Stormswept (36 page)

He stared at the case, crafted to fit the love spoon, and then at the two pieces. She’d kept his gift all these years. She hadn’t thrown it away. She might have kept their marriage secret from the world, but here was proof that she’d remembered it in private.

He closed his fingers around the ancient emblem of Welsh marriages . . . the emblem he’d broken, as surely as his refusal to go to Northcliffe would break his marriage.

“Ah, my love,” he whispered hoarsely. “What have I done to you?”

How foolish his plans had been when he’d stormed into Northcliffe Hall a few weeks ago. He’d thought to make her suffer, but it didn’t matter how much he railed against her. It didn’t matter that he’d lived without her once, and ought to be able to live without her again. He couldn’t. If she left him, there would be nothing in his life of worth.

And the choice was wholly his. She was forcing him to choose whether to live with her or without her. And if he chose wrongly, he’d have no one to blame but himself.

It was the hour when breakfast was served at Northcliffe Hall, and Juliana sat at the table awaiting her family. No one yet knew she was here. Since she’d arrived in the middle
of the night, she’d asked the housekeeper not to awaken anyone and had retired to her old bedchamber.

Unfortunately, she’d slept little. How could she, when all she could think of was Rhys’s face when he’d touched their joined hands to his scars? He’d been so unsure of her, and now she’d given him new cause to doubt her loyalty and love.

But she couldn’t have acted any other way. And by now, he’d read her note and realized what she intended.

Would he come?

Would he follow her here in a fury, ready to drag her back to Llynwydd? That would devastate her, for it would show that he still lacked regard for her needs and wants.

If he didn’t attend the dinner, that would devastate her, too. How could she bear it if he refused to give her this proof of his trust?

“The housekeeper said you were here,” Darcy said from the doorway. “Thank God you’ve come.”

It had been three weeks since she’d seen him, but the changes in him made it seem like a lifetime. His face was as gaunt as a death mask; his eyes glittered like a man too aware of the pain being inflicted on him. His clothes hung on him, and he seemed uncharacteristically lethargic.

Despite all he’d done, she pitied him. “Good morning, brother,” she said, more softly than she’d intended.

The gentle greeting seemed to startle him. “I feared you would ignore my summons. You had every right to do so, after what I did.”

“Darcy, I—”

“Please, Juliana, let me speak first. There’s nothing you
could say that would be crueler than the words I’ve said to myself.”

He paced beside the table. “After Overton told me how Vaughan spoke to you, I thought I’d go mad. I wanted to rush there and bring you back, to force you from the bastard’s hands, but Overton said you wouldn’t wish it.”

“Yes, that’s what I told him.”

Darcy fixed her with a panicked gaze. “But here you are. I can’t believe Vaughan would allow it. Not after the council meeting, where he effectively ruined all my future in politics by nominating Morgan, who’ll probably win. That’s when I knew he’s not through tormenting me.”

“Rhys knows I’m here. He may join me tomorrow evening, although we were both surprised you invited him.”

Darcy dropped into a chair. “Overton insisted. He said it was time we treated you as husband and wife. As family.”

She should have known Overton would be the one to act with compassion. Darcy never would.

When had he changed from an overprotective brother into an obsessed politician? And was his present self-deprecating air an act?

“Did Lord Devon really threaten to pull out of your mining project, or did you invent that so I’d return and you could throw me at Stephen?”

Darcy looked stricken. “It’s the truth, I swear. The man’s besotted. And ever since Overton told him the kind of life your husband intended for you, he’s been wracked by worry.” He glanced away. “Especially once he learned my part in all that happened. Only by promising to arrange this meeting did I keep him from bowing out of our venture.”

“Stephen is a man of character.” Bitterness crept into her voice. “You should be grateful he didn’t call you out. ’Tis what you deserved.”

“I know that only too well.” He leaned forward. “I can’t excuse what I did back then. If I’d known how unhappy it would make you, I’d never have done it.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is! I only did it to protect you from that . . . that scoundrel! ”

“I was in love with that scoundrel.” She leveled an accusing gaze on him. “You did it to get rid of a penniless Welsh radical who might ruin all your plans for political gain.”

He didn’t try to deny it. “If you still hate me for what I did, why are you here?”

“I have my own reasons.”

When she said no more, a sigh escaped him. He knew he’d lost her trust. “Whatever they are, I’m grateful you’ve come. It will help me a great deal if you can put Devon’s mind at ease.”

She regarded him warily. “If that means reassuring him that I’m content with my marriage, then yes, I’m happy to do so.”

“I suppose it was too much to hope that Vaughan would let you go, if you wished to leave.”

Darcy would never change.

“I don’t want to leave. I love him, and he loves me, despite what you did to part us.” Though she had yet to see if he trusted her.

“He treats you well, then?”

“Very well.”

“If that’s true, then perhaps all has not been lost.”

Not yet. Although Darcy had set the events in motion, it had long ago stopped having anything to do with him. Rhys’s decisions were now governed by other things. She could only pray his love for her won out.

Darcy cleared his throat. “Do you think you could ever forgive me for what I did?” When she frowned, he added, “I now know what it is to suffer as you did. I’ve lost the woman I loved, for Lettice has left me for Pennant. And I’ve lost my position in the community, and my wife.”

“Your wife?”

“Elizabeth is leaving me.” He tried for a nonchalant shrug, but looked whipped instead. “Not legally; a divorce is impossible. But she intends to live apart from me. Since we have no children . . . she thinks it’s best.”

“Oh, Darcy, I am sorry,” she said with genuine feeling.

“Don’t be. We were never well suited.” He came to sit beside her and take her hands. “But if I lost you, too, I’d have nothing. Even Overton can scarcely bear to speak to me. Please say you won’t always hate me for what I did.”

His expression triggered all her memories of when they were children and she’d begged him for his help. He’d always given it. This time it was him begging, and try as she might, she couldn’t find it in her heart to refuse him.

“I don’t hate you,” she said. “I can’t forget what you did, but I’ll try to forgive you. In time, perhaps we can put it behind us.”

He kissed her hand gratefully, but her mind was already on another man who said he wanted to put the past behind him.

Would he? And if he didn’t, how would she ever endure it?

I’m but an ailing poet,

I cannot keep it secret:

My voice grows faint for her fair face.

—SALBRI POWEL, “THE LOVER’S HOPE”

E
van stood waiting in Llynwydd’s entrance hall two days after the harvest as Lady Juliana had said, but something was wrong. There were no maids chattering, no footmen humming. Everyone walked about in a hush.

A murmur from a nearby room coaxed him to eavesdrop.

“I’d swear the poor man hasn’t eaten a morsel since the mistress left yesterday.” It was Mrs. Roberts.

“He said she went to visit her family.” That was Mr. Moss.

“There’s more to it, to be sure,” Mrs. Roberts said. “They quarreled. You should have seen their bedchamber. Broken bottles and perfume stink everywhere. The master only said ‘clean up this mess,’ but he’s been drinking himself sick in his study ever since. A crying shame, it is.”

The squire and Lady Juliana at odds? But he’d seen them dancing in the fields only two days ago.

“Good morning, Evan.”

Oh God, it was the squire himself, and he looked awful—scruffy and unshaven, with no coat or neckcloth and his waistcoat buttoned wrong. And Evan could smell the brandy on him.

“G-Good morning, sir,” Evan stammered. “I-I came because Lady Juliana said I was to start my lessons today.”

“Aye, I know.” Mr. Vaughan’s eyes had an unnatural glint in them. “We need to speak about that.”

He led Evan into the drawing room, then gestured to a chair. Evan sat gingerly, schooling his face to show nothing. Years of living with his father had made him good at that. It had often saved him from his father’s quick fist.

“Lady Juliana won’t be able to tutor you today. She’s in Carmarthen, visiting her brothers.”

Evan’s heart sank. “If I may ask, sir, how long will she be gone?”

“She may return tomorrow.” A muscle worked in Mr. Vaughan’s jaw. “I don’t know. She has gone to speak with the man she’d planned to marry before I returned.” He stopped, as if realizing he’d revealed too much.

The squire looked so bereft, Evan couldn’t help reassuring him. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon, sir. She doesn’t care for that other fellow at all. Not like she cares for you.”

Evan’s words seemed to startle the man. “I wish I shared your certainty.”

“Oh, but you should! Anyone can see she only wants you for a husband.”

The squire stared into the fireplace. “She hasn’t always felt that way. She wanted to spurn me upon my return.” His voice fell to a hoarse whisper. “And ’twas said that she had a part in sending me into the navy.”

Evan’s mouth dropped open. “Whoever said that is a bloody liar, sir! My lady never spoke of you without saying how wise and good and clever you were. Surely she wouldn’t have sent such a man to suffer.”

At the man’s continued silence, Evan stood and drew himself up stiffly. “I could never believe that of her, when she’s been nothing but kind to me and everyone on this estate. I don’t understand how you can believe it, either.”

The squire looked at him with a wan smile. “You’re very fond of my wife, aren’t you?”

A tight knot formed in Evan’s throat. “Aye. I think she is the finest woman in all of Wales.”

“She is indeed.” Mr. Vaughan raked his fingers through his unkempt hair. “No doubt you’re right and she’ll be coming home soon. Why don’t you return tomorrow, eh? I’m afraid there won’t be any tutoring for you today.”

With a nod, Evan left.

Rhys watched the boy go, a painful tightness in his chest. What a strangely perceptive child Evan was. And what had possessed him to confide in the boy?

His overwhelming desire to have someone counter his bitter doubts and fears. Evan was so sure of Juliana, so very stout in his defense of her character. It made a mockery of his own attitude toward his wife.

Coming on the heels of his ghastly night spent alone in their bed, it forced him to admit the truth, which she had
known better than he. It came down to a refusal to trust her.

But it was worse than that, for his deepest fear was that the dinner was another setup for betrayal. That he would go to Carmarthen only to find her willingly allied with Devon as her brothers protected her.

It was easier not to face it—to wait here like a coward and see if she’d spoken truly of how she felt for him.

Shudders racked him. Evan was right. How
could
he think such terrible things of her? This past two weeks, she’d been everything he could dream of in a wife. To believe that she would betray him again would be to ignore the many demonstrations of her affection that she’d given him from the day of his return.

And to believe that she’d
ever
betrayed him was to ignore her true character.

What
had
happened on that night years ago? If it had been as she’d said, her brothers had somehow found out about the marriage on their own and taken steps to prevent it.

Was that so impossible to believe?

Nay. Her brothers were deceitful enough to do such a thing. Whereas everything he’d seen of her since his return had shown him a responsible woman, who wouldn’t ignore a vow as holy as matrimony. Especially for the reasons Northcliffe had provided.