Only Marriage Will Do (3 page)

Such a handsome man, and so well made. Almost as tall as Duncan but more slender than her brother, though not to the point of thinness. The captain’s taut bearing, obviously a product of his military training, spoke candidly of his decisive nature and explained his powerful physique. When she’d leaned against him, his chest had been firm, not soft, his arms corded with muscles, unmistakable even through his coat. Dark blonde- hair pulled back in a bag and those intense blue eyes. Soon he’d be with her in the carriage. Yes, Captain Amiable Dawson cut a fine figure. The man would make any woman a wonderful husband.

The object of her affection entered the carriage and sat opposite her.

Just looking at him, so close to her, her heartbeat fluttered, her mouth went dry, and all manner of little chills raced down her arms. This must be love.

“Does the coachman have the direction, Lady Juliet?”

“Yes. He knows I am to go to Lady Honoria’s home in Beaumont Crescent.”

“Very well.” Smiling, Captain Dawson rapped on the trap and the carriage started. “You said you will stay some days with your friend?”

The curve of his sensuous lips caused her heart to pound unmercifully. “Until my aunt arrives from Northumberland. Perhaps a week or so.” Could she invite him to call on her at Honoria’s? Would that be too forward? Perhaps not. Especially, after the ordeal they had suffered together this morning. Lord, what might Philippe have done if Captain Dawson hadn’t appeared? Ice needled through her veins.

“Is something wrong, Lady Juliet?” Amiable leaned forward.

“No, Captain Dawson. Yes. I just thought, what if Philippe finds out where I have gone and follows me to Lady Honoria’s home? What am I to do?”

Amiable gently squeezed her hand.

Her heart swelled and she wanted to melt into the springs of the carriage. Such a kind man, and so concerned for her.

“I know you are frightened of him, my lady. Still, all will be well. Your friend’s family will rebuff him if he puts in an appearance there.”

“What if he brings papers that convince the Claypools I am his wife?” Her chest tightened. If St. Cyr could produce documents showing a legal marriage, the Claypools would have no choice but to turn her over to him. She blinked back tears. Suddenly, she could not breathe.

He pulled her across the carriage and sat her beside him, his arm around her shoulders. “The proxy marriage is null in this country and any other certificates of marriage he brings would be forgeries, would they not, my lady?” He soothed her with his low-pitched voice. “You can insist the Claypools take them to an attorney for authentication.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. “But what if he has been clever about it? What if they can’t tell they are forgeries? He seemed so determined this morning, I believe he would do anything to—” The scenario unfolded before her with frightening clarity. Great sobs overtook her. “I just wish my brother were here.”

“My dear, please do not distress yourself so.” He steered her head to his shoulder.

She struggled to get herself under control, all the while reveling in the feel of his strong arm around her, the clean scent of his clothes, and his fainter but still comforting male smell.

He stroked her hair where her cap had been knocked askew. Her face had grown hot with crying. She must look the very devil. She attempted to sit up, to repair herself in some way.

He would have none of it and pressed her to stillness against his chest.

Happy to feel this closeness to him, she nestled there quite readily. “I feel so safe with you, Captain Dawson. Is that not strange?”

“I suppose it is, my lady, as we have only known each other for about an hour. Of course,” he said, and chuckled, “we were married for at least half that time.”

Juliet smiled at that, and a trembling seized her stomach. She’d never experienced such a thing before. She never wanted to part from him. “I begin to fear I will not be safe at the Claypool’s. I find I truly do not wish to go there, Captain Dawson. If Philippe finds me I am afraid he will manage to take me away with him, and I would rather die than have to be married to him.”

He tilted her face and looked into it. “Is there somewhere else I can take you, Lady Juliet? Some place you will feel safe?”

She’d feel safe anywhere with Amiable Dawson at her side. Unfortunately, she did not have that luxury. Rather the question was, where could she go and be truly safe from Philippe?

“I would like to leave London, Captain Dawson.” Juliet hoped that didn’t sound too rash. “I’m certain Philippe will try to find me wherever I am in the city. If I leave and he is unaware of it, then I may be safe until my brother returns.”

“Did you not say he is unlikely to return until almost Christmas?” Amiable frowned. “That is above six months, my lady. Do you have other kinfolk you might stay with for such a long time?”

Her mother’s family in Northumberland would love to have her return. With her aunts and cousins underfoot, however, there would be no way to woo Captain Dawson. Although the long carriage ride to Barwick could be used to her advantage for them to become acquainted. As far as her safety from Philippe was concerned, Northumberland might prove a poor choice. As he would expect a woman alone to go to family, she needed a different place to hide. “Guinevere’s Keep.”

“I beg pardon?” Amiable cocked his head and gave her a charming frown.

“My father’s estate. He acquired it on my tenth birthday and allowed me to name it. At the time I adored Sir Thomas Malory’s Arthurian romances and so it became Guinevere’s Keep.” It had always been her favorite estate to visit. “Very romantic, don’t you think? And how apropos it seems, for my knight in shining armor will be taking me there.”

“Where is this keep, my lady?”

“It’s not an actual castle.” Juliet giggled, nerves breaking through her bravado. “More of a manor house. Near Wigton in Cumberland. Not far from Carlisle.”

“Carlisle?” His eyebrows rose and his whole body stiffened. “Lady Juliet, the place you speak of is more than a week’s journey from London.” He leaned into the corner of the carriage, arms crossed. “Indeed, you forget, my lady, I am in actuality a stranger to you.”

His lowered tone sent a shiver through her. He was right. She didn’t know him. “I beg your pardon, Captain Dawson.” She dropped her gaze to the floor, her heart beating in odd spurts. “I did not mean to presume so much. I had not thought how long the journey would take, only that it is a place I would feel safe.” She whispered, “As I feel safe with you, despite our brief acquaintance.”

She kept her gaze trained on the black leather upholstery, hands clasped tightly on her lap. The carriage rolled on toward Honoria’s. A wonderful thought, to pursue a courtship with Captain Dawson, the most dashing man she had ever met. Pity he had seemed disinclined to flout the boundaries of convention. Apparently even a knight rescuing a fair damsel would not be above society’s reproach. Such a great pity she could not tempt him to accompany her. Days together in the carriage might have encouraged a tender feeling in him for her, one she would return in full.

“You have family at the estate?” He no longer held his shoulders straight with such military precision. Encouraging if not exactly optimistic. He still eyed her warily.

“No. I would not want to go where I had family, for they would be the places Philippe would expect me to go. However, to go to one of my brother’s minor estates, an estate the viscount could have no knowledge of, would confound his search, I’m sure. I believe I will be safe there until my brother’s return.”

“The prospect of such a journey alone would likely deter the man.” The captain’s brooding stare and the almost imperceptible shake of his head persuaded her that he had been deterred as well.

“You have been kindness itself this morning, Captain Dawson.” She smiled and put every ounce of charm into her words. “I cannot thank you enough for your help with Philippe.”

“I am only glad I could be of assistance, my lady.” At last, he relaxed into the seat. “You will now go to your friend’s home after all?”

“Oh, no, Captain Dawson. I will go to Cumberland.”

“Without an escort?” Tension snapped back into his tall frame. “For eight days on the road? My lady…”

Juliet straightened her skirts, refusing to meet his eyes. “I am sorry to so discomfit you, Captain. Yet I fear I must do as I think right in this matter. One unguarded moment, and I could end up married to Philippe for life.” After the cruelties he had shown her at the French Ambassador’s house party, she would rather throw herself from the roof of Dunham House. She had set her course, with or without the captain. “Glynis and I will leave today, as soon as we have taken you—oh I beg your pardon, but I don’t know where you live.”

“My father’s house in Kensington Gardens. Number twenty-three.” His lips twitched.

She knocked on the trap door and changed their direction immediately. She did not wish to worry this kind, valiant man, but she had made her mind up and she doubted she could convince him to accompany her. She chided herself for even having such a foolish notion. A passing fancy only, brought on, perhaps, by the stress of the situation this morning. After all, she had just met this man. She knew absolutely nothing about him or his family.

“Lady Juliet, you cannot attempt such a journey without protection.” He gripped his sword hilt and released it. “Have you no male relative who might accompany you?”

“I am afraid not, Captain Dawson.” Her heart twisted at his concern. “Duncan is the last of the male line. There is no longer even a male cousin amongst our relatives on either side.” She placed a comforting hand on his. “I will be all right, don’t you think? I will have Glynis and the coachman and stable boy. I doubt I will come to grief.” She smiled, though her heart beat alarmingly fast. Only some few minutes left with him. They turned the corner into Kensington.

Ignoring the fact he too gazed at her, she memorized his wide, thoughtful brow and bright blue eyes. His full-lipped, sensual mouth she longed to feel on hers even now. That was not to be, alas. She would probably never see him again.

The carriage pulled up in front of a palatial redbrick house with meticulously kept grounds. He lived here? On a captain’s pay? Not a chance. “Who is your father, Captain Dawson?”

“Lord Morley, my lady. Unfortunately, he is not in residence at this time.”

A baron’s son? How bizarre. Not just any baron, either. Morley had a reputation for extreme wealth but a reclusive nature. Rather a mystery in her circles. She did not recall any gossip about his son returning from the colonies. Perhaps that had been a recent development. And why did Amiable have a different family name? Most puzzling. Now she would probably never know.

Amiable had opened his mouth, but when the boy held the door for him, he gave her one intense look, stepped down, and turned to her. “Are you quite sure I cannot dissuade you, Lady Juliet, from this hasty course?” He flexed and released the hand resting on the carriage door. “Would you not rather return to your brother’s house and consider all your options? Going into battle, I have found one must reflect on every detail of each possible alternative, lest in the end you come to grief.” His kind blue eyes searched hers. “Please tell me you will reconsider.”

“Believe me I understand your fears for me, Captain. But I know, deep down, that this journey is right. Aren’t you supposed to listen when your heart tells you something is right?” Her heart lurched at her real meaning. The sincere smile she gave him was the easiest and hardest thing she had ever done. Let him remember her as gracious and strong.

“I suppose you are.” He returned her smile, though with less enthusiasm. “I take my leave of you, then, my lady.” He bowed. “I hope circumstances permit that we may meet again. Until then I wish you a safe journey and a pleasant stay in the north.”

“Thank you, Captain. I hope the same for you here in London. Farewell.” No longer able to attempt a smile and afraid to let her dismay be seen, she drew back on the seat.

The coach jerked into motion. He headed toward the steps to the portico and was lost to her sight.

She settled in the seat, and blinked back tears she refused to shed. Resolute, she wanted to plan for her journey. However, a number of problems quickly emerged. Although determined to set out for Cumberland immediately, she and Glynis alone had packed for a journey of more than a day. If she wanted to disappear into the north, Roberts and George could not return home to gather their things. Such an action would certainly cause talk among the servants.

Money presented another problem, though to a lesser extent. Because she had intended to shop with Honoria, she had taken a fair amount with her. It would serve until she arrived in Cumbria. Once there, she’d need little money to sustain her until she returned to London.

Perhaps when she came back at Christmas she could renew her acquaintance with Captain Dawson. Quite unlikely. By then someone else would surely have attracted his attention. She could do nothing else about Amiable, so she turned her full attention to her escape from Philippe. How had she ever found that man attractive?

Chills, like a goose walking over her grave, sped down her arms. No one must know where she had gone. Not even Honoria or Aunt Phoebe. As silver-tongued as Philippe could be, she had no doubt they would be susceptible and easily persuaded to betray her whereabouts “for her own good.” If he found her alone, either on the road or at the Keep, she could do little to stop him from forcing himself on her in the name of their “marriage.” The scene in her bedroom at the French Ambassador’s party rose before her: his smooth hands fondling her, her pleas for him to stop, and the gag that silenced them. She fought down her rising gorge. Nothing could induce her to submit herself to him. Not even marriage.

While she had been deep in thought, Roberts, the coachman, had circled back, and headed again for Beaumont Crescent and Honoria’s home. She tapped on the trap.

Roberts opened it. Calm and broad-faced, he awaited instructions. The world could go to hell in a handbasket but Roberts would be sturdy and unruffled.