“Now that you have learned the fan, let us see what you recall of our previous lessons.” Her Grace tapped her fan on her lap. “When at a dinner party, what is the first course?”
“Soup,” Julia answered.
“And how does one consume soup?” Her Grace angled her head, her earbobs catching the noonday sun pouring through the window.
“They sip from the side of the spoon and always must be careful not to make a sound.” Julia had memorized every rule the dowager duchess had told her. In fact, over the past several days, she had even come to enjoy the lady’s quizzes. Having the answers and being confident about them, made her feel like she could fit into their world—perchance—though she would never be one of them.
Aristocrats did not wed destitute girls, most certainly ones without good bloodlines. No, her place would be beside Lady Celia, and that was preferable to her fate before the Duke intervened and brought her here. In fact, being companion and chaperone to his sister is more than she ever could have hoped for.
“Very good. I must admit, I am surprised at how well you are retaining my lessons.” Her Grace offered a warm smile. “Now tell me, what is one to do if they are not particularly fond of said soup?”
“Pretend otherwise and make the appearance of eating, for it is vulgar to refuse the first course.” Julia glanced at Lady Celia as she retook her chair, folding her hands in her lap.
“I have always thought that rule to be particularly confounding.” Lady Celia angled her head at her mother. “Why must we pretend to enjoy something? Why can’t we simply refuse and wait for the fish? I do detest most soups, as you are well aware.”
“Do hush, you insolent girl.” The dowager duchess’s tone was playful, matching the twinkle in her eyes. “I did not make these rules, but we all must follow them or risk becoming social outcasts.”
“If I made the rules, there would be none.” Lady Celia leaned back, allowing her posture to slump.
“Sit up straight, and if you continue to speak in such a way, I will be forced to delay your come out.” Her Grace reached across the space separating them and swatted Lady Celia with her fan.
The girl shot Julia an amused look as she corrected her posture. “As you wish, Mama.”
“On the subject of debut balls, how many times should you dance with a gentleman, Celia?”
“Not more than three.”
Her Grace nodded, then looked to Julia. “And what is assumed if you dance more than one set with the same gentleman?”
“That you are interested in courtship.” Her cheeks warmed at the idea.
"Indeed, you could expect a gentleman with whom you danced two sets to come calling the following day, and if you should dance more than three sets, your reputation would be lost. Keep that at the forefront of your minds." Her Grace glanced between Lady Celia and Julia. "It is of the utmost importance that neither of you falls into such a trap."
“Unless, of course, we wish to wed the gentleman in question.” Lady Celia wiped her hand across her skirt. “That is the reason for having a come-out, is it not?”
“Yes, darling, however, you do not want to set your cap too soon. Dance only one set with each gentleman until you find the one that truly captures your fancy. Even then, do not exceed two sets if you wish to marry well.”
“What if I do not wish to wed at all?” Lady Celia asked, a mischievous glint in her blue gaze.
“When you cross paths with the right gentleman, you will want nothing more.” As Her Grace stood, Lady Celia and Julia rose as well. “Now, go change into your riding habits. His Grace will be along shortly.”
Julia’s pulse increased at the mention of him. She’d found him handsome the night he rescued her, but what the lamplight had revealed under the veil of darkness could not compare to what the light of day revealed the next morning.
His hair shone like gold in the sunlight, his square jaw and straight nose were so perfect they could have belonged to a sculpture, and his wide shoulders and muscular arms seemed specially made for holding a woman. She knew very well the comfort to be found within them—and would never forget the way she felt when he held her.
She averted her gaze, her cheeks blazing.
She had to stop thinking about the man in such a way. He was her rescuer, and now her employer, nothing more.
Well, perhaps he had become her friend. They’d spent a good deal of time together these past days. Furthermore, she enjoyed his company. He made her believe she belonged here, with them, in this world so different from her own. When she spent time with him, he made her laugh and forget her troubles, her doubts.
Yes, they were friends, but never anything more.
She repeated the mantra, never anything more, over and over as she made her way to her room.
Chapter Seven
“You will use the mounting block just as Lady Celia did.” Charles squinted against the bright rays of the sun. They were being blessed with fair weather, considering Christmastide would soon be upon them. The chill in the air required them all to dress warmer, a coat for him and cloaks for the women, but the sun warmed his uncovered skin all the same.
Julia stepped up onto the block before glancing over her shoulder at him.
“Refrain from grabbing the lower leaping head as you mount.” Charles watched as a groom assisted her onto the grey mare. In one sweeping motion, she was properly seated. No small feat for someone unaccustomed to riding. “Well done, Miss Julia.”
Charles strode over to his thoroughbred, Ace, and mounted. “Keep a firm hold on the reins. Your mount is trained to follow mine, so you need only focus on staying in the saddle.”
Miss Julia adjusted the skirt of her riding habit to cover her ankles. “I am quite certain I can manage.”
“Let us be off, then.” Celia set her own mare into a gentle canter toward the east end of the estate.
Charles took the lead as they rounded the stables, looking back to ensure Miss Julia fared well. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes glistened with merriment, and her dark curls bounced becomingly with the horse’s moments. She was a vision of vitality and beauty, to be sure.
His blood warmed as he traced the contours of her lovely face, down across her shoulders to what her cloak revealed beneath its folds—ample breasts and a slender waist.
“I should like to stop by the river and look for mistletoe while we are out.” Celia angled her head toward him. “If I am lucky, Miss Julia and I can make a kissing bough this evening. At the least, we can craft paper flowers and evergreen boughs.”
“We’ve more than a fortnight before Christmastide. Do you not think it a bit early for decorating?”
“As you are well aware, Mother is hosting my come-out ball Christmastide Eve. There will be no time for decorating outside of the ballroom.”
Charles sighed. “Very well. We will do as you wish.”
“I, for one, think it sounds splendid.” Miss Julia smiled at Celia. “And I will be honored to assist you.”
“We will have great fun. I do so love the holiday! Let us hurry.” Celia grinned, pushing her horse faster.
Charles chuckled at her antics and urged Ace to keep up with his sister. Much to his surprise, Lady Julia came up beside him, and then passed him to join Celia in the lead. Rarely had he witnessed an inexperienced rider take so naturally to the saddle. He brought Ace up beside them, then called to Miss Julia, “You seem to be a natural horsewoman.”
She averted her gaze for a moment before meeting his. “I fear I misled your mother. You see, I have been riding since before I started wearing long skirts.”
A peal of laughter escaped from Celia. “That is rich. Serves Mama right for assuming you required lessons in all aspects of being a lady.”
Miss Julia blushed. “I did not intend to lie, it is only...well, she was so adamant that I learn. She never stopped to consider that I might already know how.”
“You have no need to apologize.” Celia slowed her mount. “Mama has been pushing you
hard in all aspects. Had you told her, she would likely not have believed you.” She glanced at him. Is that not right, dear brother?”
Charles and Miss Julia slowed their horses as well, and he offered what he hoped was a conspiratorial grin. “Indeed it is. Let us just keep this to ourselves and allow Mother to believe her a natural.”
The little minx! Though he truly did not place any blame on her. Mother could be overwhelming when she was involved in a project, and make no mistake, turning Miss Julia into a lady had become her top priority. What a stellar job of it she’d done, too. Not that he had found Miss Julia lacking in any severe way, but under Mother’s tutelage, Miss Julia had blossomed. She would do them all a great credit as Celia’s companion.
His chest tightened at the idea of her spending her life as a lady’s companion. She should marry and have a life of her own. Over the time she had been with them, he’d witnessed her compassion and drive, not to mention her beauty. Any gentleman would be lucky to take her to wife. But alas, it was not the way of high society.
“Let us stop here.” Celia pointed at a nearby thicket of trees. “I’ll wager there is mistletoe among those trees.”
Dismounting, Charles helped his sister from her horse before offering assistance to Miss Julia. As he placing his hands on her waist, he felt an unexpected rush of heat. It had been a long time since a woman had affected him in such a way.
She smiled, her cheeks flushed from the cool air. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
He dismissed his reaction but did not release her. Surely any warm body would result in the same effect, considering how chilled he was. “My pleasure.”
Celia waved her hands through the air, indicating the thicket of trees. “Come along.” She took off running toward the grove, a gleeful laugh trailing behind her.
“I suppose we had better follow.” Charles held Miss Julia’s gaze as if under a spell, his words lost.
“Indeed.” Miss Julia took a step away from him, breaking his hold on her.
The moment his hands left her sides, he longed for the feel of her. Charles proffered his arm, pleased when she accepted it. He led her after Celia, but at a much slower pace. “Tell me, how are you faring here at Huntington Park?”
“Very well, thank you. Your sister is charming, I am pleased and grateful to be her companion.”
“It seems you have excelled in Mother’s lessons, as well.” He glanced at her, smiling at the look of achievement in her green eyes.
Her cheeks colored a deeper pink. “Indeed. I am working hard to please Her Grace, and ensure that I do not embarrass you. I owe you a great deal.” His chest tightened at her declaration. This was a woman who had been through hell, yet she retained compassion. “I am quite certain nothing you could do would result in my embarrassment.”
She pulled her cloak closed with her free hand. “Be that as it may, I intend to become a proper lady. I owe it to you and your family for the great kindness you have shown me.”
“Nonsense. I did nothing more than any other decent gentleman would have done.” He patted her gloved hand where it rested on his coat sleeve.
A chill trickled through him, but not from the crisp winter air; rather, it came from the understanding that most men were not as decent as he let on. He himself had done many a thing he was not proud of. Whoring, excessive gaming and drinking—he’d earned his reputation as a rakehell. Still, he never would have turned away a person in need—not in the past, and not now.
“All the same, I am grateful to you and your family. I like to think that we have become friends of sorts.” She angled her chin, smiling.
Friends. He churned the word over in his mind. “Yes, Miss Julia, I believe we are.”
She released his arm as they approached the large oak under which Celia stood. She held a branch, bending it this way and that, a look of determination upon her face. Charles stepped up beside her and took hold of the limb. “Allow me.”
“It is about time you helped,” Celia said, a teasing grin on her lips.
He snapped an evergreen branch free, then tossed it to the ground. “Keep it up, minx, and that shall be the only one you receive.”
Ignoring him, Celia turned to Julia. “Let us go search for mistletoe while Charles gathers more branches for the boughs.” Celia moved off toward a leafless oak tree, Julia following behind her.
Charles shook his head, then turned his attention back to the task at hand. After breaking off several more branches, he went in search of the women. Where the hell had they gotten to? The thicket was not overly dense, yet he saw them nowhere. “Celia! Miss Julia! Where are you?”
“Up here.” Celia’s voice came from somewhere above.
Heart pounding, Charles looked up into the trees. Both women sat perched on the branches of a nearby oak, plucking mistletoe. He rushed over, irritation heating his blood. The foolishness! They could fall and break their bloody necks. “What the devil are you thinking?”
Miss Julia’s eyes rounded, while Celia only giggled. “We are picking mistletoe, of course.” Celia plucked a berry and tossed it down at him.
He swatted the offensive thing away, still peering up into the tree. “Come down at once.”
Miss Julia tucked a cluster of mistletoe into her cloak and started down.
“Do not be so stern,” Celia said, reaching for another clump.
Charles kept his attention trained on Miss Julia, who slowly made her way toward the ground. Once she was safe, he would deal with his sister. As Miss Julia descended to the lower branches, he reached out and plucked her from the tree.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace. I failed to consider the danger, else I never would have permitted Lady Celia to climb up there.”
The shame in her gaze pricked at him. He’d not meant to chastise her or make her feel bad. “My concern is for you as well.”
She nodded, stepping away from the tree, and he returned his attention to his mischievous sister, who still perched on the branch above. “Do not force me to come up after you.”
“And if I do?” She dropped another berry on him.
He grabbed hold of a low branch and began climbing. “You are going to regret this.”
“Oh, stop being so stuffy. I’m coming.” Celia started toward the ground.
Charles dropped from the tree to wait, then assisted her when she reached the lower branches. Once everyone stood on firm ground, he gathered up the boughs he’d collected and led the women back to their horses.
Only then did he consider the cold fear that had coursed through him at the sight of them up in the tree. Concern that had been equal for both women. Heaven help him, he’d come to care a great deal about Miss Julia.
More worrying still...he desired her.
Chapter Eight
Charles could scarcely believe he’d allowed himself to be forced into assisting his mother with training Miss Julia. The past sennight had been spent in bouts of etiquette training and practice. Mother had forced him to roleplay with Miss Julia and Celia as she instructed Miss Julia in all areas of deportment, manners, and society rules. Everything from introductions to dancing and wardrobe had been covered.
He’d had enough, but Mother was not yet satisfied. It mattered not that Miss Julia had passed all of her tests—the woman could recite the rules better than Celia could—yet Mother still insisted on pushing her. Now they were to have a luncheon that would mock a formal dinner. Charles tugged at his cravat as he entered the family parlor. Tonight he would put an end to Mother’s teaching, despite her protests.
Miss Julia smiled as he entered the room, her eyes twinkling. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”
Standing there in a pink evening gown, she seemed no worse for the wear from Mother's constant instruction and testing. Nonetheless, she had to be weary of it. He returned her smile. "Good afternoon, Miss Julia." Turning toward his mother, who stood between Julia and Celia, he offered his greetings. With all pleasantries out of the way, he took a moment to study Miss Julia.
One would be hard pressed to prove she had not always been amongst the gentry. She stood with perfect posture, back straight and shoulders squared, her gloved hands resting at her side. Her manners were impeccable, from what he had observed, and her appearance in line with the rest of the ladies of his acquaintance. Furthermore, Celia adored her.
As did he. Since she’d come under his protection, he’d had many occasions to spend time in her company. Miss Julia charmed and amused him, to say the least. Her company, like a breath of fresh air, never failed to improve his mood. Moreover, she worked hard to please Mother—no easy task—and with a smile more often than not.
He slid his glance back to his mother. Truly, he felt sorry for Miss Julia having to continue with Mother’s lessons day in and day out. He would speak to Mother without delay after the meal.
“Shall we?” Mother tapped her fan on her hip.
“Not just yet. I have invited a guest to dine with us.” Charles leaned back on his heels. “He should be arriving any time now.”
“How splendid,” Celia said.
Mother arched an eyebrow. “Who is this mystery guest?”
The family butler appeared in the parlor door frame before Charles could reply. He grinned at Mama. “I believe you are about to find out.”
“Your Grace, Lord Gulliver is here to see you.” The butler bowed, then exited, allowing Gulliver to enter.
Glancing at Mother, Charles smoothed his cravat, rather pleased with himself for having the foresight to invite Gulliver. Mother adored his wastrel of a friend, and Gulliver never missed the opportunity to flatter and tease a woman. He would take Mother’s focus off of Miss Julia at least some of the time.
“How splendid, indeed. This will allow Miss Julia a chance to practice her dinner skills in the company of an aristocrat...outside of the immediate family, of course.”
Charles took a step back in order to allow Gulliver near the women. “I thought you would approve the idea.”
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