“I can’t just stand aside and let the earl hurt the people I love.” Even to consider it was unthinkable.
“So you’ll be the sacrificial lamb, is that it?” Paul demanded. “You’ll stay here, and he’ll force you to marry him. He’ll get everything he wants.”
“I don’t want him!” she exploded. “I wish to God the earl would go away and leave me alone.” Furious tears spilled over, but at least he was now listening. “Do you think I want him to ever touch me again, after all that happened? I’d sooner see him dead.”
Her skin crawled at the very thought of being in the same room with the earl, much less succumbing to a forced marriage. Never again.
“Then we’ll leave,” Paul ordered. “Come with me to Edinburgh, and we’ll disappear for a time. He willna be able to find you, and he’ll have no recourse but to back away.”
“And what about Matthew?” The boy had begun whining, and Juliette lifted him against her shoulder, soothing him with soft words. But she already knew he was overtired and needed a morning nap. With reluctance, she rang for his nurse and gave him back to the older woman. After a few moments, his crying faded when the nurse took him upstairs.
“If you’re no’ there, Strathland canna accuse you of having any connection to him,” Paul answered. “So long as the earl continues to acknowledge him as his heir, naught else matters.”
An emptiness rose up within her at the thought.
“Strathland will realize that he was mistaken.” Paul moved in close, taking her hands in his. “For no true mother would abandon her bairn.” He wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “If you want him to be safe and loved, you’ve no choice but to let him be your uncle’s heir. Give him the life you were wanting him to have.”
She wept openly, so afraid he was right. If she turned away from Matthew, letting him go, Strathland’s words would be meaningless air when Lord Arnsbury continued to acknowledge the boy as his son.
“What about my sisters?” she asked. “What if he tries to hurt one of them?”
“They’ll stay away from him,” Paul said. “Or Amelia might talk him into an early grave.”
An unexpected laugh broke out, amid her tears. “I don’t know if I can do this, Paul.” He kissed her hand, and she stepped into his embrace, holding him tight.
“I did come here with the intent of kidnapping you,” he offered. “You could claim you had no knowledge of my wicked intent.”
“It’s not truly kidnapping if I go willingly,” she said.
“And will you go?” he asked, his voice turning serious. “If it means keeping Matthew safe?”
She didn’t know. Her instincts roared at her to seclude herself in this house, doing everything in her power to shield Matthew.
But if she did, people would talk. Already she sensed that the servants were whispering about her unnatural attachment to the baby who was supposed to be her cousin. With every moment she spent at his side, she undermined the parents he deserved. Her aunt adored Matthew, as did her uncle.
“Yes,” she breathed at last. “I’ll go with you.”
He rubbed her shoulders and regarded her. “I must speak with your uncle now, since your father is no’ here.” He looked at her strangely, asking, “How would you feel about living in Edinburgh, in my uncle’s house?”
She shrugged. “I had thought we would return to Ballaloch… that we would make our home among the crofters.” She’d not imagined that he would want to take her elsewhere.
His face turned serious. “That’s not the life I want for you, Juliette.”
“Perhaps not. But we’ll make do with what we have. I don’t need a grand house to be happy.” It was true, though she fully planned to increase their income from the profits of Aphrodite’s Unmentionables. In many ways, she rather liked the challenge of building what little funds they had together. She glanced down at the ring he’d given her.
Its worth was far greater than silver, for it would keep her forever safe from Lord Strathland.
“Lady Lanfordshire, there’s another package for you,” Mrs. Larson announced.
Beatrice threaded her needle, her face blushing at the news. “Set it on the table, Mrs. Larson. That will be all, thank you.”
She didn’t unwrap the paper, already knowing what it contained. After sending half a dozen letters to her daughters, she’d learned that they had stopped selling gowns nearly six months ago. They’d been selling unmentionables.
And not respectable white linen petticoats and chemises. No, her girls had made corsets lined in silk and satin, some of the chemises made of fabrics so sheer, a woman’s skin was entirely visible.
She’d been outraged at first… until Mr. Sinclair had told her of the banking account sum of nearly a thousand pounds. It was a devastating amount, large enough to make a sizable difference in their debts.
It felt terribly wicked to allow her girls to conduct business in something so sinful. The garments were inappropriate for young ladies to even look at. And yet, she understood the practicality of what they had done. These chemises and corsets were selling exceptionally well because there were no others like them. They were unique.
