"How could I not have seen it?" Aunt Sophia stood and stared at him. "You are the Duke of Culter's grandson!"
"Of course, he is dear Austin's grandson," Lady Grenville said, a haughty look descending upon her chubby features. "I am quite sure you have heard me mention their graces many times these past four years!"
"Many, many times," Aunt Sophia muttered, and Dominic's lips twitched appreciatively when she brushed pass him to place two warm kisses on both of Charlotte's pale cheeks.
Juliana stole a glance at the marquis. He endured a stilted conversation with Lady Grenville, whom he was assisting to a low couch beside the fireplace, when she admitted a slight faintness at discovering her dear cousin Dominic so unexpectedly.
Propping one broad shoulder against the wooden mantel, he apologized for not recognizing her, since he had only been an infant of nine months upon the occasion of her last visit to Culter towers.
He smiled across the small, cozy parlor at Juliana sharing the joke. She felt warmth flush her cheeks, but unconsciously she lifted her chin when she met a steely stare from beneath Lady Grenville's thin brows.
"I see you have already made the acquaintance of our neighbors," Lady Grenville said in a brittle voice. "Juliana is the widow of Will Grenville, the late Sir Timothy's only son." Twittering in a breathless little voice, her tight mouth twisted in a sly smile. "The Willows belongs to Sir Alfred and me now, you know."
Deep within him Dominic's heart gave one strong stroke as if on an anvil. Will Grenville's bride? The woman he had idealized from all the stories he had heard around the camp fire. This was her, that picture of perfection that Will had drawn while he lay dying in Dominic's arms? It couldn't be! Jealousy rose like bile in his throat. She had belonged to someone else. Why had she led him to believe she was a Thatcher? If only he had known she was Will Grenville's bride, he never would have kissed her-never would have violated the memory of Will calling for his beloved Ju. The man Dominic had become did not deserve such a woman.
If she had not been so aware of him, Juliana would have missed the change that came over Dominic. One instant he was propped against the mantel, long legs braced apart, watching her with apparent delight, and a moment later those wonderful eyes somehow lacked their previous warmth and, although his expressive lips still smiled, there was a difference-the smile was distant and strained.
"My condolences, Juliana."
He spoke in a gentle voice that held a trace of something she couldn't quite recognize, but it made her reply terse.
"Thank you."
Freddie shook his head, a wrinkle creasing his brow. "Will Grenville … I knew him on the Peninsula, remember Dominic? Nice young chap with the unruliest mop of ebony curls I've ever seen."
Juliana's eyes flew to Freddie's face. "You were on the Peninsula?"
"We both were. Dominic was a part of Wellington's family. General staff you know. Mentioned twice in the dispatches. I had no such luck, being sent home before Badajoz with a fever."
"Yes," Juliana nodded, the tightness in her throat causing her voice to break a little. "Will died at Badajoz six years ago."
Where was the teasing, affectionate consideration that Dominic had given her so freely and effortlessly since they first met? And something more that she refused to put a name to? He appeared like a man preoccupied with a longing to be elsewhere, but too well-bred to appear bored. It was not her imagination, for Freddie looked so decidedly uncomfortable he ran one finger around his high shirt collar, and Sophia's serene gray eyes held a look of curious concern.
"Come, Mama. Let us freshen ourselves," Charlotte suddenly spoke, moving to her mother's side.
Lady Grenville was totally unaware of the strange tensions in the room, for she opened her mouth to protest, but Charlotte got a firm grip on her arm, and with a cool nod to both gentlemen, led her protesting parent away.
"Did you see that!" Freddie breathed in an astonished voice. "Girl hasn't said a word since she walked in the door. Now she's ordering her mother about!"
"Charlotte is a young woman of few words," Sophia said calmly, her eyes still studying Dominic's stony profile. "But her timing is flawless."
Several hours later, the marquis steadied his grays as they sprang forward after a brief stop at the last tollgate on the London road. The twilight was gone and a strong breeze brought the smell of dirt and the damp chill of spring.
"It ain't that I'm not eager to get to town," continued Freddie, who had occupied himself ever since they left the Blue Boar in complaining about their abrupt departure. "I can't think what's come over you! Told the ladies we were staying and then you up and leave as soon as the Grenvilles arrive. Thought her ladyship would have an apoplexy when you said there was no need for us to stay as you knew she'd wish to convey Sophia and Juliana to London herself!"
Dominic grunted but said nothing more, his attention remaining firmly on the road. In fact, he had had very few words to say in the last several hours.
Not a man to be put off, Freddie glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "Juliana is certainly a diamond of the first water. Didn't realize she was a Grenville. I thought she was a Thatcher like Sophia. Remember on the Peninsula how that young cavalry lieutenant, Will Grenville, talked about her and their land in Berkshire?" Freddie shook his head, smiling. "Brought a few tears to my eyes sometimes, remembering home. Glad I met her before she reached town. Lay you a wager she'll be all the rage within a fortnight!"
Dominic smiled, but it was strained, not in his usual way at all. "Yes … I feel sure Juliana will take." His voice echoed the shock gripping him.
Freddie peered at him. "Devil!" he said with great feeling. "Forget about your preference."
"Which preference do you speak of?" asked Dominic with quiet cordiality. "My unexplainable preference for your questionable company, perhaps?"
"You prefer your women with experience. Safer I guess. But not widows. Can't understand that! Remember it struck us all as strange when the Duke of Cumberland stuck his spoon in the wall, you didn't give that delectable widow of his a second glance. Every man in the ton wanted her. She wanted you. And you not interested! Stands to reason Juliana isn't in your line. A dazzler, but fades besides the Duchess of Cumberland," said Freddie with brutal frankness.
Dominic was hardly aware of his friend's chatter, for the truth was finally penetrating through his shock. The warm, vibrant woman he had held in his arms was Juliana Grenville! He had thought the fates had played their last cruel trick on him, but he had been wrong. Oh, yes, he remembered Will and the stories that had brought tears to Freddie's eyes.
Dominic had been at the slaughter that was Badajoz. He had sat in the oozing mud, listening to the death groans of men spread across the battlefield, captivated by the over bright smile on Will's face as he had clasped Dominic's hand.
"Worst battle yet, but one good thing's come out of it. Think this wound will send me home to my Ju. Can't wait to see her red mop and take her down to fish again." He'd risen slightly on one elbow, so far gone he didn't even realize his legs had been shot away. "She's beautiful, Aubrey, yet daring. You should have seen her the day she outraced me to the pond and her horse balked, sending her head first into the stream. She rose with the water cascading down her gown and blushed to see me stare at her. God, she was beautiful." He had slipped back into Dominic's arms. "Ju, Ju, are you there?" Dominic's embrace tightened to give comfort, and Will smiled, the mist closing over his eyes.
Dominic had sat for long moments cradling Will, whose company had attacked the enemy's most heavily defended position, and their charge had helped swing the battle to the English side. But at too deep a price. With horror growing all around him, he had wondered how, so far from home in such a hellish death, Will could have died with the sweet vision of a woman his last thought.
Bright and shining in the dim recesses of his memory, he had kept an image of Will Grenville's young wife to combat the horror of war and the lingering agony of Culter towers. Only his half brother, Jules, knew the secrets they had vowed to bury along with their parents. In those moments when Dominic had felt his life was changed forever, he had demanded of Jules that neither of them ever marry.