The Proposition Part 7

Julia sat before her dressing-table mirror, staring at her reflection. The bride was back. The old, bone-weary, and dull-eyed bride. She looked down at the three-word note that had arrived during dinner.

I have returned.

Her heart twisted and in that moment she knew that she didn't have any choice but to tell Lawrence the truth about Rennick St. James.

CHAPTER 6.

Rennick leaned his head back in the squabs and closed his eyes, unwilling to see the chapel drawing ever nearer. He wasn't at all sure that he could do this. Not without exercising more self-restraint than he'd ever in his life possessed. But he'd promised Julia that he'd be there, that he wouldn't create a spectacle. And maybe, just maybe, the weak voice of Hope suggested, if she saw him honoring that promise she might be willing to believe all the other promises he'd offered her.

And if she didn't... If she said her vows and walked out of the chapel as Lady Morris ... He didn't know what he was going to do. Crying stood as a distinct possibility, though. The tears had been clawing at his chest and throat since he'd handed Julia into the carriage yesterday afternoon. Drinking himself into numbed oblivion also stood as another probable course. In all likelihood, he'd probably do both. And when he eventually sobered up ...

The carriage drew to a halt. Rennick sat where he was, staring at the opposite wall, his gaze fixed on the future. He could ask Anne Michaels to toss a suitable woman into a wedding gown so that he could get on with the responsibilities of being the next Earl of Parnell. His father would be thrilled. Eventually, the t.i.tle would be pa.s.sed to yet another generation. It was what he should do, what St. James men before him had frequently done, what countless numbers of his own peers had done in the name of family and prestige and wealth.

But he wouldn't, he knew. He couldn't. He'd stood on a ballroom floor years ago and promised Julia that he'd wait for her as long as he had to. He'd meant it then. He still meant it. If he couldn't marry her, he wouldn't marry at all. But, by G.o.d, he wasn't going to let her walk up the aisle without giving her one last chance to save them both from a life of abiding regret.

Resolved, Rennick shot his cuffs, expelled a hard breath, lifted his chin and resolutely set it. Only then did he let himself out of his carriage. He'd barely closed the door behind himself when a tall, young version of Giles Hamilton dashed up to him, his hand extended.

"Viscount Parnell!" he said, his voice considerably deeper and harder than when Rennick had last heard it. "Thank G.o.d you're here!"

"When you're almost tall enough to look a man in the eyes," Rennick replied, pleased with the firmness of the boy's grip, "you can call him by his given name. It's good to see you again. How are you, Christopher?"

"At the moment, I'm fit to be tied," he confessed, freeing his hand to wave it in the direction of the little church. "You've got to do something. You can't let her marry him. You're the only one who can stop her."

Rennick weighed his own hopes against the desperation of Julia's son. There was a considerable difference, he knew, in being hopeful at thirty-five and being hopeful at sixteen. His own hopes were tempered by experience, by the inevitable failures and disappointments of life. Christopher's were the boundless ones of youth and the boy was going to hurt like h.e.l.l if a miracle didn't happen.

"No one has the right to stop her," Rennick said, determined to do what he could to prepare the boy for the very real possibility of disillusionment. "The choice is hers."

Christopher glanced at the doorway of the chapel, then rammed his fingers through his dark hair, saying, "Dammit, Rennick. It's no secret. I have eyes. It's you she loves."

"Sometimes love isn't enough," Rennick supplied quietly. "It's a tough lesson to learn and an even harder reality to endure, but it's the truth, Chris. Wishing and hoping and dreaming won't change it."

"Well, I'm not going to let her do something so obviously and incredibly stupid," he declared. "I promised Father I'd take care of her and-"

"No," Rennick interrupted, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder. "It's not your place to interfere in her decisions. Don't you dare stand up and object when the time comes. You'd mortally embarra.s.s her."

Chris sighed and stared down at the ground between their feet for a long moment. Finally, he lifted his gaze to meet Rennick's and asked, "Have you tried pleading? Have you gotten down on your knees and begged her not to do this?"

Rennick withdrew his hand and managed a smile of sorts. "I've tried everything I can think of, everything I know. When your mother settles her mind on a course, it's settled."

"Don't you love her?"

"With all my heart," Rennick admitted, looking at the doorway and willing Julia to walk out of it. "I always have, Chris. I always will."

"Then how the h.e.l.l can you calmly stand there and let her marry someone else?"

He wasn't calm. And he wasn't "letting" her. She hadn't given him a choice. And deep in his heart, he understood why. If there was any good to come of his mistakes, it lay in pa.s.sing the too late learned wisdom to someone for whom it could make a difference.

"A quick life lesson for you, Chris," he said, watching the door, his heart heavy. "There are consequences for everything you do. Some of them are immediate and some of them take a while to come back at you. Most of them are fleeting things you can brush aside and forget. But some of them can stand between your past and your future like the stoutest, thickest of walls."

"What did you do that Mother won't forgive?" he demanded, obviously thinking that he could present the logic of it all and make his mother see the world through his eyes.

"It's not a matter of forgiveness," Rennick explained. "It's forgetting that she can't do." He expelled a long breath and then squared up to Julia's son. "Chris, I was a rakeh.e.l.l. Unabashedly, unapologetically, ruthlessly. I could walk into that chapel and point out at least a half-dozen women I've bedded at one time or another."

"So?" the boy asked on a disparaging snort. "If you love my mother, none of them matter."

"You're thinking like a man," Rennick countered, shaking his head. "Women see things differently. Especially when it comes to protecting their hearts. I can't blame your mother for wanting to keep hers safe. I've spent my entire adult life proving myself to be a bad matrimonial bet. And the consequence of that is your mother's inability to believe that I can be faithful to her for the rest of it."

"But-"

"She's perfectly ent.i.tled to think that way," he cut in, firm in his defense of Julia's perspective. "I've earned the doubt, Chris. Every time I bedded a woman and walked away from her, I put a brick in the wall between us."

"You were supposed to be a monk?" Chris asked angrily.

"You're thinking like a man again," he pointed out. Smiling tightly, he added, "The incredible irony in all this is that I know how women think. All rakes do. That's how we get what we want from them. But never once in all the time that I was bedding women did it occur to me to think of how your mother was seeing it. I should have. It would have made all the difference in the world. I'd have stopped building that wall."

With a long sigh, Chris ran his fingers through his hair again. His gaze was back on the chapel doorway when he asked, "Have you bedded my mother?"

Rennick's anger instantly flared. He tamped it down just as quickly, reminding himself that at sixteen the mouth oftentimes ran faster than the brain did. "That's none of your business," he replied, his tone deliberately even and measured. "And if I ever hear that you've asked your mother that question, you'll be picking your teeth up off the ground."

"Christ, Rennick. I'm desperate," he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "The thought of her in his arms makes my skin crawl. Doesn't she know what she's giving up?"

Yes, she knew. And he had no one but himself to blame for her fear. "It's not our choice, Chris."

"I don't want that bean-counting stick for a stepfather," the boy growled, glaring at the chapel doors. "The son of a b.i.t.c.h can't even remember my name. He calls me Christian."

"Well, it's close. If he ever gets around to shortening it, you'll-"

"It should be you, Rennick," Christopher declared, turning to face him squarely. "You should be my stepfather. Emma feels the same way."

And if who Julia married was decided by a democracy, they'd all live happily ever after. "Well," he drawled, certain of at least one course in his future, "I'm likely to give you both more fatherly advice and help in the coming years than you'll like. I won't ever again be far away, Chris."

"Until you marry," the boy grumbled. "And have children of your own."

"I've decided that the t.i.tle's going to die with me. I can't give up your mother any more than I can quit breathing. It would be cruel to ask another woman to live with that reality."

"How can you live like that?"

Not well, he knew. Not in any fashion approaching happily.

Chris brightened and his eyes-Julia's beautiful blue eyes-went wide. "Let's kidnap her. She'll thank us eventually."

He'd tried a version of that already. That's how he knew just how much the blindness of his past was costing him. Rennick shook his head. "It won't work, Christopher. I've offered her the moon and the stars and all that I am. The only thing left to do is hope that when push comes to shove, she'll choose love."

"G.o.d."

"Another life lesson, Chris," he said gently, draping his arm around his shoulders and turning him to face the doors. "Sometimes you have to suck it in and smile while you walk through h.e.l.l. It's time to go inside, sit down, and pretend we're happy for her."

"I can't do that."

"Yes you can," Rennick a.s.sured him, resolutely starting them forward. "Very few men are really brave. Mostly we're just good actors." And in showing Christopher how it was done, he might actually have the strength to survive it himself.

Julia paced the little dressing room, her bouquet in hand, as she listened to the desk clock tick away the seconds. It was so like Lawrence to be late for his own wedding. Np doubt he'd become involved in some sort of business puzzle and had lost all track of time. With any luck, one of his household staff would remember that he had somewhere to be and get him on his way. This would all go so much more smoothly if- The door opened and her heart lurched, stopped, and then raced at the sight of Anne Michaels's frown.

"It is with sincere and deep regret," her friend said from the doorway, "that I inform you of the blasted groom's arrival."

Julia sagged in relief, glad that matters could finally get under way. "Thank you."

Anne considered her and Julia braced herself, knowing precisely what was coming. "It's not too late to change your mind. If you want to run, I'm perfectly willing to throw myself in front of his carriage wheels so he can't come after you."

Yes, it was exactly what she'd thought Anne would say. "Such sacrifice," she observed, chuckling dryly. "You're a true friend."

"Rennick is here, as well," Anne countered, her brow arched. "Christopher and Emma are sitting with him in the chapel."

Of course, she thought. Rennick was a man of his word. And her children weren't above committing emotional blackmail. They'd learned a great deal from Rennick over the course of their childhoods.

"Julia-"

"Don't even begin, Anne," she said, holding up her hand and shaking her head. "I've had quite enough of my children's harping and pleading. There's absolutely no need to add to it."

Her friend sighed. "I could just shake you."

"Actually, you did a very good job of that at Lady Wells's party," Julia admitted, smiling, remembering, and grateful for what had come of it. "Thank you. Now go, take your seat, and say a prayer for me."

Anne cast one more beseeching look at her before turning and walking away. And leaving the door open behind her. Julia smiled, knowing that she had intended it as a subtle hint, an aid in the hoped-for quick departure. Unfortunately, running away wasn't a possibility.

No, she'd merrily danced and now it was time to pay the piper. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too ugly, too painful. Julia shifted the bouquet in her hands, squared her shoulders, crossed the room, and then resolutely stepped across the hall.

At her knock, he wrenched open the door, saying, "I'm perfectly aware that I'm late, Julia. I was going over Denham's ledgers and simply lost track of the time."

She took a deep breath. "Lawrence, there's something I must confess."

Rennick knitted his brows and watched the parson lean down and whisper in the organist's ear. The musician shrugged his shoulders, closed his sheet music, and stood up.

It took every bit of his self-control to keep himself from leaping to his feet and punching his fists skyward with a triumphant cry. She'd done it! His darling, sweet, pa.s.sionate Julia had come to her senses!

"Something's gone wrong," the boy beside him whispered.

"Not wrong, Chris," he corrected, his heart singing, his pulse racing. "It's all about to come perfectly right."

The proof of his a.s.sertion came in the next instant when the door at the side of the chapel opened and Julia glided through it, her chin high, her bouquet in one hand, her skirts firmly grasped in the other. She was moving purposefully toward the front of the whispering a.s.semblage when Christopher started up out of the pew.

Rennick threw his arm across the boy's chest and pinned him back, saying quietly, firmly, "Sit right where you are and don't move. Don't make a sound. Either one of you. Let her do this her way. If she wants our help, she'll let us know."

She stopped and turned, her gaze arrowing to his. The light danced in her eyes and her slow smile said, "Yes, Rennick, you've won."

Julia watched him grin and settle back against the pew. Delight and certainty washed over her as he silently mouthed, "Thank you, darling."

Her world centered, her course clear, Julia tore her gaze from his, drew another deep breath and faced her second great challenge of the day. "I'd like to thank everyone for attending," she said, sweeping her gaze over the wide-eyed guests. "I sincerely regret that your time has been wasted this morning."

The murmurs were instant and full. Those who weren't exchanging comments with their pewmates were staring at her, their jaws slack and their mouths gaping. Christopher and Emma and Anne all grinned. Rennick's smile was soft and adoring.

"As you might have surmised," she went on when the murmurs had died down a bit, "I've had second thoughts and decided that it would be unfair and horribly unkind to tie Lawrence to a woman of such shallow and wavering commitment. The fault lies entirely within my own character and I hope that each of you will make a point to express your sympathies to Lawrence when next you see him."

Rennick listened to the wave of startled comment sweeping through the crowd, his mind clicking. It was so typical of Julia to accept the full burden of the scandal. Typical, but unacceptable. She wasn't in it alone. He'd done his part to create it and he'd take his share of the social outrage.

"The reception luncheon will still be served, of course. I hope you stay to partake and enjoy it," Julia went on brightly, watching Rennick gain his feet and step into the aisle. He started toward her, his arms open and his smile wondrously wide.

There was a collective gasp and then absolute, stunned silence. "And that you'll forgive me for not sharing it with you. I have a journey to make," she said happily, moving to meet him halfway.

He caught her in his arms and lifted her clear off the floor to spin her around and grin up at her. "You'll never regret this. I promise."

"And I believe you as deeply and forever as I love you." He set her gently onto her feet and drew her close. Her bouquet resting on his shoulder, her fingers twined in his hair, she looked up into his loving eyes and whispered, "I'm so sorry for what I did to us yes-"

His kiss was slow and deep and knee-meltingly thorough. She sighed and leaned into him, her heart and soul grateful for the gift of his undying love, her body heating in the fire of the pa.s.sion he so easily kindled.

Breaking their kiss, he drew back, the sparkling light of certainty in his eyes, an utterly wicked smile on his face. In the next instant he swept her up into the cradle of his arms. With a quick, rea.s.suring wink, he looked past her and at her children. "We'll need witnesses," he said. "Kindly get yourselves up and out to my carriage."

She laughed at their delight, at their stumbling scramble to obey.

"Oh, Julia, I'm so proud of you!" Anne cried from behind her. "What a delicious scandal this is going to be."

Julia peered over Rennick's shoulder to grin at her friend. "Won't it, though?" she called as the great love of her life carried her past the stunned and appalled guests. "We're off to Gretna Green. And you can tell anyone who wants to know that Julia St. James doesn't care what they think."

end.