Julia begged her pulse to slow as she took in the pair. These women were his mother and sister, of that she could have no doubt. Furthermore, the dowager duchess seemed rather displeased by his early morning summons.
The younger woman marched right up to the duke and tugged at his coat sleeve, an impish gleam in her sky-blue eyes. “We’ve yet to break our fast, brother. Could whatever this is not have waited until our meal is finished?”
When both women stared at him impatiently, the duke shook his head. “I will not take much of your time.” He looked from them to Julia and back again. “Allow me to introduce you to Miss Julia Honeyfield.”
Julia smiled, then curtsied when the women turned their gazes on her. “A pleasure to meet you both.”
The duke indicated his mother, nodding in her direction. “Miss Julia, this is my mother, the Dowager Duchess of Selkirk.”
The lady nodded. “A pleasure, my dear.”
He reached out a hand and patted his sister’s shoulder. “And this is Lady Celia, my baby sister.”
“I am no baby and you well know it.” She peered at him, but the glint in her eyes belied her amusement, causing Julia to grin. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Julia. Are you to join us for breakfast?”
The duke answered, “Indeed she will, but first I wish to speak with all of you. Please sit.” He waved a hand toward the cluster of mahogany and velvet furniture near the fireplace.
Julia’s stomach fluttered as she positioned herself upon one of the plush wingback chairs. The dowager duchess had been studying her relentlessly since taking notice of her presence. What would become of her if the woman rejected her as a companion to Lady Celia?
She would find herself back on the streets—alone, in danger, hungry. As if on cue, her stomach growled, protesting a lack of sustenance. She could not think on it now; would not work herself up with the possibility of failure. She folded her hands before her and glanced at the duke.
All would be well.
With the ladies seated, he strolled closer to the fireplace and leaned against the mantel with a casual stance. “I have employed Miss Julia as a companion to Celia. She has been given a room and will be available to Celia when Celia is not otherwise engaged with her tutors. As part of Miss Julia’s duties, she will also act as a chaperone.”
A chaperone? That was far different than a companion. The position would require her to go about in society. How was Julia to accomplish such a task without embarrassing the family? She did not know the first thing about society rules, though she did know there were many.
Ill-at-ease, she turned her attention on the young lady. She did not seem the least bit concerned, sitting quietly with a pleasant expression on her face. Looking at Lady Celia, a realization hit Julia: if she was to be a success, she would have to become a lady herself.
The duke took a seat, crossed his legs and leaned back on the chair. “Celia is preparing to make her debut and, therefore, requires a steady companion and ready chaperone. Miss Julia, I have no doubt, will excel in both roles.”
He shot a reassuring glance at Julia, though it did little to calm her nerves.
Ignoring her fluttering stomach, Julia stiffened her posture, notching her chin. “It is my honor to serve you, Lady Celia.”
“How delightful.” The girl grinned. “I am certain we will become fast friends.”
Julia resolved then and there to become a lady. How, she did not know, but she would work hard, study, observe, do whatever she could to aid in her endeavor. She would learn all the rules and make the duke and his family proud to have her under their roof.
The dowager duchess flipped open her fan. “I will have a private word with you, Charles.”
Julia’s heart plummeted at the older woman’s words as much as her tone. The lady did not approve of her. She saw through the facade and wanted her gone. There could be no other explanation.
“Very well.” The duke turned his attention back to Lady Celia. “Celia, you may take Miss Julia to the breakfast room. Mother and I will join you once we have finished here.”
Julia swallowed back her fear when he flashed her a warm, reassuring glance. She trusted him, even if she could not say why. Whatever the reason, she would cling to that belief like a drowning woman to a floating log. For she had nothing else to keep her afloat.
Lady Celia stood, then motioned for Julia. “Let us be on our way. I am famished.”
“As am I.” Julia gained her feet and, turning to the dowager, dropped into a curtsy. “Your Grace.” Heavens, she did not even know if that was the proper way to address the lady. She straightened before repeating the gesture and words for the duke. At least she felt confident in how to address him.
Perhaps he could aid her in learning how to behave as a proper lady must. She’d suggest the idea as soon as she had a moment alone with him.
Chapter Five
Charles waited until the patter of Celia and Miss Julia’s footfalls faded from hearing before he turned his attention back to his mother. He could only imagine she wished to discuss Miss Julia, and he feared she might be offended by whatever his well-meaning Mama might say.
“You have my ear.”
Mother set her fan on her lap, then folded her hands. “Tell me, darling, where did you find this woman?”
He schooled his expression so as not to give anything away. “It does not signify. I have no doubt she will be the perfect companion to Celia.”
“It is not that I do not trust your judgment; however, I could not help but notice that she seemed a bit...uncomfortable. It does not escape me that she is not of our class.”
Charles did not give a damn where she came from. He only wanted to protect her from the evils that befell young girls when no one looked out for their welfare. Still, he had to give Mother something—just the barest of details. “Miss Julia hails from Kent. Her mother sent her to London in search of employment.”
Mother arched an eyebrow. “I will need to know more than from where she hails. Celia may be your responsibility, but she’s my daughter.” She lifted her chin imperially. “I must keep her best interests in mind.”
Charles, taking a moment to think, moved away from the fireplace. He could not very well tell Mother the truth. Though, he would have to tell her something. She did have a right to know about the woman who would be spending time with Celia.
On the other hand, he could simply steer the conversation in a different direction.
He moved to sit beside his mother. “You are not mistaken about her not coming from an aristocratic family; however, that is not uncommon among companions, nor does it deem her a bad choice.”
Mother lowered her fan to her lap. “Do not mistake my concern for disapproval.” She smiled. “I do not take issue with her being of a lower class. But I would like to know more about her. Do you know anything of her parents? What of her upbringing? Her education?”
He could not deny his mother’s questions held merit, nor could he pretend to know the answers to most of them. In truth, he’d not taken the time to consider any of that. None of the answers mattered in his opinion. Miss Julia needed their help, and he would be damned if they would not give it to her.
“I know only that her father has left them, and her mother could not afford to support her any longer. She is of a good nature and possesses an unblemished reputation.”
Mother narrowed her gaze. “How do you know these things?”
“Miss Julia was forthcoming when I asked her about her history.” Charles stood, moved to the sideboard and poured a tumbler of Scotch. “I have no doubt she will make a splendid companion. As for the rules of society, you will instruct her. There is plenty of time before Celia’s debut.”
“And if I should decide that I do not agree with you, what then? Will you dismiss her?” Mother gave him a challenging stare.
Charles took a drink of his Scotch, relishing the warmth it spread through him. “Let us worry about such things if or when they come to pas
s.” Irritation laced his tone.
He did not doubt his mother had their best interests in mind, but he would not be dissuaded. He had always been a champion of those less fortunate, and Miss Julia certainly was in need of benevolence. He shuddered to think what might become of her without his largess. At best, she would end up back at Madame Lavonia’s; at worst, she would have her throat cut in some woebegotten alley. Perish the thought. He would not wish such a fate on any innocent woman, though he knew it happened more often than it should. Whores were not for him, but he was far from addlepated about the workings of London.
Fresh out of school, he had on occasion visited the “convents” of Covent Garden. He had even struck up a friendship of sorts with one of the “nuns.” Like Miss Julia, Sophie had not asked for the life she’d been given. Though he had never felt a tenderness for Sophie, Charles had taken pity on her, bought her a small cottage in northern England, and given her enough coin to see her settled. As well as arranging a position for her in a local viscount’s home.
Unfortunately, he could do nothing to erase the scars of her past. Still, he took comfort in knowing she now led a better life. It was after Sophie that he stopped visiting such places. There were plenty of widows willing to warm his bed when he found himself in need.
Miss Julia, unlike Sophie, remained innocent. He could, and would, protect her regardless of what Mother wished. Nonetheless, having Mother’s support in the matter would make things a great deal easier.
Charles gave a lopsided grin meant to charm Mother and end the debate. “I only ask that you give her a chance. After all, it is you who taught me to be compassionate.”
“Very well, I will do as you wish...for now.” Mother stood, tapping her fan on her hip. “Now, let us go in for breakfast, shall we?”
Based on the gleam in his mother’s eyes, he should be nervous for Miss Julia. Still, the woman had charmed him nearly from the moment she collided with him, and Celia had taken an immediate liking to the girl. No doubt Mother, too, would grow fond of Miss Julia in time.
He placed his tumbler back on the sideboard then proffered his arm. “We will speak with Miss Julia after breakfast.”
Mother nodded and rested her gloved hand on his elbow. Neither spoke another word as he escorted her to the breakfast room.
When they entered, they found Celia and Miss Julia chatting away like old friends. Charles could not help but be pleased as he took his seat at the head of the table.
Julia glanced at His Grace as she placed a bite of boiled egg into her mouth. She could not help but wonder what the dowager duchess wanted to speak with him about. Did it have to do with her? Somehow, she suspected it did. The lady obviously had reservations, and who could blame her? Julia doubted her own ability to master the duties with which the duke had entrusted her.
For heaven’s sake, she did not even know which fork to use. As each course was served, she looked to Lady Celia to see which utensil she picked up. How was she ever to learn the rules of being a lady when something as trivial as flatware left her flustered?
A cursory glance around the table revealed that the dowager duchess was watching her. Julia gave the lady a smile before turning her attention back to her meal. She attempted to take another bite but found her stomach too upset. Her emotions had been in turmoil ever since Mama sent her away, and it was taking a toll.
Weary and unsure, Julia sat down her fork. “Might I be excused?”
His Grace turned his attention on her. “Is everything all right? If the food is not to your liking, I can have something else brought in.”
“Oh no, that is not it at all. It is only that I have developed a headache and am much in need of rest, Your Grace.” She felt the warmth of a blush upon her cheeks. The last thing she desired was to appear ungrateful.
He set his glass aside. “By all means retire to your room. I will send up a tonic.”
“But first, I would have a word with you,” the dowager duchess put in.
Julia did not miss the way the duke turned his eyes on his mother. “Yes, of course.”
“My son tells me you are new to London.” The lady took a drink from her china teacup, her pinky extended as she brought the cup to her lips.
Julia nodded. “That is correct.”
“How delightful. He also told me that you come from a family of limited means.”
Lady Celia gasped. “Mother! That is no concern of ours.”
Julia ignored the stab to her pride. “It is quite all right. I am not ashamed of where I come from.” She looked at His Grace, though she had no idea why. It was not like the man had done anything wrong, nor could he change who she was. All the same, she felt drawn to him.
He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I believe what my mother is trying to say is that you may need some guidance in order to be successful here in London.” He turned his attention on the dowager duchess. “Isn’t that right, Mother?”
The lady tilted her head, her gold earbobs reflecting the candlelight from the room. “Indeed. One cannot simply traipse about London and hope for the best. You must understand the rules of society and follow them without fail.”
“Perhaps I would be better suited as a maid, for I know nothing of society’s rules.” Julia shifted her gaze back to the food on her plate. She had been fooling herself to think that she could ever be a lady.
“Nonsense. Mother has agreed to teach you everything you need to know. By the time Celia’s come-out has arrived, you will be every bit a proper lady.” His Grace shot the dowager a scathing look before lifting his fork for another bite.
“I would like to help as well.” Lady Celia smiled brightly. “It will be great fun and give me the chance to practice further.”
Julia exhaled the breath she’d been holding and returned the girl’s smile. Lady Celia was delightful, a friendly, energetic young lady. Julia did not doubt they could become friends. “I would like it if you did.”
“And His Grace will assist too.” The dowager duchess grinned in his direction.
The duke’s eyes widened and he reached for his water glass, taking a copious drink. “There then, all is settled. Miss Julia, you are welcome to retire now.”
Julia feared she would cast up her accounts if she did not escape the breakfast room and its tension soon, especially when she was the source of the tension. Relief swept through her when a footman rushed forward and pulled out her chair.
She stood, locking gazes with the duke. “Thank you, Your Grace.” She nodded to the ladies, then made her way for the exit, desperate to find her chamber.
“Be in the drawing room at nine a.m. sharp on the morrow,” the dowager duchess called after her.
Julia paused mid-step to look back toward the table. “I will not be late.”
As she departed the room, she could not help but wonder over the lady. Her words came across cool, aloof even, but there was a kindness to her demeanor as well. A softness hidden behind her tough exterior. Did she disapprove of Julia, or was she merely being cautious?
In either case, one could hardly blame the lady.
As Julia mounted the grand curving staircase, she resolved to turn the dowager into a friend, even an ally. She would prove herself worthy of her new position, even if she was not entirely sure she deserved to be elevated in such a way.
Chapter Six
Julia attempted to flip open her fan for the third time, only to have it fly from her hand and land on the floor with a thwack. Good heavens, who would have thought maneuvering a silk fan would require such skill? With a sigh, she bent to retrieve the frustrating prop and returned it to her lap.
“The trick is in the wrist, dear. Like this.” Her Grace flicked her wrist and, like a flower, the fan she held unfolded. “Now watch Celia do the same. Pay mind to the movement of her wrist.”
Julia turned her attention to Lady Celia, watching raptly as the girl repeated her mother’s movements. Her fan also spread out to reveal its fine embroidery and lace. The pair of them m
ade it seem so easy.
“Now you try.” Celia rested her fan on the arm of her gold-brocade wingback chair.
With a sigh, Julia raised her fan, flicked her wrist as they had done, then watched as it once again soared from her hand. “I am hopeless when it comes to fans,” she woefully cried. “Could I not simply avoid their use?”
Celia walked to where Julia’s pink silk fan rested on the floorboards. “Nonsense. You simply need more practice.” She bent to pick it up, then brought it back to Julia. “One cannot flirt properly without a fan.”
“Celia!” Her Grace shot a disapproving glare at her daughter.
“What? I only spoke the truth.” Celia grinned and reclaimed her seat.
“Fans serve a greater purpose than flirting.” The dowager moved next to Julia on the settee. “Allow me to help you. And do stop tapping your foot.”
Julia stilled her foot and nodded, lifting her fan again.
The lady took Julia’s wrist between her thumb and fingers, then flicked it out.
To Julia's astonishment, the fan spread open.
“You did it!” Lady Celia grinned triumphantly on Julia’s behalf.
Julia glanced between the ladies, her own lips upturned from the accomplishment—no, it was a victory. After several failed attempts, she’d managed to succeed. It mattered not that the duchess had helped.
“Indeed she did.” Her Grace retook the chair she’d abandoned moments ago. “Now try without my help.”
Julia closed the fan and a steadying breath. She could do this; she would not be conquered by a ladies’ hand fan. After readjusting her grip, she closed her eyes and flicked her wrist as Her Grace had demonstrated moments before. The fan remained in her hand. She could still feel its cool ivory against her gloved hand. She opened her eyes, victory warming her blood.
“Wonderful. Now you must continue to practice, for the last thing you want is to send it flying across a crowded parlor. Your reputation would be forever stained,” the dowager said.
“Yes, Your Grace.” Julia closed the fan, then repeated the actions, watching it spread out before her. Whether or not she would ever master the art of flirting with a fan remained to be seen, but at least she could effectively operate one now.
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