Julia London 4 Book Bundle

by The Rogues of Regent Street

  Adrian blinked, held Arthur’s gaze for a long moment before suddenly tossing the last of his whiskey down his throat. “Well then, that makes her someone to me. Now I suggest you remove yourself from that pond before you drown and I am forced to think what to do with her.”

  He flashed a droll smile at Arthur and stood, strolled to the door. “I’ve no doubt Max has fetched you the best of my clothing,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “We’ll gather in the gold salon before supper.” With that, he walked out of the room, and Arthur heard him tell Max to bring another bottle up from the cellar, as “Christian was going to be in desperate need of it.”

  He chuckled to himself before submerging completely into the warm waters of his bath.

  Chapter Eighteen

  STANDING IN FRONT of a full-length mirror, Kerry turned again, unable to believe her eyes. The transformation in her was … remarkable.

  The gown she wore was finer than any she had ever seen or imagined. It was a pale blue silk trimmed in white satin—not black, not gray, or some other morosely drab widow color. Never had she looked so bloody elegant. Even her hair—Mrs. Dismuke, Lady Albright’s personal maid, had dressed her wet hair with her big hands, artfully rolling it into a thick chignon and fastening it with jewel-tipped pins to the back of her head.

  Lady Albright had given her a pair of large pearl earrings to wear to supper and a matching necklace. It was odd, Kerry thought, that the pearls she had cherished as her most valued possession all these years would have looked so terribly small and ordinary compared to these. No wonder Mr. Abernathy had chuckled so when she had shown them to him and then carelessly tossed them into the safe box.

  The memory of that interview had her suddenly feeling like a fraud, and she quickly glanced away from the mirror, unable to look at herself. What was she doing—pretending she was some sort of lady? She no more belonged in clothes this fine than she belonged in this house! House? Lord God, it was a palace, with gold and marble and crystal everywhere she looked. For the past two hours she had felt she was living inside some dream, moving from one fantasy to another, afraid to move too fast or too suddenly lest it all evaporate.

  “Oh, Mrs. McKinnon, how beautiful you look!”

  Kerry forced a smile and glanced self-consciously at Lady Albright as she glided into the dressing room wearing a lavender gown even lovelier than the one Kerry wore. “I … I doona know how to thank you for the bath and … this,” she said, motioning awkwardly to the gown.

  Lady Albright gave the gown a dismissive flick of her wrist. “I haven’t worn that gown in ages. Actually, I haven’t worn any of my old gowns since my son was born. Unfortunately, I cannot fasten the silly things around my middle. It suits you so well! You must keep it.”

  Kerry gasped at the suggestion. “Oh no! I canna keep anything as fine as this!”

  “Posh!” muttered Mrs. Dismuke.

  “I insist. No, no,” Lady Albright said cheerfully, throwing up a hand, “we’ll have no more discussion of it. If you don’t accept the gown as my gift, Polly will hang it in some wardrobe and feed a colony of moths.”

  Kerry shifted her gaze to the mirror again, smoothing the embroidered fabric of the bodice. A dozen seamstresses must have labored over the intricate stitching.

  “Ah, won’t our Arthur be quite surprised?” Lady Albright said from behind her.

  Oh, he’d be surprised, all right. Would possibly fall over in a fit of apoplexy. But frankly, Kerry was quite anxious to know what Arthur would think of her now. She turned and smiled at her hostess. “I am indebted to you for your kindness.”

  The woman laughed brightly and motioned her to follow. “You are too easily pleased, Mrs. McKinnon. Now then, if you are quite ready, the gentlemen await us in the gold salon.”

  ————

  They descended the curving flight of stairs and moved down what seemed like an endless stretch of thick blue carpet in a corridor larger than Moncrieffe’s ballroom. Kerry gaped at the many portraits and porcelain vases and bouquets of fresh hothouse flowers as she hurried after Lady Albright. She was taken aback by the footman who flung open a pair of doors as they approached, and almost collided with Lady Albright when she stepped across the threshold and saw the enormous salon, dominated by a full-length portrait of her hostess wearing a gown encrusted with jewels and a coronet on her fair head.

  Before she could fully absorb the magnificence of the room, a movement to her right caught her eye. Kerry turned and immediately felt the blood drain from her face as Arthur rose slowly from his seat, literally snatching the air from her lungs as he did so.

  Lord God. Dressed in a coat of dark blue superfine and a silk waistcoat of silver and blue, he looked absolutely regal. His neckcloth, silver silk that exactly matched the waistcoat, was tied to perfection and shone against the pure white frills of his shirt. The trousers he wore, a dark gray, hugged every masculine inch of him, tapering into black patent shoes polished to a sheen.

  He was beautiful. Stunningly so. But … he had cut his hair. His long, golden brown hair had been shorn to just above his collar and was perfectly arranged.

  “Kerry …” he muttered, and she realized he was staring at her as if in shock. His gaze moved slowly across her, taking her in. He was, as she had guessed, very surprised by her elegant appearance.

  “Are we to stand here all night whilst you openly admire Mrs. McKinnon, or did you intend to make proper introductions?” a deep male voice drawled.

  Kerry looked to her right and immediately blushed at the sight of the powerful build of Lord Albright. The darkly handsome man was standing so close that he might have touched her, yet she had not noticed him until this very moment.

  “I should rue the day I do not pause to admire the brilliance of true beauty, Albright,” Arthur responded. He thought her beautiful. “Please allow me to introduce to you Adrian Spence, Lord Albright,” he said softly, then to Lord Albright, “Mrs. McKinnon of Glenbaden, Scotland.”

  Kerry dropped into an awkward curtsey, but Lord Albright immediately shook his head and grasped her hand, pulling her up. “We do not stand on ceremony at Longbridge, Mrs. McKinnon. It is my great pleasure to make your acquaintance, I must say. I have heard quite a lot of you already,” he said, and bowed gallantly over her hand. “Welcome to our home.”

  “Thank you,” she said, inwardly grimacing at how weak her voice sounded. “You are very kind to receive me.”

  “Ooh, your accent is positively lyrical!” Lady Albright said from somewhere beyond her husband. “Max, please fetch a wine for Mrs. McKinnon. I rather imagine she is parched after such a very long day. Arthur, will you join her?”

  “Thank you, Lilliana, but the earl had the good sense to bring up his best whiskey.”

  “I shall apparently have to bring up the entire stock,” Lord Albright drawled, and put Kerry’s hand on the crook of his arm as he motioned toward a cluster of sofas and chairs near the massive hearth at the far end of the room. “It is our habit to indulge in a bit of brandy prior to supper, Mrs. McKinnon. I hope you aren’t too terribly famished.”

  Her nerves were so frayed she would not be able to choke down a single bite, and shook her head.

  “Splendid,” said Lord Albright, and seated her in a chair covered in red brocade. “I would guess my Lillie has already squeezed you dry with questions of Scotland—she’s of a mind to visit there soon, I am sure she told you,” he said, casting a warm smile at his wife, who had seated herself daintily on the edge of a sofa. “Nonetheless, I must insist you repeat it all for me. I traveled there once as a young man many years ago, and I confess, I don’t recall much of it”—he paused at Arthur’s disdainful snort to toss a frown over his shoulder—“as I was quite caught up with some pressing business.”

  He joined his wife on the sofa. Arthur took the chair next to Kerry and winked covertly before draining what was left in his glass and handing it to Max.

  “Mrs. McKinnon, please tell Adrian of Glenbaden. It sounds sim
ply divine from your description,” Lady Albright asked.

  Describe Glenbaden. It wasn’t enough that she felt awkward and out of place here, in this house … in this room. How could she describe Glenbaden? She hardly knew where to begin, how one could possibly describe the purple hue of the heather, or the blue morning mists, or the dark green hills that seemed to touch the sky. How did she convey the familiarity of that glen, the deep connection to the land or the sense of clan she had shared with all who lived there?

  “It’s too beautiful to describe, really,” Arthur said.

  He had read her mind. Surprised, Kerry looked at him; Arthur smiled. “Would you mind terribly if I attempted to describe it?” he asked, and not waiting for an answer, turned his attention to the Albrights. “The first thing one learns about Scotland is that she has her own special stars. If you were to lie in the heather under a full moon, the stars are so close that you might swear they lay upon your very face. And the moon—ah God, the moon! I have never seen one so bright or so large as in that glen. It’s amazing, really, remarkably tranquil, and the colors of the morning are rich, purer than you can possibly imagine …”

  Overwhelmed with surprise and emotion, Kerry sat mutely, watching Arthur’s expressive face as he spoke of Glenbaden. It was inconceivable to her that he could describe the Scotland that lived in her heart, how he might have, in the short time he was there, grasped and absorbed the very essence of it. The improbable, impossible sensation struck her that she had known Arthur all her life, the feeling that something more connected them than the few weeks they had spent in Glenbaden.

  The sensation grew stronger over supper, as Arthur recounted the story of their first meeting and the incredible journey through the Highlands she had inadvertently taken them on. It touched her to learn that he had been so uncertain of what he was doing—she had thought him so capable, had been duly impressed that he never seemed to take a false step. She laughed with the Albrights when he described his first meeting with the Richey brothers, then sobered quietly when he spoke of how the first sight of Glenbaden had taken his breath away. Even Thomas—he spoke fondly of Thomas, capturing his character so very well that an invisible band tightened around Kerry’s heart.

  His conversation kept everyone’s rapt attention, so that the Albrights did not notice that she didn’t know which utensil to use, or which wine to take with her meal. Confounded by the array of dishes and glasses, it wasn’t until hours later that Kerry realized he had managed to omit the reason they were in Longbridge altogether.

  By the time they had adjourned to the salon again, Kerry’s love for him had expanded ten fathoms deeper into her soul.

  Arthur thought they would never escape Adrian’s watchful eye or Lilliana’s cheerful banter. Not that he wasn’t terribly pleased to see them both, but he had been wholly unprepared for the sight of Kerry and his body’s corporeal reaction to her. From the moment she had floated across the threshold on a cloud of blue silk, he had been deliriously enchanted.

  She was stunningly beautiful in that gown; it seemed especially tailored for her, fitting perfectly to every lovely curve. And he had been astonished at how easily she moved in such finery, how she seemed almost born of the haute ton. He wanted to hold the image in his arms, devour the bare skin of her shoulders with his lips, feel her body beneath the rich fabric then and there.

  He had only endured the interminable supper by monopolizing the conversation. Afterward, when they had gathered in the gold salon once again for port, he had managed to pass the hour by simply gazing at Kerry as she spoke with that soft, intoxicating voice of hers about her family and school days in Edinburgh.

  When Arthur was certain the Albrights had wrung every bit of useful information from her, he thought he would go quite mad, and was thinking how exactly the two of them might take their leave of their hosts when Max appeared announcing a messenger from London in the study. Arthur had never heard more welcome news in his life.

  “At this hour?” Lilliana exclaimed, and stood with Adrian.

  “I can attest to the impassable roads, poor chap,” Arthur remarked.

  “Best see what it is about. If you will excuse me, Mrs. McKinnon,” Adrian said to Kerry, and began striding across the salon, Lilliana on his heels. The moment the door closed, Arthur leapt to his feet and grabbed Kerry’s hand. She fairly bounced to her feet when he tugged on her arm, and he quickly put his hand to the small of her back and steered her toward the door at the opposite end of the salon.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. Arthur threw a finger to his lips, carefully opened the door, and glanced furtively up and down the corridor.

  They were quite alone.

  He caught Kerry’s arm, turned her into his body as he pushed her against the mahogany door.

  “Arthur!” she exclaimed through a luscious smile. He captured that smile with his lips, one hand snaking around her hips and pressing her against him. Her lips were like nectar, teasing him with the promise of her mouth and body—

  His head snapped back with the surprise of a sharp pain in his shin; he caught a groan in his throat.

  “Are you insane?” Kerry whispered frantically, and shoved hard against his chest.

  “One cannot help out wonder,” he muttered, still grimacing at the pain in his shin. But she did have a point—it would not do to tumble her in the salon with the door wide open. So he grabbed her hand and yanked her into the corridor, pulling her along in his wake as he marched in the opposite direction of the study, forcing her to keep up with him as he rounded the corner for the terrace sitting room.

  He went a little too quickly through the French doors leading into the sitting room and crashed his shoulder into the doorframe. Kerry laughed a breathless, anxious laugh fraught with anticipation. In a whisper, Arthur urged her to be quiet and to hurry.

  “Hurry to where?” she insisted in an equally urgent whisper.

  “To the gardens, love,” he said, as if that was understood, when in fact he had no idea where he was going. He only knew that he had to have her in his arms and for what he intended to do to her once there, he needed privacy.

  They stumbled into the gardens, running down the gravel path with their arms entwined with one another, trying to keep their laughter from spilling into the cold night air. They ran until Arthur spied the gazebo. He had forgotten that Adrian had built one to rival the grandest gazebos in all of England, and in particular, his father’s. At the time, he had thought it a foolish expense. At the moment, he thought it a very wise investment. He pulled Kerry into his side and hastened his step; the two of them clambered up the steps of the gazebo and fairly burst inside.

  They came to an abrupt and breathless halt. The gazebo obviously was used quite often; it still bore the remnants of a recent picnic, visible in the light of the moon that shone through one open window. A bench circled around the entire room, cushioned with green-and-white-striped pillows. A blanket and two books were stacked neatly on the bench directly under the south awnings; a small brazier, recently used, nearby. A wicker chair had also been pulled inside, and in it was a china plate, obviously missed by the servants who had picked up after the picnic.

  Kerry slipped from Arthur’s embrace and walked into the middle of the gazebo. “It’s beautiful.” She turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder at Arthur. “I’ve not seen such luxury, Arthur. I wouldna have believed a gazebo could be so beautiful.”

  “I shall tell you about beautiful, darling,” he said softly. “You are the most beautiful sight I think I’ve ever seen. You astound me with it.”

  Kerry smiled and glanced down at her gown. “Lady Albright gave this to me. She said it was too small—”

  “There will be more, many more just like it, in every conceivable color,” he said, walking slowly toward her. “Whatever your heart desires.”

  She glanced up. “Pardon?”

  “You deserve the very best. I shall endeavor to give you just that.”

  “Arthur,” sh
e said, laughing a little. “I think you must have drunk more of that whiskey than I know. You speak nonsense now.”

  “Do I?” he asked, reaching for her. “Why shouldn’t you have the very best, Kerry? I can afford to give it to you.”

  “Oh aye, that is very fine, eh? And what do you think I should do with such fine gowns in Scotland?”

  “Scotland?” he echoed, momentarily confused by the scent of lavender on her skin. He bent his head, brushed his nose against her bare neck.

  “Aye, Scotland. Where I live, or have you forgotten your pretty speech of it?”

  Arthur lifted his head. “You can’t go back to Scotland, have you forgotten that?”

  Kerry instantly reared back, but Arthur caught her before she could pull away. “It’s not safe for you there.”

  “No, not now, that I know,” she stammered, her luminous blue eyes wildly roaming his chest. “But eventually I shall return.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” she fairly shouted. “I am a Scot, Arthur, or have you not noticed the burr in my voice? I canna live in England forever! What would I do?”

  The conversation was starting to annoy him. All he had wanted to do was make love to her, not discuss the future, blurry as it was. “It can wait,” he murmured soothingly. “There is nothing we can resolve tonight. Would you waste this moon?” She looked toward the railing, where the moonlight was spilling onto the bench. “I would gather it up and carry it in my pocket if I could,” he said, bending to nuzzle her neck again. “And I should take it out every time I wanted to recall how beautiful you looked this night.”

  Kerry sighed then, kissed his cheek, and Arthur felt himself spiraling down into the clutches of earnest desire once again.

  They made love on the cushioned bench, the blue silk gown bunched carelessly around her waist. They moved languidly with one another, neither wanting to rush the moment or the moonlight. When Kerry at last closed her eyes and moaned, Arthur felt her body tighten around him … felt his love for her score his heart, mark it with everything that was Kerry.