Wayward Widow

‘Oh, how pretty!’ Juliana had spoken before she thought and now she saw that Martin was looking a little surprised at her unfeigned enthusiasm. He also looked pleased.

‘Thank you. I was very pleased when the reality matched my plans.’

Juliana looked at him in surprise. ‘But surely you did not design it yourself?’

‘Why not? I assure you it was not difficult. I saw plenty of Italian palaces to inspire me when I was travelling. My sister Clara helped with the colours and the design. She has a flair for these things.’

Juliana sighed. She, too, had travelled in Italy, but the sights that she had seen had been as far removed from palaces as it was possible to be. Lodging houses with flearidden beds and damp running down the walls; stinking canals where rotten vegetables and the decaying corpses of dogs floated together…The heat, the smell, the noise…and the constant, drunken ranting of Clive Massingham, who had run away with her to escape his debts, only to abandon her within two weeks of their wedding.

Juliana shuddered.

Martin opened a door for her and Juliana preceded him into a small drawing room. It was painted in lemon and white and consequently seemed full of light. The rosewood furniture complemented it perfectly. Juliana reflected that Clara Davencourt must indeed have an eye for style.

‘May I offer you some refreshment, Lady Juliana?’ Martin asked, with scrupulous courtesy.

Juliana gave him a level stare. ‘I will take a glass of wine, thank you. Or will my stay be a protracted one? Perhaps I should request an entire dinner?’

Martin smiled. ‘I hope that you will not have to stay here too long—’

‘Oh, you hope it, too! Well, that is an encouragement!’ Juliana gave him a wide smile. ‘I shuddered to think that you intended to inflict your company on me for hours!’

Martin sighed. ‘Please sit down, Lady Juliana.’

Juliana sat on the rosewood sofa, jumping up a moment later as something sharp pressed into her hip. Investigation proved that it was a small, wooden sailing ship, a child’s toy. She placed it carefully on the table.

‘My sister Daisy’s boat,’ Martin said. He passed her a glass of wine. ‘I do beg your pardon, Lady Juliana. Daisy leaves her toys all over the house. Ships are a particular favourite with her at the moment for I have been telling her about my travels.’

He broke off abruptly as though he had just remembered that he was not chatting to an acquaintance but that there was another purpose to their engagement. A rather strained silence descended.

After several minutes had passed, the exquisite white gold clock on the mantel struck twelve. They both jumped at the loud chime.

Juliana was starting to feel amused.

‘I do believe, Mr Davencourt, that now you have me you are not sure what to do with me! It occurs to me that as we are to be here some little time we might get to know each other better, so why don’t we—?’

‘No!’ Martin did not wait for her to finish. He was scowling. ‘I have no wish to take up your offer, Lady Juliana. Besides, my younger brother is returning from Cambridge shortly—’

‘Then perhaps I may talk to him, if you do not care to speak with me,’ Juliana said neatly. She saw with satisfaction that she had actually put him to the blush. Caught, fair and square.

‘Talk! I thought that you meant—’ Martin Davencourt stopped abruptly.

‘You thought that I meant to proposition you again.’ Juliana rearranged her silken skirts demurely about her and took a sip of wine. She watched him over the rim, a smile in her eyes. ‘My dear Mr Davencourt, I do assure you that I can take a hint as well as the next person. Besides, you yourself suggested that you were not an appropriate conquest for me and that I should be more particular.’

‘I suppose that I deserved that.’ A faint, self-deprecating smile touched Martin Davencourt’s mouth. He looked rueful. Juliana rather liked him for it. She could not help herself. So many men were so proud that they could not bear to be caught out, but Martin had the confidence to admit when he had been worsted.

‘As you do not care to be seduced by me,’ she continued sweetly, ‘why do we not talk about old times? How long ago was it that we met at Ashby Tallant? Fourteen years? Fifteen?’ She put her head on one side and gave him an appraising look. ‘I might have guessed that you would turn out like this. A dull boy so often becomes a dull man, although I suppose that you have improved in looks at least.’

Martin did not appear remotely insulted by this backhanded compliment. He laughed. ‘You have changed, too, Lady Juliana. I thought you such a sweet child.’

‘Either your memory is faulty or your judgement was not sound at the age of fifteen,’ Juliana said. ‘I am sure that I was exactly as I am now. Though I am surprised that you remember me at all, sir, for you were forever damming the stream or building fortifications or doing whatever it is that boys do.’

Martin smiled. ‘I am sure that we both found the other tiresome, Lady Juliana. Adolescent boys and girls seldom have much common ground. You were interested only in balls and dancing and you fell asleep when I tried to explain to you Nelson’s battle plan at Trafalgar—’

‘And you could not have performed the quadrille to save your life,’ Juliana finished. ‘I dare say that we had little in common then and nothing in common now.’ She smoothed her scarlet skirts and yawned ostentatiously. ‘This is going to be an unconscionably long hour or so, is it not?’

Martin sat back in his chair and studied her thoughtfully.

‘Indulge my curiosity then, Lady Juliana. Did you truly imagine that Andrew Brookes would leave Eustacia at the altar for you? Or were you merely seeking to cause trouble?’

Juliana sighed. So they were back to that again. She knew that he had not believed her before.

‘Mr Davencourt,’ she said, with heavy patience, ‘you do not strike me as a stupid man so I shall repeat this only once. Your suspicions of me are false. I had no scheme to wreck your cousin’s wedding, still less to keep Brookes for myself. Why, I have exhausted all his potential! I assure you I would not have him if he were packaged in gold!’

She saw a flicker of a smile in Martin Davencourt’s eyes, but it vanished as swiftly as it had come. His blue gaze was keen on her face. ‘Yet he was your lover.’

The colour came into Juliana’s cheeks. She raised her chin. ‘He was not. And even had he been, I would not have stooped so low as to spoil your cousin’s wedding day.’

Martin looked thoughtful. ‘No? Love can prompt one to all kinds of irrational acts.’

‘I am aware. But I doubt that you are, Mr Davencourt. I think it unlikely you have ever fallen in love. No doubt you would consider it too dangerous.’

Martin laughed. ‘You are mistaken, Lady Juliana. I am sure that all young men fall in love at some point in their salad days.’

‘But not when they have reached the age of discretion?’ Juliana pulled a face. ‘I expect you are too old for that sort of thing now.’

Martin sat back in his chair. ‘Touché, Lady Juliana. I confess that I have not felt any partiality for a lady for many years. And better that way. Matters such as marriage are best conducted with a clear mind. But we were speaking of your past loves, not mine.’

‘No, we were not,’ Juliana snapped. ‘I have no desire to rehearse my past history, nor to debate morality with you, sir. I find that men are tiresomely hypocritical on such matters.’

‘Are we? You mean that you dislike the double standard that is so often applied?’

‘Of course I do! What right-thinking woman would not dismiss it as unreasonable? A tenet that says a man may behave as a rake without censure, yet if a woman does the same she is branded a whore? It has to be a man who made that rule, do you not agree?’

Martin laughed. ‘I concede that it is unjust, but there are plenty of people, women as well as men, who believe in it.’

Juliana turned her shoulder. ‘I am aware. Let us change the subject, or I fear I shall become very ill-tempered.’

‘Very well. Let us return to the case in point.’ Martin sighed. ‘If I have made a mistake about your intentions at the wedding, then I apologise, Lady Juliana. It was an honest mistake.’

‘Based on a ridiculous assumption,’ Juliana said.

‘Not quite ridiculous. Not after your behaviour last night.’

‘I do wish you would stop raising that!’ Juliana said furiously. She felt very frustrated. ‘Last night was intended as a jest. As for my tears at the wedding, if you suspect that I am deceiving you about my hay fever—’ she invested the words with a heavy sarcasm ‘—then approach me with that vase of roses from the mantelpiece and I will sneeze for as long as it takes to convince you.’

She put her wineglass down and got to her feet. ‘I do believe that we have exhausted this topic, Mr Davencourt. Certainly I am becoming quite dreadfully bored of your company. I assume that I am free to go now?’

Martin made a slight gesture. ‘Of course.’

‘You are not concerned that I will return to disrupt the wedding breakfast?’

‘I think not. You have said that that is not your aim and I believe you.’

Juliana inclined her head frigidly. ‘Thank you. Then it would be helpful of you to procure me a hack. I do believe it is the least you can do.’

Martin got to his feet. ‘I will send for the carriage for you.’

He came across to her and looked down into her face for a moment. ‘Hay fever,’ he said slowly. ‘When I saw you in the church I was so sure that you were crying…’

He raised a hand and gently brushed away the smudge of a tear on her cheek with one thumb. Juliana felt her pulse skip a beat.

‘Andrew Brookes is not worth anyone’s tears,’ she said abruptly.

Martin’s hand fell. He stepped back. Juliana felt relieved. Just for a second he had completely undermined her defences.

‘I share your opinion of Brookes, Lady Juliana,’ he said, ‘but I want Eustacia to be happy. It would be a shame for her to be disillusioned so early in her marriage.’

‘It will happen to her sooner or later,’ Juliana said, moving towards the door, ‘and you would be a simpleton to think otherwise. Andrew Brookes is not capable of fidelity.’

Martin pulled a face. ‘I bow to your superior knowledge of the gentleman, Lady Juliana. You sound very cynical. Do you then believe all men faithless?’

Juliana paused, swallowing the confirmation that instinctively rose to her lips. There was something about Martin Davencourt that always seemed to demand an honest answer. It was disconcerting.

‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘Where a man truly loves I believe he may be faithful. But there are some men who are not capable of love or fidelity, and Brookes is one of those.’

‘I hear that it is your preferred type. Brookes, Colling, Massingham…’

Juliana had herself in hand again. ‘Lud, I do not choose men for their fidelity, Mr Davencourt. What an odd notion! I choose them for their entertainment value.’

‘I see,’ Martin said, heavily ironic. ‘Then I had better detain you no further. I cannot imagine that you will find what you are seeking in this house.’

Juliana grimaced. ‘No. Nor can I.’ She paused. ‘The wedding service will be over now, I suppose.’

‘Indeed.’ Martin checked the white gold clock on the mantle. ‘Do you have regrets about letting Andrew Brookes go after all, Lady Juliana?’

‘No,’ Juliana said pleasantly. ‘I was merely concerned about your sister Daisy—the little bridesmaid? She will be wondering where you are.’

There was a pause. For a second Juliana saw a quizzical look in Martin’s eyes, as though she had surprised him.

‘My sister Araminta is taking care of Daisy and the other girls,’ he said. ‘Besides, she is in such high good spirits to be a bridesmaid that I am sure she will scarcely miss me.’

‘I doubt that,’ Juliana said, feeling a small pang for Daisy Davencourt. ‘I assure you that children notice these things.’

She realised that her tone had been more wistful than she had intended. Martin was still watching her with speculation in his eyes. His perception unnerved her. She gave him a bright smile.

‘If you will excuse me, sir, I will leave. So many more marriages to blight, you know! I cannot afford to waste time here. Although…’ her voice warmed as a thought struck her ‘…perhaps it will enhance my bad reputation for it to be known that you whisked me away from the wedding service. Yes, I do believe I shall encourage that rumour. We were overcome with wild passion and could not restrain ourselves.’

‘Lady Juliana,’ Martin said, a thread of steel in his tone, ‘if I hear for one moment that you are putting that story about I shall denounce it—and you—publicly.’

Juliana opened her eyes wide. ‘But this is all your fault, Mr Davencourt, with your ridiculous suspicions of me! Most young ladies would take advantage of their abduction to oblige you to marry them!’

Martin’s lips twitched. ‘Doing it too brown, Lady Juliana. I cannot imagine that you would wish to marry me even for a minute!’

‘No, of course not. But the very least you could do is permit me to use it to enhance my poor reputation.’

‘Certainly not.’

Juliana pouted. ‘Oh, you are so stuffy! But I suppose you are correct in one sense—no one would believe in a hundred years that I could possibly be attracted to you!’

They stared at one another for a long moment, but before Martin could respond there was the sound of voices and footsteps on the tiled floor of the hall. The door was flung open and a gentleman burst in.

‘Martin, I’ve—’ He stopped abruptly, looked from Martin to Juliana and back again. ‘I beg your pardon. I had thought you to be at the wedding, and when Liddington said that you were home I did not realise you had company.’

‘I was at the wedding and I do have company,’ Martin said. He smiled slightly. ‘Lady Juliana, may I make you known to my brother Brandon? Brandon, this is Lady Juliana Myfleet.’

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