A Midwinter's Scandal - A Novella Duet Page 8

  The other man snorted. “A little late for that, you arrogant blackguard. You’ve used Juliette like some sort of plaything, here solely for your amusement. You’ve pretended to enjoy her company, when we all know you do not.”

  “Michael!” the women exclaimed in unison. The implied slight to Juliette was unacceptable. He seemed momentarily chastened, but didn’t back down.

  “It has nothing to do with you, Juliette, but with the character of the man before us.”

  Sebastian tilted his head in a purposeful but subtly antagonizing manner. “Oh, I assure you, I have enjoyed her company immensely of late. Just as I look forward to enjoying it more in the future.”

  If it hadn’t been for his sister’s presence between them, Sebastian was certain Pickford would have hit him. It was enough for now. He had every confidence that the man was angry enough to make a mistake. And when he did, Sebastian would be waiting.

  Giving Juliette a reassuring smile, he said, “I’ll take my leave now. I hope to hear from you soon.”

  With a nod toward the scowling Miss Georgiana, he skirted around them and headed for the exit. He was more sure than ever that Michael had ruined their wedding, and he wouldn’t rest until he could prove it.

  And afterwards? He thought of Juliette and that ill-conceived but much-enjoyed kiss and frowned. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

  ***

  If there hadn’t been so much to do before the party, Juliette was certain she’d be confined to her bedchamber like a wayward child. Last night, Michael had been beyond furious, stomping around the house and chastising her again and again for her foolish actions.

  It was annoying, but it wasn’t terribly upsetting. No, it was her uncle’s palpable disappointment in her that had stung most. His normally kind eyes had been so serious, his mouth tense, his shoulders stooped. She had borne it as best she could, but she couldn’t help but feel as though she had let him down in the worst way. It was hard to know she had wounded the man she thought of as a second father.

  But there was a silver lining in all of it. There had been real chemistry in that kiss in the conservatory. She’d felt the sparks all the way down to her toes, and even now felt the familiar flutter in the pit of her stomach just thinking about it. It was impossible to think Sebastian had been unaffected by the moment. If her gamble paid off, if she could convince him of how well they suited, then all of this would have been worth it.

  “There you are,” Georgiana said, sailing into the Great Hall where Juliette was inspecting the seating arrangement for the discussions after the meal. With their world-renowned guests attending during their short visit to the city, nearly every member in the London Botanical Society who was within a fifty-mile radius would be in attendance. Uncle Gregory wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.

  “Here I am,” she said distractedly as she counted the number of chairs the servants had set up. Guests would be arriving within the hour, and she wanted everything to be perfect for her uncle’s big night. Even more so than usual, given his disappointment last night.

  Georgie followed her as she went to straighten a chair. “I have a question.”

  “Mm-hmm?”

  “Do you love him?”

  Juliette straightened so quickly, she momentarily went lightheaded. She grasped the back of the chair and gaped at her cousin. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it all day,” she answered, her eyes alight with the possibility. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him. You defend him if anything is said against him. And you let him kiss you.” She widened her eyes and leaned forward for emphasis. “Really kiss you. I nearly swooned when we walked in and saw the two of you tangled like lovers.”

  “Georgie!” Juliette’s cheeks flushed hot. “Don’t say things like that, for heaven’s sake. Your father would never let you leave the house again if he heard you talking like that.” Still, the words planted an image in her mind that wasn’t at all unwelcome.

  Her cousin’s grin was as irrepressible as ever. “Don’t try to avoid the question. Do. You. Love. Him?” She carefully enunciated the question, pinning Juliette with an unnervingly direct gaze.

  “Of course not,” Juliette said quickly, mortified to be having the conversation. For some reason, the very question of love made her heart thump madly within her chest. “I enjoy his company very much. And yes, I do find him to be quite handsome. It’s enough to know that we suit.”

  “Do you still want to marry him?”

  Juliette didn’t hesitate on that question. “Yes. Hence the kiss.”

  “I see,” her cousin said, nodding as her hands settled at her hips. “Well, in that case, I thought you should know that I give you my blessing.”

  As embarrassing as the whole conversation was, it was also very sweet. Still blushing, Juliette pulled Georgie into a quick hug. “Thank you for saying that. I’m surprised, though. Weren’t you the one who told me to close the door and lock it when it came to Sebastian?”

  Her cousin’s knowing smile was way beyond her years. “That was before I saw the way he looked at you yesterday.” With a wink, she turned and left, leaving Juliette staring after her in surprise.

  And more hopeful than she’d been in a very long time.

  ***

  The charade was over.

  Sebastian sat back, staring at the letter in his hand, hardly able to believe that the half-baked plan they’d devised had actually worked. Michael Pickford was, without doubt, the culprit after all.

  If it had just been the letter, which ranted about Sebastian’s despicable morals and demanded he stay away from Juliette or be called out to settle the matter like gentlemen, it might not have been enough.

  But Michael Pickford had made a critical mistake.

  What he hadn’t known was that Sebastian’s butler had an excellent memory. The man remembered every person who had ever come to the door, including the young footman who had delivered the fraudulent letter calling off the wedding last summer.

  The very same footman who had delivered Michael’s letter tonight.

  Tossing the paper on his desk, Sebastian rose and headed for the front door. It was time to confront the man who not only made a fool out of Sebastian, but who hurt Juliette as well.

  And that last part? That’s what the blackguard would really be sorry for.

  Chapter Eleven

  Juliette sighed in relief as she watched her uncle come alive with happiness as his guests laughed and talked over their perfectly domed soufflés. He’d been wound so tight today, she was afraid he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the event that he had been anticipating for weeks. He glanced up, caught her looking at him, and sent a quick wink before diving back into conversation.

  Thank heavens. She hated seeing him upset with her. Feeling a weight lifting from her shoulders, she relaxed and took a sip of her wine. She had been looking forward to talking with Phoebe Anson, who was about the only member of the group Juliette considered a friend, but shortly after arriving Phoebe had made her excuses and rushed away. That left an empty chair across from Juliette, which was a little awkward, but it was still pleasant to listen to the conversation going on around her.

  As she set down her glass, she noticed the butler hurrying her way, his expression one of extreme displeasure. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but your presence is required in the drawing room.”

  She didn’t press for details. If Ritter was pulling her away from the party, it must be something quite urgent. She excused herself as inconspicuously as possible. As soon as they were out of sight of the party guests, she turned to Ritter. “What is the matter?”

  “It’s Lord Haverstan, my lady.”

  “He’s here to see me? Now?” she asked, confusion clouding the words. What would possess him to come calling this late at night? She couldn’t remember if she had told him of the party or not, but either way, it was strange that he would come regardless.

  “No, not you, I’m afraid. H
e’s waiting for Mr. Michael Pickford.”

  Juliette’s heart dropped. Surely he wasn’t here to have it out with her cousin over the kiss. That would be ridiculous. “He . . . doesn’t have an appointment, does he?” If Michael had been the one to call him here, tonight of all nights, she’d have to have a very stern word with him.

  “No, Lord Haverstan said he wasn’t expected. I told him Mr. Pickford wasn’t at home, and he brushed by me and told me he’d wait. Most unusual behavior, if I may be so bold.”

  With a nod, she lifted her skirts and hurried to the drawing room. As she approached, she saw him before he noticed her coming. His face was like carved granite, his expression forbidding. Whatever had brought him here, he wasn’t happy about it.

  “Sebastian, what are you doing here?” They were far enough from the dining room that no one would hear, but still she spoke in a half-whisper.

  His head snapped up, but his expression didn’t soften. “I’m sorry to come unannounced, Juliette, but this is a matter between me and your cousin.”

  Unease flickered through her. Where was all the warmth she had grown accustomed to? “If it is a matter between you and anyone in my family, then it is a matter that involves me as well.”

  He took a long breath, his gaze falling to the floor for a moment. “It’s a matter between your cousin and me,” he said again softly, almost kindly. “I need to speak with him about a letter he sent today. There’s something that needs clarification.”

  Something was definitely wrong here. She crossed her arms, not even caring if she crushed the fine fabric of her evening gown. “If you think I’ll believe the two of you will be discussing horseflesh and boxing, you can think again.”

  “Actually, it’s about gambling.”

  That got her attention. “Gambling?”

  Was this somehow related to Nathaniel? She opened her mouth to ask more, but the rapid beat of footsteps on the marble made them both turn to the doorway, where Michael stalked their way.

  “Juliette,” Sebastian said quietly, snapping her attention back to him. “Please, I’d rather you allow us to speak in private.”

  He looked so sincere, so troubled, but that was what made her refuse his request. If something serious was going on here, she needed to know about it.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I should do that.”

  Michael entered then, his anger clearly evident, if tightly leashed as he went to stand by Juliette’s side. “Are you all right?”

  The question confused her. “Yes, of course. I just want to know what is going on.”

  “Apparently Haverstan has decided we must settle this situation like gentlemen.”

  Her heart nearly stopped in her chest. A duel?

  But Sebastian stepped forward, his gaze steely as he glared at Michael. “I have come to settle this, but not in the way you suppose.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two folded notes and tossed them at Michael.

  Her cousin, caught off guard, scrambled to catch them. He looked down at each before meeting Sebastian’s eyes again. “You came to bring back my letter? And what’s this?”

  “I came to bring back both your letters. The one you sent today, and that one would be the letter you sent this summer,” Sebastian said, watching Michael closely. “The letter intended to make me call off the wedding.”

  Her cousin straightened abruptly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And further, how dare you attempt to shift the blame for your own despicable decision.”

  Juliette couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Sebastian, you can’t think that Michael sent that letter. That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard!”

  Shaking his head slowly, Sebastian never took his attention from Michael. “I’ve suspected for quite some time, but it was only today that I finally had the proof I was looking for.”

  “Proof? What proof?” her cousin sputtered. “You’re mad as a hatter if you think I had anything to do with the wedding falling through.”

  Her ears started to ring, and she put a hand to the back of the sofa to steady herself. All of the progress they had made this week seemed to crumble before her eyes. Worse, he was determined to see her cousin blamed for this.

  “He’d never do such a thing. Why would he? He’s practically my brother.”

  “He may wish for you to think that, but the evidence shows otherwise. First,” Sebastian said, holding up a finger, “he’s as much a gambler as his brother Nathanial. It’s possible he’s hoping to snag your dowry for himself. Second,” he continued over her welling protest, “he has full familiarity with your handwriting. And third, he neglected to appreciate my butler’s almost legendary good memory.”

  It was such a strange point to make, Juliette didn’t even know what to say. Taking advantage of their momentary lack of response, Sebastian reached out and plucked the letters from Michael’s hands.

  “This letter,” he held up the one in her forged handwriting, “and this one,” the one in Michael’s handwriting was held aloft, “were both delivered by the same young footman wearing livery from this very house.”

  Juliette gasped, and was suddenly very glad for her hold on the back of the sofa. For the first time, she turned to Michael with dread in her heart. “Please say you didn’t send the letter.” She didn’t believe he would have done such a thing. Couldn’t believe it, really.

  He shook his head, looking utterly bewildered. “I don’t even know what you are talking about.”

  She wanted to believe him. But . . . the letter had to have come from their home. How else could they have both been delivered by the same person? “If it wasn’t you, then who? Georgie? Uncle Gregory? The butler, for heaven’s sake?” She shook her head, tears coming to her eyes. “I don’t want it to be you, or anyone I love. I don’t want to think that any of you could have wanted to hurt me so badly.”

  Sebastian stepped toward her, but she held out her hand. He was bringing this accusation to her home. She couldn’t believe he had suspected Michael all this time and had never breathed a word of it to her.

  Had he been using her this whole time?

  Michael’s brows crashed together, frustration written across his face. “I didn’t do anything other than to call this man out for his appalling behavior. I don’t even know what the bloody hell you two are talking about!”

  The curse seemed to echo in the air, and it was then that she became aware of a noise in the corridor. She glanced over her shoulder to see several guests arrested en route to the Great Hall. Her uncle stood among them, his face pale in the flickering lamplight.

  After a too-long moment of silence, he cleared his throat and gestured toward the doorway to the adjacent hall. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. Mr. Whithers will be our first presenter tonight.”

  After a few moments of herding the group into the Great Hall, he quickly hurried to the drawing room, his cane thumping loudly against the marble floor. “What the devil is this all about? We are in the middle of a party, for pity’s sake.”

  Juliette couldn’t have felt more horrible for ruining his important night. This was all her fault, bringing Sebastian back into their lives.

  Michael spread his arms, his pale green eyes flashing. “I’m being accused of something I don’t even understand. Apparently they believe I singlehandedly managed to ruin their wedding. Interesting, since I distinctly recall Haverstan doing that all on his own.”

  “You wrote the letter that caused me to call off the wedding,” Sebastian ground out, holding up the missive in question. “You can try to weasel out of this all you want, but I now know it was you, and I won’t rest until you are ruined before the eyes of the ton, just as you tried to do to your cousin and me.”

  “It wasn’t me!” Michael nearly shouted.

  Juliette snapped upright at that, anger and upset solidifying her resolve. “You can’t ruin him, Sebastian.”

  “I can—”

  “No, you can not. If you ruin him, you r
uin me all over again.” She put a hand to her chest, over a heart that didn’t even feel like it was beating anymore. “Only this time, there will be no doubt that you intended to hurt me.”

  God, the hurt. Her chest felt empty, but painful all at once. How had she not realized that he was using her all this time? That he only wanted to make her family suffer, no matter how much she was hurt in the process? It was as if she never knew him at all.

  “That’s not true.” Sebastian shook his head, but there was no real fight in it. “We just follow the original plan. Your cousin is revealed to be the villain in this whole mess, and you can have the pleasure of publically kicking me to the curb, if you like. Justice is served, reputations restored.”

  Uncle Gregory held up his hand, instantly halting the argument. “You cannot blame Michael for this. He has done nothing wrong.”

  “With all due respect, Pickford, you don’t know what you are talking about. I have proof that he set out to break our betrothal, and I intend to discredit his name just as he has discredited mine.”

  Grey eyebrows lifted halfway up her uncle’s brow. “I know exactly what I am talking about. I know that my son didn’t forge that letter because I did.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Silence reigned for several moments, all of them too shocked to react immediately to Uncle Gregory’s declaration. Juliette stared at him, hardly able to believe the words that had come from his mouth.

  “No,” she whispered, her hand at her throat. “No, you’re just saying that. You wouldn’t do such a thing.” Of course he would say whatever it took to protect his son. He hadn’t done it. He couldn’t have—he loved her too much to ever do something so horrible to her.

  But he just shook his head as he stared back at her, sadness plain in the depths of his eyes. “I would, and I did. It was best for all involved, my dear.”

  Michael shoved a hand through his hair. “Why?” he demanded, his voice slightly hoarse. “How could ruining Juliette’s name possibly have been for the best?”

  Leaning heavily on his cane, her uncle made his way to the nearest chair and sank down onto the cushions. He looked older, as though he’d aged years in the space of minutes. “I never thought Haverstan was going to follow through with the marriage. He let you wait for years. You were practically on the shelf, despite the betrothal agreement.