Julius's Passion (Regency Club Venus 4)

by Carole Mortimer

  Julius glanced down to see that a small drawer, totally at odds with the other deeper ones, had sprung forward on the left-hand side of the desk.

  As far as he could see, it contained letters.

  Half a dozen of them, tied together with a piece of blue ribbon.

  Love letters from Adrian Metford to his sister-in-law, the Countess of Ipswich?

  Julius was almost afraid to pick them up and find out, especially with Bethany standing beside him with an expectant expression.

  “Are these letters what you were hoping to find?” Her voice sounded reverently hushed in the otherwise silent room.

  Still, Julius hesitated to pick them up and look at them.

  If they were love letters sent from Metford to his mistress, and with a date of seventeen ninety-nine or eighteen hundred, the latter the year Bethany was born, then it would be impossible, with her in the room with him, to keep that truth from her.

  Or, knowing how forthright Bethany could be, stopping her from confronting her uncle with that knowledge at the earliest opportunity.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “My uncle will be back soon.”

  Julius glanced at Bethany and then out the window, as if he expected to see Adrian Metford arriving home on horseback this very minute. He didn’t, of course, but Bethany’s reminder was a timely one. They couldn’t continue to remain in her uncle’s study indefinitely.

  Julius still hesitated to pick up the letters. “Did the mechanism of the drawer seem well oiled to you or slightly stiff from lack of use?”

  “I do not… It was perhaps a little sticky,” Bethany allowed when Julius frowned at her.

  Which might or might not mean that Metford hadn’t opened the drawer in years. If at all. Possibly because he didn’t know of the drawer’s existence or its contents. If that were the case, then Julius could take the letters with him and read them at his leisure rather than glance at them here and now and risk possible discovery. Or conceal an expression of shock if his suspicions regarding Bethany’s birth should prove to be correct.

  It was a risk Julius would have to take.

  “Close the drawer again,” he instructed Bethany once he had picked up the letters and pushed them out of sight in the top of his waistcoat.

  “As a visitor here, you will be the first to be suspected of taking those letters if my uncle should decide he wishes to look at them and discovers them gone,” she warned even as she reversed the mechanism and closed the drawer.

  Julius briefly admired the way in which the carving on the back of the desk made it impossible to detect that mechanism or the secret it contained. “We have already lingered too long for me to read the letters in here,” he dismissed briskly. “I will return them to the drawer as soon as I have done so.”

  “But—”

  “We must leave.” Julius took a firm grasp of her arm and pulled her with him toward the door after glancing at the time on the long-case clock in the corner of the room. “Your uncle intends to return and take afternoon tea with you, and it is almost that time now.”

  “I want to see what’s in the letters too—” She broke off when Julius swung her round to face him, his expression fierce.

  He bent and thrust his face close to hers. “I am not your uncle to be swayed by a little pouting from you into always giving you what you want,” he hissed.

  “I do not pout!” she protested indignantly.

  He gave a humorless laugh. “You are doing so now.”

  Bethany winced at the realization she was, indeed, pouting. An unattractive trait at the best of times, but one which she knew certainly wouldn’t sway the arrogant Julius Soames into doing as she wished.

  He had already indulged her far more than she would have thought possible. First by last night showing her how to pleasure herself. Then today by allowing her to accompany him into her uncle’s study.

  Her gaze lowered. “I apologize for my petulance. It will not happen again—” Her words were silenced when Julius’s mouth came crashing down on hers, his arms tight about her waist as he crushed her body against his.

  Bethany gave a sob of relief at once again being in Julius’s arms. Indeed, it was as if the hours they had spent apart since the previous night had never been, as the passion and desire exploded in a wild tumble of devouring lips, searching tongues, and caressing hands.

  “I am a slave to your pout!” Julius groaned the words against her throat. “As much as I love your bravery and complete lack of fear. In all things. Including the sharing of passion.”

  Did that mean he loved her, Bethany wondered as her heart seemed to swell in her chest. Because she was very much afraid that, within the short space of the forty-eight hours she had known Julius, she had somehow managed to fall in love with him.

  With his handsome looks, even his arrogance, and what she knew to be his bravery and lack of fear during the years of secrecy of spying for England.

  And his passion.

  When she had first met Julius, she had believed him to be the haughty and cold Earl of Andover. She now knew that beneath the mockery and arrogance, Julius was a man of deep emotions.

  Of deep passions.

  She wished above all things for him to feel that passion of emotions toward her—

  “—send a maid to inform Lady Bethany it is time for tea— What on earth…?”

  Julius added yet another compliment to the list he already felt for Bethany: an appreciation for her dexterity. Because the moment she heard her uncle’s voice outside in the hallway, she pulled free of Julius’s arms and moved swiftly around to the other side of the desk, as if she had been standing there all the time.

  “Uncle Adrian.” She smiled at the apparently dumbstruck man standing in the doorway. “I was just showing the earl the portrait of my mother.”

  For a moment, Julius thought Metford was about to have a fit of some kind as his face turned an unbecoming shade of purple. Then the older man drew in several deep breaths and seemed to regather some of his lost wits.

  “I know you are unused to the ways of Society, my dear.” He bestowed a warm smile upon Bethany before turning those pale and angrily accusing eyes on Julius. “But His Lordship is well aware that the two of you should not be alone in my study looking at a portrait or otherwise.”

  Julius continued to meet the other man’s gaze. “We left the door open when we came in.” He glanced at it. “It must have blown shut without either of us noticing. These old houses can be so very drafty,” he dismissed. “Lady Bethany very kindly offered to show me her mother’s portrait after revealing it is by Lawrence. I have an appreciation for Sir Thomas’s portraits, and this one does not disappoint.” He looked at the painting behind the desk. “His likeness of the Prince Regent is equally as flattering.” He had also met the artist several times during his visits with Prinny.

  “There is nothing in the least flattering about Henrietta’s portrait,” Metford snapped. “She truly was as beautiful as Lawrence painted her.”

  Julius gave an abrupt bow. “I apologize if you thought I was implying otherwise.”

  Metford’s lids narrowed, and for a moment, Julius thought he was about to continue challenging him. Then the older man seemed to think better of it as he stepped farther into the room. He took a firm hold of Bethany’s arm, but his steely gaze remained fixed on Julius. “I met Johnson as I was riding through the village. He informed me your carriage is now fully repaired and ready for you to travel back to London.”

  In other words, it was Metford’s wish that Julius depart Ipswich Park. Now, if possible. Which, feeling the bulk of those letters inside Julius’s waistcoat, it was not. He needed to read the letters and return them to their hiding place before he could decide whether he should leave or stay. And who would be going with him if it was the former.

  He glanced out the window where, thankfully, he could see it was starting to rain. “Shall we wait and see what the weather is like in the morning before I make any definitive plans for m
y departure?” His voice was deliberately light. “I should enjoy another night of your warm hospitality, at the very least.”

  Several emotions warred for dominance on Metford’s expressive face. A need to see Julius gone and as far away from Bethany as possible. Pleasure, because of Julius’s praise. Along with a lingering suspicion regarding the sincerity of Julius’s demeanor.

  Julius kept his expression one of innocent flattery.

  “Of course,” Metford finally accepted. “But I must caution you again, my dear”—he turned to his niece—“as to the inadvisability of being alone with an unmarried gentleman. I should hate to have to call Andover out because of your naivete.”

  Julius’s mouth thinned as he saw the blush that instantly colored Bethany’s cheeks. Because, no matter how lightly given, Metford’s words of rebuke were made as a way of deliberately humiliating her. A demonstration that Metford might love her, but that he would still not brook her defiance or her blatantly ignoring what sounded like teasing, but which was actually an order.

  “Lady Bethany was not the one at fault. I was,” Julius stated firmly. “I was so interested in seeing another Lawrence portrait that the thought of the propriety of it did not even enter my head.” He gave Bethany an apologetic smile before turning back to Metford. “I should have known better than to ask Lady Bethany and waited until you returned and were able to show the portrait to me.”

  Again, Metford’s emotions seemed to be warring between the satisfaction of having Julius apologize and the impropriety itself.

  Satisfaction eventually won out, the smile he gave Julius condescending at best. “I accept your apology.” He bowed his acknowledgment.

  Obviously, he’d not realized Julius had not, in fact, made an apology on this matter, only given an explanation. And an untruthful one at that.

  The humor now glowing in Bethany’s eyes told him she was fully aware of that lack of apology, even if Metford was not.

  A weight lifted from Julius’s chest the moment he saw and recognized Bethany was once again able to see the humor in the situation.

  A realization of relief that instantly caused Julius to frown and, in turn, change Bethany’s humor to confusion. But, damn it, his own mood should not be affected by whether she felt happy or sad.

  “If you will both excuse me,” he bit out abruptly. “I have some letters urgently in need of my attention before my possible departure tomorrow.” He ignored the way Bethany’s eyes widened at his blatant statement of the half-truth before he turned briskly on his heel and left the study.

  The letters hidden inside his waistcoat seemed to burn red-hot through his shirt.

  As confirmation of his lie, or because of their importance?

  * * *

  “Dear God, James, this lurking about in my bedchamber has to stop!” Julius, having just entered that room, now raised a hand to his rapidly beating heart as he glared at the younger man once again standing near the window.

  James gave an unconcerned shrug. “Being a valet is utterly boring. And your overreaction just now to my being in here was that of a man with a guilty conscience,” he taunted.

  Was it?

  If so, what did Julius have to feel guilty about?

  The letters hidden in his waistcoat?

  Or what he now recognized as his increasing regard for Bethany?

  Regard?

  Julius had taken on many identities during his years of acting as a spy, and fabricated many details about himself when he did so. But he had always, he believed, been honest with himself.

  He didn’t merely feel regard for Bethany, or admiration for her intelligence and quick wits, along with the dangerous work of assisting the smugglers in the area. He was falling in love with her. Might already have done so—

  “I say, are you feeling quite well?”

  James’s obvious concern penetrated the haze of uncertainty that held Julius in its grip, reminding him that whatever his feelings were for Bethany, this was not the time to focus on them.

  “Your face just went white,” James explained.

  Julius forced the tension from his shoulders and a slight smile to his lips. “Perhaps I am grown too old to be involved in this subterfuge.” He removed the letters from inside his waistcoat, five in all. “Your sister helped me remove these from the hidden drawer in your uncle’s desk a short time ago.”

  James’s eyes widened. “Does she know why?”

  He shook his head. “Only that I suspect your uncle of doing something underhanded.”

  “Then I am surprised she helped you.” James scowled. “One thing that has become very obvious these past few days is the affection with which Bethany holds our uncle.” He sounded disgusted by the fact.

  “I have told you why that is.”

  “Because, murdering bastard that he is, she believes he is the last member of her family still alive.”

  “It is that very affection they hold for each other which has assured you Bethany was safe all these years,” he reminded gently. “Her feelings will change once she knows your uncle tried to have you murdered ten years ago.”

  “I sincerely hope so.” James still frowned.

  “They will.” He knew Bethany well enough to state that with complete certainty. She was a woman in possession of a deep sense of what was fair and just. That included the manner in which the smugglers helped to ease the dire situation of the poor in the area. Julius had no doubts that once Bethany knew the facts, she would consider it totally unfair and unjust for her uncle to have attempted to have her beloved brother murdered.

  James nodded. “Are you going to actually read those letters in your hand, or merely continue to look at them?”

  Julius winced. “Before I do that, there is a…suspicion I have that I need to share with you.” He had hoped to look at the letters alone, but appreciated there was now no way James would allow him to do that.

  The younger man eyed him warily. “What sort of suspicion?”

  Julius released a controlled breath. “It concerns your sister.”

  James looked more puzzled than wary. “I do not understand.” He stepped closer so he could look at the front of the letters. “They are all addressed to my mother, but I do not recognize the handwriting.”

  Julius’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t?”

  James gave the writing another glance. “No. Should I?”

  “I had assumed… These letters were not written by your uncle?”

  “His writing is big and scrawling, almost illegible, whereas this is smaller and neater and easily read.” He looked up at Julius. “What possible reason would he have had to write to my mother rather than my father or both of them?”

  Why indeed, Julius acknowledged, wondering if he had not completely misread this situation.

  He would only learn the answer to that by reading the letters.

  He unfolded the first of them to see the date at the top of it written in that clear script: 5th August, 1799.

  The signature at the bottom was equally as clear and caused Julius to draw in a sharp breath.

  Was it possible?

  He had not imagined…

  The thought had never occurred to him…

  Yes, it had, damn it, and he had dismissed the possibility before they even arrived here.

  But a single glance at that signature at the bottom of the letter was enough to dispel any of Julius’s previous suppositions or suspicions and create new ones.

  Because the contents of these letters could confirm a truth that filled him with elation for one of his friends and despair for another.

  “What is it?” James prompted sharply. “Who is Lady Elizabeth Templeton, and why were her letters to my mother hidden away? Julius!” he snapped when he again received no answer to his question.

  Because Julius had no idea what answer to give his young friend.

  Chapter Fourteen

  In the end Julius decided it would for the best if they both to read the letters before jumping
to conclusions.

  Although the fact that the letters from Lady Elizabeth Templeton, estranged daughter of the previous Duke of Blackborne, to Lady Henrietta Metford, Countess of Ipswich, had been hidden away from prying eyes all these years was indication enough they were, in all likelihood, not ordinary letters written by one female friend to another.

  Besides which, twenty years ago, Julius’s friend, Gabriel Templeton, aged only twelve at the time, had returned from the holidays absolutely devastated because his father, the then Duke of Blackborne, had disowned and cast out his beloved sister, nineteen-year-old Elizabeth. She was expecting a child, but was unmarried. Worse, as the child she carried was that of a married man, there could be no hasty wedding to hide the disgrace. The duke, a hard and implacable man, had instead decided to disown his daughter and cut her off completely.

  Gabriel had never forgiven his father, and once he reached the age of eighteen, he had begun his own search for his sister. A search that had proved fruitless until a few weeks ago, when Gabriel learned that Elizabeth had died in childbirth, her lover had gone mad with grief and now resided in a French asylum, and the child, a girl, had completely disappeared. Gabriel was in France at this very moment, searching for news of what had become of the orphaned baby.

  Was it possible Bethany could be that baby?

  Gabriel would be ecstatic if that should prove to be the case.

  But what of James?

  These letters might prove, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Bethany was not James’s sister by blood.

  But what of the heart?

  Julius knew James to be a man of strong emotions, so surely his feelings for Bethany would not change simply because he learned there was no real blood connection.

  Julius straightened. “We will read these letters together, and then, if they reveal what I think they will, I shall tell you a story. One of betrayal and heartache, but ultimately, I hope, one of love and triumph.”

  James looked more confused than ever. “If Lady Elizabeth Templeton was a friend of my mother’s, then I do not remember ever meeting her.”