Gordy stepped out of her way to hold the door open for her. "The kitchen, my lady."
"Pardon," Griffin interrupted antagonistically. "But I said this was a private conversation. Whatever his lordship wants of the lady could wait another moment."
"Griffin—"
"No." Griffin's hand shot out to catch Julia's arm, but Gordy blocked it.
"Keep your hands off the lady!" Gordy threatened.
"Son of a pox-blind whore!"
Julia spun around in time to see Griffin draw back his fist and punch the secretary square in the jaw. Gordy reeled backward, hit the stone wall of the house, and then lunged at Griffin.
"Griffin!" Julia shouted. "That's enough! Mr. Gordy! I will have no brawling!"
But it was too late. Both men were beyond the point of reason. Gordy swung his fist at Griffin, who managed to duck. Gordy's second throw caught him in the nose. Blood splattered across Griffin's shirt and cravat as he fell backwards against the rail. The rail groaned ominously.
Behind Julia, the doorway filled with curious wedding guests. Everyone was talking at once. No one seemed alarmed by the fight, but accepted it as part of the evening's entertainment.
Julia swung back around to face Griffin and Gordy. She had to do something, stop this somehow before Simeon appeared. And her sister! What was wrong with her sister?
Without considering the consequences, Julia threw herself between the two men. Griffin drew his fist back to take another whack at Gordy and nearly clipped her in the chin.
"Enough!" Julia shouted above the sounds of the crowd in the doorway. In the excitement of the fray, the lords and ladies of London had become as base as the patrons of a dockside tavern.
"I will not have fighting in my home!" She threw up her arms to block the men from one another. "Mr. Gordy, step back! I will see you in the kitchen."
Gordy stared at her, his shoulders thrown back, defiance in his eyes. For a moment Julia feared he would disobey her. What would she do then? Strike him herself? But then he lowered his gaze and slinked back a step.
"Lord Archer," Julia declared with great authority. "Get yourself to your apartments, sir, or get yourself from Bassett Hall." She pointed over the balcony.
Griffin stared at her as he wiped the blood that dribbled from one nostril. "Julia—" he said softly. Suddenly he seemed sober.
"Your chambers, my lord," she repeated angrily. She was so scared, so damned angry.
He opened his mouth to speak again, then closed it.
Without another word, Julia spun around and rushed from the balcony, through the crowd directly toward the kitchen.
"Where is she?" Julia swept into the kitchen to find Gordy nursing a bloody lip. The entire room was buzzing with activity as servants ran to and fro with heavy trays of foodstuffs, all pretending they didn't see their lady of the house and the master's secretary.
Gordy hooked a thumb in the direction of the rear door.
Julia stared without comprehension. "Mr. Gordy?"
He dabbed his lower lip with a damask table napkin and then at his bloodstained shirt. "Outside." His tone was resentful, bordering on disrespectful. "Either the woodshed or the smokehouse."
"Lizzy's in the woodshed?" The instant the words were out of her mouth, it dawned on her that her sister must be with someone. She dashed for the door.
Julia ran along the stone walkway. It was raining again and her breath made puffs of frost in the cold air, but she didn't feel the chill. "Lizzy? Lizzy?" she called frantically. She threw open the door to the woodshed. "Lizzy, are you in here?"
No answer. But the shed was small enough to leave no place to hide. There was no one there, nothing but ceiling-high cords of wood and a few startled rodents. Julia slammed the door closed behind her and ran for the smokehouse.
"Lizzy! Lizzy!" She threw open the door.
Lizzy gave a squeal of surprise.
Even in the darkness, Julia recognized the shape of a man and woman locked in an amorous embrace.
"Lizzy Thomas!" Julia stepped up into the smokehouse.
Lizzy spun around, drawing a wool shawl around her shoulders, but not before Julia caught a flash of a bare breast in the moonlight.
Julia halted in the doorway in shock. She couldn't believe this was happening. Her first impulse was to blame Amos. It was all his fault. He was leading her little sister astray. But she knew it wasn't so. From the look on Lizzy's face, she knew the girl—the woman—was not being taken advantage of. She was enjoying it too much. "Lizzy! What are you doing?"
Lizzy grabbed a large bundle wrapped in cloth from a shelf behind her. "Getting another ham, Sister?"
Amos appeared out of the shadows, dodging a leg of lamb that hung from a hook on the rafter. The smell of the smoky meat was so strong and Julia's concern for her sister so great that her stomach lurched. She hoped she wasn't going to be sick.
She snapped her fingers. "Lizzy! Come here this minute."
Instead of immediately reacting to Julia's command, Lizzy turned and spoke to Amos. "Here's your ham," she said softly. "I have to go."
Julia could have sworn she saw her sister smile coquettishly.
"My lady." Amos came forward, the ham cradled in his arms. "This was my doin'. Not hers. Punish me, not Lizzy, please."
"Amos Wright, you bald-headed liar!" Lizzy accused. "Was not your idea. It was mine and you know it! You wanted to come alone to get the ham, but I said I'd help. I said it because I wanted to kiss you."
Julia grabbed Lizzy's hand. She couldn't believe this was happening. Was Lizzy actually allowing a man to touch her breasts? She had actually encouraged him?
But as Julia pulled her sister from the small outbuilding, she felt a shameful twinge of jealousy. Somewhere deep inside, a part of her wished it was she and Griffin in that smokehouse, and not Lizzy and Amos. "Lizzy, let's go before anyone sees you out here."
"My Lady St. Martin." Amos ran after them, the ham still cradled in his arms.
"Tomorrow, Amos." Julia didn't turn to look at him. "I'll speak with you on the morrow."
"I'll see you tomorrow," Lizzy called over her shoulder, as Julia forcefully ushered her toward the kitchen door.
Upstairs, Julia threw open the door to her apartments and gave Lizzy a push inside. "Drusilla? Drusilla, are you here?" She nudged Lizzy into the closest chair. "Drusilla?"
A door opened off the sitting room and Julia heard the shuffle of the old woman's feet. "Ye ready to dress for your night, are ye?" She gave a cackly laugh. "Early yet. Groom must be anxious, he must."
Julia felt her cheeks burn. She knew she shouldn't pay any attention to Drusilla's muttering, but the nursemaid's words brought thoughts of her wedding night tumbling down on her again.
"No, Drusilla. I'm not ready for bed. Please see to her." She pointed at Lizzy. She knew she shouldn't be this angry. Of course Lizzy hadn't been a willing participant in whatever took place in that smokehouse. Lizzy didn't know what she was doing. She didn't understand. But it was Julia's duty to see it didn't happen again. There was no telling what Simeon would do if he discovered Lizzy was sullying herself with the cook. Julia envisioned the dog and Simeon's shovel.
"Get her dressed for bed and put her in the trundle in your room."
Drusilla turned her attention to Lizzy, squinting her eyes. "What's she done?"
Julia covered her face with her hand in frustration. "I don't have time to talk, Drusilla. I have to get downstairs. Down to my husband." The word stuck in her dry throat. "Please just put Lizzy to bed and be sure she stays there. I don't care if you have to tie her to the bedpost."
Drusilla's eyes grew even narrower as she stared at Lizzy. "Been sinning again, have you?"
"No." Lizzy crossed her arms and stuck out her lower lip.
"You were with that man again, weren't you?"
Tears began to roll down Lizzy's flushed cheeks.
Drusilla grabbed Lizzy's hand and pulled her out of the chair. "Any man that hurts you, I'll kill 'em,
I will."
"Don't kill Amos. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Lizzy broke into full-fledged tears. "Please don't kill my Amos."
"Ah Lizzy." Julia could feel her heart tearing thread by thread. "It's all right." She rubbed her sister's hunched shoulders. "No more of that talk," Julia told Drusilla. "No one is going to kill anyone." She lifted on her toes and kissed her sister's cheek. "Go to bed with Drusilla. We'll talk about this tomorrow, after all of us have had a good night's sleep."
Lizzy sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "No one's going to kill my Amos?"
Julia smiled and stroked her sister's cheek. "Of course not, sweetheart."
"Good." Lizzy allowed her nursemaid to lead her away. "Because I love him and I'm going to marry him."
"Marry him?" Julia stared at her sister wide-eyed. Surely those words had not come out of Lizzy's mouth. Lizzy marry? Marry a cook? "Liz—"
A knock at the door cut Julia off mid-sentence. Who could that be? "Yes? What is it now?" Impatiently, she whipped around as the door swung open.
It was Mr. Gordy sporting a swollen lower lip, but a clean shirt. "His lordship, my lady. He has looked for you everywhere. Another guest, a guest of importance, has arrived, and he wishes you to receive her immediately."
"Another guest?" Julia felt as if she were spinning out of control. Would this nightmare of a day never end? "This late?"
"Aye."
"Who is it, pray tell?" She threw up her arms in exasperation. "Surely not the king?"
Gordy fluttered his eyelids. "Baron Archer's wife."
Chapter Fourteen
"His . . . his wife?"
There was a suspicious light in Mr. Gordy's eyes. "Yes, m'lady." He spoke slowly, as if he addressed Lizzy. "Baron Archer is married, and has been for many years."
Julia felt dizzy. Of course Griffin was married. She had known that from the beginning. And now she was married, married until death parted her and Simeon. So why did the thought of meeting Griffin's wife—his ancient, wrinkled, wife—upset her?
Julia moistened her lips. "I'll be down directly, Mr. Gordy."
The moment he closed the door, she raced from the receiving room into her bedchamber. "Drusilla! Quick! I need help with my hair!"
Julia descended the grand staircase, her bright red tresses redressed in waves down her back and over her shoulders. She had added a spot of rouge to her lips and cheeks and redefined her eyes with a touch of kohl.
"Lady St. Martin," Simeon announced from the hall at the bottom of the steps. He lifted one gloved hand toward her in a regal gesture. "You're not ill are you, dear wife?"
Behind the tender words and implied concern, Julia detected his irritation with her. As she descended the last steps, she tried to remain focused on Simeon and not the woman beside him.
A redhead.
A woman obviously, most delightedly, older than she.
The most beautiful woman Julia had ever laid eyes upon.
"Wife!" Simeon spoke sharply. "I asked if you were ill."
She forced her most charming smile. "Of course not, my lord. I but needed to see my sister to bed."
He caught her hand and squeezed it just a little too hard. "Let me introduce you to an honorable guest." He lowered his voice. "Make a good impression. She's a very powerful woman at court."
He led her toward the redhead in a shimmering sheath of gray and silver. The gown was unlike any gown Julia had ever seen, the material unlike any found in Europe, and yet it was exotically, daringly beautiful.
"Allow me to introduce Lady Archer," Simeon said smoothly. "Widow of the Duke of Hampton, once the Dowager Hampton, now Baron Archer's wife."
The older woman kept her chin high as she lowered herself into a graceful curtsy. Julia stared so hard that she faltered before bending at the knees to curtsy in response.
"My Lady St. Martin." Her voice, rich and deep for a woman's, exuded sensuality. "I am so pleased to meet you." Then the woman did the oddest thing. She embraced Julia warmly, hugging her as her own mother never had.
For a moment Julia relaxed in the older woman's arms. She needed a hug so desperately that even one from a stranger was welcome. Then, remembering who Lady Archer was, she pulled away. "It is indeed a pleasure to meet you as well. I . . . his lordship and I enjoy your husband's, um, company well. He plays an excellent game of backgammon, Lady Archer."
"Does he, now?"
The baroness's brilliant green eyes twinkled and Julia wondered if Griffin had lied to her about Lena's age. Surely she couldn't have been anywhere near seventy.
"Please, call me Lena."
Julia couldn't resist a smile. Lena was so friendly, so warm. How could Griffin not love her? Everyone must love her. "And you must call me Julia."
Simeon hovered as if he wanted to please Lena, but was unsure how. "Lady Archer will be remaining with us a few days, wife. See that rooms are prepared."
"Adjoining Baron Archer's, my lord?" Julia hoped neither heard the catch in her voice. Lena waved a fan painted with half-naked, black-haired women in veils. "Unnecessary, dear. Any chamber will do so long as the fleas are calm and the wine sweet."
Julia smiled at the woman's sense of humor. "I assure you there are no fleas in Lord St. Martin's house."
"No, I suppose not." Lena laughed lightly, but with a tinge of sarcasm. "What flea would dare cross his pristine threshold?"
So she knew something of Simeon's odd habits, did she?
Lena waved her hand in Simeon's direction. "Go, go. You've fulfilled the required introductions, now make your escape. Drink, eat, enjoy your friends, gird your loins before you retire to your wedding chamber with your beautiful wife, St. Martin."
Simeon bowed and backed out of the room. If Julia hadn't known better, she'd have thought he was actually intimidated by the older woman.
Lena's splendid smile faded the moment Simeon disappeared from sight. She made a clucking sound between her pearly teeth. "Once a donkey's ass, always a donkey's ass." She took Julia by the arm and led her into the adjacent parlor, toward a table of refreshments. "He was never likable as a child, either. But he's always seemed to worship me from afar. Seek my approval." She chuckled and lowered her gravelly voice. "Something to do with the loss of his mother or his bed-wetting as a boy, I'm sure."
Julia couldn't help but smile. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't not like Lena. "You knew him as a child?"
"Aye." She plucked two chocolate-dipped strawberries from a silver tray and waved for a footman to bring her a flute of French champagne. "His mother and I were the best of friends. I suckled him myself when Mary went down with the pox." She popped the whole berry into her mouth and chewed with an enthusiasm for the food that Julia thought exclusive to males. "I'd always wished the good Lord had taken the whelp instead of my sweet Mary."
Julia tried to stifle her shock at the older woman's words. No one dared mock Simeon for fear of losing their life. Lena was indeed a brave woman.
Lena sighed and took a bite of another confection. "On her deathbed, Mary asked that I watch over him, see him properly taught, see his father remarried well. I tried to convince her we ought to drown him then, but she wouldn't have it, him being her only child." Lena offered the bitten strawberry. "Do have some, dear. You look as if you could use a meal. Doesn't Griffin see you fed?"
Julia froze at mention of Griffin. What did she mean by that? What had Griffin said to her? Surely he'd not—
"Don't look as if you've seen Hamlet's dead father, sweetheart." Lena laughed and took a large swallow of the champagne. "Your secret is safe with me." She plucked another strawberry from the tray, her silvery sleeves swishing as she moved. "But let me give you some advice." She stared directly into Julia's eyes. "May I?"
Julia nodded, unable to trust herself to speak.
"Resist the temptation. You married the worm, make the best of it. Sleep with your husband or sleep alone."
"I would never—"
"Shhh," Lena soothed. "I know what
goes through the heads of the young and in love. It wasn't so many years ago that I was in love with a friend's son, and me great with my third husband's child. I know what it is to pine for another."
Julia could only stare, her nerves on edge. How much did Lena know? Would she say something to Simeon?
Lena patted Julia's arm. "It really won't be such a bad life. Close your eyes and think of something dull when he's rutting—like clipping your toenails, or changing a baby's napkin. Simeon will be done soon enough and roll off you. I guarantee he'll not come often to your chamber, considering how he is about bodily fluids," she scorned. "Just yield occasionally, and stay out of his way the remainder of the time. You might get lucky one of these days, and he'll leave you a widow. One never knows when fate will strike—a fishbone in his throat, or the running bowels." Lena plucked another strawberry from the tray and motioned with it. "These really are quite exquisite. Did they come from that little sweetshop in Cheapside?"
Julia found it hard to redirect her thoughts. How could Lena speak one moment of hoping Simeon would die a painful death, and the next minute question her on shopping? "I don't know. The housekeeper made the arrangements." Julia knotted her hands together. She felt so inadequate beside Lena. So childish. Perhaps it was better that she had married Simeon. She could never hold a candle to this woman. "I will ask her if you like."
Lena's smile was genuine. "You're a sweet young woman." She brushed the back of Julia's hand with her fingertips. "Griffin was right. You are unusual, especially in comparison to the ladies I generally encounter at court. You seem to actually have a mind that functions autonomously, without the aid of a man. I like you."
"I like you, too, Lena," Julia admitted cautiously. "You say what you think. You speak the truth."
"But I didn't always." Her gaze met Julia's and she became serious. "There was a time when I, too, had responsibilities, when others were affected by my words and deeds. I bit my tongue then. I did what was best for those I loved. It's only in my old age that I've found the freedom to speak my mind."
Julia nodded, understanding. So Griffin must have told her something about them, about her obligation to marry Simeon. Somehow it was comforting to know that Lena understood, even if Griffin didn't.
In Love with the King's Spy (Hidden Identity) Page 14