Page 29 of A Deal with an Artistic Lady (Marriage Deals #2)

The following morning, Juliana was happily occupied in the hothouse of Carrington House, seeing to her plants. It was by far her favourite thing to do in the world.

She thought of every plant in her care as a surrogate child, loving to watch them grow and flourish. A private part of her also enjoyed the challenge should one begin to struggle for life. She relished the chance to rectify the problem. Should the leaves be too yellow, or dry, or wilting, she would research the remedy for hours until she found a solution. Watching them come back to life always gave her a unique thrill.

Carefully, she inspected the leaves of one of the geraniums as she watered it. The heat of the day was just beginning, and she was pleased to see very few casualties around her.

All of the plants appeared to be growing very well despite the strange heat of the recent weather, and she closed her eyes and breathed in the clean scent of the air before she moved to attend to a small citrus tree that she hoped might bear fruit later in the year.

Juliana was frustrated to find that she had not been able to rid her mind of thoughts of the duke all morning. She had even dreamed of the man, much to her irritation when she had awoken. He had been utterly indifferent to her and clearly had no real interest in making her acquaintance. That strange moment with her father lingered at the back of her mind, only adding to her confusion, but it was the duke himself who had her fascinated.

She moved around the hothouse, pushing her finger into various pots to ensure they were moist enough.

Perhaps the man simply does not know how to speak with a woman.

She had encountered many men of that ilk who not only asked mundane questions on dull topics but also failed to listen to her replies when she responded to them. The duke did not fit the mould of such a man, however, and it bothered her exceedingly.

She had been thinking of him for almost an hour as she pottered around, and she was beginning to become vexed with herself.

Juliana was not conceited by any means, but she knew she had looked well last evening. She was happy with her appearance, had danced with many eligible men, and yet the one who did not seem to care for her a jot was the single man who would not leave her mind.

She sighed, shaking her head at herself as a servant entered the hothouse, informing her that Clara had arrived to see her.

Juliana smiled, brushing down her skirts as her friend entered, looking about her in awe.

“My goodness, one could believe one was standing inside Kew Gardens itself. Juliana, it is so beautiful here, I can hardly believe the change since I last visited. It is like a fairy palace!”

Juliana laughed. Clara always had a strange turn of phrase with such things.

“I am glad that someone appreciates it, at least. Father has set foot in here once this month and told me the roses looked like they should be outside.”

Clara scoffed. “And what do men know of cultivation? Nothing!”

They sat down as a maid brought in the tea. Juliana thanked her and waited until two cups were poured and the maid had departed, before turning to her friend with a smile.

“It is good to see you. Did you enjoy Almack’s? I do not think I have seen you dance so many dances for a long while.”

“It was a very good evening; I have missed such things on my travels. Although I was forced to dance with Lucas Jennings twice, which was very irritating, but my other partners were far more pleasant.”

Juliana kept quiet, not wishing to speak of the other man Clara had danced with twice as well yesterday evening. Lord Nathaniel Harris was a very handsome man, and Clara had commented upon it a few times in the past, even though she was not usually one to have her head turned by such things.

Still, Juliana burned to ask a question about him to see what reactions she might have. But before she could move the conversation around to the topic, Clara asked her something else that derailed that plan.

“Did you speak to your father? I know you planned to address things in the carriage ride home. I do confess, there seem to be rumours and whispers, but I have heard nothing certain.”

Juliana sipped her tea, thoughts flooding her mind.

“I confess I did not have the courage. I have tried to broach the subject a few times, but he will not speak of it. I cannot understand what could have happened.”

“Has there been anything else that has led to your worry? I have sometimes convinced myself of a thing in my own head and found it to be entirely false in reality.”

“I have received half the invitations that I would usually expect at this time of the season. I cannot tell you what a relief it was to be invited to Almack’s. It felt like confirmation that our reputation is not in such a terrible position as it might be.”

“ What position, though?” Clara asked with a frown. “It cannot have anything to do with your reputation, you are faultless in all you do.” Juliana rolled her eyes. “So, it must be something to do with your father.”

“I believe that you are right. I must speak to him about it or find out by another means.”

“He is still absent?”

“I see him at the dining table, but otherwise, I have no idea how he occupies himself. Whenever I go to his study he is buried in papers, and I am loathe to disturb him.”

“Your father adores you; I cannot understand that either. Why would he not wish to spend time with his only daughter? You are such a credit to him.”

“I wondered if I reminded him of Mama,” Juliana said haltingly, and Clara’s face softened.

“Perhaps, but it must be more than that.”

Juliana shook her head, anxiety warring with confusion within her. “I suppose I will have to wait for him to explain things to me. There is nothing else I can do.”

***

Kenneth moved along the paths of Hyde Park. Toby, his faithful horse, was elegant and quiet as he passed by several screaming children as they made their way through the trees. The day was warm already, and the sun bathed on Kenneth’s shoulders, allowing some of the tightness to dissipate.

He had woken with a headache, and it had not yet passed.

Something about the night before was unnerving him, and it took him a little time to recognize that it was due to his pursuit of Lady Juliana. He gripped the reins more tightly, scowling at his own mind turning against him.

I owe the woman nothing. It is not as though I intend to actually woo her. All the same, she did not look impressed with my conduct after we danced together. It is best that she disliked me.

Yet, there was always a risk. Dancing with a lady and conversation with a lady could all lead to misunderstandings that were far more difficult to rectify. Kenneth did not wish to hurt her or to sully his own reputation and be branded a scoundrel should the wrong impression be given.

He shook himself. He had danced with her once and had been careful to ask her nothing and be entirely beastly. There was no possibility that she liked him; her expression when he had greeted her father had told him as much. He could use her to his advantage without fearing that he would damage her in any way.

Turning the corner, he saw Nathaniel approaching him on his white mare. They were a very smart picture, with his shining boots and his whip clutched in his gloved hand. Kenneth found himself smiling as the other man approached and Nathaniel tipped his hat to him, making him laugh.

“You are late, old man,” Nathaniel said reproachfully as they headed toward the Serpentine.

“Deliberately, I assure you. I do hate spending time with you.”

“Hah! I always suspected it,” Nathaniel said cheerfully as they trotted toward the sparkling water in the distance. “Toby, would you leave Gwyneth alone!” Nathaniel said irritably as Toby began to rub his head against Nathaniel’s horse.

Theirs was a love story that had blossomed many years before. Kenneth’s horse had fallen hopelessly in love with Nathaniel’s mare as soon as he had purchased her—the two men often jested that they only spent time together to stop Toby’s heart from breaking.

“That horse is a menace,” Nathaniel said warmly as Toby eventually began to walk in step with Gwyneth, who seemed nonetheless pleased to have his company.

“You are a cruel man, preventing young love from blossoming,” Kenneth said with a smirk.

“And you are a bounder for allowing it. Gwyneth is five times the horse Toby is, if I were her father, I would forbid the match!”

Kenneth chuckled at his friend, who was sitting up straighter and trying to guide Gwyneth away from Toby to no avail. The two horses practically rubbed shoulders all the way to the water’s edge.

“Speaking of matches, I almost fainted when I saw you standing up with Juliana Carrington of all people. To what was that in aid of?”

Kenneth’s finger tightened around Toby’s reins, and he shrugged. “It was not in aid of anything. I needed a dance partner, just as you needed one in Lady Clara.”

Nathaniel snorted. “I assure you, asking Lady Clara to dance and having her accept me was something I have dreamed of for many weeks. Ever since I saw her at the Marxley soiree at the start of the season in that emerald gown, I have not been able to get the woman from my mind. You, however, hate Lady Juliana’s father more than any man on earth, so I ask again, what was it in aid of?”

“I am examining all possibilities,” Kenneth said evenly and almost groaned when Nathaniel stopped his horse and turned to stare at him.

“Farenstone, you are my oldest friend in the world, but that is not fair.”

Kenneth glanced away, the same agitation he had felt since waking returning to him. “I have no intention of ruining the lady.”

“My dear fellow, you know as well as anyone that what one intends and what one achieves can be two very different things where a woman is concerned. Lady Juliana was not involved in your father’s death or Carwood’s business dealings with him. If you are intending to drag her through the mud or ruin her deliberately—”

“Do you think me a monster?” Kenneth asked. “I am simply drawing her close so that I may learn more of Carwood’s inner circle. I intend to spend time with the lady but keep her at a firm distance. If I am an unconscionable brute, she will have no interest in me whatever, and I can ruin her father without affecting her reputation one iota.”

“Carwood deserves to be punished, I agree with you on that, but I would prefer his only daughter to be spared humiliation.”

“As would I.”

“Then leave her out of it,” Nathaniel said sharply.

“And how else would I spend time with Carwood? He and I do not move in the same circles, and he knows, or at least suspects, that I hate him. The only way I can legitimately spend time around the man is by showing interest in Lady Juliana. It will not end as you fear.”

Nathaniel speared him with a long stare but clicked his tongue at Gwyneth as they moved onward.

“Very well, but on your head be it. She is a beautiful and kind woman and does not deserve to be buried by her father’s misdeeds.”

Her father had a family when he destroyed mine, Kenneth thought bitterly. He took his chances just like the rest of us.

***

Edmund Carrington paced in his study, reading a letter from his solicitor with shaking hands. It was the third time he had read it, and still, he could not shake the fear that had engulfed his heart.

Surely things cannot be in such a dire state—not yet!

Walking to the drinks cabinet, he poured himself a large brandy and knocked back a healthy swallow to try to settle himself.

Not yet eleven in the morning and I have already turned to drink.

A knock at the door startled him, and he placed the glass behind the decanter guiltily, returning to his desk and hastily shoving the letter into a drawer.

“Enter,” he called as Juliana came into the room. Edmund smiled. His daughter’s presence was always calming, her gentle smile allowing his heart rate to settle once more.

“Are you alright, Papa?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she looked at him. Edmund realized he was wringing his hands nervously and hastily took a seat at his desk, indicating the chair before it. He nodded.

“Of course, my dear! How are you faring?”

“I am quite well, Papa, but I am concerned for you.”

It was the second or third time that she had mentioned such a thing, and Edmund was desperate to be able to share his worries with her—but he could not burden her with his troubles.

The letter seemed to mock him from the drawer beside him, and he sighed. If he was unable to resolve his financial position soon, the end of the season would look very different for Juliana. She would have to marry well if he could not provide for her. He did not wish her to be forced to make a match, but he would have little choice if things did not begin to improve.

His chest tightened as he thought of his encounter with the duke the night before.

What business does the man have in dancing with my only daughter? I know how much he hates this family.

“You danced with the Duke of Farenstone last evening,” he said gently as Juliana raised her eyebrows.

“I did.”

“Is he someone you admire?”

Juliana cocked her head to one side. “Not at all, I assure you,” she said evenly. “He asked me, and I was rather surprised by the invitation, if I am honest. I could not think of a reason to refuse, but I noticed an atmosphere between you.”

Edmund nodded. “There is no use pretending that we are friends. I would be cautious with him, my dear. There is a history between our families that I would not wish to become twisted into any interest you might have in the man.”

Juliana placed her hands carefully before her, frowning at him. “I dare say I have no interest. He seems like a cold, unpleasant sort of person. But what is the history of which you speak?”

Edmund rubbed a hand over his forehead. “It is not something I wish for you to worry about. It is in the past, and there it should remain, but I would caution you about making any attachment to him.”

Juliana sighed. “Very well, but your caution is not required. He seemed entirely uninterested in me when we danced together. He did not ask me a single question about myself and answered mine with a word, no more.”

Edmund sneered. “Indeed, he has always been a proud fellow.” He glanced at the clock above the fire. “Now, I have an appointment to keep, my dear. I must ask you to take your leave.”

Juliana stood. “You are sure you are well? You look tired, Papa.”

“I am quite well. You may take your leave now; do not fret over me. Focus on yourself.”

Juliana left the room, puzzled by her father’s attitude and warnings.

Why will he not tell me what has happened? Surely, it would be simpler for me to know the reasons why the Duke is not a good match for me.

She closed the door, when she noticed another man in the hallway. It was Mr Thomas Everett, the family solicitor. He stood watching her, looking very grave indeed.

“Lady Juliana,” he said with a bow. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Mr Everett, I shan’t keep you. My father is inside.”

“Thank you,” he circled around her as Juliana moved out of his way and watched the man enter the room. She looked about the hallway for any passing servants and then bent down to listen to their conversation through the keyhole. She knew that it was not an honest thing to do, but if her father would not tell her what was amiss, she intended to discover it for herself.

“…received my letter…? I did, please sit… I had not believed things were so serious… there are ways we can manage this… but for how long? If I cannot turn the tide…”

There was a loud rattle as a maid emerged from a side door holding a coal scuttle, and Juliana beat a hasty retreat. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. It was not the first time Thomas Everett had visited her father—far from it. The frequency of his visits had increased of late, and she had interrupted several meetings between the two men where they fell silent as soon as she entered the room.

This cannot bode well for our future. Why else would Father be spending so much time at his ledgers? We must be in some difficulty—I just wish that I could do something to help him.

***

“Thank you for coming,” Kenneth said gravely. His guest took a seat, his smart but simple black suit hiding a well-built muscular frame.

James Holloway had a sharp expression, a calculating way of looking at everything, and an intelligence that could surpass his own. They had worked together since the death of his father, and Kenneth trusted him more than anyone, save Nathaniel.

James Holloway was a private investigator who had been recommended to him by a member of the ton and he had jumped at the chance to find additional evidence against Lord Carwood.

His father and Carwood had worked together as business partners for years, but some time before the late duke’s death, records came to light that showed that Carwood was not the man his father had believed him to be. He had manipulated information, lied to him, stolen from him and driven their joint ventures almost into the ground in less than two years.

The shock of it had killed his father. A few months after the revelations and the enormous losses he had sustained, his heart had given out. Kenneth had always believed that it was not the money that ended his father’s life but the betrayal of his best friend.

He was certain that Lord Carwood was responsible for everything; Kenneth simply needed to prove it—James Holloway was his agent in doing so.

“Have you found anything new?” he asked.

“Indeed, I have your Grace, here are some papers I would have you look over.” Holloway handed him three pieces of parchment that Kenneth received gratefully. “These are the front sheets of the customs documents from the shipments. As you can see, they are not as they should be.”

Kenneth looked over them with growing confusion. “But these are all the same.”

“Not quite, your Grace. They appear to be the same, but what you are holding are duplicates of a single document. One of them was given to the officials, which appears to be legitimate and has a list of the shipment information, the items that were onboard, and the cost. However, the other document shows different versions of it, listing other illegal items in the hold that would fetch a higher price than anything else carried in the cargo. Given what we have discussed of Carwood’s oversight on such matters, I believe your father would have been unaware of the existence of these forgeries. That is Carwood’s signature at the bottom. He has signed off on everything.”

Kenneth crumpled one of the documents between his fingers before smoothing it out again, wanting to throw everything into the fire.

“Smuggling? Under my father’s name?”

“Under the name of the business that they set up together, yes.” Holloway’s voice was impossibly calm. “It would never have involved your father directly or been linked to him, but it was funded by the profits of the joint ventures they worked on. Carwood would have profited handsomely from it. Merchant ships are beneficial in bulk, but if every journey involved illicit goods, the money he pocketed would mean a far more lucrative business than the one they were running together.”

Kenneth stood up, walked to the fire, and stabbed savagely at the logs.

“That rascal.”

His mind drifted to the night before and the hunched, tired-looking man who had ultimately betrayed him so ruthlessly. Carwood did not seem like the type who would destroy a friend for profit—it just showed how easy it was to lie to those around you to hide your true nature.

He thought of Lady Juliana, her quiet poise about the floor, the heat of her body against his as they twirled and spun across the marble. He could not deny that dancing with her had been no hardship—she was strikingly beautiful and did not seem as foolish and vacuous as the other ladies of good society. Juliana was perceptive—he could see her taking in the world around her with interest.

What would it be like to have her attention? To really court her? I suppose I will never know.

“Thank you, Holloway,” he said, watching the smoke drift into the chimney. “Our evidence against him grows every day. It will not be long before I can prove to the world who he really is, and finally have my revenge.”