But that's just a jest. It's a clever retort to protect myself from feeling vulnerable. In any case, Nicholas is the only man I'd ever want for a husband, and that's impossible. When he finds out I'm Ann Onymous, I will become his enemy.
Julia brushed her hair and decided to wear it loose about her shoulders. With determination she pushed her doubts away. Her image spoke back to her. "Enjoy him while you can. He hasn't the faintest notion you are the author of Scandal by the Ton. Don't let anything spoil your time with him tonight."
Before Julia could knock, Nicholas opened the front door. She laughed. "I was expecting a servant; you must have been anticipating me."
He winked suggestively. "Anticipation is said to be half the pleasure. No servants tonight. I want you to myself."
She sniffed the air with appreciation. "Smells good. Don't tell me you did the cooking?"
"I must confess I did not. But I am a good cook. I'll make someone a wonderful husband."
His words made her cheeks warm. I'm beginning to think you would.
"We won't use the formal dining room; we'll eat in this more intimate room off the Great Hall. I'll enjoy serving you." He led the way into a cozy chamber with a small table and a pair of carved, padded chairs. A Tudor sideboard held ornate silver chafing dishes to keep the food hot, while they enjoyed the first course of smoked trout.
"Is this the one you caught yesterday?"
He nodded. "The one and only." He poured her a glass of Chablis then lifted the lid off a tureen dish of large prawns sautéed in lemon and garlic. "Can I tempt you?"
Julia laughed. "You know the answer to that leading question, you devil."
He served them both then said, "You had company this afternoon."
"Yes, Mother arrived unexpectedly with her latest escort, Henry Fauconburg."
"What did you think of him?"
"I didn't see him. I stayed hidden in the library. Mother prefers that I remain invisible to her gentlemen friends."
"That's good." Nicholas had been prepared to warn Julia about Fauconburg, and was relieved that it wasn't necessary, at least not tonight. When he returned to London however, he would warn Dottie. He stood and held out his hand. "Come to the sideboard and see if there's anything you fancy."
Julia lifted a silver lid and uncovered a small, carved rack of lamb, redolent with rosemary. "It smells heavenly." She took a chop, along with some roast potatoes and pearl onions then ladled on some mint sauce.
Nicholas lifted the lid from another dish. "What about these? They're braised in wine."
"Oh, ox tails! I haven't had them in years." She held out her plate. "I have a peasant's taste in food. I like to pick up the bones and suck on them."
"Me too. I'm delighted to have a partner in crime."
They laughed their way through dinner thoroughly enjoying their intimate time together. There was trifle for dessert, and as Nicholas watched her dip her finger in the cream and lick it off, he was lured around the table. He picked her up, sat her in his lap, and watched mesmerized as she proceeded to dip and lick.
He realized how wonderful it would be to have a wife like Julia to share his life. Someone who would laugh and tease and be his soul mate. He felt possessive of her, and didn't want to let her go.
After dinner, they moved into the Great Hall where a fire had been lighted to ward off the chill that crept in at night, even in the summer months. To one side of the fireplace was an inlaid games table that sported a chess set. While Nicholas set an apple-wood log on the fire, Julia picked up a carved rook. "This looks like a Royston hooded crow."
"Yes, my father carved them. Do you play?"
"Not very well, I'm afraid. I'm much better at Fox and Geese."
"We have those too, in the drawer."
Julia opened it and took out the folded board and the pieces. "These white geese are so lifelike. Did he carve these too?"
"No, I did those when I was about twelve."
"You have hidden talents."
"Many," he acknowledged with a wink. "Set them up and we'll play a set, if you like." He added, "For forfeits, of course."
"Of course." Julia set the cunning red fox in the center of the board and picked up the geese. "Why are there fifteen geese?"
"Because it's impossible to win with only the traditional number of thirteen."
"You be the fox, and I'll prove you wrong." She set only thirteen geese around reynard.
She tried to concentrate on the play, but Nicholas was a formidable distraction and at the point where the fox had taken half her flock, she knew she would lose. She blithely carried on until he captured all her geese. "Presuming the forfeits are kisses, in essence I have won."
Nicholas helped her put the game pieces away. "I want more than kisses."
Julia rolled her eyes playfully. "Whatever can the forfeit be? I am in trepidation, my lord."
He took a copper roasting pan from the wall beside the fireplace and picked up a bowl of chestnuts. Then he stretched out his long frame on the rug before the fire. Nick held out his hand for her to join him on the rug.
Julia knelt down beside him and watched as he filled the pan, and thrust the chestnuts in the fire to roast them.
"I want permission to court you." He paused, then added, "With a view to marriage."
"But I've told you I want to be a writer."
"And why on earth can you not be a writer, and a wife? The two are perfectly compatible as far as I'm concerned. I would never object to my wife being an author."
Julia sat back on her heels, contrite. You would certainly object to her being the author of Scandal by the Ton. A wave of guilt washed over her, but if she confessed, it would put an end to their relationship. She reached out her fingers and touched his lips, hoping to stop his words. "You mustn't propose to me, Nicholas. It would ruin everything."
"Such nonsense." He enfolded her in his arms, took her down to the rug, and took possession of her lips. Suddenly, the delicious smell of roasted chestnuts filled the air, and instantly they became an ironic symbol to her. If I confess who I am, I will never be able to pull my chestnuts from the fire!
He braced himself on his arms and gazed down into her eyes. "I've been trying for weeks to remember where I've seen violet eyes that remind me of yours."
She stared up at him in alarm. Then she saw a flicker of recognition come into his eyes.
Nicholas recoiled. "Oh my good god! I have seen you before. You're George!"
Julia scrambled to her feet. "Your chestnuts are on fire!" She began to run.
"You are Ann Onymous! You write that scurrilous gossip in Scandal by the Ton!"
Julia flung open the front door. "I'm sorry, Nicholas," she shouted over her shoulder, then she fled home to Ashridge Place like the Devil himself was after her.
Chapter Twelve
Nick Royston felt stunned as a bird flown into a wall. How could the lovely young woman to whom he had lost his heart be the same creature who authored the London and Country's gossip column, filled with filthy scandal, sexual innuendo, and the gross debauchery of the nobility?
From the moment he'd met her at the Duchess of Gordon's, the unusual color of her violet eyes appealed to him. The unique shade sometimes stirred a forgotten memory that teased at the edges of his consciousness, then danced away like an ephemeral dream.
"She's been playing me like a bloody fiddle! Stringing me along, and laughing up her sleeve at me. What an obtuse fool I've been." He looked down at the burnt chestnuts in disgust. Then he strode across the Great Hall, picked up a whiskey decanter, lifted it to his mouth, and took a long swallow.
He took the decanter back to the fire and sank down into a chair. For the next hour, between swallows, he tried to reconcile Lady Julia with the infamous creature who authored Scandal by the Ton. He set the half-empty decanter down and noticed that the firelight reflecting through the whiskey glowed a beautiful, mystical amber. Nicholas realized he was tipsy, and somehow his perception of everything had chang
ed. He was able to see himself and his situation clearly, in a very different light.
Suddenly, he began to laugh. "When I met Julia that first night, I concocted a plan to use her for revenge. She was so wise, she saw right through my ulterior motive and turned the tables on me." His mouth curved. So young, so lovely, so incredibly clever!
"What an insufferable, self-righteous idiot I can be." He threw back his head and laughed as he remembered grabbing the newsboy off the street and thrusting his captive into his carriage. I was in a raging temper, demanding to know the identity of Ann Onymous. When my hands came into contact with her breasts, I was so shocked, that she was able to give me the slip.
"When she came face-to-face with me at the Gordon's, she must have been alarmed, yet she coolly wafted that bloody ostrich-feather fan and accepted my invitation to dance."
I was highly indignant about my name appearing in Scandal by the Ton, as I had every right to be. But I must admit that the writing is exceedingly witty and so entertaining that everyone in London reads the damn thing. It's usually right on the mark too!
As he sat gazing into the fire, his eyes began to close and his mouth curved. His last thought was: She is certainly an amusing female who laughs more than any woman of my acquaintance.
Royston fell asleep where he was sitting and was awakened at dawn by a loud knocking on the front door. He stared at the dead ashes of the fire, and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to remember the events of last night. He knew it had ended badly. Then it came rushing back to him that Julia Shelborne was Ann Onymous, who wrote Scandal by the Ton.
He opened the door to a courier who had been dispatched from London with a message asking him to report to the Foreign Office without delay. While a stableman readied his phaeton, Nick washed, shaved, and changed his clothes. As he climbed up into the driver's seat, his thoughts were centered on the mission that lay ahead.
Julia had a sleepless night. She could not banish the vision of Nicholas recoiling from her when he realized she was the author of Scandal by the Ton. She relived the moment over and over and told herself it would have been better if she had been able to keep her identity a secret from him. I could have stopped writing the column, and most likely he would never have found out.
She thumped her pillow and turned over. No, I could never live a lie. She had no one to blame but herself. She knew she'd been playing with fire, and now she would pay the price. The trouble was that she found Nicholas Royston so irresistibly attractive, that she had begun to fall in love with him, and had even fantasized about being married to him.
Well, that's all up in smoke now, like the bloody chestnuts! She turned over again, knowing full-well that she owed him an apology. It was reckless of me to use the Royston name in the scandalous gossip column. It could have damaged his diplomatic career.
Julia finally fell asleep just as dawn was lightening the sky and she didn't awaken until noon. She bathed and dressed, forced down a light lunch, then with reluctant steps made her way to Royston Hall. When the servant who answered her knock informed her that his lordship was no longer in residence, her heart plummeted.
She felt forlorn as she walked back to Ashridge Place. The sky was overcast and rain threatened, adding to her dark mood. Nothing could have made his rejection plainer. He couldn't even be civil about it. I was ready to humble myself with an apology, but Lord Bloody Royston couldn't wait to put distance between us.
Nicholas drove along the Great North Road, back to London. He knew he wouldn't have received an urgent summons unless he was being sent back across the Channel. He hoped the second coalition between Great Britain, Austria, Naples, Russia and Sweden was holding strong. No point speculating. Grenville will fill me in. He'll most likely be at the Foreign Office when I arrive.
As his phaeton bowled along, he began to think about Julia. She was never far from his thoughts these days. His brows drew together in a frown. Damn, I should have left her a note, telling her I've been unexpectedly called back to London. His brow cleared. I'll pen her a letter and leave it with her grandmother. I should give Dottie a word of warning about Fauconburg before I depart.
A picture of Julia came to him full-blown. Now that he'd had a chance to inwardly digest it, Nicholas thought it rather droll that she was the author of Scandal by the Ton. He suddenly laughed out loud. "She warned me that she reveled in secrets." His thoughts replayed every encounter, remembering each kiss and caress as their romance blossomed. I don't deserve her affection, yet she has given it to me without reserve. I'd be a fool to let her go.
The viscount drove straight to the Foreign Office, where Grenville informed him that Napoleon's army had defeated the Austrian troops at Marengo, Italy "It's a tall order, but we want to advise Austria not to sign a peace treaty with France. If they do, it will be an end to the second coalition, I'm afraid."
"Will my liaison be our envoy, John Hookham Frere, as before?"
"Yes, but not in Lisbon. Frere has a network of spies reporting from all over Europe. The clandestine meeting place is Paris. We've arranged for you to sail at midnight on the Indefatigable."
"Very good, my lord, I will convey the wishes of the British Government."
Lord Royston drove home to Curzon Street to pack for his journey. He took a late lunch and was surprised when his brother Michael joined him.
"I didn't expect you to be home from Hertfordshire so quickly. Things not quite going according to Hoyle with Lady Julia?"
"Hoyle is an authority on gaming," Nick pointed out.
"Since love is the greatest gamble of all, I thought it rather apt."
"I was recalled. I'm sailing at midnight."
"This war with France has been dragging on for years. I'm tempted to buy a commission in the Dragoons or perhaps the Warwickshire 6th Foot. Both have those smart red uniforms."
Michael's suggestion made Nick catch his breath. He didn't want his young brother fighting in the French war, but he was a man and the decision his. "War entails more than wearing fancy uniforms. They choose red so the blood won't show. Your friend, Prince William, is only honorary colonel of the 6th Foot. He's not likely to see any real fighting."
"Speaking of William, we're invited to an entertainment at Devonshire House tonight. It's white tie, may I borrow yours?"
"You may, since I won't need it where I'm going."
Nicholas made his way to the library, selected a sheet of notepaper and picked up his pen.
Dearest Lady Julia:
Forgive my abrupt departure. I was unexpectedly recalled to London early this morning.
Upon my return from the Continent, I intend to claim the forfeit you owe me.
Rest assured that all your secrets are safe with me, at least for the present.
Nicholas.
That night, on his way to the Pool of London where the Indefatigable lay anchored, Nick paid a call at Berkeley Square. He handed Hastings his calling card and thought he saw a flicker of amusement when he asked to see Dorothy Ashridge.
Upstairs, Dottie greeted him with surprise. "Lord Royston, do have a seat. For some unfathomable reason, I imagined you to be in Hertfordshire."
Nicholas grinned. "And so I was in Hertfordshire, thoroughly enjoying myself, until I was recalled to London this morning." He took an envelope from his pocket. "Would you be kind enough to give this to Lady Julia when she returns?"
"It would be my pleasure, Lord Royston."
Nick hesitated. "Yesterday, I had occasion to meet Lady Shelborne's friend, Henry Fauconburg, who was shooting in my woods." He cleared his throat. "He made a point of informing me that he would soon be my neighbor."
"Ha! Fauconburg is quite delusional. He considers himself a game hunter, but I am well aware that it is Ashridge Place he has in his gun sights."
"So long as he doesn't have you in his gun sights. Dottie, I want to caution you to be careful."
"My dear fellow, don't look so grim. My demise will avail him naught. When I made out my will, I bequeat
hed my Hertfordshire estate to my granddaughter."
Royston was surprised, though he didn't allow it to show. "It's none of my business, but is it possible that Lady Shelborne is unaware of this? When I took Claire to the theatre she casually mentioned that Ashridge would be hers someday."
"Poor Claire. She's in for such a rude awakening. And perhaps sooner is preferable to later. She's at some grand entertainment at Devonshire House tonight. When she returns I shall consider it my duty to dispel her delusions of grandeur."
"I must be off." He took her hand and squeezed it. "Promise to take care of yourself."
"Good morning, Claire. I fully expected that the Devonshire House entertainment would be an all-night affair, so I thought I'd join you for breakfast. I deem it an ideal setting to be formally introduced to your gentleman friend."
Claire was disconcerted to see her mother waiting at the top of the stairs as she and Henry made their bleary-eyed way across the entrance hall at the crack of dawn. At Devonshire House the dancing ended at midnight so the guests could indulge the twin vices of drinking and gaming.
Dottie hid her amusement as the pair managed to ascend the stairs. "You look a bit green about the gills. No doubt a full English breakfast would make your gorge rise. I think perhaps your sitting room would be the better choice for introductions to your friend." Dottie led the way.
Claire was determined to assert her authority. "Allow me to introduce Lord Henry Fauconburg, who is more than a friend. We are to be married."
"Surely an engagement comes before marriage. You don't want to put the cart before the horse." She explained to Henry, "An engagement allows you time to see if you are suited, before you take the final plunge, and endow her with all your worldly goods."
His smile was more like a grimace. "I am delighted to meet you, Lady Ashridge."
"Oh, I'm not a lady, I'm far from it. I always believed my daughter would make a grand second marriage. An Earl of the Realm with a great estate is exactly what Claire needs, since she won't be inheriting Ashridge Place."
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