A Midwinter's Scandal - A Novella Duet Page 9

  “The living stipend the trust paid to us became . . . normal. Expected. The conservatory went far over budget, but it was all right, because I knew the quarterly payments would make up the difference.”

  If she thought she knew pain before, she was sorely mistaken. The implications of his words were like a series of knives to her ribs. “You ruined my marriage prospects for money?”

  His moss-green eyes implored her to listen, to understand. “When Haverstan finally announced his intention to marry you, I wasn’t happy, but it never occurred to me to stop it. I knew that because of my overreach, Georgiana’s dowry would be raided and we’d have to scale things back considerably, but we could still make it. I was sad that you’d have to endure a loveless marriage, but that was reality.”

  “So what changed your mind?” Sebastian asked, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. Anger? Disappointment? Bitterness? Juliette didn’t know which, nor did she care just then.

  “Nathaniel. He lost so much on the turn of a card. Without your living stipend, we’d be bankrupt. Ruined.” Uncle Gregory bowed his head. “Then, the solution seemed so clear. I thought I could rescue him from debtor’s prison, you from marriage to a man who only cared for himself, and the whole family from financial and social ruin. And it worked.”

  The last sentence was said simply, unemotionally. As though she hadn’t just spent the last eight months in virtual exile. But then again, if what he said was true, wouldn’t the rest of them be in exile now?

  She shook her head, blinking to see through the building tears. “You should have told me. I could have continued to give you the money once we were married. I could have given you as much as you needed.”

  Her uncle’s watery eyes lifted to hers. “You might have wanted to, but I doubt your husband would have allowed it. He’d already shown so little concern for you and our family. It was wrong. I know it was wrong, but at the time, I felt that I didn’t have a choice. It was the lesser of the evils.”

  Juliette dragged her gaze from his and looked to her former betrothed. He’d been wrong about Michael, but the truth was even worse. The man she had thought of as a father figure had betrayed her, and she couldn’t even find it within her to be furious just then. What would she have done, given the same choices? It was impossible to say. Impossible to judge.

  “There,” she said, her voice gritty with emotion “You have your culprit. You have your pound of flesh, if you’ll accept my ruination as such. Forget our plan. You can be the one to walk away again. You should be the one to walk away,” she amended. It didn’t matter. Nothing could hurt her more than the truth of what had happened.

  His eyes were so conflicted, she could almost believe he cared. “No, I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. Walk away. Now. The mystery has been solved, and you are now free to go back to your life.”

  He moved to take her arm, but she swiftly stepped back. “Please! Please, just leave us be.”

  He looked between the three of them, more serious than she had ever seen him. Finally, he gave a small nod, deposited the letters on the sofa table beside her, and walked away.

  She didn’t watch him go. She didn’t look at her uncle or cousin. She simply closed her eyes and tried not to give in to the wall of emotion threatening to crash down upon her head.

  “Go,” she whispered when neither of them made a move. Without a word, they did as she commanded.

  Within moments, she was alone in the room. More than that. For the first time in her life, she really knew what it was to be alone in the world. No matter what happened after this night, one thing was certain: Life would never again be the same.

  ***

  There was no satisfaction for Sebastian.

  From the very moment he had discovered the deception, he had wanted the wrongdoer caught, named, and shamed. He’d wanted the person to pay for the pain and humiliation they had caused both Juliette and Sebastian.

  But this? This outcome was the worst case scenario. The look on Juliette’s face when her uncle confessed was something he’d never forget. She’d been battered tonight in a way he’d never expected, and sure as hell never wanted. She didn’t deserve that level of betrayal.

  Neither did he, but in this, he was merely collateral damage.

  Worst of all, he found he couldn’t even be angry with the man. The truth of his words cut at him. He was right; it would have been a loveless marriage. He was also right that Sebastian had kept Juliette waiting years longer than any gentleman should, for the pathetic reason of defying his father. It sounded incredibly juvenile, now that he examined it.

  Pickford hadn’t even touched on Sebastian’s true guilt in the matter: He had wanted a way out. He hadn’t wanted to marry Juliette; he had simply been following the path laid out for him. He should have paid more attention to his future bride. He should have gone to see her when he received that damned note and demanded an explanation in person. He shouldn’t have washed his hands of her the very first chance he got.

  Though he’d never admitted it up until that very moment, he carried the lion’s share of guilt.

  Juliette had been little more than a pawn in all this. He scrubbed a hand over his face, rubbing hard at his tired eyes. She didn’t deserve any of this. If he had taken five minutes to foster their relationship, he would have seen what a lovely person she truly was. He would have seen that they did, in fact, suit.

  He would have seen that he could fall in love with her.

  He knew that now, because that’s exactly what had happened, somewhere along the way. How had he been so blind all this time? Because of his own selfishness and stupidity, Juliette was suffering more than he could bear.

  He stood and began to pace, his movements anxious and abrupt. He had to fix this. He had no idea how, but by Jove, he had to think of something. Both their futures depended on it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cold, over-bright sunlight flooded Juliette’s bedchamber when she finally opened her eyes mid-morning. She’d barely slept last night, finally drifting off near dawn. She’d turned everything over and over in her mind, trying to understand it, trying to figure out what to do next. Coming up blank for all but a few of those nagging questions.

  She didn’t hate Uncle Gregory. She was so very disappointed in the choices that led to his decision to write the letter, but she could at least see the dilemma he had faced. She couldn’t condone it, but hating him was beyond her.

  She didn’t hate Sebastian, either. He had never lied about his feelings for her. He had lied by omission, and she was still upset about the way he’d used her, but he had been betrayed in all this as well.

  But she couldn’t carry on as she had. She couldn’t continue to live here, though she would allow the stipend from her trust to continue to help her family. Despite what her uncle had done, they were her family and she would keep them from ruin if she could.

  As a woman of independent means, there was no reason why she couldn’t buy a home for herself somewhere outside of London and live a quiet, happy life. She sighed and rubbed her temples. Quiet she could do. It was the happy she wasn’t so sure of.

  A soft knock on the door preceded it opening, and Georgiana stepped into the room and crossed to her bed. Her normally glowing green eyes where subdued, her expression one of great concern. “Michael told me what happened. How are you?”

  Juliette couldn’t even muster a laugh for such an impossible question. “I think it best I don’t answer that question.”

  “Right. Of course. Oh Juliette, I’m so dreadfully sorry.” She leaned down and wrapped her arms around Juliette’s shoulders in an embrace strong enough to squeeze the air from her lungs.

  After a moment, Juliette pulled back. “Thank you for your comfort, Georgie. I appreciate the sentiment.”

  “I just hope you know that I love you. Now then,” she said, plopping down on the bed beside her, “I think it best that you have some time to clear your head a little. How about a short walk? I think
getting away from the house will do you good.”

  Juliette started to refuse, but then realized that it was exactly what she needed. She felt as though the walls of the townhome were closing in on her. It didn’t feel like home anymore. “I think you’re right. I’ll meet you downstairs in half an hour.”

  Thirty minutes later, Juliette breathed a sigh of relief when they were able to escape the house without running into either her uncle or Michael. She just wasn’t quite ready to face either one of them.

  Georgiana held her peace for once, walking in silence by Juliette’s side. At half past eleven, the streets were bustling with vendors and businessmen, and the park was moderately busy, given the cold temperature. Georgie led them down the path to the Serpentine, keeping the pace brisk.

  As they emerged from the tree-lined path onto the waterfront walkway, she was surprised to find a small fire burning beside one of the benches. A man stood beside it, dressed in dark clothes, his hat pulled low over his brow. Juliette stumbled to a stop, her breath catching in her throat. Sebastian.

  She started to back up, to turn around, but Georgie held her in place. “Listen to him, Jules. Trust me.”

  Betrayed once again by her family. Holding herself as stiff as a board, she glared at him and said, “What do you want?”

  He looked up at her, his blue eyes troubled. Purple half-moons smudged the skin beneath his eyes, and his cravat was less than tidy. “One minute of your time. After that, I’ll do whatever you wish, even if it means never coming near you again.”

  She crossed her arms. “Can’t we just start with that?” But she allowed her cousin to walk her closer to the fire. She hated that her heart ached to see him so haggard-looking, but she just couldn’t help it.

  That little crooked smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “One minute, please.”

  Sighing, she sat on the bench and stared back at him expectantly. Why must they do this? Couldn’t she just be left alone to lick her wounds in peace?

  He came to kneel in front of her, just a few feet from where the little fire crackled and popped. “I’m sorry. I treated you so unfairly for so long, and I deeply, deeply regret that.”

  He lifted a packet from the bench beside her and pulled out several pieces of paper. Holding up all but one of them, he said, “This is our betrothal contract. It was written by our fathers, and disrespected by me. It represents all the things I resented about my father, as well as my own failings as a gentleman.

  “I gave up on it the first chance I got. I didn’t ask questions, I didn’t challenge the reasons, I simply threw up my hands and walked away. Your uncle couldn’t have made me do something I didn’t want to do, and for that I am deeply sorry.”

  He held up the betrothal contract, raised his brows, and tossed it on the fire. She gasped aloud, shocked despite herself.

  “That packet of papers caused more harm than good. I refuse to be bound by other people’s choices ever again.”

  She pressed her eyes closed for a moment. Why was he putting her through this? When she opened them, she saw that he was holding the other piece of paper out to her.

  “This is something I spent all night tracking down. This represents how I feel about you now. It represents the person you’ve helped me to become, and the person I hope to always be. More important, it represents my choice. I only hope it will represent yours as well.”

  Cautiously, suspiciously, she accepted the paper. She looked at the scrawling calligraphy and the bold print, the official-looking seal and a handful of words that leapt off the page. Archbishop. License. Matrimony. Her heart began to pound, and she looked up at him in shock. “A special license?”

  He nodded. “I want to marry you, Juliette Trent. I was so wrong to think we didn’t suit. In the past week, I saw what I’ve been blind to for half my life: You are my perfect match. And I find, much to my delight, that I have fallen in love with you.”

  Her mouth actually dropped open. He loved her? After all that had happened, how could that be?

  He put a hand to her knee and continued. “But after all that you have been through, I want the choice to be yours as well. You know what I want, but what do you want?” He tapped the edge of the license, then tipped his head toward the fire. “If you want to toss it in the fire, I will respect your decision. But let me ask you, with earnestness in my soul and hope in my heart, will you do me the great honor of consenting to be my wife?”

  She stared down at the license, amazed that he would go through so much trouble and expense for her. He was handing her the power to choose. To decide her own fate, which was more than either her father or uncle had done. Deliberately, with sure movements, she carefully folded the paper in thirds. Leaning forward, she pulled open Sebastian’s greatcoat and tucked it into the inside pocket.

  “Yes, Sebastian Holmes, I will consent to be your wife. But I feel it must be noted,” she said, leaning forward until their lips almost touched, “that I loved you first.”

  He laughed and pulled her in for a passionate kiss, right there in the middle of Hyde Park, with Georgiana cheering beside them.

  In that moment, she knew that no matter what, they’d figure out a way to work things out with her family. She pledged that they would live by honesty from now on, and that no one would have to guess what she wanted in life.

  Of course, right then, there was only one thing that came to mind: She wanted Sebastian, now and for the rest of her life.

  About the Author

  Despite being an avid reader and closet writer her whole life, Erin Knightley decided to pursue a sensible career in science. It was only after earning her BS and working in the field for years that she realized doing the sensible thing wasn’t any fun at all. Following her dreams, Erin left her practical side behind and hasn’t looked back. Now USA Today Bestselling author, she is living her own Happily Ever After in North Carolina with her tall, dark, and handsome husband and their three spoiled mutts.

  Join her on Twitter, Facebook, or at www.ErinKnightley.com

  Books by Erin Knightley

  The SEALED WITH A KISS Series

  More Than a Stranger

  A Taste for Scandal

  Flirting With Fortune

  Miss Mistletoe (novella)

  The PRELUDE TO A KISS Series

  The Baron Next Door

  The Earl I Adore

  The Duke Can Go to the Devil

  The Viscount Risks It All

  The ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE Novella Series

  Ruined by a Rake

  Scandalized by a Scoundrel

  Deceived by a Duke

  Vexed by a Viscount

  Loving Lady Dervish

  A Midwinter’s Scandal Novella

  Heather Snow

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Loving Lady Dervish

  Copyright © 2016 by Heather Snow

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

  Chapter One

  London, February 3, 1814

  “This is madness,” Phoebe muttered as she stepped out onto the frozen surface of the Thames. And it was, for oh so many reasons. She could scarce afford to take time away from her illustrations right now. Lord Pickford’s symposium was only six days away. Every petal, pistil, anther and filament had to be properly drawn, colored, and labeled. Every brushstroke had to be perfect. Her very future was riding upon it.

  And even if she had nothing else pressing, was it truly sane to tempt nature this way? Hundreds of Londoners were currently frolicking upon what had been—until only the past few days—a treacherous icy sludge. She wasn’t certain she wanted to lend her mass to such a foolish endeavor. With her luck, she’d be the proverbial straw that broke the cam
el’s back, sending them all to a freezing watery death.

  Curse Mr. Jones for driving her to flee Mayfair for this arctic deathtrap.

  Still, even she had to admit that it was not her impromptu escape to the Frost Fair that called her sanity into question.

  No. Once her little scandal broke, she would be hard pressed to find a person in all of Christendom who wouldn’t think her mad.

  She might even have to agree with them.

  Phoebe pulled her mantle tighter around her shoulders and joined the throng making their way eagerly toward the carnivalesque “city” that had sprung up overnight on the ice.

  Perhaps she’d be able to find Juliette and Georgiana in the crowd and join them yet. Though she’d declined their invitation, it had been a lifeline when she’d arrived home to find Mr. Jones’ carriage in the mews. She’d sent her lady’s maid inside with her precious portfolio and a hastily scrawled note to her father claiming she’d gone along with Lady Juliette’s party.

  Then she’d bolted.

  And now, here she was, adrift in a frozen sea of colorful flags, tents, and booths with people of all classes—mingling, playing games, and in general making merry.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoooaaaa—”

  Phoebe whipped around to see a man flailing his arms like the vanes of a windmill as his feet scrabbled for purchase on the ice. He went down quickly, landing on his bottom with a rather painful-sounding thwack. The metal cup he’d been holding skittered across the slippery surface with a series of tings before her boot stopped it.

  “Oh...” Phoebe winced in sympathy, but the man rolled onto his back, chortling with laughter and...hiccupping? She looked down at the cup at her feet. The sharp sting of spirits wafted up from the clear liquid seeping out onto the ice.