“No? Then you have not heard the rumors about my master! Or, if you have, you know them to be untrue!” She smiled upon Julia in an approving manner. “That would explain my master’s behavior in bringing you here. You do seem the sort of fine lady who would never listen to horrid gossip!”
“You are very loyal to the Duke,” said Julia, trying to make sense of the housekeeper’s words.
“And why should I not be? There isn’t a tenant or servant or pensioner on this estate who doesn’t think the world of my master, him being so kind to us all, despite his loss.”
“I had no idea.” Julia was having a difficult time equating the gentleman of Mrs. Crabtree’s description with the surly and rude wastrel she had met at the cottage.
“No, and how could you, for I don’t believe he speaks of his duchess any longer. My master is a man who won’t have his wounds touched, you see.”
“But I never dreamedThere are all those stories about him, you see”
“Bah! Stories!” said Mrs. Crabtree, contemptuously. “I know how the villagers do speak ill of his grace, and let them, I say. We at Merrifield know the truth! His grace may not be the perfect gentleman when he is out in the world, but when he comes home to Merrifield, my master is as kind and good and thoughtful a man as ever walked the earth. Surely, my lady, you are acquainted a little with that side of him.”
Was she? Every whispered story Julia had chanced to overhear about the Duke pointed to a man of wickedness. Even her friend Harriet had repeated in hushed tones stories that cast the Duke of Warminster in the light of a man of decided evil.
But now that she came to think of it, Julia realized that a truly wicked man would have pressed his advantage during the time they were alone together in that little cottage. A ruthless man would have ridden away after the rain had stopped, leaving her alone to fend for herself.
But most importantly, an evil man would never have lifted her up before him on his horse to wrap his wounded arm so securely yet gently about her.
“I suppose I am acquainted a little with that side of his character,” said Julia, and she was immediately rewarded with a smile from Mrs. Crabtree. “I wonder how the duke ever came to be so misjudged?”
“How do any such stories ever come to be?” countered the housekeeper. “Now, my lady, if you will allow me to help you out of that jacket and skirt, I might be in a way of setting some of the damage back to rights. Leave everything to me!”
As Mrs. Crabtree set to work on repairing Julia’s riding habit, the duke’s valet, John Newley, was attempting to restore order to his master’s dress. He had assisted the Gavin out of his clothes and had examined and then rebandaged his wounded arm, pronouncing that it probably did, indeed, require sewing, but if his grace would allow him, he could no doubt stitch the thing up himself.
“You’ve stitched more of my wounds and set too many of my broken bones for me to trust anyone’s skill but yours,” said Gavin, “but not this time, I think. Hennings has sent for a surgeon to do the business.”
Newley stiffened. “A surgeon? Begging your pardon, your grace, but who gave Hennings leave to do so?”
“I did. We thought the wound required expert treatment.”
“Begging your pardon again, but we decided nothing of the sort,” said Newley, with dignity.
“No, of course not. It was Lady Pettingale who made the suggestion that I have a surgeon in.”
“And may I be so bold as to ask, why? If your grace doesn’t think I have the touch for this sort of business, may I remind your grace that it was a physician who set that broken collar bone of yours at half staff; and a cripple he would have made of your arm, toonot to mention a hunchback!had I not come along after and reset the whole business!”
“Yes, yes! I recall that very well!”
“And may I also remind your grace that no one has tended after your scrapes and scratches but me from the time you were well nigh a boy?”
“Yes, I know that, too. I need no such reminder, in fact, but the thing of it is, I made a promise.”
“It will take me only a moment to gather up everything I need,” said his valet, stubbornly.
Lord Warminster hesitated. “No, we’ll do it later this evening when the physician arrives. For now, help me finish dressing so I may be on my way.”
“On your way?” echoed Newley, once again roused to great feeling. “Your grace is in no condition to go anywhere!”
“Nonsense!”
“You’ve lost blood,” he said, with a frown, “and you’ll be weak as a kitten in not too much time if you don’t rest.”
“Stubble it! I intend to go no further than my own drawing room. Now, drat you, help me finish dressing!”
But instead of the finely tailored evening coat the Duke intended to wear, his valet held up a length of black silk that had been fashioned into a sling.
Gavin’s dark brows came together. “What the devil is that for?”
“It is for you to wear so your arm will be held still. To prevent further injury, your grace.”
“Have you gone daft? She’ll think I’m an infant to be molly-coddled.”
“Who shall think such a thing, your grace?”
Gavin pointedly ignored that question, saying, forcefully, “I won’t wear it! It’s a sign of weakness.”
“I should have thought it was a sign of common sense,” said Newley, impudently.
“Curse you, man! Do you want her to think I’ve been brought to my knees by a simple sword wound? Take that thing away and help me with my coat.”
Later, when the Duke entered the drawing room to join Julia, the offending sling had been disposed of and he was attired to his liking in a finely tailored evening coat and vest.
But Julia was not awaiting him in the drawing room at all and he entered to find the room empty. For a momentBut only a moment, he assured himselfhe felt a pang of disappointment.
A great fire had been set to glowing in the hearth and candles had been lit about the room to lend it a soft, warm glow. On a side table he helped himself to a tray of wines and had just finished pouring out a glass of claret when the door opened and Julia entered the room.
She was still in her green riding habit, which, under Mrs. Crabtree’s ministrations, showed considerably less damage than it had a mere hour before. On her feet were a pair of borrowed slippers; and her hair, having long since lost the majority of the pins needed to hold its heavy length in place, had been simply brushed out and tied with a ribbon to cascade in waves down her back.
The effect, he thought, was charming. She looked young and lovely and very beautiful; and again he wondered how on earth he had ever thought differently before.
It was several moments before he could force himself to speak. He said, rather stiffly, “I’ve sent a messenger to the vicarage to let them know you are here. Of course, if you don’t care to wait for your friends to come and collect you, my carriage is at your disposal.”
Julia took a few more steps into the room. “Oh, I am perfectly content to wait for Harriet and her husband.”
He turned his back to her then, and busied his hands with the wine decanters. When he had poured out a glass for her, he crossed the brief distance between them with a few easy strides.
“A mild ratafia,” he said, as she took a sip. “Sit down, won’t you, and be comfortable.”
Julia shunned the stylish armchairs and sank instead onto an overstuffed hassock drawn close in front of the fireplace. “I probably shouldn’t drink this without having something to eat first,” she said, ingeniously. “I am not at all used to drinking wines.”
Gavin drew a chair forward and sat down with his own glass cradled in his hands. “If you mean to enter society, you shall have to develop a taste for the stuff. Surely you drink wine with dinner at home.”
“At the vicarage we are served nothing stronger than a cider. Harriet’s husband fears he would set a poor example if he were to imbibe.”
“I am not at all surprised,” he said, scornfully.
“Please don’t speak cruelly of the vicar. He has been very kind to me, you know.”
“I can imagine he has beenIn between sermons on the proper manner in which you must conduct yourself.”
“I won’t allow you to think ill of the Reverend Mr. Clouster. I owe him a tremendous debt. He allowed Harriet to invite me into their home when no one else would.”
“And in exchange, you undoubtedly must listen to him sermonize“ He stopped short, his attention arrested by what she had said. “When no one else would?”
Julia’s chin went up a notch. “Very few people, I discovered, are willing to take in a penniless widow.”
“Why did you not go home, then?”
“I have no home. As I told you, I have nothing of value.”
“Not even a home? I don’t believe it! You were born to the manor!”
“But I was not married from the manor,” she countered, in an even voice that held not the least trace of emotion, “and therein, you see, lies the mischief.”
Gavin smiled slightly as he realized, at last, the meaning of her words. “Well, well, well! So the prim and proper Lady Julia Pettingale was married over the anvil! I would never have guessed it of you!”
She laughed softly. “Are you very much shocked?”
“I am indeed. And when I think of how many times today I have listened to your maxims of propriety, I can scarcely believe it!”
“It is true, I’m afraid,” she said, rather ruefully. “My father disapproved of the man I had chosen to marrywith good reason I discovered too late. But at the time, I was quite convinced that my father was merely acting out of cruelty. I thought he opposed the marriage simply because his pride was at stake; because I was the only person who had ever dared to defy Sir Walter Gardner.”
Gavin looked at her in surprise. “Your father is Sir Walter Gardner? I’m a little acquainted with him. If I’m not mistaken, he owns the finest stable in England.”
“Have you bought one of his horses?”
“No, but he’s offered on several occasions to buy one mine. He wants my grey, but I have no intention of selling it to him. I must say, though, that he has been tenacious in his offers.”
She smiled slightly. “My father can be very persistent.”
“And was he persistent in trying to dissuade you from marrying?”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t listen to him. The day I left his house with William was the day my father pledged to never see me again. He has been a man of his word.”
Julia thought that the passage of time would have enabled her to speak of that long-ago day with perfect equanimity; but no sooner had those words left her lips than she was forcibly reminded of the last time she had seen her father. She missed him and longed to see him, and she felt the disarming prick of tears in the backs her eyes.
She fought against her betraying emotions by forcing a smile and saying, “I had some jewels and some money of my own that I had inherited from my mother when she died. I thought that was all I needed in life and I eloped with William. As it happened, William cared more for my money and jewels than he did for me.”
Gavin favored her with a hard, probing stare. “Are you telling me your husband squandered your inheritance?”
“Every last groat, I’m afraid.”
“Your husband was a bounder,” he said, bluntly.
“He didn’t mean to be. Over the four years of our marriage, William eventually took everything I had; but he always thought he could win the money back, if only he had a lucky turn of the cards or a bet on the right horse. But in the end, only the men with whom he gambled at Watier’s profited.”
“Your husband was a member at Watier’s?”
“Yes, he was. Did you meet him there? I would not be at all surprised if you did for the place was practically a second home for him. He was quite good friends with some of the members: Lord Elphinham and Mr. Dobney were two fast friends of his.”
Gavin conjured up a vague recollection of an eager young Tulip who had crossed his path at the club years before. “He didn’t belong there, if he’s the chap I think he is.”
“I would have thought he could have been a crony of yours,” said Julia, in some surprise. “He aspired toward the Corinthian set and was quite horse-mad.”
“Your husband was no more a crony of mine than the man in the moon. Men like Elphinham and Dobney are nothing more than Peep ’o Day boys who think it smart to get swine-drunk and cause mischief. Your husband may have aspired to the Corinthian set, but if he fell in with men such as Elphinham and Dobney, it’s more like he found amusement in boxing the Watch, kicking up larks and gambling his way into Dun territory.”
Julia looked at him blankly. “And you don’t do such things?”
“You do have a poor opinion of me, don’t you?” he asked, in a voice that was more amused than angry. “No, I do not do such things.”
Julia looked away for a moment. At last she said, very thoughtfully, “William was so intent upon aping any man he thought of fashion, he never stopped to consider the consequences."
“You married a mere boy, Julia,” said Gavin, his gaze intent upon her.
She decided she rather liked hearing him say her name in that deep rumbling voice of his. There was a gentleness in the way he said her name that she instinctively knew was more in keeping with his natural way of speaking than all the gruff insults and curses he had thrown at her earlier. She smiled slightly. “But I, you see, at the time was a mere girl.”
His gaze traced the silhouette of her riding habit. “You’re not a mere girl any longer.”
The tone of his voice left Julia feeling suddenly a little breathless and a good deal disarmed. Her intuition told her that he found her attractive. It had been a long time since she had felt flattered by a man’s attentions. She didn’t know if it was his unexpected compliment or his willing and sympathetic ear that was her undoing, but once again she found herself close to tears. She closed her eyes, trying to block out any emotion, but it was too late. The tears were in her eyes before she could halt them.
Gavin saw them and reacted without thinking. He dropped to one knee on the floor in front of her and wrapped his good arm about her to draw her against him. She didn’t resist. She merely allowed him to hold her as her tears trailed slowly down the soft planes of her face.
It had been a long time since he had held a woman so tenderly. She was soft and pliant, and she smelled of sweetness and violet water. She moved slightly and bumped his sore arm, but he didn’t care. He would have let her bump it a hundred times if it meant he could go on holding her.
But after only a moment in his arms, Julia pulled away and dabbed at her moist eyes with the tips of her slim fingers. “I am sorry! I cannot think what came over me! I haven’t cried like that since I last saw my papa.”
“Then perhaps it was time you did.”
She looked quickly up at his face still so close to hers, thinking she had detected a note of sarcasm in his voice. “William took everything! Everything! Even my jewels were sold to pay his horrid debts! And after all thatafter he took every last item that was dear to me!William died and now I am alone and . . .” Her chin quivered threateningly and she fought to control it.
“Go home to your father, Julia,” said Gavin, softly.
“I cannot. He disowned me. When I left his house, we said some hateful things to each other. He will never take me in. Oh, I don’t suspect you can ever understand!”
“I expect I understand perfectly well,” he said. “Merely because time has passed does not mean you cannot still feel the pain of losing someone. Would you admit that is a fair assessment?”
“You do understand!” she said faintly, and she dipped her head to hide the tears that again filled her eyes.
“I’m not an idiot. Even though your husband was a bounder, I suspect you loved him. Did you?”
She looked up at him. “Did I what?�
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“My question was plainly spoke. Did you love your husband?”
She shook her head sadly. “No. I thought I did at first, but it didn’t take long for me to realize how mistaken I was. I fell in love with the romance of being courted by a handsome young man who wanted to marry me. But I did not love him. Still, it no less difficult when he died. Without William, I have no one.”
“I know what it is like to be left behind. HereLet me get you off the floor.”
He clasped her hand and drew her to her feet beside him. When Julia looked up into his darkly guarded expression, she felt a kinship with him, an unexpected bond. She said, softly, “I am sorry you lost your wife.”
No sooner had those tender words left her lips than his features hardened. “Don’t be,” he retorted, and he crossed the room to the wine tray and poured out a fresh glass.
Undeterred, Julia said, softly, “Sometimes grief can change a person’s character.”
He turned around to look at her. “Is that what you think? That I was a good and honest man before I marriedAnd then buried!my wife? You are an innocent, Lady Julia Pettingale! I have been a libertine and a sharp since I first cut my teeth. Haven’t you heard? According to rumor, my behavior is so depraved, even the vicar is fearful of consorting with me!”
“I am not afraid of you,” she said, simply.
“Maybe you should be. My history with women is far from sterling.”
“I know nothing of that part of your history. But if you are judging yourself harshly because your wife died . . .”
“It’s my fault she is dead,” he said, as he watched for her reaction. “I am to blame for it as surely as if I put my fingers about her throat.”
“I cannot believe that of you.”
“I can hardly believe it of myself sometimes. But years ago, when I was younger, I was the same sort of bounder your husband had been. And when I marriedAgain like your husbandI didn’t change my ways. I was still a Neck-or-Nothing and mad for sport. And then one day I set my wife up on the seat beside me in my first perch phaeton. The roads were icyI should have known !” He stopped short and set his mouth into a tight, grim line. After a moment, he squared his shoulders and said, quite angry, “When the phaeton overturned, I jumped clear, but her foot got caught in the rug I had covered her with to keep her warm.”
The Notorious Nobleman Page 4