Season for Temptation

by Theresa Romain

  By the end of this speech, Lady Irving was visibly bored by James’s excited recital of repairs.

  “Yes, yes, congratulations, dear boy. Your house is sound and that is an excellent thing, no doubt. Now, I’m sure there are other parts of the house you’d like to show us, too? Perhaps some . . . romantic places? That you and Louisa could go see while the rest of us have some tea?”

  Julia rolled her eyes and tried to catch Louisa’s gaze, but the taller girl was looking at the floor. Her face was expressionless, but her hands twisted together in agitation.

  James seemed not to notice. “Lady Irving, I am surprised to say I think that a delightful idea,” he replied, ignoring her huff in response. “In fact, why don’t we all have tea? I’ll have refreshment sent in at once and we can all have a seat in”—he peeped into a room off the entrance hall, and closed the door, shaking his head—“well, not in there. No furniture. Um, perhaps this next one?”

  He opened the second door off the hall. “Yes, this one’ll do.” He gave an embarrassed smile to his guests. “Sorry, still sorting things out.”

  Lady Irving glanced around the damask-walled parlor. Its heavy, dark furniture created a gloomy atmosphere. “If all your furniture is like this, perhaps that other room would be an improvement. You’ll have to get rid of everything for this parlor even to begin to be habitable.”

  “Aunt,” Julia hissed, mortified. “I am sure his lordship is doing his best to be an excellent host.”

  James overheard her and shrugged. “I’m afraid I haven’t done that well so far,” he replied. “I’ve made you stand around with no tea, and didn’t even know which room was ready to receive you. But as I’ve told some among you, I admit I have a lot to learn about running an estate in general, and about this house in particular.”

  He smiled at Julia, reminding her of their conversation of several weeks before. “Every day, some new part is torn up and put together again differently.”

  Then, turning his attention to Louisa, he said, “My dear, just for you, I made sure there were no holes in the floor for your visit.” This finally drew a quick flash of a smile from Louisa.

  Julia, watching them, was surprised to feel a twist of envy that shivered through her whole body when James called her sister “my dear.” She wanted those words for herself, so badly she could almost feel them like a caress. Not from James, of course, for he could never be hers.

  But perhaps from someone exactly like him.

  Her attention was turned a moment later by Simone, who entered the room followed by a housemaid bearing the tea things.

  Tea and biscuits—very good ones, Julia was happy to note—distracted them all for the next half hour; then James proposed a tour of the house before dinner.

  “No, we would prefer to rest in our rooms,” Lady Irving informed him. “Except for Louisa, of course. She would prefer to see every secluded corner you’ve got in this drafty old pile of stones. Wouldn’t you, my girl?”

  Louisa looked embarrassed and opened her mouth to speak, but Julia broke in before she knew what she was saying.

  “Actually, Aunt, I would love to see the house, too.” The words slipped out before she could consider her motivation. And it didn’t really matter, anyway, because Louisa looked relieved.

  James saw a rather grumpy Lady Irving and her impassive companion settled, then again offered both of his arms to the two sisters as they strolled down a long hall.

  “This is very nice,” he observed. “Peaceful at last, isn’t it? I’m very glad to have the two of you here and show you the house. I expect you’ll both be spending a lot of time here in the future. Louisa, especially you,” he teased.

  Louisa merely nodded. “What do you have in mind to show us?”

  “I’m not sure,” James admitted. “I haven’t figured out the whole layout of the house yet. I hadn’t been here for decades, you know, so I hardly knew the place when I saw it.”

  He paused in his walking. “Shall we just start opening doors? Or is there something you’d like me to try to find for you?”

  “An orangery,” Julia replied promptly.

  “The library,” Louisa answered a second later.

  The viscount laughed. “There’s no orangery here, Julia. If there ever was, it’s dwindled away long ago.”

  Her request had been the impulse of a moment; she just wanted something to say to capture James’s attention. And now that she had, she wanted to keep it, though she knew that was probably impolite.

  “That’s too bad,” she began to blather. “I think oranges are really pretty. And good to eat, of course. I mean, that’s why most people grow them. But I think they must make a beautiful sight as well, seeing the trees in their pots and all the bright fruits on them.”

  Louisa was looking at her as if Julia had an arm growing out of her forehead. “Where have you ever even seen an orangery?”

  “I haven’t,” Julia confessed. “I’ve just read about them. But I’ve wanted to see one for a long time.” Which was true, if you defined “long” as “at least a minute and a half.”

  “I’m very sorry not to be able to gratify the wish of a lifetime,” James said with a friendly smile. Turning to Louisa, he added, “But your request I can satisfy, my dear. Nicholls does have a library, and I even know where it is. Shall we?”

  There it was, that envious twinge again. Julia made a vow to leave the couple some time to themselves in the library. After all, if such a simple phrase as “my dear” could have such a strong effect on her, what must it do to Louisa?

  In the library, James was gratified to see Louisa’s face glow with appreciation. She looked around at the ornately carved shelves, the comfortably carpeted floor, stylish chairs and sturdy sofa grouped about the large room.

  “Why, James,” she said, a rare and beautiful smile lighting her countenance, “this room is lovely. Just lovely. Surely it wasn’t like this before you began work on the house?”

  Earning such a delighted smile from Louisa was a rare gift, and James valued it as such.

  “It was not,” he replied, pride welling up within him. “I started the renovations with this room as a surprise for you. I am so glad you like it.”

  She smiled at him again, but her expression was already absent as her eyes began to rove over the shelves. “It’s wonderful. I love it. Thank you for your kindness.”

  An uncertain expression stole across her face, and she looked over at Julia. The fair-haired girl was sitting at the opposite end of the room, paging through a collection of maps with a look of great interest. James followed her gaze, and the familiar frisson of awareness shot through him. He might have conquered that initial attraction to her—well, mostly—but damnation, it was good to be around her again.

  But Louisa—back to Louisa. “I never knew Julia cared for maps,” she was musing. “Perhaps she’s giving us some time to speak privately.”

  “If that’s so, I’m grateful to her,” the viscount said, ushering his fiancée to the room’s most comfortable chair and then seating himself near her. “I hoped we would have time to talk.”

  She shot him that wary look again. He sighed and considered how best to explain himself.

  “Louisa, I know talk of our marriage makes you uncomfortable. Please be assured, I don’t intend to pressure you to set a wedding date or in any way take part in the next London season more than you wish to.”

  It was frustrating to have to be so delicate. Louisa had snapped up his offer so quickly, he’d been sure she would be willing to become his bride at once. Instead, months were passing, and he was no closer to the altar than he had been at the end of the season. For all he knew, the thin company that remained in London over the winter was still amusing itself by nattering at the expense of his sister’s good name.

  But apparently what he’d said was good enough, because Louisa’s wary look at once dissolved into relief. James continued cautiously, “I just . . . thought it would be nice for us to have a chance to talk
to one another. About life—our life. What we want to do after we are married.”

  Her pale cheeks colored at once and she bit her lip. James mentally berated himself for his word choice. The last thing his skittish bride-to-be needed to hear was anything that sounded like a reference to marital activities.

  “I mean,” he corrected smoothly, “where we will spend our time, how you’d like to see the house fitted out . . . things of that nature. I remember how you wanted the seashell-shaped bathtub, though I haven’t commissioned it yet,” he teased, attempting to lighten her mood.

  “Well,” Louisa reflected, “I’m willing to leave the choice of how the house will be furnished to you. The library’s to my liking, and I may not be in many of the other rooms, so they really should fall according to your taste.”

  Disappointment seeped through James. He was trying his hardest to please her, and she was parrying his every attempt to strike at her heart, or even at her conscience. How could he provoke her into showing some enthusiasm?

  “But . . . you’ll be receiving guests. Your friends, your family,” he prompted her. “And you’ll have your own bedchamber—if you’ll excuse my mentioning it,” he added. “That should certainly be made the way you like it.”

  “Isn’t it more important that you should like it?” Louisa replied, her smile an ironic twist.

  James felt as if he were walking on a beach with quicksand somewhere nearby. Any misstep could land him in trouble, but he had no idea what such a misstep might be. He felt suddenly tense and frustrated.

  “I want you to have things as you like them once we are married,” James repeated carefully. “But if you honestly have no preference, then I’ll do my best to guess, as I did in the library.”

  Louisa sighed, and looked up at him with eyes much older and more tired than her nineteen years. “James, I’m sorry. I do truly appreciate what you’ve done to make the library beautiful, and what you’re doing to make a home for me. I’m just not used to thinking along the lines of how a viscountess would need to live. I shall try to do better.”

  Her beautiful, sudden smile burst over her face again. “I just heard those words come out of my mouth. Me, a viscountess? Oh, it’s so ridiculous! I can hardly believe it. James, what were you thinking, asking me to marry you?”

  He smiled back, relieved. At last, at last, he had broken through her shell of worry. “I was thinking, as soon as I saw you for the first time, glaring at me, that you would be an excellent hostess for the dinner parties I planned to throw every night for at least eightyfive people.”

  “Oh, stop,” she said, laughing.

  “And I could tell,” he pressed, eager to take advantage of her change of mood, “that you would love to have sixteen houses in town, each bigger than the last, and a whole army of servants to command at each one.”

  She shook her head, giggling. “How well you know me. I’m astounded; you’ve penetrated to my very deepest desires.”

  “Ah . . . yes,” James said, clearing his throat and trying not to think of that type of desire. He darted a look at Julia, of course just to see if she had been listening, but she seemed as absorbed in her maps as ever.

  “Well, we’ll leave the subject for now,” he suggested, returning to seriousness. “But if you have any ideas about what would make you comfortable, you have only to say the word. In the meantime, I’ll just focus on getting the place habitable. At least, what your aunt would consider habitable,” he finished wryly.

  “Not possible.” Louisa shook her head. “If that’s your standard, I’m afraid you might as well pull this beautiful old place down and rebuild it in the middle of Grosvenor Square. She doesn’t care for much of anything outside of London.”

  “That could be asking a bit much. In Grosvenor Square? The rent would be scandalous,” he bantered back.

  Louisa smiled, and rose, her action matched at once by the viscount. “Thank you again, James. You’re very patient with me. I . . . I’ll try to do what you want me to. I do appreciate all your kindness.”

  She walked over to speak with Julia, who bounced up out of her seat at once and tossed aside the book of maps with a bit more force than would be expected for someone who was really enjoying their perusal.

  James, left behind, again sank into his seat. Louisa had seemed happy at the end of their conversation, but it still rang hollow somehow. He blankly watched the two sisters talking, seeing Julia draw more smiles out of Louisa in two minutes than he had been able to get from her in the past two hours.

  A peal of laughter from the other side of the room broke into his thoughts, and he snapped from his reverie to see Louisa and Julia both giggling helplessly, Julia pointing at a plate in what he very much feared was an old human anatomy book.

  Just then she looked up and caught his gaze on her. She turned red and instantly slammed the book shut, stowing it behind her back like a child caught in the kitchen with a handful of biscuits. Louisa laughed even harder at this, herself turning to look at James and shaking her head helplessly.

  “Julia found something rather interesting on your shelves,” she explained.

  Yes, he thought bitterly; he could make his fiancée happy, as long as he didn’t talk about anything serious. As long as her sister was around her to cheer and distract her.

  He smiled at Louisa, but inside, he felt leaden.

  Chapter 8

  In Which Baboon Behavior Leads to Unfortunate Consequences

  The visit at Nicholls was intended to last only for one week, but the following morning at breakfast, Lady Irving pronounced herself “completely unsatisfied” with the home’s furnishings and arrangements.

  “This is no fit place for a future viscountess,” she stated. “It’ll be at least a fortnight before I can bring the place into any semblance of fashion.”

  James raised his eyes to the ceiling in an expression of pained patience that he knew the countess would ignore. “Might I remind your ladyship that this is already a fit home for a viscount? I know it’s not ideal as yet, but I’m working on it.”

  “Bosh,” she replied. “You obviously need me to take you well in hand, Matheson. And I suppose you need Louisa to take you in hand, too, eh? You haven’t even had any time alone together yet.” She elbowed him. Actually elbowed him.

  He eyed her buttery toast. He wondered if there was any way he could swat it out of her hand and onto her livid green gown and make it look like an accident. Probably not, but the idea was tempting anyway.

  “But, Aunt,” Louisa replied, ignoring Lady Irving’s last statement, “we must end our visit as planned; we packed only for a very short stay. And think of your parrot. Poor Butternut will be missing you as well.”

  “I’m sure Tom is taking good care of him,” Julia interjected. “And surely this house is prepared for guests enough that we could stay longer regardless of our luggage. Good heavens, look at the breakfast they’ve made us.”

  James grinned to see her eyes widen with delight as another tray was brought into the room. She rose from her chair with shameless speed, and, finding ham and eggs under the cover, served a very unladylike heap of food onto what would now be her third plate.

  As Julia reseated herself, she added, “Not that we mean to invite ourselves to overstay our welcome. At least, most of us do not. But in case you shouldn’t mind it, James, we probably could. Not overstay, but stay longer. Oh, dear—but you won’t be able to say you don’t wish us to stay, even if it’s the truth; that would be excessively rude of you.”

  “Rude I would never want to be, but as a matter of fact, I’d be genuinely happy to have you stay on,” James replied. “No need for you to worry about being comfortable even with your small amount of baggage. I have a great deal of clothing here for young ladies, which was once my sister’s. It’s well over a decade out of fashion, but you’re welcome to it.

  “The only problem is,” he confessed, his eyes limpid as he looked around the table, “that the options may be limited for you, Lady
Irving. The only attire I have for, er, ladies of other ages belongs to the housekeeper and maids.”

  He blinked owlishly at the countess, trying to hold an expression of innocent worry. He probably shouldn’t bait his future wife’s aunt like this, but he still owed her one for that “taken in hand” comment.

  Lady Irving looked sharply at him. “I’ll wager I can fit into anything my nieces can, you young rascal. So you needn’t try to send me packing at the end of the week by threatening me with a maid’s costume.”

  “I would never try anything of the sort,” James said, managing to hold a straight face despite noticing, out of the corner of his eye, Julia’s desperate attempts to swallow a mouthful of eggs without choking herself on a laugh.

  Faced with a string of several days and limitless possibilities for her enviable taste to find an outlet, Lady Irving determined after the meal to direct the long-suffering Simone and several of the Nicholls servants to rearrange the furniture and pictures in one parlor that she found particularly offensive to the eye. This pleasing flurry of activity kept her occupied for the remainder of the morning, much to the relief of James and, he suspected, his other two guests as well.

  Once Lady Irving’s departure left them in relative peace, James wondered what Louisa and Julia would enjoy most. He was unsure of what to suggest or do next. It was an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling for a man raised from birth to mix in the highest and most exacting circles.

  In the end, although it seemed depressingly uncreative, he suggested that the three of them return to the library, where he would endeavor to point out some of the room’s treasures despite his ignorance of most of the collection.

  Julia trailed behind as Louisa eagerly came along with him, hooking her arm fondly into his and asking all sorts of questions about old and rare books that he found himself almost totally unable to answer.

  No, he was pretty sure they didn’t have a Gutenberg Bible.

  Probably they had some things that were printed on vellum, but he couldn’t say what those might be or where they were in the library.