Loving Julia

by Karen Robards

  “Mrs. Stratham!” Caroline’s pale blue eyes looked at first bewildered, then widened with dawning horror. But with a swift look at the implacable face of the man beside her, she managed a wan smile. “Of—course I do! How do you do, er, Mrs. Stratham?”

  “I am very well, thank you,” Julia said with outward composure. Inwardly her heart was pounding like a kettle drum. She had not meant to encounter Sebastian so soon. He was looking at her from behind that icy mask like he hated her.

  “If you will excuse us, Caroline, I have business I must discuss with Mrs. Stratham.” His tone was bland, but his eyes were not as he inclined his head in the direction of his study.

  Julia, taking one look at those icy blue eyes, almost lost her courage. But then she remembered that she loved him, and wanted him, and if she wanted him she would have to fight for him. So she lifted her chin, and with a slight smile at the dazed Caroline, preceded Sebastian down the hall to the study that she remembered so well.

  As she went, her eye was caught by the ugly blue and white vase that she had threatened to smash all those months ago. Sebastian had since treated her to several long lectures on porcelain of that type, and she now knew it was indeed very valuable. No wonder Caroline had looked on the verge of a heart attack when she had thought it would end up in jagged shards on the floor. And the elegant gilt chair she had treated so disrespectfully was Louis XIV. Julia smiled involuntarily as she remembered the havoc she had created on her last visit to the earl’s Grosvenor Square household. She hoped this time to make a better impression.

  When they reached the study, Sebastian held the door for her with a punctilious courtesy that was daunting. Firmly fixing her goal in mind, Julia mustered the courage to meet his eyes with insouciance as he sat down behind the desk. Their positions were exactly the same as they had been on the first night they had met, and Julia found it rather uncanny. Everything was the same, from the hunting print on the paneled wall behind the desk to the huge leather chairs to the faint smell of cigar smoke. Sebastian was lighting one of those thin cigars now, placing it between his teeth before leaning back in the chair. As always she found the sight of the raffish looking cigar strangely at odds with Sebastian’s austere beauty. The cigar should have belonged to a highwayman, or a pirate. But perhaps the real Sebastian was far more akin to those ruthless men than to the elegantly handsome gentleman he was by birth and appearance.

  “With your permission, of course, Mrs. Stratham,” Sebastian said with heavy irony as he caught her eyes fixed with some disapproval on the cigar. Julia nodded; she would never have dared deny him permission to smoke, especially not in his present snit with her. He eyed her up and down, the blue eyes hooded beneath lowered lids and the white swirl of smoke.

  “Now suppose you tell me what the devil you’re playing at?”

  “I’m not playing at anything. I simply have no wish to return to White Friars right now. I plan to enjoy London. As your kinswoman I felt the correct place for me to stay was here, in your house.”

  He eyed her with icy remoteness. “I won’t humiliate you by insisting that you leave immediately, but you will return to White Friars tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?”

  Julia met his eyes without flinching. Now was the time to make it clear that the relationship between them had undergone a major change. She was no longer the adoring little guttersnipe, but his equal. “I do not take orders from you any longer, Sebastian. I will stay as long as I please. If you throw me out of your house, I will camp on the doorstep. I promise you.”

  He raked her with eyes that would have sent her cringing for cover a few days ago. Now she merely lifted her chin at him.

  “If you think to challenge me, miss—” But she cut off his threat.

  “I don’t want to challenge you, Sebastian. I simply want to go shopping, for one thing. Do you like my dress? I hope so, because you’ll be getting the bill for it—and a few other little purchases I made. You may take some of my money out of the funds to pay for them.”

  “Thank you,” he replied with heavy irony. “I will do so. And you will leave for White Friars tomorrow.”

  Intimidation was something Sebastian was very good at, Julia remembered. He had used it before when she had displeased him, wearing her down until she had been so afraid of his displeasure that she had been ready to do anything to win her way back into his good graces. But this time she could not allow him to defeat her so easily. If she was to win the battle, and eventually the war, she would have to go on the offensive, to keep him off balance for a change.

  “Do you remember the last time I was in this room, Sebastian?” The unexpected question threw him a little, Julia could see by the slight wariness that entered his eyes.

  “I do indeed. You made an, uh, indelible impression. Not only on me, but on the entire household.”

  “You said you would make me a lady. And you did.”

  His eyebrows lifted as if he questioned that, but Julia ignored that silent insult and rushed on.

  “You took a guttersnipe and made a lady, Sebastian. You taught me to talk like a lady, act like a lady, think like a lady. Is it so unreasonable that I should want to live like a lady?” She took a deep breath, and decided to take the bull by the horns. “I couldn’t be your mistress, don’t you see?”

  “You were doing a fairly good job of it, as I recall.” The cynical observation threatened to unleash her temper, but Julia quickly controlled herself. Getting angry at Sebastian was not part of her plan. She looked at him steadily, trying to disregard the warm rush of color that heated her cheeks as his words recalled the fiery passion they had shared.

  “I thought you were the most wonderful thing on earth, Sebastian. I looked up to you, admired you, respected you. Until you came along, I’d never had a friend, you see.”

  There was a moment of silence. Sebastian’s face could have been carved from stone as he stared at her.

  “I hardly think I would call us friends.” The quiet observation in the chilly voice was belied by the glowing red tip of the cigar as he took a deep drag. That icy mask he wore was slipping, just a little, she hoped, and rushed on.

  “But we were friends, Sebastian. Good friends. And more than friends. I cared about you, Sebastian, and I thought you cared about me. That’s why I—I let you…” Her voice trailed off and her face turned scarlet. For all her good intentions she found that she could just not spell out exactly what it was she had let him do in the face of those cold, unwavering blue eyes.

  “You let me?” He made a cynical sound that was halfway between a snort and a laugh. “As I recall, you more than let me. You were all over me as soon as I touched you. Each time.”

  Her color was one thing she was unable to control. She wanted to crawl under the chair and hide as her face burned even hotter than before. But she did not; she kept her chin high and met his eyes with as much dignity as she could summon to her aid.

  “And,” he continued smoothly, but she got the sense that his muscles were tensing like those of an animal about to spring, “you’d more than let me now. I could take you, right here in this room, with the whole staff undoubtedly hovering about outside, and you would love it. That’s how it is with whores. Especially good ones. And you are very, very good, my dear.”

  The hot color faded from her cheeks. She felt herself pale as the insult sank home. Her eyes met his, and she saw the hostility flaming beneath the ice. He was deliberately trying to hurt her, she told herself, deliberately attacking her most sensitive spot to keep her from getting too close. Because she had been close. As she had thought about it the day before, it had suddenly become clear to her that Sebastian cared for her opinion, and therefore for her, more than he was willing to admit. People had been calling him murderer for years; apparently it had never particularly bothered him before. But he had not liked hearing the accusation on her lips, and that augered well for the success of her plan. If she could just control her temper until he could be brought to a realization that he
cared for her more than he knew…

  “I don’t really think you murdered Elizabeth, you know.” Her quiet statement in the face of his flagrant provocation brought a fierce frown to his face. His eyes flamed, and then were quickly banked with ice.

  “Do you think I gave a damn what you think?” The cold, polite tone was at variance with the savagery of the words.

  “I just wanted you to know,” she said simply, and smiled at him. That sweet smile seemed to madden him. He went very still for an instant, staring at her with disbelief, and then the banked flames leaped to life in his eyes and he snarled as he came out of the chair. He looked bent on violence, but Julia sat where she was, fingers curled into the leather arms of the chair in anticipation. Shaking him out of his icy armor was part of the plan, and she had to be prepared to take the consequences when she succeeded.

  But before he made it more than halfway around the desk, the door to the study flew open. He stopped, lifting flaming eyes to glare at the intruder. Julia felt a mingling of relief and disappointment as she too looked toward the door.

  “My God, it is her! When Caroline came and told me that you had invited her to stay, I thought she must be hallucinating. Not even you would invite a—a female of that stamp into our home. Have you no regard for our name at all?”

  The Dowager Countess of Moorland stood silhouetted in the doorway. After one condemning look at Julia, her attention was all on her son. Looking at the still slender, silver-haired figure clad all in black, Julia was struck once more by how very much she resembled her son. She must have been a dazzling beauty when she was young, Julia thought with a swift glance at Sebastian. But now she was an unhappy bitter woman estranged from her only surviving child. What had happened to make her so?

  “Do come in, mama,” Sebastian said mildly. With one hard look at Julia he abandoned his intended assault and seated himself comfortably on the edge of his desk. One booted foot swung idly as he returned his mother’s angry look with a slight mocking smile

  “Taking her in off the streets and sending her to live at White Friars was bad enough, but at least no one ever had to see her there. Here, she is bound to be discovered by all our friends. I tell you, I will not have it! She must leave this house at once!”

  “Come in and close the door, mama. I have something to say to you that I am sure you would prefer was not overheard by the staff.”

  The dowager countess, who had ignored his previous ironic invitation to enter, stood poised for a moment longer in the doorway, giving her son a glance of such intense dislike that Julia’s eyes widened. Then with a haughty lift of her head, she stepped inside the room and closed the door. Sebastian smiled at her. Julia shivered. She would not like to have that smile directed at herself.

  “First of all, mama, you force me to remind you that this house is mine. I allow you to live here simply because you are my mother, however little you or I may relish that fact. Caroline too lives here strictly on my good will. If I choose to invite another member of our family to reside in this house as well, I will do so. Julia has as much right here as either you or Caroline—the right of my say-so. Remember that, if you please.”

  The dowager countess turned icy blue eyes on Julia. Julia’s first impulse was to shrink back, but then pride took hold and she held her head high under the woman’s scathing regard. “Julia! She wasn’t Julia the last time she was here! I seem to recall something far more common. Ah yes, Jewel. A vulgar name for a vulgar little—”

  “Mama!” Sebastian broke in sharply. “You will be civil to Julia at all times. Is that clear?”

  The older woman’s eyes swung back to her son. “I will not. I will have nothing to do with her. I cannot prevent you from lodging her in this house, for as you say it is yours and you will do as you please, just as you always do, with no thought for the pain you inflict on others, but—”

  “Julia has come to town to be introduced to the ton. I expect you to perform that function.”

  The quiet statement made the older woman stiffen. She swung wild, hating eyes from Sebastian to Julia and back again. Julia stared at her, half afraid of what she might do. She did not look quite sane.

  “I introduce her to the ton? You must be joking.”

  “Indeed, I am not. You, my dear mama, are one of the premiere hostesses in London. If you take Julia under your wing, there will be no question about her acceptance. I desire you to take her around just as you do Caroline. After all, Julia is a member of the family.”

  “That rackety Timothy! How could he do this to us? Sebastian, if you had only repudiated her from the start, we would not have come to this pass. But of course, anything you can do to disoblige me, you will do. You were always the most unnatural son.”

  “And you the most unnatural mother.” Sebastian’s eyes narrowed faintly. It was the only indication that the altercation disturbed him that Julia could perceive. She wondered what it would feel like to have one’s emotions under such icy control, and shivered. It would not suit her at all. She would probably burst with the strain of it.

  “Understand me, mama.” Sebastian’s eyes were a cold, steady blue as they impaled his mother. “You will treat Julia like a daughter. You will take her around to parties and routs and what-have-yous; you will introduce her to people as your deceased nephew’s dear widow; if you are questioned about her antecedents, you will tell them that she is a connection of the Frames. Indeed, she could well be; Howard Frame’s by-blows alone are sufficient to populate half of Yorkshire. Julia, are you attending to this? You are to remember as well.” His eyes flicked to Julia once, then returned to fix on the dowager countess. His voice went very soft. “You will never, by the slightest look or deed, give anyone cause to think that she is other than Julia Stratham, a lady and our kinswoman. Should you fail in any of this …” Sebastian smiled that particularly frightening smile at his mother. “Should you fail in any of this, I will cut off the very handsome allowance which I make you, which would leave you quite dependent on the extremely inadequate widow’s jointure that my father, in his infinite wisdom, chose to settle upon you. I will also require you to leave this house, for, I think, my property in Scotland. Where you will remain.”

  The dowager countess stared bitterly at her son for a long moment. The two pairs of icy blue eyes met and clashed; finally the dowager countess spoke.

  “Giving birth to you was the worst thing I ever did in my life,” she said, and she turned on her heel and left the room.

  When she was gone, Sebastian’s shoulders seemed to sag for a moment. Then, so swiftly that Julia might have imagined the brief lapse in his control, he recovered, swiveling to face her. The icy mask of his face tugged at her heart. To have a mother who hated one so must be the source of terrible pain.

  “Sebastian….” She half-rose from her chair, instinctively wanting to offer him comfort, but the cold eyes he turned on her warned her off. Like a wounded animal he could not bear to have his injuries touched. At least not yet. If she succeeded in her plan, Julia hoped to have the chance to heal them.

  “I presume you are happy now. You have your wish, and more.” The clipped words belonged to the Earl of Moorland, not the Sebastian she knew and loved. But Julia felt that now was not the time to press for that Sebastian’s return.

  “I’m sorry to be the cause of any trouble with your mother,” she quietly said instead. He shrugged, and moved back around the desk to sit down in his chair.

  “There is always trouble with my mother,” he muttered, and his eyes were sharp on hers as if he were afraid that even that simple statement revealed too much. “She will do as I say, however. As you heard, I have the means to compel her. And Caroline as well. They are both dependent upon me for the lavishness with which they live. If by chance either of them should not treat you as you would like, you are to come to me at once. Do you understand?”

  He looked tired suddenly, so tired that Julia had not the heart to argue with him that she would really prefer not to be a tale
bearer. So she nodded.

  “Good.” He picked up the cigar that was still burning in the ashtray and stubbed it out. Then those blue eyes returned to hers. “I expect you to conduct yourself with propriety at all times as well. To put it bluntly, that means no men. Not while you are living under my roof.”

  Julia, who had been feeling sorry for him, stiffened. She stared at him with golden eyes whose softness rapidly turned to anger. A heated denial hovered on her lips, but she bit it back, distracted by a sudden thought. Unintentionally he had given her the germ of another idea on how to break through his wall of icy reserve. He wouldn’t like to see her going about with other men…

  “Just as you say, of course,” she agreed pleasantly, then stood up. “Unless you have something else of a pressing nature to say to me, I’d like to go to my room. I am expecting some deliveries this morning, and I would like to be on hand to direct Emily where to put them.”

  He looked at her. “You were very sure that you would be remaining, it seems.”

  “Yes,” she said with a sideways smile. “I was.”

  And then she dropped him a little mock curtsy and left the room.

  XXIII

  “Please do not take the way Margaret is behaving to heart,” Caroline said earnestly.

  It was nearly two weeks later, and Caroline and Julia were waiting in the entryway of the house on Grosvenor Square for the dowager countess, whom Caroline called by her given name of Margaret. It was evening, and they were on their way to a small soiree.

  The gathering would mark Julia’s first real venture into society. She had, of course, joined Caroline and the countess when they had received callers in the afternoons, and she had accompanied Caroline in making calls. The countess had pleaded a severe headache on those latter occasions, which had been two in number, just as she had professed to have one tonight. Sebastian had been on his way to dinner at his club when Wigham, his mother’s dresser, had come down to give Caroline and Julia the countess’ regrets. The earl had immediately turned on his heel and gone back upstairs to confront his mother in her chamber.