Stormswept (5 page)

Lettice had spouted nonsense about how a man would say anything to get a woman in his clutches, but Mr. Vaughan wasn’t like that. He was passionate, like her, and couldn’t contain his feelings about things that mattered.

She was still staring dreamily into space when the sound of loud voices in the foyer jerked her from her reverie. Wondering who would call so early, she rose and went out into the hall.

“I don’t care what time it is,” said a familiar voice. “I want to see his lordship immediately! ”

She froze beside the staircase. Though her view of the foyer was blocked, she recognized those ringing tones from last night.

The door to Papa’s study opened from the other side of the staircase and, oblivious to her lurking in the shadows, he stormed into the hall. She crept forward, her heart in her throat as she peered around the edge to see her father come face-to-face with Mr. Vaughan.

Two footmen were attempting to reason with Mr. Vaughan, but he was standing firm. He looked exactly as she’d remembered him—all lean muscle animated with a vibrant energy that put the spark in his eyes and the glow on his face. Why on earth was he here?

Father glowered at him. “What is the meaning of this, sir? You cannot force your way into a man’s house without—”

“I am the son of the man you ruined,” Mr. Vaughan said. “William Vaughan was my father.”

Father gestured to the footmen, who returned to their posts. Then he turned his hard-eyed gaze on Mr. Vaughan. “I heard you’d returned to town.”

“I’m sure you did. If none of your other spies told you, then I suppose you heard it from your daughter.”

Juliana’s knees buckled. So he’d found out who she was. But why tell Papa that he knew her? Didn’t he know what trouble he’d get her into?

“What do you mean, my daughter?” Papa demanded.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t send her to spy on me and my friends last night.”

“Last night?”

Mr. Vaughan thought her a
spy
? What happened to all his sweet words? And his gentle kiss?

“I should have expected this of you,” Mr. Vaughan went on. “You couldn’t allow the wheels of justice to take their slow turn. No, you had to skulk behind your daughter’s skirts, sending her out to do your dirty work.”

How dared he! She’d obviously been quite wrong about his nobility of mind. He was beastly, simply beastly! If she were a man, she’d walk right out and thrash him!

But she could only watch helplessly as her father drew himself up, a vein bulging in his forehead. “You, sir, are insane if you think my daughter would involve herself with your band of ruffians! ”

You tell him!
Perhaps Papa would refuse to believe Mr. Vaughan’s words. Perhaps he’d dismiss them as troublemaking nonsense.

Mr. Vaughan dashed those hopes. “Your daughter’s name is Juliana, is it not?” Then he proceeded to describe her with an accuracy as astonishing as it was damning.

Juliana buried her face in her hands as her father sputtered, then shouted, “Juliana! Juliana, girl, you come down here at once! ”

How could she face Papa’s temper, especially in front of that betraying wretch? Yet she must defend herself. Not that Papa would listen to her.

She could cheerfully throttle Mr. Vaughan. The wicked creature obviously didn’t care that he was ruining her life.

“Don’t take it out on the poor girl,” Mr. Vaughan said,
and for a moment, Juliana thought him repentant. “ ’Tisn’t her fault that she isn’t as practiced at deceit as her father.”

The urge to throttle him surged again.

“Juliana! ” Her father’s tone brooked no argument as he started for the stairs. He’d keep at it until the entire household had come to watch.

With a sigh, she emerged from behind the staircase. “Here I am, Papa.”

Taking her by the arm, he dragged her in front of Mr. Vaughan. “Tell me truthfully, girl: Do you know this man?”

She considered lying, but that might force Mr. Vaughan to elaborate on her adventure. “Aye, Papa.”

Her father’s hand tightened painfully on her. “Is he telling the truth? Were you at this gathering of his friends last night?”

She cast a glance at Mr. Vaughan, whose face was stony and remote as he stared at her without a whit of concern. Any guilt she’d felt for misleading him last night rapidly dissipated.

“Were you?” Papa repeated, shaking her.

Lifting her chin in defiance of them both, she said, “Aye.”

Her father shoved her away. “Go wait for me in the study. I’ll be there presently to administer your punishment.”

A tremor of fear skittered along her spine. “Please, Papa, let me explain—”

“Go to my study! ” He shook his thick finger in that direction. “Now, or I’ll cane you thrice as hard! ”

With a shudder, she backed away. She’d seen Papa angry before, but not like this. Still, she mustn’t let him reduce her to a quivering puddle, or it would go worse for
her. With all the dignity she could muster, she stalked off to the study.

Rhys watched her go, uneasiness settling in his gut. What in the devil was this? An elaborate show for his benefit? Surely the earl wouldn’t cane his daughter for this, would he? She’d done only what he’d put her up to.

But she’d been caught. Perhaps her punishment was for that. A surge of unwarranted pity made Rhys tighten his fists. “You shouldn’t punish Juliana for merely carrying out your orders.”

The earl remained silent until the study door opened and closed. Then he fixed Rhys with a cold gaze. “I assure you, sir, I wouldn’t send my daughter within ten miles of you and your scoundrel friends. If I needed spies, I’d use one of my sons or a servant. I’d not send an innocent girl into a nest of vipers, even to crush the likes of you! ”

The logic behind the man’s words struck Rhys hard. If the earl spoke the truth—and somewhere in the fog of Rhys’s anger it seemed plausible—then Juliana was about to receive a caning.

And it was all his fault.

At that thought, he snapped, “If she didn’t go at your request, then why in God’s name was she there?”

Northcliffe’s eyes narrowed. “I have no idea. The girl has strange notions about the Welsh, to be sure, but I’d never thought to see her sneaking about at night.”

A chill shook Rhys. Morgan had said she liked to dabble in Welsh things, and he hadn’t seemed concerned about her presence at the meeting. Had Rhys jumped to conclusions?

“Your ‘wheels of justice’ don’t worry me,” Northcliffe went on. “I acquired Llynwydd fairly, and I’ll hold what is mine, no matter what some upstart Welshman thinks to do about it! ”

“You didn’t ‘acquire’ that estate. You stole it. And I intend to prove it.”

They glared at each other a long moment, hatred boiling up between them.

“We shall see, my boy.” Northcliffe summoned his footmen, then motioned to Rhys. “Escort Mr. Vaughan to the gate. I never want to see his scurrilous face in this house again.”

Rhys smiled grimly. “I can see myself out. And don’t worry, Northcliffe. I shan’t set foot here again until you resign your claim to Llynwydd. Which you will do one day, if I have anything to say about it.”

Ignoring the earl’s derisive snort, he left, with the footmen trailing after him. But as soon as Rhys passed through the wrought-iron gates and heard them clank shut behind him, he paused to stare back through the bars, his anger replaced by a more unsettling emotion. Guilt.

Juliana was in there awaiting a caning. If she truly had attended the meeting for her own reasons, then she was suffering due to
him
.

Belatedly, he remembered her flawless command of Welsh and her quoting of Welsh poetry. Today she’d worn an expensive blue satin gown, but the undersides of her cuffs had been as dingy as his from having well-inked paper rub against them. She was clearly a scholar. And scholars were rarely spies.

“Damn it all! ” He moved along the stone wall, searching for a way to get back in.

It wasn’t as if he could do anything. He couldn’t leap into the earl’s study and whisk Juliana away. But he also couldn’t let her be caned.

Perhaps he could create a distraction to get her father away from her. Or find her afterward and soothe her hurts. Beg her forgiveness.

When he came to an oak branch that extended several feet over the wall, he decided he could probably reach it. Then he could climb up the wall and jump over—

A rustling on the other side gave him pause. The sound seemed to move up the oak. Puzzled, he stared up into the tree. When he caught a glimpse of blue satin, relief surged through him. He should have known Lady Juliana wouldn’t stay to be beaten. Running away seemed to be her specialty, thank God.

More satin spilled over the top of the wall as she crept backward along the branch. He saw a flash of shapely calf before her silk hose caught on the bark. She grabbed at it, but her hair, a rich coppery red that had been hidden from his sight last night, masked her face and blinded her.

He moved under the branch just as she lost her balance and fell right into his arms. Clearly startled, she shoved her hair from her face, but when she saw who’d caught her, she scrambled out of his arms.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Catching you.”

“Why? So you could make sure I got my caning? Are you planning to march me back in to Papa?”

He winced. If he hadn’t already been convinced she was innocent, her wounded tone and attempt at escape would have done it. “Nay. I thought I’d rescue you, instead.”

She brushed leaves and twigs from her gown. “I am doing fine rescuing myself, thank you very much.”

“What are you planning to do—hide?”

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but yes. Until Mama can talk Papa out of my punishment. Or at least get it reduced.”

“That works?”

“Sometimes.” Her stiff look sent guilt spiraling through him. “I had to do something.”

“Thanks to me and my blundering.” He tugged an acorn from her hair.

But when he couldn’t resist letting his fingers linger over the silken strands, she swatted his hand away. “How dare you! First, you get me in trouble, and then you act as if it never happened! ”

Her words lacerated his already beaten conscience. “What I did this morning was unconscionable, and I am sorry. I can say nothing in my defense.”

“Quite true.”

The throaty timbre of her voice made him ache to touch her again, but he knew better than to try. “You must understand—your father and his candidate for Member of Parliament are persecutors of radicals. When I found out you were his daughter—”

“You decided I was his
spy
. I understand quite well, you . . . you
diawl
! ”

Her use of the Welsh word for “devil” took him off
guard. As she flounced off toward the woods, he hastened after her.

“You ignored my obvious sympathy for your cause and for you,” she said, “and instead imagined horrid things of me. I know Papa committed a great wrong against your family. But I had naught to do with it! ” She stomped through the grass, heedless of how it ruined her skirts. “But because I am a St. Albans, you decided I was in it up to my neck.” She halted to fix him with a piercing stare. “Correct?”

“Something like that,” he muttered, irritated that she had so succinctly described his mad thoughts over the last night.

“So you came to Papa with your suspicions, instead of to me.” Her voice caught. “Even though last night you praised my eyes and quoted Huw Morus to me. You told me . . . Oh, it doesn’t matter what you told me. All of it was lies anyway.”

“Not so! ”

“Aye.” She eyed him as if he were a snail. “Lettice explained it to me. A man will say anything to pull down a woman’s defenses, so he can get at her person.” Her sweet mouth trembled, and he felt like a bastard all over again. “You said all those lovely things to get me to kiss you, yet it meant nothing.”

“That’s not true. I meant every word.”

When he reached for her, she backed away. “If you lay a hand on me, I’ll call the footmen.”

“And let them carry you back to your father?” As she blanched, he caught her hand. “Please, Juliana, you must
believe me. This morning was a temporary madness. Last night when I met you, I realized I’d met my ideal woman. Then I discovered you were out of my reach. It infuriated me to have you snatched from my hands before I’d had a chance to know you. That’s why I struck out today.”

“Against me.”

“Nay, against everything that took you from me. Unfortunately, that included you.”

She cocked her head. “You’re speaking in riddles and trying to confuse me.” She tried to snatch her hand from his.

He wouldn’t let go. “I know this sounds insane, but from the moment I saw you smile at me, I wanted to know everything about you.”

She pressed her lips together. “Your pretty words won’t work this time. I know your game now.”

Damn it all, why did he want so badly to convince her he wasn’t an ogre? He ought to be running as fast and far away as he could. Lettice was right—she wasn’t for him.

Yet something in him rebelled at the idea. He clasped her hand against his heart. “What can I do to change your mind,
anwylyd
?”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your ‘darling.’ ”

But he could see her wavering. “Tell me how to make up for my poor behavior. I can’t take your caning for you, but I could tell your father I was mistaken, that I saw some other woman at the meeting.”

She snorted. “Too late for that.”

Clasping her about the waist, he drew her close. “Doesn’t it mean something to you that I came back to rescue you?
Don’t my apologies mean anything? That’s why I was under that tree: I was going to pull myself up on that branch and go after you.”

He bent close, and she sucked in her breath. He wanted to taste her again, to crush her mouth under his, to revel in its warmth. Her lavender scent filled his nostrils, driving him more insane. He pressed a kiss into her hair.

“Please, you mustn’t—” she whispered.

“Touch you? Kiss you? I truly can’t help myself when I’m with you.”

Glancing back at the estate walls, she stiffened. “Oh no—Papa has sent my brothers looking for me.”