The Rake's Redemption Read online

  Her foolish plan to ensnare Dominic in spite, and teach him a long overdue lesson in humility, had been forgotten in the face of his kindness and consideration during Ben’s illness.

  She only wished she understood him better, for certainly they would soon be related. Lord Rodney had barely touched his supper tonight, and to a man who so obviously enjoyed his food, that could only mean he was in love or ailing. No one watching him gaze at Sophia would have any doubt as to the cause.

  Mingling in the noisy crowd, Juliana eagerly drank in the unfamiliar sights and sounds of Vauxhall. She chose the Grand Cross Walk, which traversed the whole garden and turned onto the South Walk, to more closely examine the triumphal arches. Heady with the freedom she thought she had left behind in Berkshire, she wandered too far. Finally she realized she was quite alone. No other patrons had ventured beyond the last lighted arch. She rapidly retraced her steps, relieved not to encounter any stragglers. But her luck ran out; a group of boisterous young men, who had obviously been dipping at the bottle, blocked the walkway. Quickly ducking down a smaller, less lighted path, she thought to avoid them by circling back to the Grenville box. She knew that being alone at night was unthinkable for a lady of quality and at Vauxhall it was an invitation practiced by the fashionable impures. She could find herself in quite a fix.

  Studying the many dimly lit pathways that wove their way through the darkness, she finally decided on a way that should, according to her sense of direction, bring her back to the well-lit and crowded thoroughfare.

  This path was narrower, and overhanging branches made it seem very dark. Low bushes caught at her gown, and she had to stop once to untangle a vine that had somehow wrapped itself about her ankle. A few minutes more of wandering this thickly overgrown and dimly lit path forced her to admit she had made a dreadful error. She was not going in the right direction at all. The music was becoming fainter and the lamps were so far apart, she was more often in darkness than in their pools of light.

  She stopped, trying to still her ragged breathing, and heard a rustle as if someone was hurriedly pushing aside the closely growing bushes behind her. Forcing herself to turn and look, she bit her lip, stopping a cry of fear, for a large shadow moved through the greater darkness.

  Twirling around, she quickened her steps, moving deeper and deeper into the gardens. Heat warmed her cheeks and her breasts pushed against the bodice of her gown, for her breath came in deep painful gasps. Fear of what could so easily occur if she met a man in this dark, out-of-the-way place spurred her on.

  Suddenly in front of her, out of the darkness, loomed a ruined temple. Rescue! Slipping inside, she looked around for somewhere to hide herself, but all the ruin contained was a stone bench and piles of dead leaves scattered about the floor. The stone wall seeped cold into her heated flesh as she pressed herself up against it and held her breath. Had she been quick enough? Had her pursuer seen her enter? Even as these thoughts came to her, a tall figure stepped into the moonlit doorway. Juliana’s heart plummeted and for the first time in her life, she knew real terror.

  Carefully, she backed several steps before turning to edge deeper into the shadows. She closed her eyes, momentarily relying on her childhood belief that if she couldn’t see, she couldn’t be seen. A pair of strong male arms grasped her waist and she screamed, struggling and kicking desperately at her assailant.

  “Juliana, you’re all right now!”

  Incredibly through her haze of fear she heard the vibrant voice of the Marquis of Aubrey. Finally realizing that the arms that held her were Dominic’s, she sobbed with relief and twisted around to fall into his embrace.

  “Oh, Dominic, I was so frightened. I thought…” Unable to say the words, her voice broke. “I don’t know what I thought.”

  Dominic pulled her close, holding her lightly in the haven of his arms. The hammering of her heart began to quiet, but not to its normal pace. And as the fear subsided a more potent emotion filled its place.

  Her cheek rested against the soft ruffles of his evening shirt and her hands were curled in fists near his shoulders. Relaxing her fingers until her palms were flat against the warm brocade of his jacket, she pushed herself slowly back until she could look into his eyes. She felt a tensing of his arms across her back.

  The air thinned when she took it into her lungs, making her suddenly breathless. Her body felt weightless where it rested along the length of his; weightless yet tingling with sensations. The caress of his jacket beneath her hands, the softness of his shirt pressing her breasts, the hard length of his thighs against hers: there in the dark she experienced touch in a way she had never done before. No, that was not true, she had felt this way once before: in Mrs. Forbes’s garden filled with the echo of Romany music. It was like music: this feeling racing through her blood. She had longed to feel this again—with Dominic.

  She remained absolutely still when Dominic raised his hands lightly onto her shoulders. “Don’t be frightened, Juliana.” It was the voice he had used in the garden, full of longing and desire. “Beautiful Juliana.”

  Coaxing her closer into his embrace with light urgings of his hands, his lips touched her forehead, her eyelids, the curve of her cheek, leaving a scorching trail on her moist, warm skin before, at last, he brought his mouth down upon hers. Cool and dry, he brushed his lips back and forth slowly until with a moan he covered her open mouth. Out of the darkness and the fear such an aching need filled her that she sobbed aloud.

  They melded together. Each finely muscular inch of his body imprinted against her softness, and she felt how much he desired her. Strangely it did not frighten her, instead she felt exhilaration that he should want her so.

  Their lips met again in a clinging kiss, deep and passionate, and she was embracing him tightly, as if she couldn’t get close enough.

  Whispering her name, his face buried at the side of her neck where her curls lay tangled, his deft fingers loosened the straps of her gown until her breasts were half exposed in the dim light. A thrill shook her as his mouth followed.

  “You’re so perfect,” he breathed against her softness.

  It was as if in this time and place there were no rules, no promises made, but only the discovery and joy that with this man she could feel as she had never felt before. She wanted it to go on and on.

  The crackling of dead leaves crushed under foot, warned her an instant before a man coughed. “Ah, here you are, Juliana. Lady Grenville noticed your absence and sent me to find you.”

  Juliana tore herself out of Dominic’s arms and spun around to find Jules lounging against the stone entrance to the temple.

  Dominic caught her wrist in a painful grip and pushed her behind him. From somewhere, Juliana’s senses returned, consuming her with shame.

  The faint moonlight filtering into the ruin cast a pale aura about each man, causing Dominic’s eyes to sparkle like sapphires and Jule’s to glow with dark embers. The waves of anger from these two brothers pierced through her own deluge of shame and confusion.

  “Don’t make this more of a farce than it already is, Jules.” Dominic’s ragged voice was cold and flat, removing the last vestige of softness around Juliana’s heart. “What is this game you are playing?”

  Jules shrugged, his thin lips curving. “It is not I who am playing … games, dear brother. I have simply come to chaperon the lovely Juliana back to the box before you are both in the suds.”

  His words stung her, but Juliana drew herself up with pride and stepped around Dominic to confront his brother.

  “Thank you, Comte. It was foolish of me to slip away from the supper box for a stroll. I am only relieved it was you and the marquis who rescued me,” she continued, determined to diffuse the embarrassing moment. Now, if Jules would only cooperate.

  Laughing softly, Jules reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “It is my pleasure. Now, we return to the bo
x and inform the others that Dominic took you on a short tour of the gardens. A bit rude not to include Charlotte, but he’ll be forgiven. I will say I found you and joined in the stroll. Do you agree, Dominic?”

  Relieved, Juliana tilted her head to gaze back at Dominic. He had remained perfectly still, his hands in tight fists at his side. He did not look at her, instead his eyes concentrated on his brother. To her dismay his face became the one of her nightmares.

  “Mon frère, this time you are right,” he mocked quietly.

  Lady Grenville’s fan snapped shut. Sophia and Rodney, lost in a private conversation of eyes, had stopped paying attention to her monologue some twenty minutes before when Jules had excused himself to greet acquaintances. Charlotte, forced to listen to her mother’s diatribe against Juliana, had retreated to that private place in her mind she reserved for just these occasions.

  “Charlotte, let this be a lesson to you.” Lady Grenville’s fan tapped the table, punctuating every word. “I knew we shouldn’t have invited that woman. She’s always doing something to draw attention to herself. Now it appears both Dominic and Jules have gone after her, and you are left here without an escort.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she swung around to a figure sitting well back in the shadows of the box. “Well, Sir Alfred? What have you to say to this?”

  Whatever reply might have issued from this corner was effectively cut off by Charlotte.

  “Mama. Here they are now. And Juliana … seems fine.”

  Lady Grenville’s eyes narrowed with displeasure when Juliana approached. Jules had her hand tucked carefully in the crook of his arm and was animatedly describing the pigeons in Venice’s St. Mark’s Square. Very little of Juliana’s composure had returned, but she was struggling to appear as natural as possible. Dominic, as always contemptuous of appearances, paced beside them, anger evident in every muscle.

  “Ah, Lady Grenville. Such a lovely outing. Juliana has been delighting me with her observations on the crowd.”

  “Where have you…”

  “Mama,” Charlotte hurriedly broke in. “Perhaps the Comte and Dominic would like a port after their long walk. Could you get a waiter?”

  Juliana sank into her chair between Lord Rodney and the empty space where Sir Alfred should have been, grateful to Charlotte for stepping in so adroitly. She knew Charlotte had not been deceived for a moment and was giving her an instant to recover herself before the full onslaught of Lady Grenville’s questions would begin.

  The port arrived and Lord Rodney roused himself to pronounce it very tolerable.

  “Don’t toss it down that way, my boy,” he addressed Dominic. “Port should be rolled over the tongue, to savor it.”

  “Just so, my dear,” approved Aunt Sophia. She turned to Juliana. “Did you have a pleasant stroll?”

  The safest answer was to stay close to the truth Juliana thought. “Unfortunately, I wandered off on a side path and became confused.”

  “Hmph! I knew it,” crowed Lady Grenville. “Sophia, you are a lamentable chaperon!”

  “But it was quite alright, Lady Grenville,” Juliana added quickly. “Dominic and Jules came and found me before I was quite lost.” She looked at Jules and smiled at his bland expression. Although she tried not to, she couldn’t keep her gaze from Dominic’s face and then wished she could find the strength to look away, for not even in her worst dreams had his face been this hard mask.

  Hours later, within the safety of her bedchamber at last, Juliana dropped to her knees beside her bed, laying her cheek against the smooth coolness of the satin spread. Exhausted from the strain of pretending that nothing had changed, when in reality her life had changed forever, she closed her eyes, forcing her mind to go back … back to the past. To Will.

  A terrible sadness swelled painfully in her chest. Will … his boyish face … the unruly halo of ebony curls … That last day before he left for the Peninsula he had been so happy. So carefree. He rode away from the Willows eagerly, as if off to a parade.

  She had tried to bear bravely the months of worry and loneliness, busying herself between responsibility at the Willows and at Wentworth Park, for their lands marched together. Her only pleasure, her weakness, was to ride beside the stream which divided their land, for it brought back such sweet memories of Will.

  Will … who she would never see again. She’d never forget the look on his father’s face when the formal letter from the War Office was delivered by a young officer. Nor ever forget the torment that burned within her when she finally realized Will, who had been part of her life forever, was gone, forever.

  She had tried to ease Sir Timothy’s grief but had failed, being a constant reminder that she had not conceived during the brief marriage. Only once did he remark, “if there was to be a child, we would still have Will,” but she saw it in his eyes every time he looked at her. The hurt and guilt nearly drove her to return to her home. But then Sir Timothy fell ill, and there was nothing she could do but stay beside his bed, grasping his hand as he talked of his son. Day after day until the last day, when finally, he had asked for her promise to remain faithful to Will’s love and she had given it.

  She opened her eyes, tears flowing down her cheeks, and looked at the locket laying in the palm of her hand. She opened it. Sir Timothy had bequeathed his dark eyes and unruly curls to his son. But there was a sweetness to Will’s smile that his father had never possessed.

  “I will never forget you, Will. You will always have a place in my heart.” Sobbing, she wiped her wet cheeks with a corner of her gown. “I’m horrible … horrible! I allowed him to kiss me … touch me … dear God … I wanted him! Forgive me, Will … please!” Shaking, she flung herself upon the bed twisting the bedcovers in her knotted fists while she wept. She cried for Will, who had been too young to die, for Sir Timothy, whom she had disappointed, and for herself.

  It was a very long time before she could stop sobbing. She had dropped off to sleep for a short while, but had awakened again to her own muffled cries. At last her tears did stop, and she had to face the realization that she had broken her promise to Sir Timothy. Her plan for a safe future with a man who would never touch her heart, never have the power to hurt her again was shattered. She could never give herself to such a man, for the unthinkable had happened.

  She had thought she would never love again, and surely this was as different from her feelings for Will as night from day; but it was love.

  Pushing back the crumpled covers, she rose from the bed and went to the window to watch the first faint pink light beginning the new day. She was in love with the Marquis of Aubrey. In love with the greatest rake in the ton. A shameless flirt! And she loved him! He confused her, had hurt her, but he wanted her. She had seen it at the inn. And last night, would she ever be able to forget last night? She had wanted him, too. She had never felt so alive. Her body trembled now just remembering.

  Moving away from the windows she went to the dressing table. Pulling open a drawer, she lifted out her jewel case.

  “Good-bye, sweet Will. I shall never forget you. But it is time to put away the past.”

  Straightening her shoulders, she resolutely placed the locket in the ease and slowly closed the top.

  Jules had nearly given up his search for Dominic when he made one last visit to White’s near dawn and found him, in the library of all places, sprawled in a wing chair, a cup of coffee cooling between his palms.

  Jules seated himself across the table and waited until Dominic lifted his heavy eyelids and sneered at him.

  “Go away, Jules.”

  Flicking an invisible speck of lint from his trousers, Jules surveyed his younger brother. “Why are you carrying on so? All you did was steal a kiss from the chit in the moonlight,” he drawled.

  That must have struck a nerve for Dominic’s sleepy eyes hardened. “I repeat. Go away, Jules,
before I forget you are my brother.”

  “But, mon-frère, I thought that was exactly what you have been trying to forget for the past ten years.” At Dominic’s silence, Jules leaned across the table, pressing his advantage. “Why have you returned every letter unopened? We were in Brussels at the same time three years ago. When I called at your rooms, your man said you had left the city.”

  “I did not wish to see you. Then or now,” Dominic stated flatly.

  “You must listen to me and learn the truth. For the love we once shared. Why can’t you see that honor demands it?”

  “Honor!” Dominic snarled, leaning close to him. “I have no honor left!”

  This time it was Jules who retreated back into the depths of the chair. “Dominic, stop being a fool. You might not have been interested in my whereabouts, but I have followed yours quite closely. You were Wellington’s fair-haired boy on the Peninsula. Still are, according to reports, which is probably why Lord Bristol and the Duke of Monmouth have been urging you to take your seat in the House of Lords. You were a hero according to the dispatches.”

  “Your sources are wrong, Jules. The real heroes died in the stinking mud of the Peninsula.” Dominic rose to his feet, but before he could turn away, Jules played his first card.

  “I have come back to pay my debt for what happened the night Leticia and Charles died.”

  Ten years had passed, but his brother’s eyes were the same startling blue, colored with pain, that had stared at him across the two newly dug graves.

  “You are mad to remind me of that night.” Challenge laced Dominic’s words as he placed his palms on the table and leaned toward Jules. “You want to talk about that night; the night I discovered that we had not escaped our parent’s taint after all.” Dominic laughed bitterly. “Yes, I always knew what she was, although you tried to hide it from me. My big brother protecting the young heir from the truth! That my father was a drunk and our mother a wanton who…”