Lately though, his grandfather had convinced Dominic that it was his duty to carry on the line. He had allowed himself to be convinced, for, tainted though he may be, his grandfather's blood also ran in his veins and that was worth preserving. He had supposed that someday he would find someone he could tolerate and who would be satisfied with only a crown of strawberry leaves, for he believed he had nothing else to give and was no longer fit for any woman who expected more. Juliana had destroyed that belief for a moment. But, of course, she would, she was Will's Ju. She could bring solace even amidst the horrors of war. To have at last come face-to-face with his elusive memory and know he must in no way reach out to her, was the greatest irony of his ill-fated life.
"Dominic, what the devil is ailing you? Do you agree or not?"
With an unpleasant twist to his firm mouth he finally glanced at his best friend. "Concerning my taste in women? How astute you have become, Freddie. My congratulations."
Freddie shrugged, completely ignoring his sarcasm. "I like widows myself, they know what to say to a man. Not like those simpering misses straight out of the schoolroom, like that Charlotte Grenville."
"That Charlotte Grenville, I very much fear, is the distant relative my grandmother has been hinting would make me an unexceptional marchioness."
"Thinking of falling into parson's mousetrap are you, Dom?" asked Freddie with a worried glance.
For a fleeting instant a picture of Juliana rose in his mind.
"No!"
"Wouldn't want to go against your grandmother, the duchess, if it was me. Forceful woman your grandmother. And your grandfather!" Freddie shook his head, shifting restlessly upon the curricle seat. "He's a match for anyone! Even heard Prinny say he could make him feel like a schoolboy again."
"Ah, but I have advantages you and the Prince don't possess, Freddie," Dominic drawled. "Their graces and I are very much alike."
The shutters on Mrs. Forbes's wide kitchen windows were flung back and sunshine left large warm patches upon the stone floor. Sophia placed the last jar of elixir in the willow basket Robbie had provided her with this morning. She turned to Mrs. Forbes, who was sitting before the crackling fire drinking some hot potion from a cup.
"Thank you so much," Sophia said, her eyes drifting about the kitchen, touching on exotically shaped roots and herbs hung tidily from the ceiling beams, remembering the laughter they had all shared brewing gypsy potions. "We have enjoyed ourselves so here. I shall not forget our visit."
"I know you will never forget this place, Sophia. It was the beginning of all your tomorrows," said Mrs. Forbes, granddaughter of a Romany princess.
Surprise took Sophia to the fireplace to stand before Mrs. Forbes. Clearly seen in the merciless sunlight, her strong proud features were alert and so were her shrewd dark eyes, in spite of the lines deeply etched into her face revealing great age.
Sophia met her gaze calmly and smiled. "Are you trying to tell me something? I noticed you did not fully answer Freddie's question concerning fortune-telling. You simply said your mother did not have the eye … I would almost believe you do possess it."
Mrs. Forbes' wrinkles deepened. "Ha! You are a practical woman. You do not believe in the eye, so I will only tell you your real reason for going to London will prosper richer than your brightest dreams. The thread was spun long ago and now you pick it up once again."
Sophia no longer smiled as a chill played across her skin. There was such a ring of sureness in Mrs. Forbes's voice that Sophia almost believed the future was hers to see. "I do not understand," she murmured.
"Of course you do not!" retorted Mrs. Forbes. "You are not meant to. Hurry along now, the others are waiting for you. Your niece will be along shortly."
Juliana waited until the coachman was attempting to help Lady Grenville into the carriage, with the aid of Charlotte and Aunt Sophia, before she made her way to Mrs. Forbes's kitchen. She found her in the walled garden pruning the rose bush from which Dominic had plucked her bloom.
Mrs. Forbes looked up when Juliana approached. "I've been waiting for you, young miss. Knew you would come to say farewell."
Leaning over, Juliana brushed the weathered brown cheek with her lips. "You have been so kind to us. I shall never forget this place. Or you."
Mrs. Forbes's face changed and a ghost of a smile touched her mouth. "Come, Juliana, give me your hand," she commanded.
Uncertain, Juliana hesitated before slowly holding out her right hand. It lay on Mrs. Forbes's thin palm, pink and white and young against the dark aged skin.
A pain in her chest suddenly made Juliana aware that she was holding her breath, and she let it out carefully before Mrs. Forbes lifted her eyes. Juliana was captured in the older woman's dark gaze and stood absolutely still.
"There are two things you want, Juliana. One you know well. The other you are just discovering. One you shall never have, nor is its loss worth your sorrow. The other shall be yours, although the road twists and turns, bringing pain and tears. Go with your feelings … here … " She placed her left palm over Juliana's heart. "Not with the rules you know well. And all will be as it should be."
A large tear ran down Juliana's cheek. At the same moment, Mrs. Forbes abruptly covered the palm with its fingers and returned the folded hand to its owner. "Be happy. You now have the key."
Minutes later Juliana climbed into Lady Grenville's newly painted traveling coach. It was over: their strangely unsettling, strangely exciting time at the Blue Boar Inn. There would be no more adventures on her journey. She would reach London, find a comfortable husband, and establish her brother firmly in the bosom of the ton. That was what she wanted, the plan she and Aunt Sophia had devised. But what else did she desire?
Instantly her thoughts flew to the two sleepless nights she had spent filled with visions of the Marquis of Aubrey. Those moments they had spent in Mrs. Forbes's garden almost seemed like a dream now, a dream spun by the magic of Robbie's Romany music. A dream that must be put behind her. The marquis had occupied too many of her thoughts already. She was behaving like the veriest peagoose! It was simply a kiss. Nothing more.
Incurably honest with herself, Juliana closed her eyes, brushing her fingers lightly over her brow before opening her lids wide again. It had been like no embrace she had ever known, she finally admitted. The Marquis of Aubrey drew her to him in a way she had never imagined possible. In Mrs. Forbes's cozy parlor she had thought he also sensed this thing between them, that in some way he was reaching out to her. But the next instant he had closed himself away from her as surely as if a door had clicked shut between them.
Forcing herself not to think any longer about the marquis, she glanced at her aunt, who appeared to be lost in her own thoughts, her eyes holding a strange brightness. So Juliana turned to look out onto the countryside. Soon they would be in London. Their future lay there. It would be just as she wished, she felt sure, for she was determined the plan would succeed. But, nonetheless, she could not keep Mrs. Forbes's words out of her mind.
Chapter 4
ROME
Jules Devereaux, Comte de Saville, intended only to pause for one last glance into the bedroom, but the seductive golden beauty of the woman clearly discernable behind the gossamer hangings of silk drew him closer. She looked like a goddess, long silken limbs, skin of creamy alabaster, dark thick lashes laying like open fans above her sleep-blushed cheekbones, and crimson velvet lips.
On impulse, with two long fingers he pushed back the netting to slip noiselessly onto the ornately carved wooden bed that held his mistress. She stirred him more than he had thought possible so few hours after their long night of love, so he rested his hands on the pillow beside her shoulders and leaned forward to touch her mouth with his own. He felt her lips part hungrily beneath his deepening kiss.
"Jules … " breathed Contessa Marietta Louisa Primavetta, opening heavy brown eyes, which widened when they met his gaze. "What is the hour, Cara?"
"It is nearly dawn. My ship leaves on the tide."
She cupped his cheeks with her palms, pulling him down to her. Her tongue flicked across his straight mouth curving it into a smile and finally he surrendered, sighing, and rested his head against her breasts. "You are unusually … eager … tonight, my love. I find it delightful, of course," he mused. "But unlike you."