Wayward Widow. Nicola Cornick
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‘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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