by Joyce Alec
“You have a visitor,” he said, handing her the tray. “Lord Sharpe, I believe.”
“Lord Sharpe?”
Julianna frowned, not recognizing the name as she lifted the card from the tray.
“I do believe so, Miss Newton,” the butler said, with his usual infinite patience. “Shall I show him in?”
Julianna glanced over her shoulder to ensure that there was a maid seated in the corner. “Is my brother not at home?” she asked, twisting her fingers nervously. After all, she had spoken to Henry about this particular visit and had asked him to be present for propriety’s sake, but it appeared that he had either forgotten or simply did not care.
“I cannot say, miss,” the butler replied hesitantly. “I fear he may still be abed.”
She closed her eyes tightly, a little embarrassed. “I see.” She could not turn away her visitor now, not when the arrangement had already been made. “Then yes, please do show him in. And once you have done so, will you have the maid bring a tea tray?”
A flicker of sympathy was in the butler’s eyes as he nodded. “But of course.”
“I thank you.”
Turning this way and that as she walked in front of the fireplace awaiting her visitor’s entrance, Julianna tried not to give in to her frustrations over her brother’s absence. She was nervous enough without Henry behaving in his usual selfish, thoughtless manner, but then again, she ought to have expected such a thing. After all, her brother was not inclined towards anyone but himself.
Straightening her shoulders, Julianna forced herself to stop walking and turned to face the door in preparation. She was not quite sure what she expected, for it was rather awkward to greet a stranger when they had never been introduced. How she wished her brother had been here instead of remaining abed!
“Lord Sharpe, Miss Newton.”
The butler gave a small bow and quit the room, although he made sure to leave the door ajar just as Julianna had instructed. Julianna managed a small smile, as she dropped into a curtsy, feeling her face flame with embarrassment.
“I must apologize that my brother is not here to oversee our introductions, Lord Sharpe,” she said, as she raised her head. “He is…unwell.”
Lord Sharpe was a tall, somewhat thin man with a dark brown hair that swept across his forehead. With his rectangular face, sturdy jaw, and proud nose, he looked every inch the gentleman—although Julianna was caught by the most interesting set of grey eyes she had ever seen. They were looking at her intently, swirling with an intensity that was somewhat unsettling. He was not smiling, but his lips were pulled taut, as though he was displeased with what he found. There were smudges beneath his eyes, betraying a lack of sleep, which was, much too often, due to society’s social occasions. Although, she could not tell by appearance alone whether he enjoyed such things. All in all, Julianna considered him quite severe.
“Miss Newton.”
She inclined her head, aware of the heat that infused her cheeks at his deep, graveled voice.
“You were expecting me, I hope?”
She felt the sting of his rebuke, even though he had not said a single word of reproach.
“Yes, of course,” she said softly. “The Marchioness of Thurston informed me that I was to have a caller at this exact time, although I was not aware who it was to be calling.”
Lord Sharpe blinked, looking somewhat confused. “You did not know that I was to call upon you?”
“No,” she replied, hoping she had not insulted him in some way. “Lady Thurston has arranged all manner of things for me thus far and—”
“She is your sponsor, I think.”
Julianna bristled for a moment, a little annoyed at how he had interrupted her. “That is so,” she answered, in as even a voice as she could. “They are both very kind.”
Lord Sharpe nodded slowly, his eyes roving around the room as though he expected to see her brother there. He appeared a little more relieved upon spotting the maid, and when she asked if he would sit, he did so without hesitation. Lord Sharpe seemed to perch on the edge of the chair instead of sitting with any sort of ease, making her feel both nervous and uncertain in equal measure.
“You have not been informed as to my particular reason for calling upon you then?” Lord Sharpe said slowly, looking at her with those unusual eyes that had her so entranced despite her uncertainty. “It is to do with the Marquess of Thurston, of course, but also because of a promise I made.”
She waited for the maid to set down the tea tray and dismissed her before responding to him. “A promise, Lord Sharpe?” she asked, confused. “You have not made any to me, I do not think.”
Lord Sharpe managed a small, uncomfortable smile. “No, indeed not,” he agreed softly. “But I did make such an agreement with your brother.”
Julianna blinked rapidly in surprise, her hands stilling on the teapot. “Lord Hollard?”
Lord Sharpe looked puzzled for a moment and then shook his head. “You mean with your brother Lord Hollard? No, not with him.”
“Then with Mr. Newton,” Julianna said, finally managing to pour two cups of tea. “What is it he has asked of you? I do hope that it is nothing too ridiculous.” She handed Lord Sharpe his tea, and he took it with a small, thin smile, appearing almost stiff as he reached for it.
“You misunderstand me entirely, Miss Newton,” he continued in his low, gruff voice. “I made a promise to Francis. To Mr. Francis Newton.”
Julianna went cold all over, her hands no longer warmed by the teacup she held.
“I know this must come as something of a surprise to you, and indeed, I had hoped that I would not have to explain myself, but it appears Francis did not say a word to you before the…trial.” His eyes lowered to the cup and saucer he held, his expression rather grave. “Regardless, I will do as I promised him.”
Barely able to comprehend what Lord Sharpe was saying, Julianna tried her very best to remain composed and calm, despite the torment that was going on within her soul at the mention of her brother. She did not know what to make of this man who had appeared at her home simply to inform her that he was there to make good on a promise to her deceased brother. She had not allowed herself to truly consider Francis for some time, other than the occasional passing thought, and so to linger on him now was a little difficult.
“I can see that I have quite taken you by surprise,” Lord Sharpe continued, making Julianna realize that she had said nothing for some minutes. “That was not my intention, but it is, of course, quite understandable.”
“How did you know my brother, Lord Sharpe?” Julianna whispered, her eyes fixed on the gentleman sitting opposite her. “And what promise is it that you speak of?”
Lord Sharpe cleared his throat, looking a trifle uncomfortable. “Your brother was some years older than you, I think?”
“Yes,” she stated, setting down her cup and saucer on the table in front of her. “By seven years.”
“Which explains why you do not know about his time in London during the three Seasons he was there,” Lord Sharpe murmured. “Not that there was a good deal to tell, but needless to say, he and I became very close in our friendship. I considered him to be one of my closest friends—until the night that he was…discovered.”
Julianna shuddered violently, knowing precisely to what Lord Sharpe was referring.
“I felt as though I did not know him at all then,” Lord Sharpe continued, his eyes fixed away from her as he tried to explain. “I thought our friendship meant very little, that I had been played false in some way in believing that Mr. Newton was this kind, good-natured, and a little foolish in his character man. I regret to say that I turned my back on him entirely.”
“You regret it?” Julianna repeated, her hands twining their fingers together, such was the tension she felt. “Why is that?”
Lord Sharpe hesitated, leaned forward in his chair, and allowed his gaze to meld with her own. “Your brother insisted that he was not guilty of the crimes put to him. After
the verdict was given, he turned to me and spoke as though it were just he and I in the room. He assured me that he was not guilty and begged me, thereafter, to ensure that I would take care of you.”
Julianna sat bolt upright, her whole being rippling with shock. Was this to be some sort of marriage proposal? She did not know Lord Sharpe in any way whatsoever, and surely he could not expect her simply to agree to his hand in marriage due to some promise or other he had made to Francis.
“I intend to do just that, Miss Newton,” Lord Sharpe finished, still holding her gaze steadily. “I will be at each and every social occasion that you attend with the Marchioness of Thurston. I will ensure to dance with you, converse with you, and introduce you to those I feel will be accepting of your presence.” A small smile lifted his lips, although there was still a heaviness to his expression. “I am quite sure that we will be able to guide you through the Season without incident and to what I hope will be a satisfactory conclusion.”
Julianna blinked, a little confused.
“Marriage, Miss Newton,” Lord Sharpe stated plainly, his face growing pink with evident embarrassment. “I fully intend to make sure you have a suitable husband by the end of the Season. And, if not this Season, then the next.”
“I see,” Julianna whispered, not quite sure whether she was grateful for such news or not. “That is…most kind of you, Lord Sharpe.” Her eyes narrowed a touch as she regarded him, wondering whether or not he was truly willing to do such a thing. “But there is no need for you to oblige if you do not wish it. I am quite sure the marchioness will—”
“I must keep my promise to Newton,” Lord Sharpe interrupted, obviously referring to Francis. “I am a man of my word, Miss Newton, and therefore I will see it through.” Slowly, the pink began to leave his cheeks, giving him back his rather stern appearance. “That is, if you will accept me.”
Julianna took a breath before she answered, seeing a vision of Francis floating before her eyes. Her brother had always been kind and attentive towards her – a good deal more so than her other two brothers – and she was overwhelmed by his consideration for her even on his last few minutes on earth.
“I think I shall have to accept, Lord Sharpe,” she said slowly, her brow furrowing. “For Francis’s sake, even if not for my own. If he was good enough to think of me, to demand a promise from you for my good, then I have no right to turn that down. Therefore, I will accept.”
Lord Sharpe did not look pleased nor filled with regret. “Thank you, Miss Newton. I shall see you tomorrow evening, I think.” He rose to his feet. “Lady Thurston informed me you were to go to Lord Reapsome’s ball.”
“Yes, indeed.” She rose to join him, feeling a sudden flurry of nervous anxiety fill her stomach. “That is quite so.”
“Then I shall ensure to sign your dance card almost as soon as I arrive,” he stated, bowing grandly in front of her. “You shall not find yourself alone this evening, Miss Newton, so you need not fear that.” To her surprise, he reached for her hand, which she had no choice but to give, lifting it his lips. His eyes looked down at her as he did so, holding a deep sympathy, which Julianna allowed to soothe her soul.
“Thank you, Lord Sharpe,” she said, a little hoarsely. “You are very kind.”
He nodded, let go of her hand, and made his way to the door, only to stop suddenly and swing back around to face her.
“Might I ask you a rather personal question, Miss Newton?”
She nodded.
“Do you think that your brother truly was guilty of those crimes?” Lord Sharpe asked, looking a trifle uncomfortable as he shifted from foot to foot, his gaze now roving around the room behind her. “Do you believe he truly was a murderer?”
Julianna gaped at him, her mind burning with the agony of what he had asked.
“I can see that I have asked something I should not have,” Lord Sharpe muttered, dropping his head. “Forgive me.”
“No,” Julianna said loudly, startling both herself and Lord Sharpe. “What I mean is, no, I do not see how he could be guilty of such terrible things, Lord Sharpe. However, the pronouncement was made, and therefore, I must accept it.” She lifted her chin, surprised that tears were still hurrying towards her eyes despite the fact that Francis had been gone for some time. “There is no good in such questions, Lord Sharpe.”
His eyes finally settled on hers again, an air of sadness filling the room. “No,” he agreed quietly. “No, I suppose there is not. Do forgive me, Miss Newton.” Turning on his heel, he made to quit the room, only for Julianna to call him back.
“If you please,” she said, making him stumble slightly as he turned around. “What are your thoughts on the matter, Lord Sharpe? Do you believe my brother was a thief, a liar, and a murderer?” Those words burned on her tongue, but she did not take them back, standing quietly and waiting for Lord Sharpe’s response.
“No.” Lord Sharpe’s expression was one of great sadness, as though he deeply regretted that he had ever believed it to be true. “I do not know why I should think so or what good it is now, but I cannot remove your brother’s last words to me, Miss Newton.” He spread his hands, a look of deep regret in his eyes “I do not think your brother ever did a single act of criminality in his life. I believe that he was entirely innocent, and—as he stated—someone else was using him to take the blame for their own actions.”
“But who would do such a thing?” Julianna asked, her heart quickening in her chest. “And why?”
“My dear Miss Newton,” Lord Sharpe replied heavily. “Those are questions that I fear may never be answered. Good day to you.”
2
“Good evening, Miss Newton.”
Thomas had to admit that Miss Newton did look rather beautiful this evening, even though her eyes were darting from here to there in evident fright. Her ballgown was a light emerald green, which only made him more aware of the beauty of her green eyes, and there were pearls adorning her fair hair, which caught the light as she moved. She was small in stature, appearing to be almost delicate in her movements, with an oval face and high cheekbones that were surely to be the envy of almost every lady present. Her lips were full and pink, her cheeks flaring with color as she looked up at him. Yes, indeed, Miss Newton was sure to capture the attention of at least a few gentlemen this evening.
“Lord Sharpe, how very good to see you.”
He bowed over the hand of the Marchioness of Thurston, smiling at her. “A very good evening to you, Lady Thurston. Is your husband with you this evening?”
“He is,” Lady Thurston replied, with a slightly rueful smile. “But he has already abandoned me to go in search of the card room. Lord Reapsome was more than glad to show him the way.”
Thomas stifled a grin, just as Lady Thurston laughed. He had been summoned to Lord and Lady Thurston’s home almost the minute he had arrived back in London – although quite how they had known he was present, he could not say. He had found the gentleman and lady to be more than concerned for Miss Newton, with Lord Thurston asking him directly if Thomas still intended to keep his word and ensure Miss Newton was well looked after during the season.
Of course, Thomas had said that, yes, he had every intention of doing so, and so a bond was forged between the three of them. The truth was that Thomas had very little idea as to why the marquess and marchioness had any particular interest in coming to the aid of Miss Newton, particularly when they had no connection to the family, but there was something about their characters that made him believe it simply came from a desire to be of help to those who were unable to find such help for themselves. To have wealth and a title, such as they did, meant that there was very little reason for them to involve themselves in anything they did not wish to, but Thomas suspected that their hearts were more than generous, seeking to help Miss Newton just because they did not wish to see her so rejected by society on account of her brother’s deeds.
“I am glad to hear that your first meeting with Miss Newton went well,” Lady
Thurston continued, with a smile in Miss Newton’s direction. “I do apologize that I had not informed her of who you were and what your intentions for her were beforehand, but I thought it best that you explain to her all that had occurred last year.”
Thomas nodded and gave Lady Thurston a quick smile. “But of course,” he said grandly. “Now, Miss Newton, might I sign your dance card?”
“She is not to waltz,” Lady Thurston warned, with a slight twinkle in her eye. “That delight is to be saved for some time yet.”
Miss Newton’s eyes widened as she turned from Lady Thurston towards Thomas, her blush darkening.
“I would have asked your permission at first, of course,” Thomas replied to Lady Thurston, smiling at Miss Newton who, to his surprise, did not smile back. “The quadrille, however, will be quite safe, I think.” He wrote his name down for the quadrille and then for the cotillion a little later, thinking that he would have to ensure that Miss Newton smiled and laughed with whomever she would be introduced to this evening. She would have to pretend that she did not feel the anxiety and the fear that was so evidently coursing through her. Glancing into her eyes, he saw her gaze drop away, her color still high.
It was time to talk to her about what he would expect.
“Might I steal Miss Newton from your side for a time, Lady Thurston?” he asked, offering Miss Newton his arm. “I have some acquaintances I should be glad to introduce her to.”
Lady Thurston beamed at him, her lined face seeming to glow with delight. “But of course, Lord Sharpe!” she exclaimed, ushering Miss Newton towards him. “That would be splendid. Make sure you say that I am the one to sponsor her. And if there is any suggestion of anything untoward, any insults or the like, then I expect you to defend her as though she were your own sister.” Lady Thurston’s voice had become hard, as if she knew that this was exactly what Miss Newton was about to face.
Thomas inclined his head. “I shall defend her valiantly,” he promised, waiting until Miss Newton had gently placed her hand under his arm, although her grasp was so light it felt as though she was barely touching him. “Come along then, Miss Newton.”