As Julia sipped from her glass, her gaze fell upon her mother, who was making a complete fool of herself as she danced up an aisle of gentlemen to the tune of a country dance. Susanne was laughing uproariously, stumbling, and allowing herself to be caught as she made her way to the far side of the room.
Some of the women raised their fans to gossip behind them. The few male guests who were paying attention to the dancing rather than the card tables, laughed and made crude jests. Julia was embarrassed for her mother, but she knew better than to attempt to intervene. Susanne would only cause a scene, which would surely anger Simeon. Instead, Julia just stood there, wishing she could crawl beneath the linen-draped tables and escape.
"I would give a year of my life for a single kiss from you," Julia heard someone whisper in her ear from behind her. She didn't have to turn to know who it was. Her heart fluttered.
She heard Griffin accept a glass of refreshment from a servant. She kept her back to him.
"Two years," she whispered and sipped from her glass. She could feel the flames of hell lapping at her feet, but she didn't care.
"Three," he challenged.
She continued to watch the room so that anyone who might glance her way would not realize that she and Griffin were conversing rather than simply standing near each other, watching the dancers.
"It would have to be a fine kiss, my lord."
"Oh, it would be."
She felt her cheeks growing warm. This flirtation was dangerous. Julia was never a seeker of danger, nor adventure, but suddenly she understood the thrill she had read about but never experienced.
"I think I should check on the kitchen," she said, having no clue what possessed her to be so daring. "We seem to be running low on those little pigeon pies." With that, she set her glass on a servant's tray and glided across the great hall. She didn't have to look to see if Griffin was following. She knew he would be.
Once she made her escape from the noisy confusion of the great hall, Julia walked slowly down the corridor toward the kitchen. She waited for the sound of footsteps, but heard nothing but her own accelerated breathing. Maybe he wasn't coming . . .
"There you are. I've been waiting practically forever."
Julia gave a little squeak of surprise as Griffin reached out of the darkness of an alcove ahead of her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into the shadows and into his arms.
"Griffin," she whispered. Her hands fell naturally on his chest, covered with a mountain of fluffy pink lace. "How did you get ahead of me? I just left you in the hall."
"Magic." He pressed his mouth to hers.
"I thought we weren't going to do this," she chastised as she slipped her hands over his shoulders, wondering what it would be like to touch his bare skin.
He crinkled his eyes. "Was that our agreement?"
Her face was so close to his that she could feel his breath as he exhaled softly. His eyes were dark pools of swirling blue that made her yearn to know him more deeply. She barely moved her lips. "It was."
"Then why did you lure me out here?"
"Because . . . because . . ." She lowered her lashes. He was right, she had lured him, with these very intentions.
"Oh, hang it. It's all right, sweetheart. I can't help myself, either. I love you. God, I love you, Julia." He brought his mouth down hard against hers.
She groaned involuntarily. "Don't say it, don't say it," she whispered. " 'Twill only doom us."
Julia parted her lips and thrust out her tongue to taste the brandy wine he had drank. He loves me. He loves me, her heart sang.
Griffin raised his hand to the swell of her breast, and she inhaled sharply in awe of the sensation. "Oh."
Immediately his hand stilled. "Did I hurt you?"
"No." She gave a little sigh. "No. It . . . it was wonderful." She gazed into his eyes. "W . . . would you do it again?"
He smiled. "Like this?"
She leaned against him and sighed again with newfound pleasure. "Yes. Oh, Griffin, it's wonderful."
"What of this?" he whispered in her ear.
He slipped his hand beneath the low-cut bodice of her emerald silk gown, and she nearly moaned aloud. Her eyes drifted shut as she experienced another wave of pleasure. She wondered if the heat she felt radiating from the pit of her stomach was from the fires of hell and damnation. "Oh, yes."
"Ah, Julia." He kissed her cheek as he still stroked the side of her breast. "What are we going to—"
"Lady Julia?"
The rhythm of masculine footsteps pounded in the hallway, growing louder. "Lady Julia."
Julia's mouth went dry.
It was Mr. Gordy.
Chapter Nine
A second ticked by, and the footsteps grew closer . . . louder.
Julia gripped Griffin's embroidered brocade coat, her eyes wide with fear. She had to think. Act. It would be impossible for Mr. Gordy to miss them as he passed. Another second ticked by.
A thought flew through Julia's head and she immediately reacted. "Slump down," she whispered in Griffin's ear.
He looked at her as if he wanted to question her intentions, but she grabbed him and pushed him against the wall. "Hurry!"
"Here, Mr. Gordy!" she called as she straightened her bodice. She could still feel the heat of Griffin's hand on her bare breast. "Thank heaven's gates you've come. I believe the Baron Archer is intoxicated. Again," she added for effect.
Griffin relaxed in her arms and slumped down the white plastered wall, playing along as if he were one of the finest actors on Drury Lane.
"You've got to get him to his chambers, Mr. Gordy." She rested her hands on her hips with as much authority as she could muster. "I'll not have this behavior tonight in front of our guests. Not after all his lordship has done to make the evening so fine."
Mr. Gordy came up behind her. "He's pissed, is he?" He sounded as if he doubted her explanation.
She let go of Griffin and he slid to the floor. His head lolled to the side and his eyes drifted shut.
"No, Mr. Gordy," she snapped tersely. "He's not drunk. I always attempt to carry sober men down dark corridors when I should be drinking champagne at my fiancé's side."
She smoothed the skirt of her gown, praying she was convincing. "I'll not have this behavior at Bassett Hall. Do you understand me, Lord Archer?" She poked Griffin with the toe of her satin slipper, dyed precisely the same shade of green as her gown. "Sir! Do you hear me?"
Griffin groaned and began to slip sideways, head toward the floor.
"Well, Mr. Gordy." She motioned with her hand. "Get him upstairs before he embarrasses the earl and me any further."
Gordy grabbed Griffin by both arms and heaved him upward with a groan. "Come, sir," he muttered. "Surely you can walk a few steps."
Griffin righted himself, stumbled, and threw his full weight against Mr. Gordy. Gordy swayed and would have fallen had he not hit the corridor wall.
"And take your bloody shoe with you." Julia picked up the high-heeled yellow slipper Griffin had managed to kick off as he fell, and tossed it at the two men.
Gordy ducked to keep from being struck by the flying missile, then shifted Griffin's weight in his arms and stooped to pick up the shoe. "Come on, my lord. You've got to walk, else we'll both be fried."
"Let me see this behavior again," Julia ranted, "and surely I will be forced to speak to St. Martin. Drunkenness will not be tolerated in this household. Do you hear me?"
Griffin groaned, mumbled something, then punctuated the babble with a loud belch.
Julia almost laughed aloud and had to cover her mouth for fear a sound would escape.
The two men gone, she pressed her back to the wall and heaved a great sigh of relief. She lifted her hand to her pounding heart. That was close. Too close. Proof that even a few innocent kisses were dangerous.
Innocent? She closed her eyes and exhaled a shuddering breath. The kisses she had shared with Griffin were far from innocent—the lewd thoughts that had passed through her head
even less so . . .
"Ouch. Stop, that hurts, Drusilla."
Julia walked into the sitting room of her apartments to find Lizzy seated on a stool, Drusilla standing behind her braiding her hair.
"You do that again, and you'll find yourself seeking employment elsewhere," Lizzy threatened, massaging the crown of her head.
Julia knew Lizzy was mimicking her mother's words. That was precisely the same line she gave her servants at least thrice a week. Still, that was no excuse for Lizzy's rude behavior.
"Lizzy! That's no way to talk to Drusilla!" Julia closed the door behind her and stepped out of her green shoes.
Lizzy crossed her arms over her white flannel wrapper and thrust out her lip in a pout. "Drusilla is being mean to me. She pulled my hair."
Drusilla gave a tug of Lizzy's thick blond plait. "Tell 'er," she cackled. "Tell Miss Julia where I caught ye. What I caught ye doin'."
Exhausted, Julia slumped into a chair. After the incident in the corridor, she had gone to the kitchen, ordered more pigeon pies to be brought to the ballroom, and then returned to the guests. She had remained at Simeon's side, the dedicated bride-to-be, and fetched him drinks and smiled until she thought she would go mad.
At two in the morning, she had excused herself, pleading faintness. Simeon had apparently been so pleased with her meek, subservient behavior, that he'd let her go with an air-peck on the temple and a wish of sweet dreams.
Julia leaned over to untie her garters. "What were you doing, Lizzy? Not in the stable loft again looking for kittens? I told you, you must take care with the gowns his lordship has provided for you. As my sister, he expects you to look presentable."
"Lookin' fer kittens, she weren't," Drusilla muttered.
Julia stripped off her silk stockings. She tried to focus on whatever was happening between Drusilla and Lizzy, but her thoughts wandered. The run-in with Gordy had frightened her, but she still felt a strange sense of excitement. Griffin loved her. He loved her. Even if nothing could ever come of their love, she wouldn't die a woman who had never known the rich taste of it, the heady scent.
Julia tossed her stockings on the floor beside her shoes. "Want to tell me, Lizzy?"
Lizzy stared at the ragged cotton mules that hung on the ends of her dainty feet. "You can't tell me what to do. None of you can. I'm old enough to do what I want. I'm not a little girl anymore that I need my nursemaid."
Drusilla gave a harrumph as she tied off Lizzy's braid with a piece of ribbon and released it. "Looks to this woman like you need a nursemaid. That or a jailer!"
Julia glanced up at Drusilla. The old woman had always been gruff, even when they were toddling children. But Julia knew that the woman cared deeply for Lizzy, and that she wanted nothing more than for Lizzy to be safe and content.
"Lizzy . . . "
"Drusilla thinks she knows so much. Let her tell you." Lizzy bobbed up and off the stool, her arms still crossed stubbornly over her chest.
Julia exhaled and the fringe of her hair that fell over her forehead fluttered. It was so late and she was so tired. She really wasn't up to this. But considering the state she guessed her mother was in by now, the responsibility fell to Julia. It seemed as if it always did. "Lizzy. Drusilla."
"Not my place to carry tales," Drusilla declared.
Over her shoulder, Lizzy shot Drusilla an evil look.
"If yer done with me, Miss Julia, I'll have my bed now." Drusilla tugged on her flannel nightcap. "'Tis too late for an old woman to be about."
Julia considered asking Drusilla to stay until she found out what Lizzy had done, but decided to just let her go to bed. She was right; it was late.
"Good night, Drusilla." Julia rose and patted the nursemaid's arm as she passed. "I'll talk to Lizzy."
"I ain't seen that girl through this many years to lose her now," Drusilla grumbled. " 'Night."
Julia waited to speak again until Drusilla closed the door. Lizzy stood staring at the blazing fire in the fireplace, her arms crossed over her chest, her lip in a pout.
Julia turned her back to her sister. "With Drusilla in bed, I'll need you to unlace me."
There was a pause and then Julia heard Lizzy move. Her capable fingers soon found the hooks and strings of Julia's gown and underclothing.
"Want to tell me?" Julia questioned softly.
"No."
Julia waited a moment and then went on. "Drusilla is concerned, Lizzy. She's worried about you because she loves you."
"She pulled my hair."
"How can I help you if I don't know what's wrong?"
Lizzy tugged Julia's gown over her head and laid it carefully over a high-backed chair. "Drusilla yelled at me in the kitchen. Em—embarrassed me in front of Amos. She yanked my ear, too."
"Why?" Julia faced her sister as she stepped out of her petticoats.
Lizzy nibbled on her lower lip, her gaze downcast with guilt. " 'Cause I did something that she said was bad. She said I'd burn in hell for doing that with a man not my husband."
Oh, God above, Julia thought. Her throat constricted. Surely Amos hadn't—"Tell me," she managed to whisper as she took Lizzy's smaller hands in hers. "I won't be angry."
Lizzy lifted her lashes. "I kissed Amos."
After what Julia had feared, she almost laughed aloud at Lizzy's declaration. Of course the matter was still serious, but at least Lizzy's virtue wasn't in danger. "He made you kiss him?"
Her eyes widened in surprise. "No! I . . . I told him to do it. I . . . I liked it. I wanted to do it again and again."
"Ah, Lizzy." Julia sank into the upholstered stool and tugged Lizzy down to sit beside her. "Do you understand why Drusilla was upset?"
"I guess because she doesn't want me to burn in hell." She frowned. "Only I don't understand why a kiss could feel so good and send ye straight to hell."
Her words brought tears to Julia's eyes as she thought of the forbidden kisses she'd shared with Griffin only hours ago. "Ah, Lizzy. It's not the kissing that's a sin. Just what it can lead to."
Lizzy studied her sister quizzically. "More kissing?"
Julia closed her eyes and rubbed them. This was neither the time nor the place to try to explain to Lizzy how a man and a woman made babies. Truthfully, it had never occurred to Julia that she would ever have to have this conversation. She had thought Lizzy's mind had never matured enough for such subjects.
Julia opened her eyes and squeezed Lizzy's hand. Perhaps the best way to handle the explanation was with class differences. Of course Lizzy could never have a sexual relationship with any man, because no man would ever wed her with her weak mind, but Julia didn't have to tell her that. She didn't have to hurt her that way.
"Sweetie, you can't kiss Amos because he's a cook—a servant—and you're a lady. It's just not appropriate. Ladies kiss gentlemen. Cooks kiss housemaids."
"But I want to kiss Amos. He tastes good."
Julia groaned inwardly. All she could think of was what would happen if Simeon found out. A servant taking advantage of a feebleminded, but titled lady? Surely he would implode.
"But you can't." Julia insisted "Maybe you shouldn't go to the kitchen anymore, and that way you won't have to worry about wanting to kiss Amos."
"Oh, no." Lizzy's head bobbed up. "Amos is getting me a new dog. I have to go to the kitchen. Please, Julia, please. " She laced her fingers together to beg. "I won't kiss him anymore. I'll just pet the puppy."
Julia couldn't resist a tender smile of relief. Lizzy never purposefully disobeyed. It wasn't in her nature. Perhaps it was even beyond her mental capabilities. "Oh, all right. Just to visit the puppy, but I'll have to speak with Amos."
Lizzy grabbed Julia's hand again. "No."
"No?"
"No, please. Please, please, please. Let me tell him no more kissing." She grimaced. "It was my idea. It was my fault."
Julia slipped her arm around her sister's shoulder. She really thought she needed to speak with Amos, but maybe Lizzy was right. Maybe it would
be better coming from her. "Let's go to bed now, and we'll talk about it in the morning. All right?"
Lizzy kissed Julia on the cheek. "I love you, Sister. And I'm never ever going to leave you."
Julia watched her as she sauntered off to bed. Of course she would marry Simeon to protect Lizzy. She had never really had any other choice.
"Do you understand my instructions?" Simeon stood in the armor- and weapon-lined front hallway beside Julia, and waited as one of the maids lifted her ermine-lined cloak onto her shoulders.
"I understand." Julia slipped her hands into her gloves and focused on the floor. She felt so guilty over the kisses she had shared with Griffin that she was trying to behave as she knew Simeon wanted her to—that and to avoid any suspicion. "I'm to purchase the items on the list as you've described in detail."
The list was for her trousseau, and the thought nauseated her. Julia had attempted to send her mother or Drusilla on the errand, but Simeon insisted she must purchase the items herself. Tradition, he told her. Honestly she didn't understand the point. He had already decided what clothing she would bring to their marriage, right down to the lace on her shifts. She had no choice. Of course, perhaps that was the subtle point—for him to demonstrate the complete control he would have over her as his wife, right down to her undergarments.
"Stop at Three Silver Bells Tavern on The Strand when you tire. I'll send word you'll require a private room upstairs to dine, and I'll order your meal."
She wondered if he intended to tell her when she might use the necessary, but she gritted her teeth and held her tongue. "Yes, my lord."
"The driver is to remain with the coach so it's not vandalized, but I've given the footman instructions to remain at your side. You'll be safe."
She started for the front door the footman held open for her. A gush of cold wind blew through the entryway and a swirl of dry leaves blew in.
"And don't dawdle, Julia dear." Simeon folded his pale hands. "We'll be entertaining some merchants and their wives this evening."
In Love with the King's Spy (Hidden Identity) Page 9