Stormswept (15 page)

“You mean for as long as you wish to torment me.” Her chin came up and her eyes glowed with bitterness. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You want to keep me in your power so you can punish me for a slew of imaginary crimes, not first of which is being English.”

He stiffened. “Being English is certainly a deficit in your character, but I could have tolerated it if you hadn’t frivolously thrown me into the lion’s den.”

“I never did that, but of course you don’t believe me. You always were a suspicious man, Rhys Vaughan. I should have known you’d never trust me. It was all a sham—the soft words and kindnesses. Inside, you waited for me to make some mistake so you could show me to be the unworthy Englishwoman you already believed I was.”

She said it with such conviction that he had to grit his teeth against the emotions she roused. “Stop twisting the past! I didn’t make you unworthy—you proved yourself so. You took a man’s life and played with it, never caring what destruction you wrought! ” He jerked back his cuff to show the scars on his wrists. “This is only one illustration of what your actions brought.”

At the sight of the thick scars, she gasped. Then, to his surprise, she touched them and lifted a tortured gaze to him. “ ’Tis a terrible thing you’ve endured.” She clasped his hand. “But I swear it was not of my making. I could never have—” She broke off with a sob.

It was the first time she’d touched him since his return, and it seared him deeper than any flogging. He snatched his hand from her, damning her for her pity. By thunder, she still had the power to move him. After all this time, she could make him believe her innocent when everyone said otherwise.

“We’ve wasted enough time discussing this,” Rhys managed. “You’re my wife now, and nothing will change that.” He turned to address her brothers. “There will be no annulment, no divorce.” His eyes narrowed. “Nor, I hope, will you attempt to continue plotting against me. For if you try to destroy me, this time I’ll bring all of you down.”

“You’re going to do that anyway, aren’t you?” Northcliffe gritted out.

Rhys surveyed the new earl, who’d grown leaner in his absence, as if the privileges of power and money had been gained at a cost to his physical self. The young man looked older than his years, especially with the powdered peruke on his head. Rhys had heard of Northcliffe’s successes—how he’d taken the reins after his father’s death and climbed upward until he associated with some of the greatest men in London.

Northcliffe might sputter and complain about Rhys’s plans, but he wouldn’t thwart him. Not, at least, until he’d
considered the consequences. “I shall not take my revenge that way,” Rhys said, relishing the power he held over his enemy. “Not if you give me what I want—my wife and my estate. Much as I prospered during my years in America, ’tis Wales I love, and ’tis in Wales I’ll stay.”

Grabbing Juliana by the arm, he pulled her to stand beside him. “I merely wish to make sure that my wife lies in the bed she’s made, as I had to lie in the bed she made for me.”

Sheer terror flared in Northcliffe’s eyes. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

“From this night on, Juliana is my wife in every way. We’ll spend tonight at my town house, but tomorrow we head for Llynwydd. You are not to interfere, unless you wish to relinquish your tidy position in England’s political hierarchy. If you cross me, I’ll do whatever it takes to ruin you.”

Northcliffe stiffened. “You want us to stand by and watch while you torment our sister?”

Rhys shrugged. “I won’t beat her, if that’s what you think.” He leveled a threatening gaze on the two men. “But I will deal with my wife as I see fit, and I won’t tolerate your interference.”

Casting his brother a long, meaningful glance, Northcliffe hesitated. Then he sighed. “All right.”

Juliana glared at Rhys. “And what if I refuse? What if I tell you to go to hell?”

She certainly had changed since he’d first met her. Years ago, she wouldn’t have even uttered the word “hell.” But she’d soon learn that strong words had no effect on him.

“I don’t think you fully appreciate the precariousness of your position. It’s not too late to put a good face on this, to tell the world that it was all a misunderstanding. We eloped and then you thought me dead, so you hid the elopement from the world. Eventually society will forgive you for that, especially if we live publicly as husband and wife.”

She stared at him stony-faced.

“But if you resist me,” he continued, “I’ll reveal what really happened. I’ll show off that lovely marriage certificate and bemoan the fact that you went to terrible extremes to get out of our marriage.”

“No one will believe you.”

“They’ll believe me over a woman who nearly committed bigamy. And you’ll never be able to hold your head up in society again.”

“If you hate me that much, why do you want me as your wife?”

He lifted a hand to trail his fingers over her cheek. She flinched from him, and unexpectedly he felt dismay. Dismay? Hadn’t it been his goal to have her at his mercy all along?

Angry at himself for being so affected by her reactions, he drew back. “There are reasons I might give, of course. I need you to maintain my hold on Llynwydd. And I want an heir.” He waited until that last remark registered. “But the truth is, I simply refuse to give you the pleasure of being free of me.”

To his surprise, she met his gaze boldly. “That works both ways, dear husband. I may not be free, but neither
are you. And if you persist in tormenting me because of Darcy’s foolish lies, I swear I’ll make your life hell.”

He stared into her flashing eyes, wondering if she’d always been this stubborn. Or this achingly beautiful.

“Then it’s hell we’ll be headed for, Juliana. Because this time you won’t escape our marriage.”

Too great desire is evil,

Every step unlucky still!

—DAFYDD AP GWILYM, “TROUBLE AT A TAVERN”

W
hen the doors closed behind Juliana and Rhys Vaughan, Darcy slammed his fist against a wall. “That deuced bastard! ”

“Aye,” Overton said. “And you just gave him carte blanche with our sister. Have you gone mad? Don’t you see what you’ve done?”

Crossing to the sideboard, Darcy poured himself two fingers of whisky. “What the hell did you want me to do?” He downed the whisky in one gulp.

“Tell the truth! I should have told it myself, but—”

“But you knew what I’d do to you if you did.” Darcy threw the glass at the wall, feeling only the faintest satisfaction at the sound of breaking glass.

Overton looked pasty as he dropped into a nearby chair. “I can’t believe you did that to her. There’s no telling what Vaughan will do, now that he believes she betrayed him.”

“Don’t you think I realize that?”

“Then why did you lie?”

Darcy stared blindly ahead. “At first I hoped he’d agree to an annulment if I held to my story and painted a foul picture of Juliana.”

“And when he refused to get one? Why didn’t you tell him the truth then, so they could at least have an amiable marriage?”

“He won’t hurt her.” Darcy knew he was trying to convince himself of something he didn’t quite believe, but he kept on. “He still cares for her, or he wouldn’t want her so badly.”

“You’re a bloody fool if you believe that. He just promised her a marriage in hell. You’d stand by and let her live it, when a word from you would end it?”

“Which am I to choose—a marriage in hell for Juliana? Or complete destruction for the family? He said he’d do nothing to us, as long as we let him have Juliana and Llynwydd. But if we tell him the truth, those assurances are gone. He’ll destroy us. Grafton and Rockingham are his friends, for God’s sake! Do you know what would happen if they ever turned against me? I’d lose everything I’ve accomplished! ”

Overton frowned. “It would be worth it to have Juliana happy.”

“I’m in a marriage from hell myself. And he said he wouldn’t beat her.” Staring at the door Vaughan and Juliana had left through, he remembered how the bastard had spoken of being flogged. Deuce take it, what would a man who’d suffered so do to the woman he thought had caused it?

And to the men who really did cause it?

“After a few weeks with her, sweet as she is, he’ll come around.” But his assurances sounded hollow even to him.

“No matter how you excuse it, you’ve still made her the scapegoat for your crimes. Poor innocent Juliana, who never spoke badly of anyone in her life.”

Every word sliced through Darcy. He sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. “How was I to know he’d return? How was I to know he’d make something of himself?”

“It was a stupid business—all of it. She loved him, and we hurt her. But we can fix it now.”

Darcy lifted his head. “What about Mother and Elizabeth? What about everything we’ve gained? Juliana wouldn’t want us to risk everything for her. Vaughan’s the vindictive sort. Surely you can see that.”

Overton jumped to his feet. “Aye, and he’ll be vindictive toward Juliana if we don’t tell him the truth! ”

“I don’t know if he’d believe it. He’s already spoken to the innkeeper. He’s sure to find anything we say suspect.”

“Did you tell the innkeeper to lie, too?”

Darcy rose. “Vaughan’s last letter here made me worry, so I instructed the man what to say if Vaughan ever sought the truth. Honestly, I thought Vaughan would write him, and after receiving confirmation of Juliana’s behavior, would decide against returning.”

“What of that man who brought proof of Vaughan’s death? Did you pay him to lie, as well?” When Darcy remained silent, Overton exploded. “You bastard! ” A look of
disgust filled his face. “What a treacherous web you wove! You lied to Juliana, you lied to her husband—”

“I thought I was doing the right thing for all of us.”

Raking his brother with a contemptuous gaze, Overton said, “ ’Twasn’t the only reason for your plotting, I daresay. You did it for Lettice—admit it.”

“Shh! ” Darcy hissed, glancing toward the door. “Elizabeth will hear you.”

“Elizabeth knows about your mistress, you dolt.
Everyone
knows. You’re not the least bit discreet. I daresay Lettice doesn’t know you were behind the impressment of her sweetheart, does she?”

Darcy’s stomach twisted into knots. A pity that sometimes his brother could be astute indeed.

How to answer him? To win Overton to his side, he’d have to play on his sympathies, and that meant telling the truth. “No, Lettice doesn’t know I was behind it. And I don’t want her to know . . . ever.”

“Well, she’s sure to find out now. Vaughan will tell her out of sheer spite.”

Darcy grimaced. “Aye. And Pennant might have returned with Vaughan.” And if so? Were the tales he’d told Pennant strong enough to keep the man from Lettice? “Now you know why I tried to prevent their return. I love Lettice. She’s the only thing that keeps me sane. I can’t survive her leaving me—or taking away my only son.”

The thought of that nearly killed him. He choked back the doubts about Edgar’s paternity he’d nurtured through the years. It didn’t matter that the birth had taken place eight months after Pennant’s impressment. Edgar was
his
son—his! “A pox on Vaughan! Why did he have to return?”

“I don’t know, but now that he’s back, what will you do about Lettice and Edgar?”

“I’ll hope she never learns the truth. And if she does, I’ll pray that years of taking care of her will compensate for my sins. Perhaps when she sees how far I went to secure her love, she’ll not hold them against me.”

“For a man of intelligence,” Overton remarked dryly, “you’re surprisingly stupid when it comes to women.”

He hated that Overton was probably right. “Do one thing for me: Don’t tell anyone the truth until I see how Vaughan acts. There’s a chance he won’t bother speaking to Lettice, since he assumes that she, like Juliana, betrayed her lover. But if Vaughan learns the truth, his first strike will be to drive Lettice from me.”

“Juliana is sure to tell her. And Lettice isn’t the sort of woman you can easily fool. Then there’s the boy—”

Darcy clenched his fists. “Just give me some time to think of a way out of this mess. Time to tell Lettice myself.” He fought to swallow his pride. “Please, Overton. Bear with me awhile longer.”

With a sigh, Overton nodded. “But not much time. If you haven’t come up with anything in a few weeks—”

“I’ll tell Vaughan everything. I swear.”