The Rake's Redemption(25)

"Where have you … "

"Mama," Charlotte hurriedly broke in. "Perhaps the Comte and Dominic  would like a port after their long walk. Could you get a waiter?"

Juliana sank into her chair between Lord Rodney and the empty space  where Sir Alfred should have been, grateful to Charlotte for stepping in  so adroitly. She knew Charlotte had not been deceived for a moment and  was giving her an instant to recover herself before the full onslaught  of Lady Grenville's questions would begin.

The port arrived and Lord Rodney roused himself to pronounce it very tolerable.

"Don't toss it down that way, my boy," he addressed Dominic. "Port should be rolled over the tongue, to savor it."

"Just so, my dear," approved Aunt Sophia. She turned to Juliana. "Did you have a pleasant stroll?"

The safest answer was to stay close to the truth Juliana thought.  "Unfortunately, I wandered off on a side path and became confused."

"Hmph! I knew it," crowed Lady Grenville. "Sophia, you are a lamentable chaperon!"

"But it was quite alright, Lady Grenville," Juliana added quickly.  "Dominic and Jules came and found me before I was quite lost." She  looked at Jules and smiled at his bland expression. Although she tried  not to, she couldn't keep her gaze from Dominic's face and then wished  she could find the strength to look away, for not even in her worst  dreams had his face been this hard mask.



Hours later, within the safety of her bedchamber at last, Juliana  dropped to her knees beside her bed, laying her cheek against the smooth  coolness of the satin spread. Exhausted from the strain of pretending  that nothing had changed, when in reality her life had changed forever,  she closed her eyes, forcing her mind to go back  …  back to the past. To  Will.

A terrible sadness swelled painfully in her chest. Will  …  his boyish  face  …  the unruly halo of ebony curls  …  That last day before he left for  the Peninsula he had been so happy. So carefree. He rode away from the  Willows eagerly, as if off to a parade.                       
       
           



       

She had tried to bear bravely the months of worry and loneliness,  busying herself between responsibility at the Willows and at Wentworth  Park, for their lands marched together. Her only pleasure, her weakness,  was to ride beside the stream which divided their land, for it brought  back such sweet memories of Will.

Will  …  who she would never see again. She'd never forget the look on his  father's face when the formal letter from the War Office was delivered  by a young officer. Nor ever forget the torment that burned within her  when she finally realized Will, who had been part of her life forever,  was gone, forever.

She had tried to ease Sir Timothy's grief but had failed, being a  constant reminder that she had not conceived during the brief marriage.  Only once did he remark, "if there was to be a child, we would still  have Will," but she saw it in his eyes every time he looked at her. The  hurt and guilt nearly drove her to return to her home. But then Sir  Timothy fell ill, and there was nothing she could do but stay beside his  bed, grasping his hand as he talked of his son. Day after day until the  last day, when finally, he had asked for her promise to remain faithful  to Will's love and she had given it.

She opened her eyes, tears flowing down her cheeks, and looked at the  locket laying in the palm of her hand. She opened it. Sir Timothy had  bequeathed his dark eyes and unruly curls to his son. But there was a  sweetness to Will's smile that his father had never possessed.

"I will never forget you, Will. You will always have a place in my  heart." Sobbing, she wiped her wet cheeks with a corner of her gown.  "I'm horrible  …  horrible! I allowed him to kiss me  …  touch me  …  dear God   …  I wanted him! Forgive me, Will  …  please!" Shaking, she flung herself  upon the bed twisting the bedcovers in her knotted fists while she wept.  She cried for Will, who had been too young to die, for Sir Timothy,  whom she had disappointed, and for herself.

It was a very long time before she could stop sobbing. She had dropped  off to sleep for a short while, but had awakened again to her own  muffled cries. At last her tears did stop, and she had to face the  realization that she had broken her promise to Sir Timothy. Her plan for  a safe future with a man who would never touch her heart, never have  the power to hurt her again was shattered. She could never give herself  to such a man, for the unthinkable had happened.

She had thought she would never love again, and surely this was as  different from her feelings for Will as night from day; but it was love.

Pushing back the crumpled covers, she rose from the bed and went to the  window to watch the first faint pink light beginning the new day. She  was in love with the Marquis of Aubrey. In love with the greatest rake  in the ton. A shameless flirt! And she loved him! He confused her, had  hurt her, but he wanted her. She had seen it at the inn. And last night,  would she ever be able to forget last night? She had wanted him, too.  She had never felt so alive. Her body trembled now just remembering.

Moving away from the windows she went to the dressing table. Pulling open a drawer, she lifted out her jewel case.

"Good-bye, sweet Will. I shall never forget you. But it is time to put away the past."

Straightening her shoulders, she resolutely placed the locket in the ease and slowly closed the top.



Jules had nearly given up his search for Dominic when he made one last  visit to White's near dawn and found him, in the library of all places,  sprawled in a wing chair, a cup of coffee cooling between his palms.

Jules seated himself across the table and waited until Dominic lifted his heavy eyelids and sneered at him.

"Go away, Jules."

Flicking an invisible speck of lint from his trousers, Jules surveyed  his younger brother. "Why are you carrying on so? All you did was steal a  kiss from the chit in the moonlight," he drawled.

That must have struck a nerve for Dominic's sleepy eyes hardened. "I  repeat. Go away, Jules, before I forget you are my brother."

"But, mon-frère, I thought that was exactly what you have been trying to  forget for the past ten years." At Dominic's silence, Jules leaned  across the table, pressing his advantage. "Why have you returned every  letter unopened? We were in Brussels at the same time three years ago.  When I called at your rooms, your man said you had left the city."

"I did not wish to see you. Then or now," Dominic stated flatly.

"You must listen to me and learn the truth. For the love we once shared. Why can't you see that honor demands it?"

"Honor!" Dominic snarled, leaning close to him. "I have no honor left!"                       
       
           



       

This time it was Jules who retreated back into the depths of the chair.  "Dominic, stop being a fool. You might not have been interested in my  whereabouts, but I have followed yours quite closely. You were  Wellington's fair-haired boy on the Peninsula. Still are, according to  reports, which is probably why Lord Bristol and the Duke of Monmouth  have been urging you to take your seat in the House of Lords. You were a  hero according to the dispatches."

"Your sources are wrong, Jules. The real heroes died in the stinking mud  of the Peninsula." Dominic rose to his feet, but before he could turn  away, Jules played his first card.

"I have come back to pay my debt for what happened the night Leticia and Charles died."

Ten years had passed, but his brother's eyes were the same startling  blue, colored with pain, that had stared at him across the two newly dug  graves.

"You are mad to remind me of that night." Challenge laced Dominic's  words as he placed his palms on the table and leaned toward Jules. "You  want to talk about that night; the night I discovered that we had not  escaped our parent's taint after all." Dominic laughed bitterly. "Yes, I  always knew what she was, although you tried to hide it from me. My big  brother protecting the young heir from the truth! That my father was a  drunk and our mother a wanton who … "

Recoiling from Jules, Dominic stood. "I could even have accepted  mother's lovers if I hadn't discovered the real truth. The sins of the  parents are visited upon their children. Are they not  …  brother? We are  our mother's sons  …  you proved that to me."

"Am I the excuse for the life you have led the past ten years?" Jules  forced his voice to calmness, although he wished to take Dominic and  shake him. He had not fully realized how badly scarred his brother had  become. Perhaps he had waited too long.