Vice

gestured that she should precede him up the stairs.

Juliana hesitated, then acquiesced, reasoning that she couldn't give full rein to her own outrage in front of the butler. The duke might consider he had a grievance, but she had one as well.

She marched up the stairs and threw open the door of her bedchamber, swinging round to face him as he entered behind her. He slammed the door and, before she could open her mouth, took her by the shoulders and shook her. 'Just look at you, Juliana. You look as if you've been dragged through a hedge backward. You're a disgraceful sight.' He propelled her toward the cheval glass. 'Take a look at yourself! Anyone would think you'd been rolling in a ditch with a farmhand!'

Juliana was so taken aback by this seemingly irrelevant attack that she couldn't speak for a minute. She stared at her image in the glass. Her hair was tumbling loose around her shoulders, bits of fluff and what looked like straw clinging to the curls. Her gown was covered in dust and woolen fibers and what were clearly horse hairs. Her face was smudged with dirt.

She found her voice. 'What do you expect me to look like after I've been manhandled by that oaf, rolled in a stinking horse blanket, and half suffocated? And whose fault is it, I should like to know? You let me walk into his trap.' Her voice shook with renewed anger. 'You're an unmitigated whoreson!' She rubbed the side of her hand over her mouth, trying to rid her tongue and lips of still- clinging threads of blanket hair.

'So George is responsible for your state! Dear God, you are an incorrigible chit!' Tarquin exclaimed. 'He does what he's been threatening to do for weeks because you almost invite him to, and then you dare blame me for your reckless stupidity.'

'Yes, I do,' she cried. 'Ted was following me all morning. You read Lucy's letter and you knew where I was going, and you told Ted to let George abduct me.'

'Oh, now wait a minute!' His hands closed hard over her shoulders again. 'Hold your tongue and listen to me. You deliberately exposed yourself to a danger that you knew was out there. You deliberately chose to evade the protection I had provided for you. You did the same with Lucien, and though I'm willing to accept some share of the blame there, I will not shoulder any responsibility for this morning! Do you hear me?' He shook her in vigorous emphasis.

'Maybe I did underestimate George, but you aided and abetted him,' Juliana stated, aware, to her fury, that tears were starting in her eyes. 'You're a treacherous cur!' She sniffed and dashed a hand across her eyes. 'Of all the heartless, vile, despicable things to do. You let me walk into George's trap. You let me be frightened and manhandled. You let me think I was in danger when I wasn't.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' he said impatiently. 'I had no idea George was on the scene this morning. I knew only that you were planning some expedition with Dennison's girls. I didn't tell you I knew because I rather hoped that your better judgment would prevail. When it didn't, I sent Ted after you. I never tell Ted how to do his job. His instructions were to see that no harm came to you and to bring you back, when I intended to make my feelings known to you in no uncertain terms. How he accomplished his task was his business.'

Juliana swallowed, her anger doused as effectively as a fire with a bucket of water. 'You didn't tell him to let me be kidnapped?'

'No, of course I didn't. But he obviously thought you needed a lesson. Ted doesn't take kindly to people attempting to get the better of him.'

'Oh.' Rather forlornly, Juliana wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

Tarquin released his grip on her shoulders, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and briskly wiped her nose and her eyes. 'Weeping won't improve your appearance.'

'I'm only crying because I'm angry,' she said. 'Or at least I was. But I still don't see how you can say my actions have nothing to do with you. If you hadn't forbidden me to see my friends, then I wouldn't have had to try to go alone. You have the right to forbid them under your roof, but you don't have the right to prevent me from visiting them under theirs.'

'We have a contract,' he stated flatly. 'And one of its clauses is that you behave in a manner befitting Viscountess Edgecombe. Consorting with whores is not appropriate behavior. Wandering the streets looking like a haystack is not appropriate behavior. Therefore, you will not do it.'

Juliana turned away from her image in the glass. It lent too much weight to the duke's argument. She would not back down on her right to choose her friends. But nothing would be served by saying so at this point. 'You speak of a contract, my lord duke. Can it be a true contract when one side was blackmailed into signing it?'

'You signed it in exchange for my protection, for the security and comfort of my home, for the assurance that you would never be in want. That's a strange kind of blackmail to my mind.' His voice was icy.

'And if I hadn't signed it, you would have betrayed me,' she threw at him bitterly.

'Did I ever say that?'

Her mouth opened in astonishment. 'No, but… but you implied it.'

He shrugged. 'How you choose to interpret my words is not my responsibility.'

“How could you say that?' She stared at him in disbelief. ''Of all the treacherous, slippery snakes! Oh, go away and leave me alone!' She turned away again with an angry gesture, trying to control her tears.

Tarquin regarded her averted back in frowning silence, running his fingertips reflectively over his lips. He would never have betrayed her to the law, but there was no way Juliana could have known that. He had, however, rescued her from a miserable life on the streets and probably a premature, wretched death. The fact that he'd done so for his own ends didn't change that truth. Why wouldn't she just accept the situation? He couldn't understand what she had to object to in her present life. She enjoyed the passion they shared. She was safe from Lucien. She was provided for for the rest of her life. So why did she take such pleasure in defying him? She was the most perverse creature he'd ever had dealings with. If he'd known she would cause him so much trouble when he'd watched her through Mistress Dennison's peephole, he would have looked elsewhere for the tool to control Lucien.

'Go away!' Juliana repeated crossly. 'You've made your point. There's no need to gloat.'

Gloat! He almost laughed aloud. If anyone should be gloating, it was Juliana. Turning on his heel, he left her to her angry tears.

Chapter 22

“I daresay you've known Lady Lydia all your life,' Juliana remarked to Lord Quentin several mornings later, when he returned to her parlor after escorting her visitors to their carriages.

'What makes you say that?' He walked to the window overlooking the garden and stood looking out so she could see nothing of his face.

'Oh, just that you seem very easy together. Like very old friends.' She refilled their coffee cups with an air of nonchalance.

In the last few days Lady Lydia had been a frequent visitor to Lady Edgecombe. Somehow her visits coincided with Lord Quentin's seemingly casual presence in Juliana's parlor. Lady Lydia never came alone; she always had some friend or acquaintance of her mother's in tow, a lady anxious to pay a courtesy visit to the new bride. But it was clear to Juliana, at least, that these chaperons were merely a blind. Behind their presence, Lady Lydia and Lord Quentin could talk and smile, brush hands in a fleeting gesture, sit side by side on a sofa, their heads bent together over a book of illustrations.

'We are old friends.' Quentin turned from the window to take his refilled cup, that same bleak look haunting his eyes.

'But you feel more for each other than friendship.' Juliana found herself taking the bull by the horns without conscious thought. Her impulses were always getting the better of her, but maybe in this case it might prove helpful.

Quentin said nothing for a minute. He drank his coffee, then said, 'Is it that obvious?'

'To me.'

'I am trying so hard to control it, Juliana.' Quentin's voice was low and anguished, reflecting the misery in his eyes. 'But I can't bear the idea of her marrying Tarquin. Of her marrying anyone but me.' He began to pace the room from window to door, the words bubbling forth as if Juliana had unplugged a well. 'I should go back to Melchester at once. Put myself beyond temptation. But I can't do it.'

'Have you finished your business with the archbishop?'

Quentin shook his head. 'If only I had, I wouldn't have an excuse to stay… to betray Tarquin every minute I'm in lydia's company.'

'You're too harsh with yourself,' Juliana said practically. 'You're not betraying the duke by sitting with Lydia-'

'I lust after her!' he interrupted in anguish. 'God help me, Juliana, but I lust after another man's wife.'

'She's not his wife yet,' Juliana pointed out.

'Don't split hairs.' He sat down, dropping his head in his hands. 'It's mortal sin. I know it and yet I can't stop myself.'

'But she feels the same way about you.'

Quentin raised his head. His face was haggard. 'She has said so. God forgive me, but I asked her. I forced her to acknowledge her own sin.' He dropped his head in his hands again with a soft groan.

Juliana tucked an errant ringlet behind her ear. All this talk of sin. she supposed, was only to be expected from a man of the cloth, but since it was impossible to believe that Quentin had carried his devotion to Lydia as far as consummation, he did seem to be going overboard with the self-flagellation.

'Why don't you ask the duke to release her?' It seemed a simple enough solution.

Quentin gave a short, bitter laugh. 'Sometimes I forget how unworldly you are. Lydia's family would never countenance a match with me. Not when their daughter is destined to be a duchess. Our world doesn't work that way, my dear.'

Juliana refused to be satisfied with this. 'But Lydia surely is not so mercenary?'

'Lydia! Sweet heaven, no! Lydia is an angel!'

'Yes, of course she is. But if she doesn't care about becoming a duchess, surely she can persuade her parents that she loves someone else.'

Quentin shook his head, almost amused by this naive pragmaticism. 'Lord and Lady Melton would never give up such an advantageous match for their daughter.'

'But supposing the duke offered to release Lydia?' she suggested. 'Perhaps he would do it for your sake. If he understood how you feel-and how Lydia feels.'

'My dear girl, it would be the same as jilting her. Tarquin would never do that to her… or her family. Besides,' he added with a rueful sigh, 'I could never ask Tarquin to make such a sacrifice. He wants this match. He's done so much for me over the years, I couldn't bring myself to ruin his life.'

'Oh, pshaw!' Juliana exclaimed in disgust. 'You wouldn't be ruining his life. He'd soon get over it. It isn't as if he's in love with her. And as far as jilting Lydia is concerned, a private rearrangement is no concern of anyone's. It'll be a nine days' wonder at worst.'

Quentin wondered if she was right, and for a moment hope flickered. Then it died as swiftly as it had arisen.

'Lydia has been educated to be Tarquin's wife. She will bring him Melton land to augment his own. She knows her duty and she knows what to expect. She will be a good wife and mother to his children, and she'll expect no more than courtesy and consideration in return. She won't think about other women in his life, because she knows that all women of her social status do not marry for love. She knows that she must expect her husband to seek his pleasure outside the marriage bed.' The bitterness was back in his voice now. 'Tarquin has no truck with sentimentality, Juliana. And love comes into that category.'

'I suppose so.' Her fingers plucked restlessly at an overblown rose in a bowl beside her chair. The petals showered down. She and Tarquin had had no private talk since their last confrontation. He had been polite and distant, but he hadn't come to her bed. She wondered if he was waiting for an invitation. She had told him to leave her alone, after all.

'Don't you think he could change, Quentin?' She pinched a rose petal between her fingers, not raising her eyes as she asked the question.

'He already has a little,' Quentin said thoughtfully. 'I think you've had a softening effect on him.'