The Notorious Nobleman

by Nancy Lawrence

  Julia’s eyes met Gavins’s. In their dark depths, she detected no evidence of a man about to declare himself. Her heart sank.

  If he cared for her, now was the time to say it. If his intentions were honorable, nothing would have prevented his saying so. Instead, he was silent. To Julia, his silence was more eloquent than any protests he might have made.

  The vicar nodded his head wisely, “I thought as much. Be good enough, if you please, to keep your distance from Lady Pettingale from this day on.”

  Without another word, he escorted Julia and Harriet to the cloak room then out into the summer evening.

  Julia climbed up into the Clouster’s carriage. Her heart was pounding as she looking across at the vicar and his wife. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she said in a low but firm voice. “You caused a greater commotion than was necessary. You should have left me alone to deal with the duke.”

  The carriage lurched forward into the evening darkness, masking Harriet’s expression as she said, “It was clear he intended to dance with you.”

  “But he didn’t. I asked him not to dance with me and he didn’t. We only sat down for a moment’s conversation and he would have ended that, too, when I asked. But you didn’t give me the chance. You caused a great scene unnecessarily.”

  “But it was necessary, my dear friend. I saw him spirit you away to a secluded corner and I could scare believe it. How could any of us know the duke would behave in such a manner? And at a public assembly, too! I ask you: What kind of friends would Mr. Clouster and I be if we had left you to fend for yourself?”

  “Just so,” said Mr. Clouster. “We are the most devoted of friends, which is why we cannot stand by and allow you to make the same mistake twice.”

  Julia thought hard for a moment. “The same mistake? What do you mean?”

  “I am referring,” he said, lowering his voice as if he were afraid he might be overheard, “to your unfortunate partiality for unsuitable men. My dear wife informed me of the circumstance of your marriage. Not only did you wed a man unworthy of you, but you eloped with him, as well. It appears to me that you are very close to repeating the same unfortunate behavior that has since caused you nothing but misery and shame.”

  Julia felt her anger rise. She said, stonily, “You presume too much. I appreciate that you are trying to do me a service, but to compare a folly I committed when I was young—”

  “A marriage is not to be entered into lightly,” said Mr. Clouster, in a tone he usually reserved for Sunday sermons.

  She was about to make a hasty retort, but Harriet stopped her by reaching over and grasping her hand. “Julia, please don’t mistake our attempts to help you as anything more. We are not judging you. We are simply trying to save you from yourself and from that odious man. It is good of you to defend him, but you cannot know him as we do. After all, you’ve only seen the man three times.”

  That much was true, but Julia was certain that those three occasions were enough to prove that, beneath his sometimes scandalous behavior, he was a good and kind man at heart. It was also enough for her to realize that her attraction to him caused every other man to pale in comparison. Even Mr. Worthing, whom Harriet had touted as the most eligible bachelor in the neighborhood, could not measure up to half the duke’s timber, in Julia’s estimation.

  Harriet released her hand and leaned back, saying, “And after his behavior tonight, we now know that his intentions toward you are not honorable. I’m certain you don’t wish to think ill of anyone, but you heard for yourself the exchange between my dear husband and the duke. He is not a man of honor and he never should have singled you out for attention in such a fashion as he did tonight.”

  Harriet continued to speak so for the next several minutes while Julia blessed the darkness of the carriage. She felt very close to tears—whether from hurt or anger, she couldn’t decide—and she dared not trust herself to speak. In her heart she knew there was truth in Harriet’s words. She—along with half the assembled guests—had heard Mr. Clouster demand that the duke state his intentions toward her and the duke had declined. In front of an assembly full of people, he had declined.

  It was a difficult lesson to learn that the man she loved did not return her regard; and to have learned it in front of Harriet and her husband was quite the bitterest of pills. Vividly, she recalled the times she had championed the duke. How naïve she had been! How stupid!

  She was consumed by such thoughts as the carriage bowled along toward the vicarage. Vaguely, Julia was aware of Harriet’s voice droning on and on for a good portion of a mile; and she only noticed that Harriet had stopped talking when she heard her gasp slightly.

  Julia looked at her friend and saw that her expression had frozen into one of stunned surprise and that her attention was riveted on something outside the window of the carriage.

  Julia leaned forward to follow Harriet’s gaze. In the moonlight she could discern a small rise some distance away, and atop it was a figure on horseback, watching the progress of their carriage as it made its way along the lane.

  Her heart leapt within her breast. She recognized him immediately, of course. It was the Duke of Warminster who sat so imposingly astride his mount, and her breath caught as she waited to see what, if anything, he would do.

  He didn’t keep her waiting long. As Julia watched from the carriage, he set his horse in motion. The spirited animal caricoled slightly, then set off pall-mall down the rise on a direct course for their carriage.

  In an instant he was on the road before them, forcing them to a halt. Gracefully, he slipped from his saddle and flung open the carriage door.

  He cast a cursory glance toward Harriet and her husband; then, wordlessly, he held out his hand toward Julia.

  Her lips went dry and she flicked her tongue nervously over them. She didn’t dare look at Harriet or at the vicar, for she knew what she would see in their faces: shock, disapproval, horror. They would be stunned to see that she even hesitated instead of rejecting his gesture outright. But she did not look at them. She looked only at the duke, searching for some sign that would tell her what she wanted to know; that would convince her that she was right to follow her heart instead of letting her prim-and-proper head dictate her actions.

  Slowly, tentatively, she stretched out her hand toward his; but some remaining scruple caused her to stop just short of touching him. She looking unblinking into his eyes, willing him to say somethinganythingthat would help her make up her mind.

  He obliged by gruffly saying, “Julia Pettingale, I’m a bounder and a cad. I can give you a dozen reasons why you shouldn’t marry me and you can probably give me a dozen more.”

  She found her voice. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  He hesitated. He almost succumbed to that nagging doubt that said any marriage proposal he might offer Julia Pettingale would only end in rejection. He wouldn’t go through that; he wouldn’t be able to bear losing her. But if he didn’t pose the question, he knew she would be lost to him forever. He steeled himself and said, “Yes, I’m asking you to marry me.”

  She didn’t realize she had been holding her breath; but she must have been, for she gave a great sigh of laughing relief and placed her hand in his.

  “Julia! You cannot do this!” uttered Harriet, aghast.

  The vicar was more direct. “Julia, I forbid you to get down from this carriage! I’m shocked to think you would even entertain such a proposal! You’re a willful, shameless girl!”

  “You are speaking to the woman I intend to marry,” said the Duke, warningly. “I could call you out for that, Clouster.”

  “But you won’t,” said Julia, stepping lightly down from the carriage. “I shall not I care what he may call me now, for I know that one day very soon, he shall call me your wife.”

  “Very soon, indeed,” agreed the Duke, and his expression softened. “In the meantime, I’m taking you to your father, Julia.”

  “My father?” she repeated, stunned. “But h
e disowned me! He wants nothing to do with me!”

  “On the contrary, he wants very much to see you. He loves you and misses you.”

  She cast him a dazzling look. “My father wants to see me? But howSomehow I am sure I shall have you to thank for this!”

  “Don’t start adorning me with hero qualities. I had to see you restored to your father unless I wished to marry a penniless widow.”

  She laughed happily. “When shall I see him?”

  “I can have you there tomorrow, if we make a start for it first thing in the morning.”

  Reverend Clouster scowled. “And what do you intend to do until morning?” he demanded.

  “Have no fear, Clouster, we’ll observe the proprieties. I’ll take good care of Julia.”

  “Why should I believe you?” demanded the vicar. “Why should I take the word of a man of your repute? Why should I think you will treat Julia any differently than you have treated countless women in the past?”

  “Because I love her.” Gavin said the words quietly, and when he was done, he was rather surprised to realize how easily they had come to him. He decided to say them again; but this time, he clasped both Julia’s hands in his and looked into her eyes. “Because I love you.”

  Her answering smile almost took his breath away. “And I love you, too.”

  He didn’t need to hear anything more. In one strong, swift movement he lifted her in his arms and set her on the back of his horse. Then, just as he had on another occasion, he climbed up behind her and wrapped his arms about her to draw her against the strength of his body.

  Looking down, Julia could see Harriet’s face go red. “Julia! Julia Pettingale, you cannot go off like that! Why, it’s—it is positively indecent!”

  Julia ignored her friend’s disapproval and said, instead, “Good-bye, dear Harriet. Thank you for letting me stay with you. You must call at Merrifield and visit me. Soon, I hope!”

  “But not too soon,” said Duke, with a pointed look that revived the color in Harriet’s cheeks. He swung his mount about and set off toward home. But he didn’t travel very far before he felt an urgent need to bring his horse to a halt and kiss Julia quite thoroughly.

  When he was done, he looked down into her face, raised so charmingly toward his. He felt a niggling of conscience and asked, “Are you very certain about this, Julia? There’s still time to change your mind. There’s still time to do the right thing and go back to the vicarage with your friends.”

  “I am doing the right thing,” she said with certainty.

  “But my reputationYou heard for yourself what Clouster said about me and my women.”

  “Petty rumors,” she pronounced. “What do I care for them?”

  One of his dark brows flew to a challenging angle. “Is it possible? Are you the very same Julia Pettingale I met just a few days ago who spouted respectable phrases and adjured me to have a care for my reputation?”

  “Indeed, I am,” she said, raising her lips very invitingly toward his. “But I have decided that I should like to have a scandalous reputation of my ownOne that shall rival yours. What do you say to that?”

  He smiled slightly. “I say you have come to the right teacher,” he said; and he tightened his arms about her and kissed her wholeheartedly.

  The End