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Chapter 21
“How dare you humiliate me in front of the ton?” Her father almost spat in her face, his spittle flying toward her; she flinched instinctively. “You took that idiot from the asylum and thought what? That you would be lauded for that? And now you bring her to a ball and flaunt her in front of everybody? I’d have killed her if I knew you were stupid enough to do it!”
“I humiliate you?” Julie found her voice at the threat to Mary’s life. “You humiliated yourself when you sent Mary away.” She tried to steady her voice, but she couldn’t hold the emotion from it. The tears burned the backs of her eyes. “She is your daughter!”
“I don’t know that!” he screamed. “She is probably a bastard. My children would never be born idiots.” He said vehemently.
“The only idiot in our family is you!” She hissed between her teeth. Norfolk made a grab for her, but she wrenched away just in time. “Don’t you touch me,” she said emphatically. “I am not your property anymore, and neither is Mary. We are out, and we are happy, and if you come near either of us one more time, I will shoot you with my husband’s pistol!”
Julie walked past the astonished marquess triumphantly, although her hands were shaking. Norfolk was so surprised by her behavior that he didn’t even say a word to her.
Julie entered the ballroom, an enormous smile on her face. It didn’t matter that people avoided them anymore; it didn’t matter that they’ve been gossiped about. The confrontation with her father somehow made her feel free and powerful. She was ever under his shadow. Her mother’s death, Mary’s disappearance, John’s exile to the continent—everything bad that ever happened in her life was because of him. Now she was free.
She sought her husband with her eyes and met his worried gaze. She smiled widely at him before a silhouette of a large man blocked her view. She raised her eyes and saw Eric, Robert’s cousin, sneering down at her. Julie expelled a deep breath. Would this night ever end?
* * *
After the dance with Mary, Robert looked about the room, searching for his wife. If she were truly all right, she would be back by now, wouldn’t she? He wanted to sweep Mary and the dowager into the carriage, find Julie and take them home. This ball was dreary enough. And Mary got enough excitement to last her a year.
At that moment, his gaze found Julie, and he relaxed instantly. His relief turned to dread and then rage as he saw who she was talking with. Eric.
The bastard dared to talk to his wife. He felt himself turn hot; his hands shook from the desire to either throttle him or shake the stuffing out of him. However, he couldn’t leave his place because Mary was hanging on his arm, obviously tired, and the dowager was somewhere across the ballroom chatting to her old friend. Julie seemed to be speaking amicably to his hated enemy, completely unaware that her husband was shooting daggers with his gaze toward her companion. Next moment Eric placed a hand on her shoulder, gently, as if on his lover, and Robert took an unconscious step forward. Julie thankfully shook off his hand, gingerly too, and his eyes narrowed at the action. She wasn’t shaking him off in disgust; it was as if she was trying to be circumspect. His suspicion turned to certainty when she looked around in agitation, then met his gaze, threw a few words to Eric over her shoulder, and walked toward him.
By the time they arrived home, Julie was her old self, smiling and chatty. Once they tucked Mary in, Robert went to his room, undressed, and listened to the sounds in his wife’s room. She was freshening up, and her maid was helping her get ready for bed.
As soon as the door closed behind Alice, Robert opened the connecting door of their bed-chambers and walked into Julie’s room. She was still sitting at the vanity, combing her hair. She raised her head as he walked in and regarded him with a slight smile.
Robert walked slowly behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.
“Are you all right?” he whispered, staring at her troubled reflection. Julie didn’t raise her eyes at him. She placed her comb on the table, stood from her chair, and turned to him.
“I am,” she said as if she doubted her own words. She looked up to him then, and he saw a tiny frown marring her features. “It’s just been an eventful day.”
“I know.” Robert furrowed his brows. “I saw you talking to someone before we left—” he trailed away, waiting for her to pick up the thread, and she did.
“Oh, you mean Eric?” she grimaced a little.
“Eric?” Robert repeated, his tone dry.
“I need to tell you something.” Julie turned away and walked slowly to her bed. She sat on the edge, her hands folded on her lap, her gaze fixed on the floor.
“Yes?” Robert followed his wife with his gaze.
“He—he came to Clydesdale estate while you were in London,” Julie answered evenly.
“What?” Robert stepped forward, his hands clenched into fists by his side. Eric was at his estate, with his wife, while he was away? And nobody told him? “Why didn’t I know about this?” he asked hoarsely. It seemed like his worst nightmare was repeating itself.
Julie cleared her throat lightly. “I was going to, but then Mary got sick, and later when we talked, we—” she colored a little as she continued, “well, you know. And it just slipped my mind.”
Robert gave a disbelieving huff. “Slipped your mind?” he raised his eyes in irritation. “How come Eric, slipped your mind,” he sneered his cousin’s name, “while you remembered to question me about Vanessa—” Robert’s eyes widened as the realization dawned on him. “He was the one who told you about her, wasn’t he?”
Julie didn’t move and didn’t indicate she heard him, not even with her breath.
“What else did the bastard say?” Robert’s gaze was fixed on his wife’s unmoving profile. He shook his head as if to rid himself of the unpleasant revelation. Julie finally raised her head and regarded him solemnly.
“He said that you seduced the girl he loved,” she said with a frown between her brows. “That you ruined her and left her.”
“And you believed him?” Robert almost growled the question.
