A Lot Like a Lady (22 page)

****

Grey eased back by fractions, his blue eyes hazy and a bit unfocused as though he was intoxicated. Juliet sagged against his muscular chest, unable to stand on her own.

“Grey,” she whispered. She had to tell him the truth. Maybe he wouldn’t hate her too much.

“Shh,” he whispered, leaning forward and taking her lips again. She melted in his arms, falling shamelessly into his embrace. For just a moment, nothing mattered, not her deceit nor the truth. Only the man whose mouth ravaged hers.

But that’s not true. You cannot let these lies go on any longer.

She broke the kiss and stepped back. Away from the warmth of his arms, she shivered. “Please… I…”

You what? Lied to him before you ever set eyes on him? Have fallen in love with him? You hope he’ll love you in return? Enough to forgive you?

It sounded utterly ridiculous.

He tilted his head and regarded her with a smile. “You… what?” The heavy furrow that often marked his brow had smoothed. The fine worry lines he often wore around his eyes had been erased.

Was that from sharing a kiss? No, that was silly. But if she spoke up now, she’d put all the marks of worry back on his face. She couldn’t bring herself to do that.

“I mean… that was nice,” she whispered.

Grey’s smile widened and he stroked her hair, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We better get back before Ladies Harmony and Charity come searching for you. I do believe Charity was ready to call me out when I asked her to have you meet me.”

Magpie giggled. “They are quite protective, are they not?”

“I cannot hold that against them,” Grey murmured. He offered her his arm. “Shall we, m’lady?”

She took his arm and they began to stroll toward his townhouse. “Will you really force Lucien and Harmony to marry?”

Grey snorted. “I should. It would serve them right for setting such a poor example.”

She tilted her head to the side and lifted an eyebrow. Merriment danced in his eyes and his lips twitched with the effort to keep from smiling. An imp of mischief awakened. “Well, then don’t you find yourself fretting that you might suffer the same consequence?”

Grey’s steps faltered and he was clearly taken aback. “Magpie, what are you saying…”

But the distress on his face was far more than Juliet could bear and she laughed. “Why, your grace, have you forgotten all those dances you shared with me at the masked ball so soon?”

He smiled and the tension eased again. “Perhaps I did that to spare you the attentions of Lord Michaels.”

She giggled, for he had accomplished that. But it occurred to her now that by her accepting his assistance, they had quite likely set all the tongues in Town to wagging. No doubt speculation had already arisen as to whether they would be stating the banns come Sunday.

Her breath caught. Was she hoping for such a circumstance? Surely not… not while he didn’t even know the truth of who she was. She darted her gaze upward and found Grey watching her with enigmatic eyes.

He cleared his throat. “I, ah… I have something to show you at the townhouse. If you could spare me a few moments when we get there.”

“Of course, your grace — Grey.” She tried to offer a smile to cover her faux pas, but the muscles would not work around the emotion choking her throat.

When they entered the foyer of the townhouse, Higgins lingered. But instead of his usual somber affectation, his brow was pinched and consternation flashed in his eyes.

“M’lady, Lord Michaels is here to pay you a visit. He is in the parlor with Ladies Charity and Harmony.”

Beside her, Grey stiffened. Juliet gave his arm a squeeze before she let loose of him.

She forced a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Higgins. I suppose I shall have to speak with the gentleman.” She’d sooner hold a conversation with a cockerel.
At least I’d be able to twist the silly bird’s neck and make chicken stew if he didn’t go away.
She turned her face up to Grey. “Shall I speak with you later then?”

His tense lines had fallen across his face again, along with an inscrutable mask. He nodded stiffly. “Yes… later.”

Her throat tight with regret and frustration, Juliet stepped toward the drawing room, prepared to ask James to wait while she made herself presentable.

“Wait!” barked out Grey. “Higgins, will you tell her guest that she will be indisposed for the rest of the day.”

“But, your grace, the Duch—”

“Juliet!” The Duchess of Wyndham’s sharp exclamation washed a chill over Juliet that stopped her heart.

Grey halted in the doorway and scanned the drawing room. There was that fop Michaels by the pianoforte. The man was dense as a pebble and nearly as troublesome. Grey’s lip curled as jealousy burned through his system, and he forced a smile. It would probably be bad form to throttle him in front of the ladies, but at least then perhaps he would finally understand Magpie would never belong to him.

Silence choked the room. Even the case clock seemed disposed to tick quietly. Grey frowned. Something was wrong. Dressed to receive visitors in matching dark yellow, Ladies Charity and Harmony sat on the couch, wide-eyed.

Harmony wrung her hands. “Oh dear,” she whispered.

Saying nothing, Charity focused her attention on the lacy white handkerchief in her lap, which she folded into careful fourths. When she finished, she shook it out and began again.

The clink of china drew his attention to Lady Fenimore, seated in the chair opposite Charity and Harmony, calmly sipping tea. His stomach slowly turned over.

And in the other chair sat his stepmother in a dull brown traveling gown, her lips pressed into a tight thin line, her brow screwed up rather like a plum that had lain in the sun too long. Her unkindly glare was directed at Magpie.

Whatever was on their minds, it was not going to go well.

Beside him, Magpie seemed to shrink into his shadow. She trembled so, and each breath seemed to rattle. Her face had gone snow white and tears glistened in her eyes.

“Magpie,” he murmured, wishing he could draw her into the protection of his embrace. “Whatever is—”

“Where is my daughter, Juliet?” Regina’s imperious voice sliced through the air like a saber, sharp, deadly, and intent on causing harm.

The room fell silent again.

“I’m sure I don’t understand. Is this not your daughter?” Lady Fenimore laid her teacup in the saucer with a clatter.

Regina stood up, pushing her chin out as though affronted. “I should think I know my own daughter! This—” Her finger stabbed the air in Magpie’s direction. “
This
is most certainly
not
my daughter. Juliet, what are you doing with Annabella’s riding hat?”

Grey’s heart pounded rapid fire, making him dizzy.
Juliet?
He stole a glance at the girl standing beside him. Her chest rose and fell in quick bursts, her eyes had gone wide with terror, and her mouthed worked but no sound came out.

“I-I — she — we—” she finally squeaked.

At long last, he was getting answers to the questions that had plagued him, but they were hitting him so rapidly he couldn’t process anything. He had to take control of the situation and alleviate some of the stress that overshadowed the room. “I assure you, your daughter is quite well, Regina,” he clipped. “She is at Wyndham Green.”

“What?” Regina’s eyes widened.

“She is?” asked Magpie at the same time. Then she met his gaze, searching, her eyes darting back and forth as she looked into his. “You knew?” she whispered.

“That you were not my stepsister? Yes. I’ve known for quite some time, actually, just as I’ve known
Annabella
is still at Wyndham Green,” explained Grey.

“I don’t understand. If Annabella stayed home, why did her maid come to London?” inquired the duchess.

The room fell silent. Mag—Juliet.
Her name is Juliet.

Juliet’s face and neck burned a fiery scarlet and her chest heaved up and down, each breath she pulled in was a harsh gasp. Tears rolled freely down her face and she just stood completely still, making no move to stem them.

Trapped between the need to wipe the tears from her cheeks and the desire to shake the stuffing out of her, Grey could only stare.

“Maid?”
Lord Michaels croaked. He clutched the top of the pianoforte.

Regina started tapping her foot. “Yes,
maid
. She is my daughter’s
maid
.”

Lord Michaels blanched. “If you will excuse me, I… uh… I… er… excuse me.” He gave the ladies a stiff bow and hurried out of the townhouse without waiting for Higgins to show him to the door.

“I demand to know what you are doing here, Juliet. And why are you wearing Annabella’s riding hat?”

Saying nothing, Juliet reached up with both hands and fumbled with the hat, finally lifting it off her head.

Regina whirled to glare at her aunts. “And what of you two?” She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward as if a closer look would provide her answer. “What game are you playing at?”

The hat tumbled to the floor and Juliet let out a sharp sob. It landed on its side and rolled in a tight circle on its brim before coming to rest. With another sob, she spun around and fled up the stairs. Grey stared, quite certain she dragged his heart on an invisible golden thread behind her.

A
maid
. Not merely a commoner, but a
servant
.

He stole a sideways glance at the only other occupant in the room and his knees nearly buckled. Lady Fenimore set her cup on the table and gave him a cheery smile, as though she had no idea the ground had just crumbled from beneath his feet. But she knew. Oh, yes, those predatory eyes told him she’d seen and heard everything… and likely added a few deductions of her own that weren’t far off the mark.

She stood and smoothed her unwrinkled dress. “If you will excuse me. I have another call I must make.”

Of course you do, you meddling old harridan. No doubt you have a list of calls to make so you can be certain all the wagging tongues of the
ton
will know how I’ve been played by evening.

His fingers itched to twist her fleshy neck, but instead he offered a cordial smile. “Certainly, Lady Fenimore. Higgins will show you out.”

Regina stared at Lady Fenimore’s back as she fairly danced from the room. Then she bore down on her aunts. “I would like to know why you came to London without my daughter.”

“We couldn’t very well toss her in the carriage and make her come along, dear,” Lady Charity abandoned her handkerchief to her lap, picked up her teacup, and sipped noisily.

“You never told us to
force
her to come,” Harmony added with a smile.

Regina’s mouth fell open and her eyes bulged. “I beg your pardon. Have you both gone knobbed in the brain? If you were not bringing Annabella to London for the Season, then why on earth would you come?”

The aunts slid sly glances at Grey and then exchanged looks with one another. Harmony tittered. Finally, they turned their unblinking blue gazes on Regina.

“Why, so Juliet could come, of course.” Charity drained the last of her tea and set the cup onto the saucer with a clatter. Then she cast a longing glance at the tray of biscuits but sighed and turned her attention back to Regina.

“There was no reason for her to miss such a grand time just because Annabella wanted to be a ninny,” Harmony offered, reaching out to select a biscuit.

Charity scrunched up her nose at her sister and then chose her own biscuit with a sense of defiance.

Grey stared at Charity and Harmony. They’d gone completely dotty, the pair of them. What rubbish had they been about? Bringing a maid to London to see the sights? His gut twisted upward, knifing his heart with searing pain. They’d thrown her at him as doggedly as the most determined mothers thrust their daughters toward him.

Regina’s nostrils flared. “Of all the crazy, outrageous—”

“Do control yourself, dear.” Harmony shook her head and clicked her tongue. She took a bite of her biscuit.

“Oh yes, dear, do. That is not at all an attractive look,” Charity said with a tsk.

Regina’s mouth worked soundlessly. Crimson stole over her cheeks.

Bile burned in Grey’s throat, and his stomach lurched. He had heard all he wanted to hear. Muttering a pithy curse beneath his breath, he left the drawing room. Once in the foyer, his eyes wandered to the main staircase. His heart twisted, squeezed against his lungs. Up those steps he would find the woman he loved.

The woman who made you for a fool.

Grey spun on his heel and sought the comfort of his study. It took every bit of his control to close the door with no more than a soft click.

****

Juliet slammed the door and raced across the room to the window seat. Shaking, she scrambled across the cushion until her back was against the wall and then she drew her knees up to her chest. As she rocked back and forth, she closed her eyes, unable to look upon the room she’d called hers for the past several weeks.

You were foolish to play this game of Annabella’s.
If Annabella had taken issue with a member of her family, it had been for her to make it right, not Juliet. Grey had turned out to be a man, not a monster. A man with feelings, a man who was disposed to be abrupt sometimes, but a man who was also kind and generous.

A man you’ve gone and fallen in love with.

And Annabella was nothing more than the spoiled child Juliet’s mother had always thought her. No wonder Grey hadn’t wanted her there.

He’d known! He’d known she wasn’t Annabella. Almost from the beginning, he’d said. Shame washed over her like the flame of the hottest cook fire.

She opened her eyes and stared at the door across the room. Would it open any moment? Would Grey rush through, his eyes filled with that horrified shock she’d seen as he’d stared at her earlier?
A maid.
He’d mouthed the words as though they were the ugliest words he knew. Lord Michaels at least had the grace to mutter them aloud and then run from her presence. Grey had only stood there, stiff as an elm tree… and just as likely to bend.

A picture of her favorite climbing tree formed in her mind. The elm had stood for years and years, since long before Juliet had arrived at Wyndham Green. She’d climbed it whenever she wanted to get away and think. Only one person had ever found her there, and Alexander had kept her private place a secret. Then one morning, after a horrid storm during the night, she’d found the tree split in the middle and toppled, its heart blackened by the lightning strike. Alexander had found her crying over the poor tree and settled his arm across her shoulders in comfort…

“There, now. ‘Twas the tree’s time is all. Such things happen.”

Juliet sobbed. “But it was my tree… my place. Now I have nowhere.”

“Nonsense, you have the world should you want it.” Alexander gave her a squeeze. “Someone as lovely as you shouldn’t be hiding in the branches of a tree watching others live anyway.”

Her eyes widened and she turned to regard his face. “You knew?”

He smiled, his blue eyes fairly glowing. “That you watch all our lawn parties? Yes, for quite some time now.”

Heat licked at her neck but she resisted the urge to run away. “It was horribly rude.”

Alexander’s smile widened. “Only because sometimes I wished you would have joined us.”

Juliet’s mouth fell open.

She blinked. “Alexander…”

But her old friend wouldn’t be coming through the door to comfort her this time. Gone now more than four years she still missed him. She knew the pain Grey had felt at losing his beloved father… for on the same day she had lost her dear friend.

A shout rose from the lane below as a horse and carriage clipped by, from the sound of the frenzied hoofbeats, moving far too quickly to be safe on the stone paving. Fresh tears welled. No, it wouldn’t be a comforting friend coming upon her. Not this time.