wounds but not of her own. If she’d had pistol or sword to hand, perhaps she would have remained unscathed. Then her letter would have been full of her escapade.
Instead, it painted a picture of a Katarina now frightened enough to abandon her beloved brother and seek asylum in Virginia alone. Indeed, terrified enough to ask for the name and protection of a man she did not love. This from a young woman with the courage of a man and the skills and mettle to outwit most. What had she left unsaid? What “circumstances” had she alluded to?
Coupled with her sudden marriage to a man she could have known at the most three weeks, Katarina’s behavior sounded suspiciously as though she had been assaulted. Had she been raped by one of the highwaymen, she might very well have remembered his promise to her and believed he would understand and agree to marry her, which he would have done in an instant. He would wager a large sum these were the “circumstances” she wished to discuss.
So where did Lord Dalbury come into the picture? If Kat had been violated on the road, why would she consent to marry a stranger rather than follow her plan to come to him? Why, for God’s sake, would a marquess agree to marry a ruined woman?
Unless the marquess himself had ruined her.
His breath stopped. He stared at the lovely Juliet opposite him as dread descended on his heart and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Katarina had not known the marquess long, yet she had been induced to marry him. According to the man’s sister, she had been reluctant on her wedding day, the marriage itself a sudden affair. All the facts pointed to the abhorrent conclusion that his beautiful, spirited Katarina had been forced to marry her rapist.
He clenched his hands so tightly his nails sank into his palms. Amiable bit back the gorge that rushed into his throat. Why had the first wretched letter from his father been lost at sea? Else, he would have been in London and perhaps could have saved her.
Slowly, he relaxed. He could not be everyone’s knight in shining armor. In truth, he had nothing but suspicions. However it had come about, Katarina had married Dalbury and left the country. As he could do nothing to help her at the moment, he’d leave it alone. For now.
He glanced at Dalbury’s sister. Her bosom heaved and she bit her bottom lip. What had distressed the woman now?
“What is the matter, Lady Juliet? Are you unwell, my dear?” He strove to make his voice express only concern. She was certainly an innocent in the matter. His rage he would reserve for her brother.
“I am very well, Captain Dawson,” she said, though her unsteady breathing belied the statement. “I simply did not know you were betrothed to Katarina.” A sad little smile appeared. “It must have been painful to hear your betrothed had married another man.”
“Yes, I hardly believed it when my sister informed me of their marriage.” The immediate pain had been brutal, though tempered somewhat by the passage of several days. After all, he’d resigned himself to her loss in December.
“Why would Kat do such a thing? Accept you and then marry Duncan. I’d swear she is not hard-hearted.” Juliet came to an abrupt halt, her cheeks rosy.
“Perhaps it is as you say, and they fell in love at first sight.” Such a circumstance was not wholly outside the realm of possibility. For Katarina’s sake, he prayed it was true. He leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on Juliet’s. Warmth streamed up his arm, filled his chest. Disconcerting yet wonderful at the same time. “Ours would not have been a love match. She wanted to return to Virginia and I became the mere means to that end. Of course, I would have married her and made a comfortable life for her.”
Juliet cocked her head and stared frankly into his face. “So why are you here in London, Captain Dawson? Why did you not wait for Kat to come to you?”
Those warm, seductive eyes.
“Please, Juliet.” He squeezed her hand and withdrew. “You have asked me to be more familiar with you. As you pointed out, we are traveling as husband and wife. By all means, use my given name. Amiable.” Although possibly a disastrous decision, he wanted a more intimate connection with her. The die was cast.
“Amiable.” She gave him a wide grin and sat up straighter.
“I suppose I would even now be standing on the dock each day awaiting Katarina, had not the post that brought me her letter also carried one from my father. My older brother had died of a septic wound in January.”
“Oh, Amiable.” She squeezed his hand, then rubbed it lightly. “I am so very sorry.” Her sweet voice, pitched low and soothing, set his pulse racing.
“Thank you, my dear.” Damnation, but she would seduce him with sympathy.
“So you did not know?”
“Father wrote me immediately but the ship that carried the message never arrived. He sent again and I opened it just before Katarina’s letter. I had to leave immediately for England, so I left money for her return journey with my colonel and an explanation.”
“I cannot imagine your grief, my dear.” She leaned forward and grasped his hands, sending that strange heat straight to his heart.
He closed his eyes and cursed silently. With the hurt of Katarina’s loss still fresh and his distaste at the thought of this woman’s brother having taken his place, he did not want to form an attachment to Juliet.
Unfortunately, his wants kept warring with his desires. Their close proximity, the touch of her hands, and her sweet jasmine scent all conspired to set his body ablaze. In spite of his inner turmoil, the carriage had become a steamy cocoon of sensual heat smoldering around them. The presence of her maid made no difference at all to him. Had sheer lust seized him, perhaps? A sexual attraction between a man and a damned fine-looking woman who would likely…
“Was he young?”
The question surprised him out of his reverie. “My brother?”
She nodded, still clasping his hands.
“Pax was two years older than me.”
“Pax? That’s a rather unusual name, don’t you think?” She reminded him of a bird, with her cocked head and shiny eyes.
“Short for Peaceable. Mother christened us all with given names that reminded her of her Quaker upbringing.” Not the easiest names to have lived with.
“Your mother was a Quaker?” Frank astonishment made her voice squeak.
“Yes. It’s an odd story but a romantic one nonetheless. Would you like to hear it?”
“Oh, yes, please.” She released his hands.
He settled back against the cushion. “My father was raised at Cheswyck, our family estate in Gloucestershire. A prosperous neighbor—of the gentry, and very respectable—owned the estate that bordered our property. The landowner’s daughter and my father played together as children. By the time he turned twenty and she sixteen, they realized they never wanted to be apart.” A smile curled Juliet’s lips. He’d suspected she’d love a romantic tale. Now for the dark side of the story.
“Her family, unfortunately, had joined the Society of Friends many years before. If she married my father, she would be an outcast, not only because she married outside the meeting, but also because he would one day hold a title. Quakers do not acknowledge such earthly distinctions. They are anathema to them.”
“Oh, dear. I had no idea they were so strict.” Her eyes had grown wide and round. “Whatever did your mother do? Of course she had to marry him if he was her true love.”
Amiable shook his head. Love didn’t come easily in his family. “My mother prayed long and hard on the matter and came to the heart-wrenching conclusion she must reject my father and remain within her faith.”
“Oh, no.” Juliet gripped his wrist. “She couldn’t reject him.” She sat back, her face puckered into a frown. “Of course not, for you are here.”
He