Season for Temptation

by Theresa Romain

  “That’s quite a relief, to be sure,” she replied. “We will look forward to touring your home with the utmost peace of mind, knowing that a fatal accident is the furthest thing from your wishes.”

  A sharp rap sounded at the door, and Julia burst through it a moment later, panting with hurry, pale hair pulling out of its pins into untidy threads.

  “Louisa, you’ll never believe it!” she cried, and then noticed her sister’s companion. “Oh, hello, James; sorry to interrupt you.” She instantly turned red, and rushed on, “That is, not that I expected I would be interrupting anything. I mean, not that you would be doing anything you minded me interrupting. I—um . . .”

  She wound down into a flustered silence, and James, inwardly laughing to himself, wiped a kind expression across his face. “Was there something you wanted to tell us? Or perhaps just your sister? I would be happy to leave you in private.”

  She looked gratefully at him for a moment, then blanched.

  “Oh, Lord, no, it concerns us all,” she blurted. “Aunt Estella is here now.”

  Chapter 6

  In Which They All Quake in Their Boots (or Slippers, as the Case May Be)

  “Rot!” echoed a low but piercingly loud female voice as Julia careened into the entrance hall, followed quickly by Louisa and much more slowly by James.

  A fabulous sight met Julia’s eyes. A litter of trunks was scattered all across the polished marble floor, one dropped on its side and with its contents spilling out, which appeared to include . . . rocks? A slim, proudfaced, black-haired maid stood by in chic black clothing, her expression blank but her arms folded tightly in annoyance. Lady Irving, resplendent in magenta satin and bobbing yellow ostrich plumes, was pacing around and gesticulating wildly. A small green parrot sat on her shoulder, heedless of the fuss and nibbling at a ruby dangling from her ladyship’s earbob.

  It hurt Julia’s eyes just to look at it. Her ears, too, actually. She made a mental note never to let that parrot anywhere near them.

  Lady Irving continued in stentorian tones, arms flailing. “This is no way to treat a guest. No, better than a guest; your own flesh and blood! Just because a trunk is heavy doesn’t mean your footmen have a right to drop it. In fact,” she bellowed, “you ought to thank me for revealing their shortcomings.”

  Now Julia noticed her parents, plastered against the opposite wall of the entrance hall from where she stood. Her mother looked harassed; Lord Oliver merely looked vaguely at his elder sister.

  “But why on earth did you bring rocks, Estella? You must know we’ve plenty out here in the country. Good heavens, they give the very estate its name.”

  He began to chuckle at his mild joke until he was recalled to the present by his wife’s desperate tap on his arm. “Er, but very sorry about the mess, of course. We’ll have your things packed back up and in order at once, I’m sure. While you’re waiting, would you care to come see some of the animals?”

  He at once headed toward the door, domestic difficulties forgotten.

  Lady Irving replied witheringly, “I would not care to see your animals, and you know it. And I am perfectly aware of the name and location of your estate, as you also know. I brought this trunk”—here she waved at the offending article—“simply to test the management of your household. It was for the same reason that I came early. I wanted to know what type of treatment I was to expect now that you have no housekeeper. I can see that things have gone sadly to ruin.”

  Julia felt sympathy for Manderly, to be so reminded of the loss of his wife, although the butler was far too experienced and correct a servant to betray any unseemly emotion. But she also considered her aunt’s statement to be more than a little unfair, considering the butler and the footmen struggling with the myriad trunks were in impeccable livery, and everyone was standing on the highly polished marble floor of a bright, high-ceilinged entrance hall without a speck of dust in sight. The only flaw Julia could see was the spilled trunk full of rocks her aunt had inflicted upon the poor footmen, whose balance must have been overset by the load as they carried in the inordinate amount of luggage Lady Irving had brought with her.

  All right, it was time to say something, since the situation was degenerating and she could see no one else was going to stand up to her blasted aunt—and she meant that adjective with all affection. Lord Oliver was sidling toward the door again, his distant expression clearly showing that his mind had already traveled to the stables, well ahead of his body.

  “My dear aunt,” Julia began, stepping forward to make her curtsy. “It is an even greater pleasure to see you every year. And this year most of all, as you’ve so thoughtfully brought a trunk full of gifts from our great capital city. I am so sorry that it was spilled.”

  She straightened out of the curtsy and stood, hands folded behind her back, waiting for her aunt’s reply.

  Silence reigned for a few minutes. Then, blessedly, her ladyship snorted, and the corners of her mouth crooked into what almost appeared to be a smile.

  “Good girl,” she replied. “I like a young miss who can get her point across.”

  Emboldened, Julia continued, “It was kind of you to bring a pet for the children as well. Certainly such a parrot as that would do well up in the nursery.”

  Lady Irving at once turned a gimlet eye on her and said, “Not a bit of it. You should have known when to stop, my girl. This parrot leaves my shoulder only when my head leaves my shoulders as well. Or,” she corrected herself, “when I change into a dress that doesn’t match his plumage. At any rate, those children aren’t going to pull Butternut’s feathers out and plague the life out of him.

  “There are too many dratted children about the place, anyway,” she continued. “Tom,” she rounded on her brother, “didn’t I tell you not to marry a woman with a family? I told you not to marry a woman with a family. But you wouldn’t listen to me, what was it, ten years ago? Twelve?” She tsked, shaking her head. “You should always listen to your elders.”

  Lady Oliver gaped at this impolite statement for a moment, then protested. “But, sister, all the small children are new. I mean, Lord Oliver’s and mine. I only had Julia at the time I married your brother.”

  “Still,” Lady Irving harrumphed. “You know what I mean. Although,” she continued after a reflective pause, “I think you’ll do very well in London, my Julia, after I’m through with you. You lack polish, but there’s nothing wrong with that. It never hurt me.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone ever telling you that you lack polish,” Julia replied honestly. After all, who would dare to?

  “No one ever has, but that’s just because they’re afraid of me,” Lady Irving confirmed.

  “Pieces of eight,” contributed the parrot, and lunged for the rubies dangling at its side again.

  Lady Irving removed the ruby earbob from the parrot’s reach and continued, “Now, don’t think you all can persuade me to give up my rocks. I want this trunk taken upstairs and unpacked, and when we go back to town, I will want them packed again and brought back with me.”

  “But why?” asked Lady Oliver, her pale, guileless face showing her confusion.

  “To see if you’ll do what I say,” her unexpected guest replied triumphantly. “After all, you have a countess visiting you. Now, if it’s not too much trouble, could I have my things conducted up to my chambers? Naturally, Simone will need an adjoining room of her own to care for me and my wardrobe.”

  “We could use those rocks for wall-mending,” Lord Oliver chipped in, suddenly alive to the conversation, as if he hadn’t heard a bit of what had passed before. “Estella, do let us have them. They’ll be just the thing for the wall around the bull’s pen.”

  Lady Irving stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then threw up her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, Tom. Use them if you must.” She shook her head, exasperated. “You people have no regard for rank.”

  “I’ll show you to your room at once, Aunt.” Louisa finally spoke up. Was she trying to pu
t a quick end to the situation? Julia darted a sharp look at her sister, but Louisa’s face was as expressionless and sweet as a painting.

  James made a proper bow of greeting as Lady Irving finally took notice of him with the smallest of nods. “Ah, yes, Louisa’s young rooster.”

  James straightened up, eyebrows raised so high Julia thought they might just shoot off of his forehead. “Beg pardon, ma’am?”

  “Don’t ‘ma’am’ me, you rascal. I dandled you on my knee when you were in nappies. Yes, yes, don’t you pull that face at me, Matheson. Your mother and I led the ton together in our youth and married the same season. Naturally, I visited all the time when you were a babe.

  “I think it is so much better to be a visitor than a parent,” she reflected. “You and your sister were darling creatures, of course. But children do so spoil the looks.” She patted her still-bright auburn hair.

  “It is always a delight to hear your opinion, Lady Irving,” James replied, staring her straight in the eye. “I am especially gratified to know you remember me during my kindest and most innocent years. I do hope I never spit up on you.”

  “Stuff,” said her ladyship, the hint of a smile on her face. “You are remarkably indelicate in the presence of a lady.”

  “I do beg pardon, ma’am,” James replied smoothly. “I was under the impression, when you brought up nappies, that all topics of conversation were acceptable.”

  The sound that came out of Lady Irving could only be described as a bark. With a nod of acknowledgment, she cast an appraising eye up and down his form before snapping to her maid to follow her up the stairs.

  As Lady Irving passed by Julia on her way upstairs, the younger woman heard her aunt mutter under her breath, “At least he’s got nice legs.”

  Well, that she could definitely agree with.

  The household was back into a semblance of order by the evening, though Lady Irving again upset everyone at dinnertime by insisting on a strict order of precedence being observed as they all went in to dine. James had gotten rather used to meandering casually into the dining room night after night, chatting across the table, refusing every dish of fish—all behaviors that his mother (whose forceful personality he now understood a bit better, knowing she had been youthful friends with Lady Irving) would at best have frowned on, and at worst have had an apoplexy upon seeing. It was almost a novelty to have his arm seized in Lady Irving’s grip of iron and his less-than-eager steps led into the dining room.

  He noticed that she was not carrying the parrot on her shoulder now. That, at least, was something to be thankful for.

  Naturally, she most wanted to discuss the upcoming wedding and, once she got wind of it, the trip to Nicholls, both of which James was currently considering subjects non grata after Louisa’s less-than-ecstatic responses. He informed the gathered family of his plans to return there for a few weeks, but was effectively able to stem a storm of protest—mostly from Lady Irving and Julia, neither of whom had known of his plans to leave—by inviting everyone to come for a visit as soon as he had ensured the soundness of the house.

  “I suppose that’ll do,” Lady Irving granted. “It’ll be sadly flat here without a good-looking young man to liven things up, though.”

  James could only gape at her in surprise, much to the detriment of his dignity.

  Without further comment, her ladyship turned to Julia and added, “That expression right there. See it? That is why I say things like that. It’s worth more than gold to me to get a viscount’s jaw to drop.”

  “I want to make his jaw drop, too!” Julia cried. “James, can I?”

  “If you ask me about it, you’re not likely to surprise me,” he explained. “And no. You shouldn’t try to startle people. No offense is meant, Lady Irving, but she shouldn’t come to London intending to shock the garters off the Prince Regent.”

  “That would be hilarious,” Julia mused. “I wonder how I could get to meet him.”

  James thought of Prinny’s good-humored debauchery, his affairs and excesses. He didn’t want Julia anywhere near the prince’s garters. He shouldn’t even have said it as a joke; the very thought was disgusting.

  “You are not meeting the Prince Regent,” he told her firmly.

  “Rot,” Lady Irving replied. That seemed to be a favorite word of hers.

  Julia’s face lit up with anticipation. “Aunt, I must have you teach me all the rude words you know before the season begins.”

  James met Louisa’s eyes helplessly, and she just shrugged.

  Yes . . . when faced with the combination of Julia Herington and Lady Estella Irving, what else was there to do?

  Chapter 7

  In Which No One Falls through Any Floors

  The trip to Nicholls followed soon after Lady Irving’s arrival in Kent, although it was not soon enough for Julia. She was, as she told Louisa, simply mad with curiosity to see the place where her sister was going to live.

  Well, what other reason could there possibly be for her eagerness, after all?

  Every time she mentioned Nicholls, Louisa’s answering smile grew thinner. Probably, Julia realized, she was talking about it too much and making Louisa bored. But it was hard to keep quiet, especially as the set date grew closer.

  The trip was planned for a week’s length, and it was ultimately decided that Louisa would be accompanied only by Julia, who was wild to see how good the house looked; Lady Irving, who was just as eager to see what a terrible state the house was in; and Simone, on whose presence Lady Irving’s every comfort was dependent. Lord and Lady Oliver were respectively preoccupied with the livestock and the children. Fortunately, in the opinion of all concerned except for Lady Irving, the parrot also failed to make one of the party, having become indispensable to young Tom, who was fascinated by the bird’s swashbuckling vocabulary.

  The day of the journey to Nicholls was sunny and warm for late September. The carriage ride and a brief pause for a luncheon at a respectable-looking inn transpired with only a few complaints by Lady Irving regarding the crowding on the Olivers’ carriage seats, the stiffness of the “benighted” vehicle’s springs, the shockingly bad condition of the roads outside of London, and the fact that Julia was sitting on her skirts and crushing their silk (which today was an eye-testing bright yellow).

  As they arrived at Nicholls in late afternoon, each of the four occupants of the carriage had a unique reaction upon seeing the estate.

  “The grounds are so pretty,” said Julia.

  “Good God, the drive is a positive cesspool,” Lady Irving observed, looking pleased. “Matheson obviously hasn’t done a thing to it.”

  “I hope we will be able to get some hot water at once,” Simone commented in a low, lilting voice, looking at her hands with customary fastidiousness.

  “The house is . . . larger than I expected,” Louisa said, her eyes growing wider as they took in the immense breadth of the viscount’s ancestral home.

  “Large is good, my girl,” Lady Irving replied. “More than you know, where men are concerned, large is good.” She cackled at what was apparently, to her, an extremely witty remark, as Julia and Louisa stared at her blankly and Simone looked pointedly out of the window.

  James came out of the house to meet them himself, drawing a derogatory sniff from Lady Irving. As he helped the women down from the carriage, her ladyship commented in a lofty tone, “Although I am a countess, my dear boy, you really need not prostrate yourself like a servant for all of us.”

  Julia saw Louisa’s gaze fly, chagrined, to James’s face, but the viscount only smiled benignly.

  “Lady Irving, I would never deny you any attention that might make you the slightest bit more comfortable. After all, knowing you’re the same age as my mother, I thought you might benefit from some assistance into the house, especially from the steady hand of an attentive friend.”

  Julia choked back a laugh, pleased to see her sister relax at James’s easy but barbed rejoinder. Lady Irving, for her part, drew h
er hand away from James’s arm and marched rapidly ahead of the party into the house without a backward glance. Simone stepped gingerly after her, placing her feet carefully to avoid the largest, muddiest ruts in the drive.

  “I know it’s in a bit of a state.” James chatted with Julia and Louisa as he escorted them toward the house, one on each arm. “The workmen bring carts, the carts have big wheels and heavy loads—you see the result. I plan to cover it all over with crushed shell or some such thing. Unfortunately, that particular workman hasn’t come with his cart yet.” He smiled wryly. “It’s all still very much a work in progress, but I’ll do my best to make you comfortable.”

  When they stepped inside the house, Julia hardly noticed the high-ceilinged entry hall or the gracefully curved main staircase. She had eyes only for Louisa, who tilted her head back to take in every detail, turning slowly.

  Oddly enough, she looked worried.

  James must have thought so, too. “Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice hesitant.

  “I never imagined it would be like this,” Louisa admitted. “It’s so grand, absolutely huge. James, you must be a very important fellow.”

  His relieved smile met her own uncertain one, and then he looked to Julia for her response.

  “I think it’s lovely,” Julia reassured him, her heart lifting at his expression of relief. “It actually looks like it’s in quite good repair. Was much done during your absence?”

  “To tell you the truth, it wasn’t as bad as I had feared,” James replied, his tone now eager. “We’ve always had a few servants here to keep things from completely falling apart. The problem was, many of the unused rooms were shut up, and when the roof started to leak into some of them, no one noticed for a long time. But once the roof was repaired, the plasterers and woodworkers were able to come and work their magic. We’re still under Holland covers in much of the house, but it’ll come back into use, bit by bit.”