Page 87 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
So she was left housebound? Irritation prickled along her skin. ‘I will have two. John Coachman and a footman.’
Grindle bowed and looked relieved. ‘Yes, Your Grace.’
* * *
At two o’clock she was admitted to the Wiltshire house by a puzzled-looking butler. ‘Her ladyship is in the conservatory, Your Grace.’
‘Julia,’ a female voice said.
She looked up at the imperious note in the voice of the woman walking down the stairs into the entrance hall.
Bother. The last person she wanted to see. Alistair’s stepmother. She was no doubt going to have to explain why Alistair had not called or why Julia had not invited her for tea. ‘Good day, Lady Dunstan.’
‘I apologise for the subterfuge, but I had the feeling I would not be admitted to Sackfield a second time.’ The other woman offered an apologetic smile. ‘Nor was I sure you would answer an invitation from me.’
Julia stared at her. ‘Are you saying there is no committee meeting?’
Lady Dunstan had the grace to look chagrined. ‘Is it too terrible of me? I desired words with you in private. I could think of no other way.’ She glanced at the hovering butler. ‘Come, we will go into the library.’
The butler opened the door to an adjacent room. When Julia stepped inside she was more than a little disconcerted to find Percy Hepple standing beside the hearth with his hands behind his back and a smirk on his lips.
She turned to object, but the door was already closed. ‘You may very well look dismayed,’ the Dowager Duchess said, sadly. ‘My nephew has told me all about you.’
The blood drained from her head. Her knees trembled. She forced herself to remain standing, though the nearest chair looked terribly inviting. ‘I have no idea what you mean. If there is no meeting, I will leave my card for Lady Wiltshire and depart.’
‘I wonder what that dear lady would say if she knew you had posed naked before most of the men in London who then bid on your favours. How dare Alistair bring such disgrace on the Dunstan title?’
Her stomach fell away. She collapsed into the chair.
‘Well?’ the Dowager Duchess said, glaring. ‘Will you deny it?’
Julia glanced at Percy, at the knowing smile on his lips. ‘My past has nothing to do with you or Mr Hepple.’
The woman glanced at Percy and drew in a deep breath. ‘So it is true. What is the matter with my stepson? Offering marriage when he had to know the scandal would ruin us all? For you may be assured, if this dunderhead recognised you, others will, too.’
‘I say, Auntie,’ Percy whined.
Julia pulled herself together. ‘What is the point to this? There is nothing to be done. I am married to Dunstan. If he does not care, I do not see why you should.’ Though if the truth got out Alistair would likely be mortified. And despite everything else, his rescue had been a kindness.
The Dowager flinched. ‘Doesn’t care?’ Her brows drew down. ‘Does my stepson know you are also a criminal? A thief?’
Julia’s heart clenched. ‘How do you—?’
‘My stepson was a confirmed bachelor. The speed of your marriage, the circumstance Percy revealed to me, made me suspicious. I looked into your background. Someone had to.’ Her voice softened, her face expressed sympathy. ‘My poor dear, I don’t blame you for marrying him, given the trouble you were in, but I am worried for you as well as for the family name.’
Julia repressed a start at the change in the woman’s demeanour. ‘You may save your concern.’
The woman shook her head. ‘I don’t suppose he told you he got my son’s wife with child and then fled the country?’
Hepple looked pained. ‘Auntie, you should not say these things about the Duke.’ He glanced around. ‘Or at least keep your voice down. Someone might hear.’
Julia stiffened. ‘I know about Jeffrey.’ It still hurt to think about it, but it had happened long before Julia had appeared in his life. ‘Everyone makes mistakes. He is trying to do the right thing.’
The Dowager glared at her nephew. ‘Percy, leave us. I have things to discuss with Her Grace in private.’
Percy pouted. ‘If you upset Dunstan, he won’t pay my debts.’
The Dowager waved his objection aside. ‘Your debts are a trifle. A mere bagatelle compared to the family’s good name. Go. We will talk later.’
