Amos shook his head. "No, m'lady. I'm sorry, m'lady, but I don't see to yer way of thinkin'."
Lizzy reached out to take Amos's flour-dusted hand, but Julia stepped between them. "Lizzy, you may not come to the kitchen again. If I catch you, you'll be locked in your room with Drusilla."
Lizzy gave a cry of anguish.
Julia avoided Amos's honest face. "Amos, if you continue to court my sister, I'll have you sent elsewhere. This simply cannot be permitted to continue."
"I hate you." Lizzy stomped her foot. "I hate you!" she screamed. Then she burst into tears and raced down the hallway toward the main house.
Amos made a move to follow her, then halted. Of course he couldn't follow her, because there was no place for him in St. Martin's house, and he knew there never would be.
"It's not right," Amos muttered, his eyes tearing up.
Julia felt as if her heart was tearing in two. How could she make him understand? How could she make Lizzy understand? Even if she tried, would they believe St. Martin was the monster she believed him to be? And even attempting to explain might endanger them both. "Amos, I'm not doing this to hurt you or Lizzy. I care less about Lizzy being a lady and you being a cook than you think." She took a deep breath. "I can't explain myself, but I'm doing this to protect her."
"Protect her? Protect her from what? I would protect her."
Julia turned away. "Not from this," she said softly. "Now go back to your work, and do not make me pay you a visit again."
Julia heard the kitchen door swing open and then shut as she walked down the dimly lit hallway, her head bowed. It hurt deeply to see Lizzy so upset, but Julia knew she was doing what was right. She was protecting Lizzy the best she knew how.
Julia was so preoccupied that she never heard St. Martin approach until she almost bumped into him.
"There you are."
"Oh." She put up her hand to keep her body from touching his, and stopped short. "Simeon."
"Did I not instruct you that I wanted to greet our guests sharply at eight?" He was dressed impeccably in a green silk doublet. "Didn't Mr. Gordy remind you of the time only an hour ago?"
"Yes, Simeon." She lowered her gaze for fear she wouldn't be able to conceal the hatred in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I can get ready quickly."
She attempted to pass him, but he put out his arm, taking care that he touched her with his sleeve and not his bare hand. She noticed that his hand was so red it appeared raw. Had he injured himself or simply been overenthusiastic with his hand-washing this evening?
"I didn't give you my leave."
She pressed her hands to her sides, still avoiding his gaze. "May I go, m'lord?"
"You think you're clever?"
Clever enough to sleep with another man on our wedding night. She had no idea where it came from; it just popped into her head. Then she was ashamed of herself for having such sinful thoughts.
"You think you won because even Gordy didn't have the stomach to take you?"
"No," she said softly.
"Well, you're not clever. Not one bit. You're an idiot bitch like all the other bitches. But you're a pretty bitch, so I'll keep you. I'll keep every bit of you for myself—your mind, your body, your soul. Understood?"
She nodded that she did, but of course she didn't. Who could understand such cruelty, such madness?
He lowered his hand as if he could no longer stand to touch a wall that might be soiled. Then he reached into his coat doublet sleeve and drew out a white handkerchief to dust off his fingers.
"Now get upstairs and put on one of those frocks I spent outrageous sums upon. And for Christ's sake, do smile!"
"Yes, my lord." Julia curtsied and darted past him as he stepped aside.
Bastard, she thought as she hurried away, her petticoats bunched in her hands. Her grandfather always said that every man got what he deserved in the end.
I'm going to survive this somehow, she vowed silently. Lizzy and I both. And you're going to get what you deserve. We'll see who owns me then, St. Martin—mind, body, and soul.
Bastard.
That night Julia played the part of the merry bride until she thought she would go mad. She greeted Simeon's friends and foes with a gracious smile and a bubbly laugh. She pretended to be pleased everyone was there to celebrate her wedding. She even pretended to be shyly infatuated with her new husband. It was a deadly game she played now, and she knew she must play it well.
Finally, when she could no longer stand the sound of her own voice, her own deceit, she slipped away from the sparkling music and light into the dark sanctuary of her orangery. Halfway to her fish pond, she spotted the shadow of a man sitting beneath a newly transplanted lemon tree.
Julia halted in the moonlight that streamed through the glass panels of the ceiling. How did he know she needed him? How did he always know? He was dressed not as the fop, but as the man she had seen in the tavern passageway that day.
She took her time before speaking. "I was worried when you left so abruptly. I feared you were in danger."
Griffin touched his hand to his breast, a silhouette in the shadowy garden. " 'She loved me for the dangers I had passed, and I loved her that she did pity them.' "
Shakespeare. He did love Shakespeare, didn't he? Julia caught the trunk of a young sapling, lifted her petticoats, and slowly circled the tree. "You were in danger. I knew it. I felt it."
He raised his palms. "You know I cannot—"
"I didn't ask you where you'd been," she interrupted, "or why."
As he crossed his arms over his broad chest, she couldn't help recalling what his muscular chest had felt like beneath her fingertips. Had it really been only last night? She couldn't help but remember what it had been like to tease his nipples with the tip of her tongue.
"You asked Lena."
She smiled as she rounded the tree to study him. "Is there nothing the two of you do not share?"
"Other than a bed, no."
The bark of the trunk was rough beneath her fingertips and she could smell the faint citrus scent its leaves exuded. "I'm jealous."
"You shouldn't be. I love her, but not the way I love you."
Simple words from a not-so-simple man.
Julia stepped away from the lemon tree, but didn't approach him. She was afraid to. Afraid she would throw herself into his arms and never be able to let go of him. She sensed he kept his distance for the same reason. An energy cracked in the air between them.
"I'm jealous just the same," she said softly. "Jealous because she can speak with you in the hall and not fear you'll be seen. Jealous because she can look at you from across the room and not fear—"
"Do you want me to leave Bassett Hall?" He rose from where he sat at the pond's edge. "It would be difficult, damned difficult, but I could make—"
"No!" She raised her hand to him. "Don't leave me. I couldn't bear . . ." She lowered her hand to her breast, realizing how foolish she must sound. How desperate. But she was desperate. "I couldn't bear it," she repeated again. "Not now."
Still he stood in the moonlight, his chest rising and falling, his breath coming a little faster than it should have as his gaze caressed her. "Last night, Julia. I shouldn't have made love to you. I shouldn't have endangered you the way I have."
"I came to you. You're not to blame."
"I am to blame. I took another man's wife to my bed."
"Another man's wife who climbed naked into your bed," she reminded him gently.
He exhaled. "It's not just us. There are others."
She knew he searched for a way to explain himself without revealing any of his secrets.
"Julia, it was selfish of me to make love to you, to put my wants ahead of the dangers. Not only to you, but to others."
She hung her head, thinking of Lizzy. "You're right. It was selfish of us."
"But I meant what I said last night. When this is over, I want to marry you. I want to be your husband, to protect you, to love you. I want you to carry my child
in your womb someday, God willing."
His mention of a child touched her heart. "Only one thing in our way, really." She gave a little laugh, though she saw nothing funny in their situation. "I suppose you could kill him," she joked.
Griffin walked toward her, and she took notice that he seemed tired. His face was lined with worry so that he appeared older than his thirty-odd years.
"I would in a moment," he said, "if only it were that simple."
"I said it in jest. I don't want you to kill him for me," she whispered fiercely. "What kind of love would that be, then?"
"Do you think he would hesitate to kill me if he had the slightest inclination?" Griffin halted an arm's length from her. The moonlight fell on one side of his face, masking the other side in shadow. "Do you?"
"No," she confessed with genuine fear for him. "Maybe you're right, maybe you should go." He held her gaze so that she couldn't look away.
"That's what you want?" He reached out and stroked her cheek with his hand. "Tell me. Tell me what you want me to do, Julia, and I'll do it if I can."
She closed her eyes, savoring the light brush of his fingertips on her cheek. Every inch of her skin tingled. Her heart pounded. She wanted him. She wanted him here. Now.
But of course that was impossible. "Yes. No." She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them. "Oh, Griffin, I don't know what I want." She covered his hand with hers and held it to her cheek. "I do know what I want. I want to turn back the hands of the clock. I want my father to betroth me to you. I want you to send for me in Dover. I want you to meet me at the church's altar." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I just want you."
Griffin pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips to her forehead. "Julia, Julia, would that I could change the past, but I can't. All I can do is look to the future."
Her arms tight around his waist, she rested her cheek on his chest. He smelled of horses and brandy, rain and wet leather. He smelled as she always imagined a man would smell. "And what is in our future? Honestly? St. Martin is my husband, and you . . . you have this duty, whatever it is."
He held her tightly against his chest and rocked her gently. "It's possible. All is possible."
Julia wanted to believe him. She wanted desperately to believe him. "And you will not murder him in his sleep? I could never be happy knowing you did something like that for me."
He smiled and kissed her temple. "I promise you, I will not kill him unless he comes at me, sword drawn. Fair?"
She lifted her head from his chest, offering her lips to him. "Fair enough," she murmured against the warmth of his mouth.
They shared a gentle kiss and then he guided her head to his chest again. He smoothed her hair with his hand. "Julia, I have to tell you that matters have escalated . . . become more dangerous. I cannot risk . . . we cannot risk Simeon suspecting that you and I—"
"Oh, no." She raised her head. "No. Of course. He mustn't suspect." She thought of Lizzy again, and for an instant considered telling Griffin the real reason she married Simeon. But how could he help? He had his own matters to attend. Hadn't he just said he was in danger? Julia could deal with St. Martin on her own. She could protect Lizzy on her own, at least for the time being.
"So we must be careful," Griffin continued gently. "We cannot give him any reason, not a touch, not a smile, not—"
"I won't come to you again." She lowered her gaze, feeling her cheeks grow warm. "I promise."
"Oh, Julia." He lifted her chin with thumb and forefinger until she was forced to meet his blue-eyed gaze. "Don't ever regret that. It was the most wonderful gift anyone ever gave me."
"Truly?" She smiled in spite of her fear, in spite of her embarrassment.
He caught her hand and brought it to his heart. "Truly. It sounds ridiculous, but I feel as if you have given me a reason to be, to exist. All my life I felt as if I was waiting for something. Now I realize it wasn't something, but someone."
"Griffin." She wanted to tell him that they were fools to think their love could ever be anything but kisses stolen in darkness and in fear. They would never wed. She would always belong to St. Martin. There was no escaping his iron grip. But she couldn't say it. Not now. Not here.
Julia curled her fingers around the nape of Griffin's neck and pulled his head down. She met his kiss with an open mouth, desperate to feel him, taste him. As their mouths met and he thrust his tongue, his hand naturally found the curve of her breast and her hips naturally pressed against his.
"This . . ." he said breathlessly as he pulled away. "This we cannot do." He released her, shaking his head. "We can't because I'm afraid I'll lose control of myself. I'm afraid I won't be able to stop."
Julia hugged herself for comfort, her own heart pounding, her head dizzy for lack of air. "I know. " She nodded. "I know. You're right."
He took a step back, lifting his hand as if to ward her off. "Give me a fortnight or two. Let me see what develops."
"And what of that silly offer to take me with you to the king's hunting lodge?"
His boyish grin appeared. "It was sincere."
"But I shouldn't go."
"I know." The grin fell away. "Not that I wouldn't like the chance to be with you alone, away from here." He spread his arms wide and then let them fall.
She watched him back away from her. Each step he took pained her more deeply than one of Simeon's pinches or slaps could ever hurt.
Again he was in shadow. "You'll be all right with Simeon, at least for a while?"
"I'll be all right. He won't touch me." She smiled wickedly. "I'm too dirty."
To her relief, he asked for no further explanation. "Good, because then I would have to kill him in his sleep, and you would be very angry with me for breaking my promise."
"Go," she told him, pointing toward the house. "Then I'll follow."
"I won't come down tonight to join the festivities. I have business to attend to."
"Good night."
"Good night, my love." Griffin kissed his fingertips and then held up his hand, palm toward her.
Julia let her eyes drift shut and when she opened them again, Griffin was gone.
Chapter Nineteen
A week later, Julia stood at the windows of the gallery, listening to the banging of hammers and the sawing of wood. The sound seemed to go on nonstop during daylight hours, as the workmen rushed to complete the addition before the Earl of St. Martin's birthday in late January. Simeon apparently intended to have his collection of artworks displayed by then, and to throw himself a grand ball.
Julia leaned on the window frame to stare at the cold, dead garden below. Lizzy sat on a bench, the same bench they had shared two short months ago. Julia remembered the way they had laughed together over Griffin's ridiculous hat that day. How carefree Lizzy had seemed, how excited to be in new surroundings. She'd been so happy.
Now Lizzy sat frowning, inanimate, her bare hands folded in her lap, no doubt chilled. Since Julia had put an end to her visits to the kitchen, Lizzy barely spoke to her, and when she did, it was with that same frown on her face. Lizzy hadn't mentioned Amos, not once, but Julia knew that was who she was thinking about. She blamed Julia for their separation, of course. No matter how Julia tried to explain to her that it was better that they stop seeing each other now, before their affection grew out of control, Lizzy refused to listen.
So Julia left Lizzy alone. She was kind to her, but she tried not to disturb her in her grief. She knew that within a few weeks Lizzy would recover from her infatuation with Amos and the feelings she thought she had for him.
In the meantime, life at Bassett Hall was lonely for Julia. With Susanne spending most of her time frolicking about London with the would-be marquis, and Lizzy ignoring her, she had no one to talk with. No one to pass even a few moments a day with in idle conversation.
Since the wedding, Simeon had spent most of his time holed up in his dark office. Men came and went, sometimes mysteriously cloaked, in hired carriages. Other times Simeon actu
ally ventured out. He never said where he was going and Julia didn't ask. As long as he kept his distance from her bedchamber, she was content for the time being.
Of course she wasn't interested in Simeon's foul company anyway. It was Griffin she missed; his pleasant banter of women's fashions and court gossip, his laughter, and his kisses.
Julia spent hours thinking of Griffin and the few precious hours they had spent alone together on her wedding night. She recalled over and over each kiss, each caress, each thrust, until she realized she was going to drive herself mad spending so much time thinking of him.
Though Griffin remained at Bassett Hall, she rarely saw him, and then only in the company of Simeon and his unending string of dinner guests. In public, Griffin was polite to her, but kept his distance. According to the gossip around the punch bowl, the Countess St. Martin was still rather put out with her husband's cousin for making such a spectacle of himself after the wedding. For once, Julia found the hearsay a relief, and had even encouraged it.
Unfortunately, the gossip that offered Julia and Griffin some protection also forced them to avoid one another at Simeon's dining and gaming tables. The few times they had met alone, in the upstairs hallway and once in the library, he had passed her at arm's length, his greeting strained. She could tell he wanted to reach out and touch her as badly as she wanted to reach out and touch him. It was all they could manage to do to restrain themselves.
Below, Julia spotted someone walking up the stone path from the stable toward the house. Griffin.
He halted at the bench and greeted Lizzy in his usual flamboyant manner, complete with a bow fit for a queen. Though Julia could not hear them through the gallery windows on the second floor, she could follow the gist of the conversation by their actions.
Lizzy barely responded to his good afternoon. As he attempted to show her his green wool hat with the yellow and purple ostrich feathers, she thrust her lip out in a pout, crossed her arms over her chest, and looked away.
Griffin hesitated for a moment, then sat down beside her. His face seemed to change before Julia's eyes, as he transformed from the ridiculous fop everyone knew to the mysterious man she loved.
In Love with the King's Spy (Hidden Identity) Page 19