Stormswept (30 page)

“No,” Overton said. “I have to see my sister. I must make certain that she’s well.” Pain slashed across his face. “And I must explain why we’ve wronged her. You’re not going without me.”

“As you wish. Give me a moment to dress, and we’ll be off.”

When Morgan disappeared into the other room, Lettice took Overton’s hand. “Don’t worry about Juliana. It will all come right in the end. I’m sure of it.”

He ventured a smile. “I hope you’re right.”

“How’s Darcy?”

“As well as can be expected, now that the light has gone out of his life.”

“He’s not taking it well, then?” she said, refusing to feel guilty about that.

“Nay.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. He was the fool, to toy with your life and expect you not to hate him for it.”

She sighed. “I don’t hate him. I just pity him.”

Overton stared at her. “When Darcy first became obsessed
with you, I didn’t understand it. He had a rich, beautiful lady betrothed to him and was heir to an earldom. I thought he was mad to dally with a lady’s maid.”

“He
was
mad,” she said, attempting a laugh.

“Nay. Now that I’ve come to know you, I think he should have done more than make you his mistress. He should have married you.”

“Don’t be silly,” she murmured, but his words warmed her. She’d always received the brunt of the town’s disapproval. No one had chastised Darcy for keeping a mistress, but everyone had criticized her for being his kept woman.

Sometimes she’d even believed they were right. And telling herself that she’d had no choice didn’t lessen the pain or self-doubt. After a while, she’d begun to believe she didn’t deserve to be a wife. That in taking Morgan away, God had deemed her unworthy of it.

Morgan entered, and she smiled at him. Thank heaven time had proven her wrong. It had brought Morgan back to her.

And now Morgan must bring Rhys back to Juliana.

The house was as quiet as a tavern at dawn, but Juliana still couldn’t concentrate. Every time she started reading the larder inventory, her mind wandered to Rhys, still asleep down the hall. She’d instructed his valet not to wake him, mostly to put off the inevitable.

The blasted man had known exactly what his words would do to her last night. All she could do was wonder when and where he would catch her alone, and try to seduce
her. Then she started remembering his heated kisses and tempting caresses and—

“Oh bother! ” She set the inventory aside. She should lock him in the State Bedroom. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about it.

The thought made her smile. Of course, some wretched footman would let him out at once, but still it was lovely to think of him at her mercy, forced to follow her whims for a change.

“Milady?”

She turned to find Mrs. Roberts in the doorway. “Yes?”

“Your younger brother and a man named Pennant are here to see the master. I told them he was asleep, but they’re insisting.”

She scowled. “Send them up here.” This time, she’d make her betraying wretch of a brother listen to her.

When Mrs. Roberts returned with the two men, Juliana dismissed her and closed the door to face Overton. “I can’t believe you have the audacity to visit, after what you’ve done. Are you here to tell Rhys more lies about me?”

“I’ve come to tell him the truth.”

“Isn’t it a little late for that?”

The anger in her voice made him blink. “He hasn’t hurt you, has he?” He looked her over as if for signs of physical injury.

She deliberately kept quiet.
Let him worry. He’s done little enough of it until now.

“I swear, if Vaughan has hurt you, I’ll throttle him! ”

She rolled her eyes at her brother. The last thing she
needed was Overton engaging Rhys in fisticuffs. “He hasn’t harmed me. Not physically anyway.”

Overton clearly didn’t know what to make of that, although Morgan’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m fine. As you can see, I have the run of the house and . . .” Her voice faltered at the half-truth, then she went on coldly, “Anyway, you needn’t worry.”

“But I do,” Overton said.

“And when did this change of heart occur? Before or after you publicly proclaimed me a heartless witch and betrayer to my husband, who already had reason to resent me? Surely it occurred to you that your lies would turn a tormented man into an unreasonable tyrant.”

“Oh God, I’m so bloody sorry, Juliana. That I let Darcy convince me to lie to you in the first place years ago. That I kept secret what he’d told your husband. And that I didn’t speak the truth at your engagement party, even if Darcy—”

“ ‘Darcy this’ and ‘Darcy that’—is this all his doing? What kind of hatred must he bear for me that he’d lie so?”

“You must understand—Darcy thought Vaughan had married you to regain Llynwydd. He thought he was saving you.”

“Did he, now? And when Rhys returned and he
kept
lying?”

“Darcy thought Vaughan would want to be rid of you, once he was convinced you’d betrayed him.”

Behind Overton, Morgan snorted. “Obviously your brother had no idea of how strongly Rhys cares for your sister.”

Hmm. Rhys had a funny way of showing it.

Overton went on quickly. “Once he realized that Vaughan was serious about revenge, Darcy got scared—afraid that Vaughan would destroy him.”

“And of course, it didn’t matter at all that Rhys might destroy me, did it?” she snapped.

Overton paled. “What has he done to you? If he has abused you—”

“He hasn’t.” She stiffened. “But Darcy gave permission to Rhys to do with me as he wished, without a care for what that might be. I can never forgive Darcy for that.”

“Where is Rhys now?” Morgan asked.

“Asleep.” She faced him. “Surely that doesn’t surprise you. He had a late night, since he went out at your behest to take on Darcy. I suppose you two are trying to get yourselves impressed all over again.”

“I think Northcliffe knows better than to try that now.”

A sudden fear gripped her. She knew only too well how desperate Darcy got when he was cornered. “Darcy isn’t going to take all of this lying down. He’ll strike out at Rhys somehow.”

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about your ‘unreasonable tyrant’ of a husband,” Morgan said dryly.

Though she was tempted to give him an earful of just how her husband had been behaving, she was more concerned with making him understand the treacherous path Rhys was on. “Of course I’m worried. I don’t want to lose Rhys again.”

Both men looked relieved, especially her brother. “So things are going well with you and your husband?” he asked.

“I’m sure things will go better after you tell him the truth about the night we were impressed,” Morgan said. “Once you explain how you knew where to find her.”

“Yes, how
did
you know?” Juliana asked. “That’s the one thing I haven’t figured out.”

Overton shifted from foot to foot. “The innkeeper recognized you and sent word. Once we explain that Darcy paid the innkeeper to lie, surely Vaughan will realize you had nothing to do with it.”

His statement brought her up short. She’d been too focused on chastising Overton to realize the full implications of his visit. He’d come to tell the truth. To vindicate her to her husband. At last.

Hope swelled in her. Finally, someone would tell Rhys what had really happened. Then he’d be suitably chastened and beg her forgiveness. All would be well, and they could put this terrible time behind them.

Until the next time.

Her hope faltered. This wasn’t the first instance of Rhys believing the worst of her. Years ago he’d accused her of spying on the Sons of Wales, only to realize his mistake when her father had threatened to cane her.

Each time
she
told him she was innocent, he remained distrustful. Someone else had to say it for him to believe it.

Despite all she’d done for Llynwydd and her explanations of why she’d hidden the marriage, he persisted in taking Darcy’s word over hers.

His
enemy’s
word.

And now Overton wanted to prance in here and tell Rhys everything, to act as if none of her suffering had
occurred. He thought to wipe away the years with a few words—and Rhys would probably believe him. Then he would act as if none of it had happened, as if she hadn’t been publicly maligned and betrayed by them.

She clenched her fists. A pox on him! And on them, too! How dared they think they could simply trot in here and make it all right with a few words!

She wouldn’t give them that—nor him, either. Not this time.

She’d told him she was innocent. It was time he considered her life and character to determine whether to believe her. It was time he listened to his heart. Otherwise, the distrust would never end.

“I don’t want you to tell him the truth,” she said. When Morgan and Overton gaped at her, she added, “Please go now, before he awakens.”

“Why the bloody hell would you want that?” Overton asked.

“Because I want him to believe
me—
to trust
me
. And if you tell him the truth now, he won’t learn that.”

“But Juliana—” Overton began.

“She’s right.” Morgan cast her an enigmatic glance. “But do you realize what you’re asking of him? In the navy they battered his pride, stole his dignity, reduced him to an animal. And he’s lived for years believing that you helped put him there. Even before that, he’d had few in his life he could trust. You’re asking him to ignore his entire past. Speaking as his friend, and one who thinks highly of him, I don’t know if he can do that.”

Tilting her chin up, she said quietly, “He’d better learn to
do it. You seem to forget he’s not the only one who suffered through this. I may not have suffered exile or floggings, but I had to live in a perpetual limbo, never knowing if I was widow or wife, never knowing what had happened to him. I even went through the agony of grieving for him, after that investigator falsely told me he was dead. Then, once Rhys returned, he treated me with a contempt I didn’t deserve.”

“Yes, but—” Overton began.

“If you tell him, he’ll say he’s sorry, and it will all be better—right? Men! You think a few apologies will wipe away the heartache you cause by your refusal to see a woman’s true character.” She stared hard at her brother. “Either Rhys learns to trust me, or he lives with the consequences of his distrust. I won’t give him this easy solution. I can’t, if I want our marriage to last.”

She stared them down, trying to hide her trepidation. She was taking a big chance. But she had to.

“You love him, don’t you?” Overton said. “You still love that bloody Welshman, or you wouldn’t care if your marriage lasted.”

The painful truth hit her. She
did
love him, despite everything. “Unfortunately, foolish though it may be, I do.”

Overton got a sheepish look on his face. “Then I suppose that takes care of my other reason for coming.”

Morgan’s head shot around. “What other reason?”

Avoiding his gaze, Overton drew a folded sheet of paper out of his waistcoat pocket, along with a sealed envelope. “Well . . . you see . . . I didn’t think I should tell you, Pennant, since I knew you wouldn’t approve. But I promised to bring this to Juliana.”

When Overton handed it to her and she unfolded the paper, she recognized the crest at the top. And the signature at the bottom.

Dropping into a chair, she read it, then opened the sealed envelope and read its contents, too.

“What the devil is it?” Morgan asked when she lifted her head to stare into space.

“Apparently,” she said in a strained voice, “Lord Devon has decided he wants to resume our betrothal.”

I’m her true lover always

While the quick life in me stays.

Without her, I go lovelorn—

If it’s true she’s not foresworn.

—DAFYDD AP GWILYM, “THE WIND”

R
hys woke from a dreamless sleep to find himself utterly alone in the massive state bed with its ivory-embroidered silk hangings.

He hadn’t thought this far when he’d planned his vengeance, when he’d decided to make Juliana pay for her youthful betrayal. He hadn’t considered what it would be like to live with a stranger he’d taught to despise him.