Chapter 23
"I think you should go straight back to the duke," the Dowager Countess of Brookhampton declared, setting down her teacup with an abrupt clatter. "Here it is, nearly two days since he dumped you here, and where is that reprobate you married? Probably lying drunk in a gaming hell somewhere — or in the arms of some woman of sin. You'll not see the likes of him for another fortnight, I tell you!"
Perry's mother had come round on the pretense of a social call, but Juliet knew that was just an excuse; like the dozen or so other nosy harridans who'd called at de Montforte House since word had got out that the Wild One had married, Lady Brookhampton and her daughter wanted to glean information for the gossip mill, see for themselves the woman Lord Gareth had wed, and take the opportunity to malign him to his new wife.
Lady Brookhampton was a particularly unpleasant creature, and her daughter, Lady Katharine Farnsley — a tall, icy blonde whose beauty made Juliet feel shadowed — was equally mean-spirited. As they all sat down to take tea, it became glaringly obvious that Perry's sister had set her own cap for Lord Gareth — and was deeply resentful that Juliet had got to him first.
"I suppose it's just as well that you married him," Lady Katharine mused, stirring sugar into her cup and eyeing Juliet's plain clothes — and baby on her knee — with raking contempt. "After all, Lord Gareth did ruin his share of young women, and he's not likely to change. Better you have to worry about him than me, is that not so, Mama?"
"Indeed, my dear. You can do much better than that libertine."
"I understand he's currently having an affair with Lord Pemberley's wife."
Juliet smiled tightly. "Not anymore he's not."
"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that ... after all, he's not here with you, is he?"
Juliet bounced Charlotte on her knee and leaned sideways so the baby couldn't make a grab for her teacup as she picked it up. She was not naive; it was evident that these two troublemakers wanted nothing more than to sow dissent in the newly-tilled garden of her marriage. Still, she could have done without their taunts. She had seen neither Gareth nor his friends since that rainy night he'd brought her here, and she was worried enough about his safety without these two giving her something else to be concerned about. Surely the man who had made such tender love to her — she blushed even now, just thinking about it — on their wedding night would not be in the arms of another woman. Surely he had not abandoned the wife and daughter he'd gone through hell and high water to wed, in favor of someone else.
Had he?
Juliet said, "You misjudge my husband. He's a fine man."
"A fine man?! Ha, did you hear that, Katharine? Ha, ha, ha, she says he's a fine man!" Perry's mother raised her brows, much affronted, and turned her stare on Juliet. "Let me tell you, gel, I've known the Wild One since he was a little boy, and he hasn't changed one bit!"
And with that, Lady Brookhampton related the tale of a summer afternoon nearly seventeen years before, when Lord Gareth had been a mischievous blue-eyed prankster who'd been anything but innocent. The duchess had come by for tea in the garden, bringing Charles and Gareth with her; Charles had sat cross-legged on a blanket beside them, studiously reading a book while Gareth and Perry had gone off to play.
"Oh, I can still see it all so well!" Lady Brookhampton said, holding her cup out so that Juliet could pour more tea. She went on to describe the scene: the duchess pregnant with Nerissa, smiling and rubbing her swollen tummy, her nanny suddenly charging up the lawn, skirts high as a strumpet's and screaming that little Lord Gareth had tumbled into the pond and disappeared beneath the water. The alarm was raised. Mass confusion and chaos had ensued, with servants — even those who couldn't swim — leaping into the pond, dashing to get the small boat, racing this way and that. Even her husband, the Earl of Brookhampton, had come running, shedding his waistcoat and diving into the brackish water in search of the boy, and as he'd come up for air, Lord Gareth — with Perry following reverently behind — came strolling out from behind one of the ancient yew trees, soaking wet, and laughing at having tricked some fifty people into thinking he had drowned.
"He should've been whipped!" Lady Brookhampton declared vehemently. "But the duchess wouldn't hear of it; why, I doubt he got anything more than a gentle admonition not to do such a thing again. Had she punished him as she ought to have done, perhaps he would have turned out all right, but no, he was her favorite, you know, her wild child, and he could do nothing wrong. She didn't even punish him when he turned six and shocked everyone in Ravenscombe by offering threepence to any of the village girls who would let him look beneath their skirts!"
"What about Charles? Did she ever punish him?" Juliet asked, with faint sarcasm.
"Of course not, Charles never did anything wrong. But Gareth — he was too charming, too full of naughty, sparkle-eyed innocence for anyone to take him seriously … or remain angry with him for too long. He'd do something awful, and his mother would just smile and say that the years would cure him of his uncontrollable ways. But they never did. If anything, he grew more daring, more outrageous the older he got — especially after the duchess died."
"Perhaps he did those 'awful' things for attention," Juliet said flatly, her teacup coming down a little too hard. "Especially as everyone seemed to pay more of it to his brother."
"That is because his brother deserved it!"
Charles, she was told, had remained studious, serious-minded, and unfailingly polite, but Gareth had become the black sheep of the family, the bane of the Lambourn Downs — and, much to Lady Brookhampton's dismay, Perry's closest friend.
"Perry's a grown man now; of course, I cannot keep him away from your husband's corruptive influence. But I can ensure that everyone who's anyone knows how wicked he is — a crusade I started after I found he'd dragged my darling Perry into some den of corruption where wild orgies were held every Saturday evening, and duels over the loose women who inhabited the place erupted at least once a fortnight. And do you know how I know about those duels, gel? I know because Perry was involved in one last February, and I heard all about it over tea at Lady Waltham's the following afternoon. Enough was enough, I said. Right then and there, I vowed that the duchess's wild son would never again darken my door." She picked up her tea and eyed Juliet with something like malicious triumph. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I know he's handsome; I know he can charm the maidenhood right out of a virgin — and no doubt has. But if you married him thinking he'd make a decent husband, you're going to be sorry til the day you die. The only thing he'll make you is miserable, I tell you. Miserable!"
Katharine said, "Charles was the better of the two, don't you think, Mama?"
"Absolutely. He was a credit to his family, to his rank, and to his country. Went out of his way to help people, was always good and kind and giving —"
"Lord Gareth is just as kind and generous as Charles was," Juliet said tersely.
"How would you know? You never even met Charles, whereas my daughter here was promised to him since birth. We knew both brothers quite well. As for Lord Gareth, ha! Everyone knows he is nothing but a useless wastrel, a rake!"
"Actually, I did meet Charles," Juliet returned, concealing her shock at Lady Brookhampton's announcement and resisting the urge to add, And I knew him in a way you never did. "And as for Lord Gareth, he is my husband, and I resent how everyone seems to feel a need to say something cruel about him or compare him to Charles. It's not fair, and it's not right — to either of them. They were two different people."
"Yes. Of course." Sipping her tea, Lady Brookhampton stared out the window at the pigeons walking on the roof of the opposite town house. "Chalk and cheese, they were. Sometimes I wonder why the good Lord took the one instead of the other."
"Lady Brookhampton!" Juliet cried, horrified. "What a wicked thing to say!"
"Is it? Well, I can't help it, that's the way I feel," she snapped. "It's all Gareth's fault that my poor, dear Perry is wrapped up in that dreadful Den of Debauchery busi
ness, Gareth's fault that Perry goes to drunken parties and orgies, Gareth's fault that Perry's involved in daring midnight steeplechases, sabotaged hunts, and the ruination of decent women —"
Juliet felt her temper rising.
" — and here I am, a God-fearing mother, trying my best to teach my son morals and good behavior, but despite all I've done, Gareth has ruined everything and turned Perry into the worst sort of rogue. If it weren't for him, my Perry would be home, looking after his mother and sister and being a dutiful son, not running wild through London, getting up to the worst sorts of mischief and socializing with all manner of unsavory characters. Oh, I can't help but think how my son would have turned out if he'd never met that ... that scoundrel!"
Juliet bit back the retort that was itching to escape her lips. With this termagant for a mother, meeting "that scoundrel" was probably the best thing that could've happened to Perry. God knew how he might have turned out if he hadn't!
She leaned over Charlotte and reached for the sugar. "You speak as though your son had no choice in the matter. Are you saying that Perry, a grown man, doesn't have free will to do as he pleases?" she asked, feigning innocence.
"I'm saying that Gareth has blinded him to what is right and wrong. Gareth was a wicked child, and now he's a wicked man, and you might as well face the fact, gel, that he's never going to change."
"Lady Brookhampton," Juliet said firmly, "from the moment you arrived, you and your daughter have been saying terrible things about my husband. You'll forgive me, but I'm beginning to question your motives."
"Motives?" Lady Brookhampton, taken aback about being so directly confronted, gave a nervous little laugh. "Oh, we have no motives, do we, Katharine?"
"Indeed not, Mama. We just want his wife to be ... prepared."
"I don't need any preparation," Juliet said sharply.
"Oh, but you do. That rogue you married will break your heart, I can tell you that right now. Is that not so, Mama?"
"He will indeed, Katharine."
Juliet, fuming, had had enough. She slammed her teacup down so hard, it nearly cracked the saucer. "I don't know the man you're talking about, but the one I married risked his life to save me — and a coach full of other innocent people he didn't even know. He sacrificed his own future to do right by his dead brother, and he defended my honor when it would otherwise have been compromised. If you cannot find something nice to say about him, I think it's time you both leave."
"What cheek!" Lady Brookhampton declared, staring at Juliet in offended shock.
"Yes. We colonials speak our minds."
"Perhaps, then, I too should speak my mind," Katharine said, with a superior little smile as she nodded toward Charlotte. "Why, look at you, married less than a week and already toting his brat. I dare say, Lord Gareth works fast, does he not, Mama?"
"Juliet is not the first woman Lord Gareth has ruined. But she just said she doesn't want to hear anything bad about her husband, Katharine."
Juliet smiled sweetly. "Oh, but Lord Gareth wasn't the one who ruined me."
Both women looked at her.
"Charles was."
"What?!" The word shot from Lady Brookhampton's mouth like a ball from a musket; beside her, her daughter's jaw nearly fell off its hinges.
Juliet said, "You know, Charles? The one you all think was so perfect?" Good Lord, would you listen to me, defending Gareth over Charles! "He and I met in Boston in the winter of '74. We were engaged to be married, but he died in the fighting near Concord last year, and the legal union was never made. I came to England seeking the Duke of Blackheath's help, as Charles had bid me to do should anything happen to him." Juliet's steady, dark green gaze never wavered as she faced down her husband's detractors. "Lord Gareth is an honorable and selfless man. He married me so that his brother's baby would bear the de Montforte name. I think that is most noble of him. Don't you?"
Lady Brookhampton's jaw was working up and down as she fought to find words. "Well, I ... well, yes, I suppose it is."
Her daughter's face had gone a very unattractive red. "You mean to say you were engaged to ... to my Charles?"
"Was he your Charles?" Juliet smiled sweetly and got to her feet. "I'm sorry. He didn't mention it. I thought he was mine. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have things to do. Good day."