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The Rake's Redemption(5)

By:Sherrill Bodine


"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.