Читать книгу The Complete Regency Season Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 76

Chapter Fifteen

The spell broke as she met Will’s gaze. It held nothing but a desperate appeal for help. Julia found her voice. ‘I suggest that you go back to the salon as soon as possible, my lord, before someone notices exactly who is missing.’

Caroline went rigid. Will dropped his hands from her and turned. ‘Julia.’

‘Leave her. Go back now—do you want to make a scandal?’ Will did not move and Julia’s tenuous hold on her emotions gave way. ‘Go,’ she hissed. ‘It is quite safe to leave her with me, I am not going to start a cat fight!’

He shot her another harassed look, then strode past her without another word and she was alone with Caroline who stood, head averted, face buried in her hands.

‘Do you need a handkerchief or to wash your face?’ Julia demanded. ‘Or are those crocodile tears?’

The other woman dropped her hands to show dry eyes, an unmarred complexion. ‘You have no feelings!’

‘No, apparently not. But I do have a quantity of common sense. It may be a cliché, but you really cannot have your cake and eat it, Miss Fletcher. However delightful it is to use your powers on Will, you risk a scandal and if that happens you would lose your earl and a great deal of money.’ Caroline’s big blue eyes filled with furious tears. ‘For goodness’ sake, do not start crying now! Do you want people to feel sorry for you?’

‘What?’

‘It will seem that you cannot bear to see Will healthy and happily married.’ Julia shrugged and turned to the door. ‘I was going to say your flounce had snagged and torn and we were pinning it up, but if you want to make an exhibition of yourself—’

With a gasp of outrage Caroline pushed past and swept down the corridor towards the salon. Julia caught up to her and linked her arm into hers as they entered the room.

‘Such a pity if that has damaged your lovely gown,’ she said clearly as they entered. ‘I am not surprised you were upset.’

Caroline glared at her and swept away to her mother’s side.

Spoiled little madam, Julia thought, trying to feel sorry for the other woman, shocked to realise that she had been suspicious when she had found them both gone and that she was jealous and upset now.

Ridiculous, she scolded herself. She trusted Will and, if he had been misguided enough himself to offer his ex-fiancée some comfort then who was she to complain? He had hardly protested his love and devotion to her, had he?

Will was standing before the fireplace, staring at her as he might at a bomb with a hissing fuse. He started across the floor as, behind her, salvation arrived.

‘The tea, my lady.’

‘Thank you, Gatcombe. Over there, if you please.’ She turned to Will. ‘Have you come to help me with the cups?’ Faced with two full teacups, he had little choice but to take them. The surface of the liquid shivered as she handed them to him, and his hands, it seemed, were no steadier, but the vibration was not visible and he, too, kept his poise.

* * *

The clock struck twelve before Will could finally make his way upstairs and along the gallery to his room. The last guests had gone. The little crisis with the trace on the vicar’s carriage snapping had been dealt with by sending them home in his own vehicle. The servants had been thanked and the house was secure. Now there was nothing between him and the confrontation with his wife and the consequences of his own actions.

Nancy passed him, her arms full of linens. ‘Her ladyship’s retired for the night, my lord. She’s not feeling quite herself, you understand.’

For a hideous moment he thought Julia had confided in her maid, then he saw there was no accusation in Nancy’s expression, only mild concern. Julia must have said she was suffering from a headache.

‘Thank you. Goodnight.’ He went into his own room and endured Jervis’s punctilious attentions for twenty minutes until finally, mercifully, alone he went and listened at the jib door between their dressing rooms. Nothing. He opened it, half-surprised to find it unlocked, and went through. The door into her room was unlocked too. Will tapped and entered.

‘Julia?’

She was sitting up in bed, her hair in its night-time plait on her shoulder. ‘Come in.’

Will had not known what to expect. Reproaches, certainly. Tears, probably. Accusations, of course. Even, although he had never seen Julia lose her temper, things thrown at his head. He deserved the lot, especially after the scene he had created when he found her with Henry. What he had not expected from his wife was calm.

‘I am sorry,’ he said, knowing it was insufficient but that it had to be said. ‘That should never have happened. I had no intention that it should.’

‘But Miss Fletcher waylaid you, threw herself on your chest and sobbed?’

That was exactly what had happened. Caroline had followed him when he went out to fetch a book he thought the vicar would be interested in and the next thing he knew he was in the library with the door shut and feeling more confused than he could ever remember. Short of violence he had no idea how to detach her and he had absolutely no experience in dealing with a sobbing woman. He shoved all the explanations away and said, ‘I cannot lay the blame on Caroline.’

‘It was inevitable, I suppose, given her refined sensibilities,’ Julia remarked as though he had not spoken. ‘Will, I do not blame you for embracing her, I just wish it had not happened where it would have been so easy for you to have been discovered.’

‘You do not mind?’ He stared at her, his mind going back, as it so often did, to the day he had found her in the chapel. After that rough, impulsive coupling she had slipped from the bed cool, collected, distant. She had been through an emotional storm in the church and the laughter, the passion afterwards, had been a reaction to that, he supposed. And when she had come to herself she had been disgusted with his crude lovemaking and his lack of tact in mentioning Caroline minutes later—he had seen it in her reserve, the way she had distanced herself from him emotionally and physically.

He had been very careful with her ever since, even after the scene with Henry when he had wanted to find the comfort and forgiveness in their lovemaking that he could not bring himself to ask for in words.

But this? It seemed as though Julia was not even remotely jealous, simply annoyed that he had risked a scandal. But what did he expect? Their marriage had been a sham from the start, there had not even been acquaintanceship to precede it. He had made no bones about his reasons for marriage, she had been betrayed and discarded by a lover she had given up everything for. So why then, when he could perfectly understand her indifference, was it so painful now?

‘I am not in love with Caroline,’ he said.

‘You do not have to tell me whether you are or not. It is not my business. And I do not believe that you would do anything...dishonourable.’ Julia studied her hands as they lay on the lace edge of the sheet. She was twisting her wedding ring round and round her finger.

‘But I am glad if you are not breaking your heart over her, because I do not think she is worth it. She is very lovely, but there is far less to her than meets the eye.’ She laughed, a small, breathy sound. ‘Listen to me! That was a catty remark if ever I heard one.’

‘I think you are entitled to be as catty as you wish, Julia,’ Will said. His chest hurt with guilt and tension and something else that he did not recognize, but which was damnably uncomfortable. ‘It is unfair that you should be made in any way distressed. I promise that I did not seek a meeting alone with her and that all I did was to try to comfort her.’

He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand—for the reassurance of touch, to still that endlessly turning ring, because he wanted to hold her. Because, surely, he had hurt her.

‘I am sorry, Will.’ Both hands vanished under the lace. ‘I am not... Tonight I cannot...’ He stared back, appalled that she should think him so crass as to try to make love to her moments after they had been confronting his indiscretion with another woman. Julia cleared her throat, her cheeks pink, her gaze still firmly fixed on the sheets. ‘I mean my courses have started.’

It took him a moment to realise what she was talking about. Then it dawned on him that was what Nancy had hinted when he had passed her just now. Probably, Not feeling quite herself was code a husband was expected to understand.

‘Of course.’ He couldn’t even begin to explain why he had reached for her, what he wanted. How could he? He had no idea himself. Will stood up. ‘You are tired, I won’t keep you awake any longer. That was a fine dinner party, thank you. Goodnight, Julia.’

‘Goodnight, Will.’

He closed the dressing-room door and leaned back against it to steady himself. It was as though a gulf had just opened up in front of his feet and he was hanging, dizzy, over it. What the devil had he thought this marriage was about? He had come home intent on seizing back his old life, taking control of King’s Acre, putting his convenient marriage firmly into its rightful place. He had been confronted by the evidence of Julia’s heartbreak and loss and he had seen everything through the lens of himself and his feelings.

With a muttered curse Will pushed away from the door and went through to his bedchamber. It had all seemed to be going perfectly well. He had acknowledged the child and, by doing so, tied himself to Julia. She had, after some resistance, come to his bed and now she seemed to enjoy his lovemaking. And he had thought that was all there was to it! Marry: tick that off the list. Sire an heir: working on it. But, be happy? Make Julia happy? Were those on the list too?

What did she want? Not, apparently, him, or not enough to be distressed when she caught him with his arms around another woman. Arrogant devil, he told himself as he threw off his dressing gown and lay down. You expected her to be jealous, you wanted her to be jealous. Why should she be? She isn’t in love with you and there isn’t one reason why she should be. But your pride is hurt because of it, just as it was hurt when you found her comforting Henry.

He punched the pillows, snuffed the candles and lay staring up at the underside of the bed canopy, lost in the dark. He had got what he needed: an attractive, intelligent, socially adept and unbelievably forgiving wife. So why, then, did he still feel that pain in his chest?

* * *

‘The horses are here!’ Will burst into the bedchamber like a strong gust of wind. Nancy gave a squeak and dropped the hairbrush. It took Julia a moment to take in what he had said, she was so surprised to see him there. Ten days after the dinner party he had not returned to her bed and it was proving remarkably awkward to find the words to ask why not. Was it guilt keeping him away or did he simply not want her any more? But he wanted an heir and he had never seemed to find her repellent...

‘What, with no warning?’ He was dressed in breeches and boots, his hair was tousled by the morning breeze and the lines of tiredness she thought she had discerned lately around eyes and mouth had quite gone. It must have been her imagination, for what could have been keeping him up at night? It was certainly not her!

‘I heard from my agent in Portsmouth two weeks ago to say they had just landed and he intended to rest them, then start hacking them up in easy stages once he was certain they were all sound. But Phelps’s letter saying they had started must have gone astray. Look.’

Julia could feel the excitement running through him as he took her arm and drew her to the window. It was an almost sexual force, that energy, and her body responded, warming, softening. If Nancy had not been there, she would have leaned into him and snatched a kiss. And would then no doubt have regretted it if he had failed to respond.

Instead she looked out at the sweep of parkland and the horses approaching at the trot. Julia narrowed her eyes against the morning sun: five riders, each leading two horses. Even at that distance she could see the quality of the animals in the way they moved.

‘They look fresh. They must have spent the night close by.’

‘Thank goodness the stables were finished yesterday,’ Will said. He released her arm. ‘I must go down again.’

‘But your breakfast...’ The door swung to behind him. Julia managed a rueful smile for Nancy’s benefit. ‘Men! I shall have to have something sent down to the stables.’

She supposed she should not feel awkward about going down to look at the new arrivals. ‘My riding clothes, please, Nancy.’

‘Which ones, my lady?’

‘My old habit,’ Julia said. Since that first time she and Will had never ridden together. Whenever they had travelled around the estate it had been in a gig. He knew she had her own horse, of course, and he had probably not noticed the other saddle hanging beside the side saddle. Would he be angry when he discovered she rode astride around the estate?

Somehow, without any formal agreement, they had arrived at a working compromise over responsibilities. Julia looked after the tenants’ welfare, the dairy herd, the chickens, the gardens both decorative and productive, the house and the indoor staff. Will controlled everything else. So far there had not been any discussion about the housekeeping allowance or her own pin money, so Julia just kept on spending at the same level as she had before, maintained her scrupulously accurate accounts and waited to have those removed from her control too.

As with the subject of the bedchamber, and the events of the dinner-party evening, it seemed that they existed most harmoniously without confronting the issues. But it was an uneasy peace. Julia felt she was cramming unwieldy truths into a cupboard and sooner or later the door would burst open and release all of them.

Nancy fastened the divided skirt at the waist and then helped Julia into the coat. Really she was perfectly decent, she thought, bracing herself for the confrontation. Perhaps it was as well to have it while he was distracted by the horses. Perhaps he would not even notice. That was a melancholy thought.

* * *

Julia arrived at the new stables with a bite of roll and a mouthful of coffee inside her. Will was standing in the middle of the yard, talking to a wiry individual, while around them four grooms she did not recognise stood holding the horses. She stopped, knew her jaw had dropped and did not care.

‘What’s wrong?’ Will turned at the sound of her gasp.

‘Love at first sight,’ Julia breathed. ‘They are beautiful!’

‘They are that, ma’am.’ The grizzled man pulled off his hat. ‘His lordship’s got a fine eye for a horse.’

‘Lady Dereham, this is Mr Bevis, who has had charge of the horses since Portsmouth. So you like them, do you?’

The Arabians were elegant, with their fine bones and dished faces. Will had told her he intended to breed them with thoroughbred stallions for speed and endurance as well as looks. The three Andalusians were very different and they drew her as though they called her by name.

They were not big animals. The stallion was about fifteen two hands, she supposed, his three mares a little smaller. They all had deeply arched necks, long, rippling manes and all were a perfect dapple grey in colour with iron-grey manes and tails.

Four pairs of dark, liquid eyes watched her as she approached and held out her hand to the stallion. He snuffled at her fingers, then stood rock-still as she bent and blew lightly into his nostrils. He blew back and butted her gently with his head.

‘Do you wish to ride him, my dear? One of the grooms can get your saddle.’

Julia managed not to gape at Will. It never occurred to her for a moment that he would give her the first ride on any of the new animals, let alone allow her on the stallion.

‘He’s not used to a side saddle,’ Bevis warned.

Oh well, it was now or never. Will was not going to create a scene in front of all these men. ‘It is quite all right.’ She took the reins from the groom and led the stallion over to the mounting block, adjusted the stirrup leathers and swung into the saddle before anyone appeared to realise what she was doing. ‘What is his name?’

‘He hasn’t got one yet, my lady. He’s got the manners of a gentleman, that one.’ Bevis was carefully not staring at her legs as she adjusted the folds of the divided skirt. The horse stood still and patient, mouthing gently at the bit.

Will walked over and put his hand on the pommel. ‘You, my dear, are full of surprises,’ he said softly. She could not tell whether he was angry or not.

‘I only ride astride on the estate. And my legs are better covered than they would be side saddle.’ She tried not to sound defensive. It was not the actual degree of decency or coverage that was the question, she knew that. It was the shock of a woman imitating a man, the unspoken, sexual, connotations of being astride.

‘I am not objecting.’ He moved his hand to rest on her thigh then, as she was absorbing the surprise of that, raised his voice back to normal conversational levels. ‘Would you like to name him?’

‘Me? But I thought... He is a stallion, he will be your horse. Do you not want to name him yourself?’

‘I realise I have never given you a wedding gift. It is rather late in the day for one, I know, but you seem to like him. He is yours.’