the older man. “This is Mr. John Fraser, the butler. If you have any needs, he will see to them.”

Juliette sent Paul an amused look. Although she knew there were many Frasers in the region, it surprised her that the butler shared the same surname as her husband.

“It would be my pleasure, Lady Falsham.” There was kindness in the butler’s voice, along with a genuine sense of welcome. She liked him immediately.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Fraser, I will need a lady’s maid,” Juliette asked. From the abrupt embarrassment on the man’s face, she surmised that there were no suitable maids at the moment.

“My wife can serve you, my lady. Until we can hire a maid of your choosing, that is.” The butler bowed and then added, “I believe you’ll want to meet our housekeeper, Mrs. Maggie Fraser, this afternoon.”

“How many… Frasers are there?” Juliette ventured.

The butler cleared his throat. “Quite a few, my lady.”

“And on our staff?”

He stole a glance at Paul and stared down at the ground. “All are Frasers.”

Juliette couldn’t stop her smile. “Then if I’m not certain of someone’s name, I simply call him Mr. Fraser or her Mrs. Fraser?”

He nodded. “That would be about the way of it, I’m afraid.”

Paul took her arm and led her inside. “I will take Lady Falsham for a tour of the house. If you’ll arrange for a hot meal, we’d be very grateful for it.”

The butler bowed, leaving them to walk alone. Paul started to tell her about his uncle, but Juliette barely heard any of it. Instead,
she opened one of the smaller doors and found that it led into a library. With Paul’s hand in hers, she led him inside and locked the door.

“When did you tell my aunt and uncle of your title?” she asked, though she already suspected the truth.

“The day before I took you away,” he admitted. “They decided the match was a good one, after they learned of it. Mr. Kinlark, my uncle’s solicitor, gave them a list of my assets and estates.”

She stared at him, several pieces beginning to fall into place. The wedding gown. The sense that he’d been hiding something from her. “And you didn’t think it was worth mentioning that you have a title now?”

He rested a hand upon a bookshelf. “This life isna familiar to me, Juliette. I wanted our wedding to be simple. And last night as well.”

Although there was nothing simple about it. He looked, for lack of a better word, tortured. She reached up to touch his face. “I don’t know why you left me last night.”

He took her hand in his and lowered it. “Let me show you the rest of the house.”

It was only a means of avoiding her question. She had no desire to look through old rooms when it was clear that he was trying to distance himself. But although she relented, she wondered if there was a way she could ease him. And so, she decided to ask.

After she voiced her question, he stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“Last night, you made me feel beloved, even though we weren’t lovers,” she said. “Is there a way I could do that for you? Perhaps if I touched you—”

“No,” he cut her off. The flash of heat in his eyes belied his words. She suspected that there was far more he wasn’t telling her.