A Lot Like a Lady (3 page)

He hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps before Lucien wobbled around to stand in front of the woman.

“My lady… oh, my lady. Allow me to offer my assistance.”

Grey stopped and puffed out a sharp breath.

His uncle leaned slightly forward and extended his hands toward the lady’s bosom. How he thought
that
would help, Grey had no idea. Thankfully, with the cramped space and the footman and driver holding the woman under the arms, Lucien had no room to maneuver close enough to reach, and he backed away.

Grey relaxed. One more disaster averted. Then, Lucien wrapped his arms around the lady’s thighs and pulled. The shocked woman let out a high-pitched scream and started kicking with all her might.

“Unhand my sister, you lecherous rake!” The tall miss quickly came to the defense of her offended sibling and took to striking Lucien on the back of the head with her reticule again.

Grey’s breath hung in his throat and his left eye began to twitch. Had he really thought disaster would be avoided with Lucien about?

Lucien ducked his head, trying to avoid the potentially lethal attack, but he refused to release his hold. “Please, ma’am. I am trying to help.”

“Let go of her and get out of the way, you crazy old codger!” Grey ordered as he stalked to the mass of chaos.

As he grabbed the reticule-wielding woman’s arm and pulled her away, Lucien fell over backward. He still had hold of the female on the floor of the carriage, and his fall combined with the efforts of the footman and driver dislodged the lady, sending her sprawling to the ground.

The footman scrambled forward to assist her, and the driver hurried to settle the horses. Grey cautiously released the woman’s arm, watching for signs of a renewed attack. Convinced she had given up trying to harm Lucien, he turned to the lady trying to get to her feet.

“Madam, I wish to extend my apologies. Have you any injuries? Would you like for me to send for the doctor?” Grey offered.

She brushed the footman off and made to walk away. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I just need — oh goodness me! My left ankle. I fear I’ve sprained it.” She lurched forward, and Grey and the footman caught her, staggering under her bulk. Grey spread his feet for better footing.

“Oh, Charity, you poor dear. That awful beast. Have no fear. I will have you fixed up in a jiffy.” The tall woman fixed icy blue eyes on Grey. “Might you have some wraps I could bind her ankle with?”

Grey opened his mouth to speak, but Lucien spoke up first, his voice suave and solicitous. “Of course we do. Please, ladies, do come inside and make yourselves comfortable.” He barely spared a glance for Grey. “Nephew, be a good chap and carry our injured guest inside so she doesn’t further, er… injure herself.”

The blood drained from Grey’s head. How did his uncle think he could carry such a… a… well, a woman of her stature?

“I’m perfectly capable of walking, if you two would be so kind as to lend me the support of your arms,” Lady Charity said.

Relief washed over Grey, thankful he hadn't had to add insult to the poor lady’s injury. Although when he got hold of Lucien…

As he and the footman assisted Lady Charity up the walk, from the corner of his eye Grey caught Lucien offering her sister his arm. He slowed to watch.

“Allow me to escort you inside. My home is your home for as long as it takes your sister to recover and as long as you wish to stay after, m’lady,” Lucien said.

“Don’t touch me, you lecher,” she snapped then slapped him across the face and stormed past them. She reached the door and turned. “Well, come along, then. Get her inside so I can tend to her.”

“I do believe that’s the handsomest woman I’ve had the pleasure to be slapped by,” Lucien gushed.

Lady Charity gasped. On the other side of her, the footman struggled to control an expression of mirth. Grey rolled his eyes. “You would know that better than I.”

“Nephew, do hasten to get Lady Charity inside. I am most sure I taught you how to properly treat a guest in your home.” Lucien scurried toward the open door, where the taller of the two women waited, tapping her foot. “M’lady, might I offer you some of my nephew’s best port?”

After the group entered the townhouse, Higgins appeared in the doorway accompanied by two of Grey’s footmen, who set about gathering the baggage from the coach. The butler seemed to melt back inside.

Grey stared toward the open doorway in disbelief. What had just happened? One minute he was preparing to inform his stepsister of a misunderstanding and how he regretted the inconvenience, but she wouldn’t be able to stay with him. And the next, she and her two companions were being ushered into his home as if he didn’t exist.

Petry stepped onto the landing, reminding Grey of the business he still needed to finish. Cursing inwardly, he helped the injured lady inside, resigned. At least for tonight, he would have houseguests.

Tomorrow I will find out exactly what this visit is really about.

Juliet twirled before the oval-shaped, full-length mirror that stood next to the polished rosewood armoire. Sunlight splashed across plush green carpet, the exact color of the moss on the forest floor back home, and flashed off the beveled looking glass. Juliet’s smile faded and she leaned forward, dismayed when the dress gaped open and revealed a fair bit more skin than was proper.

She’d thought it would be fun to wear Annabella’s clothing and had been saddened to find she was a bit smaller than her mistress. Many of the beautiful dresses hung even more loosely on her slighter frame than the current fashion. Mayhap one of the maids could find her a sewing box. The girl who’d helped her get ready for bed the evening before had been very sweet.

“That looks lovely on you, my dear,” murmured Lady Harmony from the vanity where she was combing her hair. She’d had a hearty laugh when Juliet offered to assist her. “No need, no need. I’ve been doing this myself for some years now, child. I rather prefer it that way.”

A soft knock sounded on the door and it was pushed in before anyone had time to answer.

“His grace wishes to see you in his study, m’lady,” announced a tall, skinny maid
. Dressed in
a
prim black dress with a starched white apron and cap, the maid kept her features carefully schooled, but a hint of interest twinkled in her green eyes. Could she tell Juliet was shamming?

Juliet studied the maid’s reflection in the mirror, cringing inwardly at the heavy dark clothing. She supposed it was stylish, but it was quite formal. The house staff at Wyndham Green customarily dressed in gray, so much less stark, easier on the eye.

“M’lady?” prompted the maid softly.

Juliet jumped, pulling herself from her thoughts of home. Bile rolled and burned her stomach, and she wrapped her arms around her waist, saying a silent prayer of thanks that she’d only eaten a few bites of breakfast. When she had stepped out of the carriage and into Annabella’s life the day before, the reality of what was at stake had hit her full force. If the duke discovered their outlandish scheme, not only would he dismiss her, but probably her mother as well. She’d been certain he would realize the truth the minute he saw her. Fear had shredded her composure.

But then he’d done no more than give her a cursory glance, albeit intense, before retiring to the study with his assistant. He’d spent the remainder of the afternoon and up into the evening in conference, even missing supper. So Juliet had relaxed, convinced herself that he’d ignore her much like he would a fly on the wall. Now she wanted to kick herself for not getting back in the carriage and going home to Wyndham Green before he had a chance to carve her up and feed her to the bulldog.

Juliet knew she had no choice but to obey the duke’s summons. Her feet dragged along the hardwood flooring as she followed the maid. Why had she let Annabella talk her into this? At one-and-nine she’d heard enough about the
ton
to know how unforgiving they could be.

The maid opened the door to the duke’s study, and Juliet balked at crossing the threshold as a sudden surge of irrational anger rose within her. Beyond that door waited the man who was responsible for Annabella’s pain and unhappiness. She couldn’t go in there. The maid offered an anxious smile and some of Juliet’s ire evaporated. The maid was only doing her job. Something Juliet was all too familiar with
.

After all, isn’t that how you got yourself in this predicament? Doing the bidding of your mistress?

Juliet took a deep breath, stepped over the threshold, and paused, saying a silent prayer asking God to forgive her for her deceit.

A walnut desk dominated the front portion of the room and the Duke of Wyndham sat behind it, scratching with a pen in a giant book, himself no less intimidating had he been the King.
Attired in a tailcoat of evenly spaced light and dark brown stripes and a white shirt with a neatly tied white cravat at his neck, he held himself with the self-assurance of a well-respected man of nobility. His light pecan-colored hair brushed his collar and a wavy lock fell across his forehead, as though refusing to be tamed. Her hand twitched with the urge to push the hair into order.

Juliet hastily averted her eyes lest the duke catch her staring.

The room was everything she expected and nothing at all like she had envisioned. She cast a longing glance at a bay window that opened outward over the street. Heavy green and brown draperies were pulled wide open. Was the view from that window as spectacular as the one from the rooms she shared with the aunts? She sighed, wishing she had the courage to walk over and see for herself.

Juliet stole a glance at the duke, but he was still occupied with scribbling in his book. Emboldened by his obvious lack of interest in her presence, she surveyed the room. Her breath caught.

Books
.

What must have been a hundred leather-bound books lined the wall opposite the bay window. The room obviously served as a combination office for the duke and library. Longing filled her. Oh, to take just a few steps and run her fingers along the books… to be able to pull any one of them out and open it whenever she wanted to…

“Please have a seat,” murmured his grace without looking up, his voice like a bucket of cold stream water interrupting her daydream.

Have a seat, eh? I’d like to put a boot in your seat.

Instead, she tempered her anger and crossed the room, stopped in front of the desk, and dropped into a deep curtsey. As she leaned forward, the low-cut neckline of her dress gaped and her bosom nearly spilled out the top of the loose-fitting garment. Juliet’s face burned with embarrassment. Her hands flew to the front of the dress to reposition it, and she snapped up so fast she nearly tumbled over backward.

Please let his eyes be on his ledger still and not on me.

When she lifted her face, the duke was regarding her with censure, his eyebrows knitted together, mouth in a tight line. Juliet groaned inwardly and looked at the floor to avoid his intense scrutiny. Her knees began shaking and her hands started to tremble. It took all of her willpower not to crumble to the floor and confess everything. But then an image of Annabella’s blotchy, tear-streaked faced popped into her mind.

“Please, Juliet, you have to go in my place. I cannot face all the condemnation and scorn from those haughty people. I will die if I have to.”

Annabella’s words stabbed at Juliet’s conscious. As nothing more than a servant, she was used to criticism and disapproval from the aristocratic braggarts. But Annabella had truly been heartbroken by the unfair judging and subsequent shunning she’d had to endure because of the duke. It had broken her friend. It had… changed her.

The memory of the hurt and despair on Annabella’s face at the thought of being sent to London, to
him
, renewed Juliet’s determination to try and keep up the pretense for as long as she could, to protect Annabella from further rejection. Although she was sure going along with her friend’s scheme would have dire consequences for them both.

The duke cleared his throat, and Juliet suppressed another groan. She shifted her eyes to meet his and found him regarding her with one eyebrow arched. She hadn’t been paying any attention to him. Had he addressed her? Asked her a question?

He swept his hand wide, indicating a leather chair to the side of his desk.

Juliet perched on the chair’s edge and waited. The duke went back to studying his ledger and scratching notes with his quill.

The silence dragged on.
Her feet sank into the plush burgundy and cream carpeting and she dug her toes into the softness, wishing she dared slip off her shoes. The rug would feel so grand beneath her stockinged feet. She stopped fidgeting, fearing the duke would notice. Heavy silence hung between them, broken only by the
scritch-scritch-scritch
of that horrid pen. The slow clop of horses’ hooves drifted in through the window and Juliet stole a glance at the sunlight streaming through the glass panes, warming the room.

Finally, anxiety threatened to shoot her up out of the chair. She could only pray her demeanor didn’t give away that she was trembling uncontrollably inside.

Just when it seemed the soundless torture would never end, he spoke.
“I must extend my apologies for being absent last evening. I had previous engagements I could not cancel. Although, in my defense, I had not planned on receiving guests.”

Juliet clamped her teeth around the skin on the inside of her mouth and dug her nails into her palms.
The blasted man had the manners of a horse’s behind, nothing at all like his kind, generous father.
As far as he was concerned she was his stepsister, yet he didn’t even have the courtesy to look at her or quit writing in his blasted ledger as he spoke. And he was telling her he didn’t want her there. Not right out, but his tone clearly said she wasn’t welcome. It was one thing for an aristocrat to treat his servants rudely, something Juliet was all too familiar with. But such treatment to one’s peers, one’s family no less, was surely an abomination.

He glanced up at her. “I hope your aunt is faring well after… well, I do apologize for Lucien’s dog. When it comes to manners, the beast is most certainly lacking.”

He’s not alone
. “Thank you for asking after her. Lady Harmony is much better this morning.”

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “I thought Lady Charity suffered the fall.”

Blister it!
“It-it was Lady Charity, your grace. What I meant to say was that Lady Harmony said Lady Charity is much better.” Juliet stopped breathing. Had he noticed her dreadful mistake?

“I see.” He shifted his attention back to the ledger, turned a page and began writing again. Sunlight streaming through the window at his back slashed across the paper, revealing neat, even rows and columns filled with numbers. “I must say, I am quite curious about why your mother decided to send you to London for the Season to get a husband.” His pen stilled and he lifted his eyes to her face. “What happened? Did you
get turned down by all the country bumpkins so you had to come and try to snag someone here in London?”

Juliet sucked in a sharp breath. Heat crept into her cheeks, more from anger at the duke’s crass reaction to the real Annabella’s plight than out of embarrassment. “Hard to get turned down by country bumpkins when sh — I haven’t met any.”

He narrowed his eyes and glared. “Am I to believe you have been living as a recluse these past few years?”

Juliet lowered her head, unwilling to answer. Loyalty to Annabella made her clamp her mouth shut, refusing to confess to the duke how lonely her friend had been. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how he had succeeded in making Annabella and Regina social outcasts. Didn't want him to know the only invitations she had received of late were from older neighbors who had greatly respected the old duke, or to church functions that included all parishioners.

All because you’re an arrogant, pompous, a—

“I asked you a question, Annabella. I expect an answer.” The man’s disdainful voice made her jump, interrupting her inner tirade.

She ground her teeth together and wished him to the devil. “Yes! I’ve kept to myself. There. Happy?”

“Hardly.” The duke laughed.

Juliet’s blood boiled. She wanted to slap the smug look off his face, scratch his eyes out. “Forgive me, your grace, but may I ask what you find so amusing?”

He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Sunlight limned his face and sparked glints of gold in his light brown hair, giving him an almost angelic quality.

Only y’re no angel, are you, your grace?
Juliet concentrated on masking her churning emotions.

“You expect me to believe your mother allowed you to miss even one country ball, lawn party, or dinner party where she had a chance to find a husband for you? More than likely you scared all the fops off with your haughty attitude… or
bit
them.” He raised his hand and extended the index finger. “I know I learned my lesson.”

The elegant room started to spin and Juliet grabbed the arms of the chair to steady herself.
Annabella? Bit the duke? Surely not!
A vision of her friend in one of her fits of temper filled Juliet’s mind. Yes… she could well have bitten him, but surely that had been when she was younger. “I…” She offered a weak smile.

He feigned surprise, even placed his hand over his heart. A gold signet ring inscribed with an intricate design flashed, drawing Juliet’s gaze.

“Do not tell me you have already forgotten the day you…”

Juliet’s heart thumped so hard she was sure the duke could hear it slam into her ribs. The insistent pounding filled her ears, drowning out his voice. She couldn’t breathe. She swallowed, but a knot had lodged in her throat and refused to permit air to pass. Annabella had persuaded her how easy it would be to fool the duke.

“I just don’t think I can do it. I won’t know the proper thing to say, the suitable way to behave…”

“Oh fluff. You are a lot more like a lady than I. Just be yourself and avoid the duke as much as you can. I have only seen his grace a handful of times, and not at all in the past four years. He never paid any mind to me, except for an occasional cursory glance to show his disapproval at something I had said or done. I’ll send a message with Mother’s name in a couple of days — a week at the most — and request that you join her in Bath. Instead, you will come back here to Wyndham Green, Mother will be none the wiser, and I will have avoided his grace.”

How foolish they’d been to believe such a deception could work. While the duchess had insisted Juliet be schooled along with Annabella — especially after Annabella had started sounding more like a servant than an aristocrat — an education above her class offered little help if she didn’t know what in blazes the man was talking about. She wasn’t even going to last through this meeting without the duke realizing she was a fraud.