Читать книгу An Independent Woman - Candace Camp, Candace Camp - Страница 7

JULIANA’S BACK stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”

“Mama!” Clementine whirled around to face her mother. “You cannot allow Juliana to go with Lord Barre. I should be the one to ride in his curricle.”

It took all Juliana’s strength of will not to snap at the girl that she was the one Lord Barre had invited, not Clementine.

“Oh, no, dear,” Mrs. Thrall assured her. “Don’t you worry about that. Of course he had to invite Juliana. It would not do for a young girl like you to ride out with a man alone. You have to have Juliana as a chaperone.”

“No, I don’t,” Clementine insisted. “It’s perfectly all right for a lady to go for a ride in a vehicle with a gentleman alone, especially an open-air one like a curricle. Juliet Sloane told me ladies and gentlemen do it all the time.”

Her mother looked uncertain. “Well, I know that it’s unexceptionable for older ladies and gentlemen, but a girl your age, new to the Town, I’m not sure….”

She glanced toward Juliana. “What do you think, Juliana?”

“I think that it scarcely matters in this instance, since Lord Barre has already invited me to ride with him.”

“That’s true.” Mrs. Thrall brightened. “And you can count on it, Clemmy, that if as highborn a gentleman as Lord Barre asked Juliana to come along, as well, then that is the way it should be.”

Juliana had to grind her teeth together to keep from pointing out that Lord Barre had not invited Clementine along at all. It galled her to think of the tiresome girl inserting herself into her ride with Nicholas. She would chatter and giggle and flirt like mad, and Juliana would have no more chance to chat alone with him than she had had today. It was, she thought, the outside of enough. But she could scarcely tell her employer that her daughter was not welcome to come with them. Mrs. Thrall would all too likely forbid Juliana to go, as well.

Clementine pouted for a few minutes, flashing a look of intense dislike in Juliana’s direction, until finally Mrs. Thrall suggested that the two of them go to a millinery shop and purchase a fetching new bonnet for Clementine to wear on the ride tomorrow. Juliana, she said, could take Fiona to the bookshop, as the tiresome girl had been begging to go.

Mrs. Thrall would have been surprised to learn that Juliana much preferred doing almost anything with her younger daughter Fiona than with Clementine or her mother. Fiona, at thirteen, had a livelier wit and more charming personality than Mrs. Thrall and Clementine combined. Juliana had spent a great deal of time with the girl, as Mrs. Thrall found Fiona’s questions tiring and her interests peculiar, so she often shoved her younger daughter off into Juliana’s capable hands.

Fiona, it turned out, was finding Clementine as obnoxious today as Juliana. “If I hear one more word about Lord Barre, I think I shall scream,” she told Juliana as they strode up the street in the direction of the bookshop.

Juliana glanced down at the young girl and smiled. Fiona’s coloring was much like her sister’s, her hair pale blond and her eyes blue, but there the resemblance ended. Fiona was already as tall as her petite sister and showed no signs of stopping growing yet. Her face was squarish in shape, with a firm chin, and none of the soft, dimpled look for which Clementine was well-known. In sharp contrast to Clementine, her blue eyes were sharp and gleaming with intelligence.

“She has done nothing but talk of the man the whole day,” Fiona went on in irritation. “How handsome he is, how wealthy he is, how respected his name is.”

“Lord Barre is a…remarkable man,” Juliana told her.

The younger girl made a face. “No one could be the paragon that Clementine describes.”

Juliana chuckled. “Well, that is probably true. But he is a friend of mine. We grew up together, and long ago he was the best friend I had.”

“Really?” Fiona looked up at her in astonishment. “You are friends with the man Clemmy is going to marry?”

Juliana raised one brow skeptically. “Is that what she said?”

“Oh, yes. She said he would be head-over-heels about her in a few days.” Fiona grimaced. “And she’s usually right about men, even if she is abysmally ignorant about everything else. Men seem to be disgustingly taken with her.”

Juliana automatically started to remind Fiona that she should not talk so disparagingly about her sister. But on second thought, she decided that it was wrong to reprimand the girl for speaking the truth. “I’m not sure that she will have the usual success with this one.”

The evening before Juliana had wondered if Nicholas might become attracted to Clementine’s beauty. He had, after all, smiled and conversed with her. But his actions today had left little room for misinterpretation. He had left, pleading lack of time, shortly after Clementine had entered the room and taken over the conversation, and, whatever Mrs. Thrall might choose to think about Nicholas’s invitation, he had not included Clementine in it. Mrs. Thrall and her daughter might be able to arrange it the next morning so that he had to take Clementine along, but Juliana was quite certain that he had not intended for Clementine to go.

Juliana, too, had seen Clementine wrap men around her finger, and she could not say with certainty that she might not be able to eventually work her wiles on Nicholas, but she did not think it would be easy.

“That would be wonderful,” Fiona said, grinning. “He must be smarter than most of the men Clemmy sees.”

“Yes, I rather think he is. Nicholas was always perceptive.”

“How did you know him?”

“He was orphaned and had to live with his uncle. My mother was a cousin to his uncle’s wife, and we lived in a cottage on the estate. Nicholas and I formed a—well, a sort of alliance of outcasts.”

“Why was he an outcast? I mean, he is a lord now,” Fiona pointed out.

“It was odd,” Juliana agreed. “He wasn’t treated like a future lord. I never even realized until I heard that he’d come into the title that he was the heir. His grandfather was ill and lived in Bath, and Nicholas’s uncle was his guardian. The way everyone acted…well, I never asked, but I assumed that his uncle Trenton was the one who would inherit the title and the estate, and that after him, Trenton’s son Crandall would. Trenton Barre ran the estate for his father, and everyone acted as if he were the lord and master.”

“Why?” Fiona asked.

“Trenton Barre was a tyrant. I think probably everyone was too scared of him to cross him. There were people—some of the servants and some of the farmers who lived around there—who were nice to Nicholas. But in a secretive way, not in front of his uncle. I never understood why Uncle Trenton disliked Nicholas so. Now I can see that it was because he knew that Nicholas would inherit the title, not him or his son. It must have galled him terribly to know that one day he would have to turn over the estate he ran to Nicholas. That he would have to call him ‘my lord.’”

“Well, he can’t have been terribly smart. I mean, wouldn’t it have been better to be kind to him? Maybe then he wouldn’t have had to lose everything when Lord Barre came into the title.”

“I don’t think Uncle Trenton thought that way. It seemed to always be all or nothing with him. He had to be in command. I think he viewed the estate as his and hated Nicholas for being a reminder that it really was not.” Juliana shrugged. “At any rate, he didn’t have to see Nicholas succeed to the title. He died several years ago.”

“It sounds as if he was a terrible man,” Fiona commented.

“He was. I was glad I was in Europe with Mrs. Simmons at the time he died and couldn’t be expected to return for the funeral. I would have found it difficult to honor him.”

They walked on in silence for a few more minutes, and then Fiona said, “Well…if Lord Barre is a friend of yours, then I suppose I cannot dislike him. As long as he does not fall in love with Clementine, that is.”

“Yes,” Juliana agreed. “I think that I would have a hard time liking him, too, if he did that.”

Fiona began to talk about the book she had just finished reading, and Juliana listened to her chatter, her mind only partly on what the girl was saying. The rest was occupied with mentally sorting through her small wardrobe, trying to find a dress that was not horribly dull to wear on her ride the next morning.

That, she soon realized, would be an impossible task. All her dresses were plain and sewn of sensible fabrics in dark shades of gray, blue and brown, chosen for their durability and practicality, with an eye to giving Juliana the appearance of dull reliability that people sought in a paid companion. Companions, after all, were not usually hired in the hopes that they would be entertaining and interesting people to have around. They were there to provide a certain respectability for a woman on her own, or to fetch and carry and respond to someone’s boring conversation with apparent interest.

Juliana found that she could not bear to appear the next morning looking dowdy, so that evening she took out her best bonnet and re-attached the saucy little cluster of cherries that she had removed from it in order to dress it down. There was little she could do to the dress to improve it other than add a small ruffle of lace around the modestly high neck and long sleeves.

She thought of sitting beside Clementine, who would be wearing a doubtlessly fetching new hat, and she could not help but feel a stab of jealousy. She had spent her life around people who had more than she did, and Juliana thought that she had done very well at not feeling envious. She had always tried to think instead of the graces of her life—good health and reasonably attractive looks, and her ability to make her own way in the world without being at the mercy of others, as her mother had been. She was free and had at least a small amount of savings, and she had made some very good friends in her life. These things were much more than some people had, she knew, and she normally felt grateful for them and did not hunger over what others possessed.

But this time she could not shrug off the black resentment that crept over her as she thought of Clementine wedging her way into this moment that belonged to Juliana. Clementine would talk and preen and spoil the moment. There was nothing she could do, however, except hope that Clementine would, in her usual way, be so late that they could leave without her.

Unfortunately, the next morning Clementine was in the sitting room ready to go only minutes after Juliana. She was flushed with excitement, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks rosy, looking, Juliana had to admit, quite lovely. And the hat she had bought yesterday was indeed fetching, a chip straw with a shallow brim that showed her face to full advantage and tied with a great blue satin ribbon that accentuated the blue of her eyes.

When Nicholas was announced a few minutes later, he strolled into the room, his eyes sweeping over Clementine and her mother. “Mrs. Thrall. Miss Thrall.”

His gaze came to rest on Juliana, and a faint smile lightened his dark visage. “Juliana. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Juliana rose, glancing toward Clementine, who also stood up.

“My lord,” Clementine said, smiling prettily and coming forward, reaching out to tuck her hand into his arm. “I am all aflutter. Is your curricle terribly high-seated? I shall be quite frightened if it is.” She let out a little chuckle, inviting him to share in the amusement of her charmingly silly feminine fear.

Nicholas looked back at her, his face wooden, and did not move to extend his arm to her. He said only, “I am sorry, Miss Thrall, there must have been some sort of misunderstanding. My invitation this morning was for Miss Holcott.”

Clementine’s jaw dropped at the obvious snub, and Juliana had to press her lips together tightly to keep a smile from forming on them.

Mrs. Thrall, too, stared in astonishment, but she recovered more quickly than her daughter, saying, “I—I presumed it was a general invitation. After all, it is scarcely proper for a gentleman and lady to jaunt about the city alone in a carriage.”

Nicholas turned his flat dark gaze on the older woman. “It is gratifying that you are so concerned about Miss Holcott’s good name, madam, but I assure you, it is perfectly acceptable. It is an open carriage. And quite small. I fear only two people are able to ride in it at a time, which is the reason that my invitation was specifically to Juliana.”

Mrs. Thrall could think of no reply, but simply stood, looking at him. Nicholas seized the opportunity to turn and offer Juliana his arm. Juliana hurried forward and tucked her hand through his. She was not about to dawdle and give her employer time to recover her wits and forbid her to go.

Nicholas was apparently of the same mind as she, for he swept her down the hall and out the front door at a fast clip, scarcely giving Juliana even a moment to appreciate the gleaming new yellow curricle before he handed her up into it. Taking the reins from his groom, who had been walking the horses to keep them warm while he was inside, Nicholas climbed up onto the seat next to Juliana.

“Abominable woman!” he exclaimed, slapping the reins to set the horses in motion.

Juliana let out a laugh of delight at having eluded Mrs. Thrall’s schemes. There would be the devil to pay when she got back, no doubt, but for the moment, she did not care. It was too wonderful to be out with Nicholas, free for the next hour, perched in a vehicle that was the height of fashion, and from which she had a wonderful view of all the hustle and bustle of London. Juliana set her hat firmly on her head, tied the ribbon beneath her chin and looked over at Nicholas with a smile.

Nicholas grinned back. “How the devil did you wind up with those two, anyway?”

Juliana shrugged. “It isn’t always easy to find a position as a companion. People usually want someone older than I am and more…well…”

“Unattractive?” Nicholas hazarded a guess.

Juliana cast him a sideways glance, smiling. “Why, thank you, sir.” Was she actually flirting with Nicholas? Somehow she could not bring herself to care about that, either. “But I was about to say ‘obsequious.’”

He let out a bark of laughter. “I can see that you have not changed. I cannot picture you at someone else’s beck and call. How did you ever seize upon the idea of being a companion?”

“It seemed a natural avenue, after living with Seraphina and your aunt Lilith all those years,” Juliana replied. “They sent me to finishing school with Seraphina.” She remembered her mother’s pleasure at Juliana’s being given the opportunity to go to a good school for girls, something they obviously could never have afforded. But she, of course, had known the reason behind Trenton and Lilith’s apparent generosity.

“They needed someone to keep an eye on Seraphina and make sure she didn’t get into any trouble. Which was not an easy task, I can assure you. Seraphina was just as flighty and silly a young woman as she was as a child. And then, after we finished, Seraphina had a tour of the continent. The war was over by then. So, again, I went along to help, and when that was over, I saw that I was amply prepared to be a companion. I knew all about fetching and carrying, and listening to boring conversation and flattering someone.”

“Did Aunt Lilith turn you out?” he asked, a dangerous note in his voice.

“Oh, no. I could have stayed. I didn’t flatter myself that Aunt Lilith liked me, but she would have liked my help in getting Seraphina through her debut, and she would not have wanted the gossip about her throwing a poor young girl upon the world. But I could not stand living in that prison any longer, and with my mother gone, there was really no reason to. Lilith was just as happy that I decided to leave, I think. If I had stayed, she would have had to bring me out, as well, at least in some small fashion, and that would have galled her.”

Juliana did not add that Crandall had begun to change his tactics when she grew up, from pulling her hair and playing mean tricks on her to trying to corner her in the library and sneak a kiss, or run a caressing hand over her body. His pursuit had been one of the major reasons that she had been determined to leave Lychwood Hall. Aunt Lilith, she thought, suspected that something was going on, but Lilith had been convinced that the situation was the other way around, even accusing Juliana on one occasion of trying to ensnare her son.

“So Aunt Lilith wrote a letter of recommendation for me, and I set out on my own. It took a little while, but then someone hired me to take care of his aging mother.” She also did not add that that bit of employment had ended when the man who had hired her showed up at the door of her bedroom one night, drunk and leering and making fumbling advances to her. “After a time I met Mrs. Simmons, and it was actually quite pleasant after that.”

Nicholas frowned. “I dislike your being at that Thrall woman’s beck and call.”

“Nor do I like it,” Juliana agreed candidly. “However, it is a price that I am willing to pay for my freedom. At least this is a straightforward business transaction. I am not dependent on anyone’s charity.”

Nicholas had maneuvered through the streets as they talked, and they had reached the sylvan paths of Hyde Park, where there was far less traffic, and he could relax and turn his attention away from controlling the horses. He looked over at Juliana.

It was still a little something of a surprise to him each time he looked at her. He had known she would be older, of course, though he had been able to recognize the child he had known in her face. But still, somehow, it was disconcerting to see the woman she had become, the sweetly familiar face of his childhood turned into a beauty.

Hers was not the pale, insipid beauty of one such as the Thrall girl, whom Nicholas found crushingly boring. Juliana’s beauty lay not just in her thick dark-brown hair, sternly constrained in a firm knot at the base of her neck, although it was the sort of hair that made a man’s fingers itch to pull out her pins and release it in a luxuriant tumble around her shoulders. Nor was it only the well-modeled features of her face. Hers was a beauty that shone out of her lively gray eyes and blossomed in the smile that curved her lips, a loveliness born of strength and personality, and the multitude of small things that made Juliana uniquely herself.

He knew her, and yet he did not know her, and he found the combination compelling. Gazing at her now, Nicholas was aware of a sudden desire to lean over and kiss that softly curving mouth, to taste what he was sure would be the piquant sweetness of her lips.

His eyes darkened, straying to her mouth, and it was only with some inner firmness that he was able to pull his gaze away. He stared straight ahead above his horses’ heads for a few moments, pondering the instant of desire that had just flashed through him. This was not the sort of feeling he should be having about Juliana, he told himself.

She was the beloved companion of his childhood, the girl who had provided the only warmth he had known after his parents’ deaths. He had been eager to find her when he returned to England, but it had been the eagerness of an old close friend…of a brother, say. He loved her, he thought, as much as he found himself able to love anyone, but it was a small, pure, uncomplicated love, a deep fondness for a childhood memory.

Yet here Juliana was, not at all a memory, looking very much like a desirable woman, and the feeling that had just speared through him was not years-old devotion but the swift lust of a man for a woman.

The feeling shook him. It seemed perverse to experience this sort of sensation about someone almost a sister to him. Had any other man expressed feeling such a thing for her, he would have taught him a quick, brutal lesson.

This unexpected desire was certainly not something upon which he could act. Juliana trusted him; he could never take advantage of her, even in the smallest way. There were many, he knew, who considered him unscrupulous, even wicked, and he admitted that he was not a good man. But he would never do something so dastardly as to take advantage of Juliana’s kind feelings for him.

Moreover, aside from the importance of not violating Juliana’s trust in him, there was the matter of her reputation. She was a lady, and her reputation must be above reproach. It was even more imperative that nothing besmirch her name, given that she had to make her own way in the world. It was far too easy for even unproved black marks to attach to the reputation of a woman who had no family to protect her and no high name to bolster hers. He could and would, of course, defend her name, but it was a sad truth that merely the defense of a man of his uncertain reputation would probably only damage her name further.

Nicholas knew, therefore, that he could not even pay her particular attention without causing scandalous talk about her. He should not call on her too often nor take her out on the dance floor more than every once in a while. It would have been more politic, he was sure, to have taken the annoying Thrall chit with them today in a larger vehicle. It would have deflected attention from Juliana onto Clementine, and he frankly had little regard for whether tongues wagged about that girl. However, he had selfishly wanted Juliana all to himself, at least this once.

There were far too many looks being cast in their direction from the carriages and riders they passed, and Nicholas knew that the gossip circuit would soon be buzzing about the woman with whom Lord Barre had been seen in the Park. He would have to refrain from going out riding with Juliana again for a week or two, and it would be wise not to even call on her again for a few days. Nicholas despised having to kowtow to such arbitrary constraints, but he could not jeopardize Juliana’s reputation.

Juliana, looking up at Nicholas, had seen the subtle change in his face, the way his eyes flickered involuntarily to her lips. Her breath had caught in her throat, and her stomach had tightened. He was about to kiss her, she had thought.

Then he had looked abruptly away. She relaxed, not quite sure whether she felt relief or disappointment. Indeed, she was not quite certain anything at all had happened. Had she mistaken the look in his eyes?

Surely she was not wrong. There had been a spark, an infinitesimal tightening of his face, and something inside her had responded. She could not deny that response—eager, yet also a trifle wary, a tingle of warmth that moved through her with the speed of lightning. It had all been faster, more subtle, than thought. Instinctive, but beyond doubt.

She cast another sideways glance up at Nicholas. He was staring straight ahead, his jaw set. She wondered what he thought, what he felt. Had he regretted that momentary impulse? With a certain disappointment, she realized that he probably had. Why else would he have turned away so abruptly?

It was a lowering thought. If he had felt a flash of masculine interest in her, he had clearly and immediately regretted it. He was right, of course. Even though they had once been close, she was clearly someone whom he would not think of courting and marrying. The difference in their stations in life was now vast. All she could hope for was friendship from him, and desire would only hinder that.

He had been correct, and if it wounded her pride a little, that was simply something she would have to get over. It wasn’t, she reminded herself, as if she had wanted him to kiss her. He was, after all, virtually a stranger to her after all these years. And she was much too mature and practical now to give weight to the romantic adolescent dreams she had had about him. It did not matter that she had felt some sort of reaction when she thought he was about to kiss her, that there had been a flash of warmth in her midsection and a sudden tingling awareness of seemingly every inch of her skin. Why, she was not entirely sure whether what she had felt had been eagerness or fear.

And whatever she might have felt, she was, after all, the master of herself and her emotions. A kiss would have been highly improper, and she was glad—yes, glad—that Nicholas had turned away without giving in to his impulse.

Still, she could not help but be very aware of Nicholas now—of his warmth, his size, his very presence beside her on their high perch. She looked up at his face, sharp in profile, his skin taut across the slicing arc of his cheekbones, the only softening feature the thick brush of his lashes.

He must have felt her gaze upon him, for he turned his head toward her. Juliana glanced quickly away, a blush rising in her cheeks at having been caught staring at him. She would hate for him to think that she was overly bold.

Her eyes strayed to his hands, large and firm on the reins, encased in supple kid driving gloves. She remembered the touch of his hand on her waist as they danced, warm and strong. There was something about the memory of his touch that made her a trifle breathless.

A breeze caressed her flushed cheeks and lifted a few stray tendrils of her hair. She felt as if her skin was more sensitive than normal, more alive to the warmth of the sun or the brush of air against it.

Juliana clasped her hands in her lap and looked down at them. These sorts of thoughts would never do, she told herself. And Nicholas would think her a tongue-tied dolt, the way she was sitting here, saying nothing.

They passed an open landaulet, occupied by two middle-aged ladies who eyed them sharply. Juliana felt sure that by this evening, the word would be all over fashionable society that Lord Barre had driven out in the Park this morning with an unknown girl—and one of such plain dress and demeanor, too.

“They will be gossiping about you, you know,” she told him. “It will cause great speculation that you are with a female whom none of them recognize.”

Nicholas shrugged carelessly. “They always gossip about me. Or, at least, that is what people tell me. The good thing about it is that I never hear it.” He glanced at her. “Will it bother you?”

She smiled at him. “Oh, no. As I said, they won’t know who I am. And even if they did…as you said, I won’t hear it. What worries me more is what Mrs. Thrall will say when I return.”

“Perhaps I should come in with you. A few minutes spent with that tedious girl might improve her mood.”

“No, I shan’t ask you to subject yourself to that.” Juliana smiled. “I am sure that you will find yourself plagued by having to talk to her far more times than you will wish—that is, I mean, if you intend to call at the house again.” She stumbled to a halt, realizing that all unintentionally she had put herself forward, assuming that he intended to continue his visits with her. “I’m sorry. I have put you in an awkward position. Aunt Lilith always told me I was far too blunt in my speech.”

“Nonsense. I find plain speaking refreshing. Of course I intend to call upon you again…even if it does mean having to put up with the Thrall women.”

“Do not come too often,” Juliana warned him.

He lifted his brows, amusement touching his dark eyes. “Do you find my presence so tedious?”

“No.” Juliana chuckled. “Of course not. But Mrs. Thrall and Clementine will be convinced that you are madly in love with her if you call very often.”

“Perish the thought,” he responded. “Although…mayhap I could use her as a ruse. That way ’twould do no harm to your reputation if I called upon you often.”

Juliana was aware of a twinge of jealousy at the thought of Nicholas pretending to court Clementine. “Yes, but then you would be expected to propose to Clementine or else be considered a cad.”

He shrugged. “I have been considered far worse things. Indeed, I have done far worse things.”

“If you think that, then you have not spent day after day in conversation with Clementine.”

Nicholas laughed. “Ah, Juliana, I cannot tell you how relieved I am that you have not grown up to be dull.”

Juliana could not help but smile. “And I am glad to be around someone with whom I need not rein in my tongue.”

“I suspect that in the Thrall family, much of what you say is not even understood.”

“No, Clementine has a younger sister who is quite bright. Her name is Fiona, and I cannot imagine how she came to be in that family.”

“Is there a Mr. Thrall?”

“Oh, yes, but he had the good sense to remain in Yorkshire during Clementine’s Season.”

“Then perhaps that is where this Fiona gets her intelligence.”

“You are probably right.”

They continued to chat in this light way as they made their way through the Park. They passed a number of other people, some in vehicles, others on horseback. It was the fashionable thing to ride in the morning—though how so many of them managed to be up by this hour after the late nights at various parties, Juliana was not sure. Some of the people nodded to Nicholas or spoke to them. Others clearly hoped to catch his eye and perhaps receive a nod from him.

“A number of people seem to want to know you,” Juliana remarked.

“It is remarkable how popular a title makes one,” Nicholas retorted.

“Oh, it takes more than a title,” Juliana said. “Money helps.”

Again his grin flashed, softening the hard lines of his face. Neither of them was aware of how others’ interest in Juliana’s identity was heightened by the look he turned toward her.

“Cynic,” Nicholas told her. “Don’t you know that you are supposed to protest that it is my wonderful qualities that others admire?”

“It has been my experience that most people never bothered to look for your wonderful qualities,” Juliana answered truthfully. “I am sure none of these people are aware of them, either.”

“Indeed, I think you were always my only champion.”

“Not much of one, I’m afraid. I never managed to save you from punishment, as I recall.”

He shrugged carelessly. “No one could have, much less a nine- or ten-year-old girl. My fate was sealed the day my father and mother died.”

“Your grandfather could have taken you in,” Juliana pointed out. “He should have taken an interest in you, at least.”

“His only interest was in his various aches and pains, real or otherwise. There may have been some estrangement between him and my father. I don’t remember visiting him or his coming to us before my parents died. The first time I remember seeing him was at my parents’ funeral, and then he turned me over to Uncle Trenton. And from my uncle’s reports of me, I feel sure he felt little desire to see me.”

“Twas no excuse,” Juliana maintained stoutly.

He looked at her, his dark eyes unreadable. “I think that you don’t remember me as I was. You were a better friend to me than I deserved.”

“Nonsense,” Juliana retorted. “I knew you were not a saint. You were quite often sullen, and you were rude to our governess and frequently bloodied Crandall’s nose.”

“Ah, then you do remember.”

“Yes. I also remember that few people deserved having their noses bloodied as much as Crandall. He was a vile boy who grew up into a vile young man. And Miss Emerson was not merely strict, she was unkind. Perhaps you should have been less hard on Seraphina. She wasn’t really mean, I think, merely selfish and silly. But how could you not have hated your uncle? He was a terrible man. When I heard that he died, I can tell you that I felt not the slightest bit of regret.”

“Nor did I.” He slanted a smile at her. “Are we villains together, then?”

“I think not. Merely human.”

“You do not know what else I have done,” he reminded her, watching her steadily. “It’s been many years that I’ve been gone.”

Juliana looked into his eyes, deep and black, and she saw in them, as she had seen those many years ago, a terrifying aloneness. Impulsively, she put her hand upon his arm, saying, “I think that whatever you have done, Nicholas, you did because you had to.”

“And does that make it right?”

“I don’t know. But I think it means you do not have a wicked heart.”

He gazed at her for a long time, unspeaking, and the lines of his face softened subtly. He shifted the reins to one hand and placed his free hand over hers on his arm. For a moment they remained that way, unspeaking, and then he moved, letting his hand fall away.

“And your heart, I think, is a generous one,” he said lightly, and the moment was past. “Now, we had best get you home before your Mrs. Thrall starts breathing fire.”

Juliana’s hand tingled where his hand had touched it, and her cheeks were suddenly warm. It took a great deal of restraint not to lay her other hand on the spot where he had touched her; such a gesture would, she was sure, reveal too much of what she was feeling. She wished, with an intensity that both surprised and shook her, that he had not taken his hand away. That he had, instead, leaned closer to her and kissed her.

Juliana pressed her lips together tightly and directed her gaze out onto the street—anywhere but at Nicholas. He considered her a friend. She could not let him know that what she felt for him was something different.