by Danice Allen
To ensure their comfort and safety, the aunts were conveyed to the McAdamses’ on Cavendish Square in Julian’s crested carriage, while Julian and Sam hired a hackney coach to transport them to the much less fashionable Upper Wimpole Street.
Sam was not perfectly satisfied with such an arrangement. She thought she and her mother would require several hours at least to become acquainted with each other. She wanted more time, and she didn’t like the feeling of sneaking around to visit her own flesh and blood. In her mind, the whole affair smacked of a sort of unsavory furtiveness. But it had been Madame DuBois who requested the short first meeting, thinking it wise that they proceed cautiously and not draw attention to themselves.
Much to Sam’s dismay, it seemed that Julian had probably been right in supposing that Madame DuBois wanted to protect her by keeping their relationship to each other a secret from the general public. But Sam was in no mood to be discreet. She was losing Julian, and she had no desire to lose a mother she had just found, and for no other reason than to keep the London tattle-tongues from wagging.
However, it would all be settled according to her mother’s wishes. While she was feeling rather reckless about her reputation at the moment, Sam did not want her mother to be uncomfortable about it. No doubt, Madame DuBois would blame herself if her daughter suddenly became a social pariah.
Sam had dressed carefully for the meeting. Keeping in mind that she was having to attend a dressy affair afterward but still more concerned about the first impression she’d make on her mother, Sam had worn a simple gown of white crepe. Her new abigail, Dorcas, had arranged her hair in a classic Greek style with tendrils of curling hair wisping about her face. She wore a three-string pearl choker about her neck, and pearl pendants in her ears. Long white gloves and plain white satin slippers finished the ensemble.
Despite her nervousness about meeting her mother, Sam was still extremely aware of Julian’s presence in the coach. How could it be otherwise when they’d shared such a passionate interlude earlier that day? But since he flatly refused to discuss what had happened, saying that “this was definitely not the time for such a discussion,” and that “she should be thinking only of her mother,” Sam gave up and sat as silent as he did for the duration of the drive to Upper Wimpole Street.
But Sam felt Julian had another reason for not wishing to discuss what had happened. As he had explained when Hedley interrupted them, he’d simply gone slightly mad for a short period of time, and now he was heartily regretting it! While he obviously finally saw Sam as a woman, he didn’t see her as a wife! He’d probably wanted to kiss Hedley for stopping him before he compromised her!
It was too cruel to be in love with such a man, Sam thought sadly, gazing at him in the dim glow of the carriage lantern. As always, he looked wonderful. He was wearing pale gray breeches, a burgundy waistcoat, and a dark gray jacket. His clothes, as usual, fit precise to a pin, showing every sinewy muscle in his legs and accentuating the broad strength of his shoulders.
Sam always marveled that he could look so civilized, so elegant … yet still exude such virility and power. She found herself drifting back and forth between concerns about her first meeting with her mother … and wonderful erotic fantasies about Julian that went far beyond what they did together in the library that afternoon. Despite the fact that she’d had no real opportunity to put them to the test, Isabelle Descartes’s lessons of love had not been forgotten.
Besides the torture of being closely confined with a man you lusted for and didn’t dare touch, Sam was still very much devastated by his engagement to Charlotte, and in shock about her own engagement to Jean-Luc. At least, she assumed it was a positive engagement between herself and Jean-Luc! That was what Julian had implied, but, strangely, Jean-Luc had not called on her at all that day after his interview with Julian. However, she knew he was going to be at the McAdamses’ soiree, so she was sure they’d have plenty of opportunity to talk there.
Finally they drew to a stop in front of a respectable-looking, redbrick town house. Sam glanced out and nervously patted her hair and smoothed her gown.
Julian stepped out of the coach first, then turned and held out his hand to Sam. She took his hand, gathered her skirts, and was about to alight when he leaned near her and whispered, “Don’t be nervous. You look beautiful. She’ll love you instantly.”
The kind words nearly brought tears to Sam’s eyes. It was precisely what she needed to hear, and meant even more to her because it had been Julian to offer the comfort. He was an exasperating man, but his praise, his support were so important to her.
“Thank you, Julian,” she whispered with heartfelt gratitude, then she smiled. He smiled back and squeezed her hand as he assisted her from the coach. They entered Madame DuBois’s house together, but the joy Sam felt walking arm in arm with the man she loved most in the world was a bittersweet happiness. She knew it would end someday very soon.
Julian watched Sam as they sat in the drawing room waiting for her mother to appear. He marveled at her outward composure, because he knew that inside she was quaking. Finding her mother was so important to Sam, Julian prayed that nothing would happen to disappoint or disenchant her when the two of them finally met.
However, since he—a person wholly objective—had been favorably impressed with Madame DuBois, there was no doubt in his mind that Sam—who wanted desperately to like her—would find just as much to be pleased with.
Dressed all in white, Sam looked like an angel. He imagined she would look just as angelic on her wedding day.
On her wedding day. Yes, eventually that day would come. But whom would she marry? When questioned, she still claimed to be in love with Jean-Luc, but her eager response to him in the library that day had given Julian reason to hope otherwise. But why would she lie? Had she accepted Jean-Luc’s proposal of marriage because she’d finally realized that the so-called “love” she’d felt for him had been only a girlish infatuation … a passing fancy?
Yet, could she respond to him so passionately and be in love with another man? Julian had decided that he was going to find out. It was foolish to go on this way, not really knowing each other’s hearts and minds. But he felt it would be too much to expect Sam to deal with meeting her mother for the first time, and choosing between two men, all in one night. Although the wait was torture, Julian had decided that tomorrow would have to be the soonest he declared his love to Sam.
The door to the salon opened, interrupting Julian’s thoughts. Genevieve DuBois appeared at the threshold and stood there, poised like a lovely statue. She was dressed in a pale lavender gown, with lots of jewelry on her slender neck and arms. But her gown and her jewelry paled in comparison to the expression on her face and the light shining in her fine eyes.
Sam stood up, wobbled a little, and put her hand to her throat. Both women seemed incapable of speech, but their delight in seeing each other, in finding each other, was obvious.
Finally Genevieve took a step forward and held out her arms. Sam went to her and they embraced. There were no dramatic exclamations, no noisy sobbing, and no swooning. But the emotion in the room was palpable, and the scene between mother and daughter very touching to observe. Perhaps too touching to observe … Julian stood up and left the room, leaving the two women to their reunion.
After pacing the hall for twenty minutes, Julian reentered the room. He found Sam and her mother seated cozily on the sofa together, talking like long-lost friends. They looked up when he cleared his throat.
He smiled. “I gather the reunion has been a success?”
“She is already calling me ‘Mother’! I asked her to, and she agreed. Isn’t it delightful?” Genevieve effused. “Lord Serling, I’m so glad you disregarded my threatening notes. Meeting Samantha has been the highlight of my life!”
“What threatening notes?” Sam asked, looking with surprise at Julian, then at her mother.
Genevieve appeared to wish the words back, and turned questioning eyes to Julian.
“I sent a couple of … shall we say … cautionary notes to Lord Serling, my dear,” Genevieve hurriedly explained, taking hold of both Sam’s hands and speaking earnestly. “I didn’t want him to find me.”
“Why not?” Sam asked with an anxious expression. “I thought you wanted to know me.”
“Oh, I did!” Genevieve assured her, squeezing her hands. “But it would have been selfish of me to think only of myself. Samantha, my dear, I did not think it would be in your best interests to have it known about town that your mother is an actress.” She looked over her shoulder at Julian. “In fact, I was even afraid that Lord Serling’s attitude toward you might change. But I needn’t have feared. It seems he has been your stoutest ally from the very beginning.”
Sam lifted her eyes to Julian’s face and smiled faintly. “Yes. Julian has been the best of friends.”
Genevieve looked back and forth between the two of them, then said rather archly, “Yes, it’s hard to find a good man with a broad mind these days. I hope you are wise enough, my dear, to marry him before your sister returns in the summer. Why waste precious time waiting to get the whole family together for a church wedding when you could be happily honeymooning?”
Julian could tell that Sam was just as stunned as he was by her mother’s comment. He was rendered momentarily speechless, but Sam darted him an embarrassed glance and blushed hotly, saying, “Mother, what makes you think Julian and I have the least idea of getting married?”
“But he is the perfect man for you, my dear,” she stated with some surprise, as if the fact were self-evident. “He knows everything about you. In fact, he probably knows you better than your sister, Amanda, does. I daresay he even likes me … his future mother-in-law! What better recommendation could you have for a husband?”
“He doesn’t want to marry me, Mother,” Sam said in a low, stiff voice, growing rosier by the minute. “He doesn’t love me. And I don’t love him. ’’
Julian felt Sam’s words like a dagger to the heart. She was wrong on at least one point. He certainly loved her.
“Nonsense!” Genevieve scoffed. She turned to Julian. “For heaven’s sake, Lord Serling, set this girl straight. She thinks you don’t love her!”
Julian crossed his arms over his chest and frowningly observed Sam’s mother. He was trying to decide what she was up to. From their conversation the day before, he knew she had guessed that he was in love with Sam … and had come to that correct conclusion even before he’d admitted the truth to himself! And now it seemed she had decided to play matchmaker.
Trouble was, Genevieve didn’t realize that Sam had possibly gotten over whatever feelings she’d had for him, and had promised herself to someone else.
“Madame DuBois—”
“Call me Genevieve,” she countered. “After all, we’ll soon be family!”
“Madame DuBois,” Julian repeated firmly, “you are laboring under a mistaken idea. You see, Sam plans to wed Mr. Jean-Luc Bouvier.”
Genevieve’s eyes widened and she blinked several times. Julian couldn’t decide if she was acting or if she was truly surprised. “Jean-Luc Bouvier? Why, how on earth did this come about, Samantha? You know you aren’t in love with the fellow. He’s handsome and rich and quite amusing, I daresay, but he’s not the man for you. And what about Julian? If you don’t marry him, who will?”
“I’m not quite without prospects,” Julian murmured dryly.
“No indeed, Mother,” Sam assured her, appearing very flustered by the whole conversation. “In fact, I have it on good authority that Julian intends to … to marry Charlotte Batsford. Don’t you, Julian?”
“No doubt it’s the prevailing opinion,” Julian hedged, a sudden and most interesting suspicion coming into his head.
“The prevailing opinion?” Genevieve repeated. “Pray, what does that mean? Speak plainly, Lord Serling. Are you betrothed to Miss Batsford or not?”
“Mother! You are hardly acquainted with Julian. Do you think you should be demanding information from him in such a high-handed manner?” Sam scolded in an agitated whisper.
“I daresay it is the only way I’ll find out what I want to know,” she retorted. “Indeed, Samantha, if the two of you were more honest and plain-speaking with each other, matters wouldn’t have come to such a pass and you wouldn’t need my assistance to straighten out the muddle you’ve made of your lives!”
“I have been plain-speaking with Julian,” Sam insisted defensively, glancing self-consciously at Julian. “And he has been just as blunt with me. Brutally blunt, at times. I assure you, Mother, Julian does not want to marry me. And even if he did, he could not. Not after last night.”
“What happened last night?” Genevieve demanded.
“Yes, brat,” Julian agreed, raising his brows, finding Sam’s behavior and the things she said more and more enlightening. “What did happen last night?”
Sam stood up and paced the floor, fidgeting nervously with her rings. “Oh, don’t play the fool, Julian!” she snapped, flashing him an accusing look. “You know very well what happened last night. You proposed to Charlotte! I saw you do it! I don’t know why you haven’t announced it, or even told me and the aunts about it, but I suppose you have your reasons. You have reasons for everything you do, don’t you? You’re so excessively practical and logical.” She paused in front of the fireplace and frowned down at the flames.
Julian unfolded his arms and followed, then stood beside her. “You, on the other hand, are excessively impractical, illogical, and much too impulsive for your own good,” he informed her acidly.
She turned to face him. He loved the way her eyes lit up like sapphires when she was angry.
“Am I indeed?” she shot back. “At least I’m not predictable and boring!”
“I’d rather be boring and predictable than forever getting into scrapes because I jump to conclusions, then make foolish, life-altering decisions based on false assumptions.”
Sam looked incredulous. “And just what does that mean? Mother’s right. You must speak more plainly, Julian!”
Julian eyed her complacently. He felt that, suddenly and miraculously, all his troubles could be very close to an end … if he played his cards right. He felt he knew exactly what had happened last night to make Sam enter into a hasty betrothal with Jean-Luc Bouvier. She must have seen him with Charlotte in the supper room and misconstrued their tender conversation as a marriage proposal being offered and accepted. She then must have turned impulsively to Jean-Luc and accepted the marriage proposal he had undoubtedly made just moments before in some back chamber of the Wilmots’ town house!
Yes, incredible as it seemed, it all made sense! Julian was thrilled, exhilarated! This meant that Sam still loved him!
Of course the thing to do now would be to sit Sam down immediately and explain to her that there had been a ridiculous misunderstanding, then beseech her—as her mother had also urged—to speak plainly about her feelings. And to express his true feelings to her.
Julian coughed gently behind his hand to hide his smile. Yes, that would be the logical and practical thing to do. But it would also be predictable and boring. He could think of another way of bringing out Sam’s true feelings that was much more fun … But what to do about Madame DuBois?
“I would like to explain what I mean, Sam,” Julian began, “but I’d rather do it at some other time and place.”
“Naturally,” Sam said with weary sarcasm.
“Besides, I daresay your mother would not appreciate—” He stopped suddenly as he turned to defer to Genevieve and discovered her missing. They were quite alone in the room. “Where the deuce has your mother gone off to, I wonder?” he muttered.
Sam turned and also looked toward the sofa where her mother had been seated just moments before. “Oh, dear! She’s gone!”
“She certainly slipped out quietly,” Julian observed, not
displeased.
“The way we were screaming at each other, we wouldn’t have heard her even if she’d stomped out and slammed the door behind her!” Sam lamented.
“Speak for yourself, brat. I never scream,” Julian informed her haughtily.
“We’ve probably offended her, Julian. We’ve behaved like a couple of children!”
“A couple of children?”
Sam propped her fists on her hips and glowered. “If you’re going to say that I’m the only child in this room, I’ll … I’ll…”
Julian smiled a dare. “You’ll do what, brat?”
They were at a standoff. She was simmering mad, and he was thoroughly amused.
And aroused. Hell, he’d never seen her look more lovely. Her eyes were brilliant blue. Her skin was rosy. And with her chin jutting out and her lips in a pout, she looked damned kissable.
He was about to throw all caution to the wind and take the baggage into his arms right then and there, when there was a discreet knock at the door. Julian and Sam both startled—like guilty children indeed!—and turned, expecting to see Sam’s mother enter the room. But, instead, it was the butler, Smead.
Smead was not robust like Hedley. Rather he was small and thin and his bald pate was as smooth and shiny as a billiard ball. And he had a perpetual look of puckered disapproval around his thin lips and gaunt cheeks. Balancing a silver tray aloft on the tips of his fingers—on which reposed a bottle of wine—he positioned himself just inside the door and fixed his gaze on a point just to the right of Julian’s left ear.
“Lord Serling, Miss Darlington,” he announced in formal accents. “I have a message from the mistress.”
“A message?” Sam exclaimed, alarmed. “But where is she?”
“The mistress has left for the theater, miss. She—”