"You dismiss her as if her feelings don’t matter. She is deeply enamored with you, Jonathan. Does that not mean anything?"
Jonathan bit back the disbelieving chuckle that nearly popped from his lips. "Julianna in love with me? Don’t be silly. She couldn’t possibly—"
"I know," Lady Chesterfield agreed, nodding her head with vigor. "She is entirely too good for a man who would disregard her as you have. And yet she has the tenderest of feelings for you." She leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers, eyeing him as if he were the most fly ridden platter at a picnic luncheon.
"I can’t disagree. I have lived my life as a single man doing what I please with whom I please. Surely, if she loved me as you say, she wouldn’t have allowed me to continue pursuing my passions without as much as a word. Without as much as a hint of jealousy."
"I have born witness to your philandering ways, Jonathan and if you recall properly, not once did Julianna condone your rakish behavior. Why when she learned Constance Whitcomb was coming to the wedding she very nearly lost her breakfast."
"Lady Constance is a weed," Jonathan retorted and glanced toward the door. Maybe he should rush up the stairs to Julianna’s room and confront her. Surely, they would have a good laugh. Love him? Poppycock!
"A weed?" Lady Chesterfield interjected. "What does that mean?"
He sighed. May as well show his true colors once and for all. "It means she is pretty enough but not something I want in my garden."
"Disgusting Lord Denbigh. I would have liked to think more of you."
He deserved that and he knew it. "I beg your pardon."
"The time for pleasantries is obviously over," Lady Chesterfield said, standing. "Is Julianna someone you’d like to plant in your garden, for if she is not the best flower you have ever seen, then it is time to end her torment. Allow someone worthy to pluck her and make her his."
Chapter Two
Julianna opened her eyes. The light from the window was a glaring reminder of the night before, a night that had taunted her fatigued mind with promises of sleep. Sleep that arrived alongside the harsh call of the barnyard rooster and lasted less than two hours. She was awake now. Awake and dreading the lonely day to come.
As if she'd aged a hundred years in the course of seven hours, she slowly sat up, her limbs heavy, her back aching.
Still, today was a new day and a new day always held mystery and promise. With luck she would meet Jonathan on her daily stroll into town. They would talk, he would tease her and all would be right with the world
A soft smile touched her lips at the thought of him. He made getting up worthwhile. That was for certain and yet her heart ached with a longing that she knew would never be satisfied. He was for her and yet he hadn't realized it. He never would.
At the light tapping on her bed chamber door, she stood and pulled a robe over her shoulders.
"Julianna dear? It's Grandmother."
"Do come in," Julianna called, tightening the belt around her waist.
Grandmother entered, her usually stern gaze warm, a smile creasing her weathered face. "How is your headache? Nancy told me you refused to touch your supper last night."
"All is well," Julianna assured her but the lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She was not well. She was tired, sad, lonely.
"I hope so, for I have a bit of a surprise for you."
Julianna forced herself to smile, wondering just what version of surprise her grandmother would offer. A day of laboring over daffodils? Food delivered to the poor? The lighting of candles in church? All nice, but not what she needed.
"You know I love surprises," Julianna replied, reaching for her hairbrush. It would take at least a hundred strokes to repair the damage tossing and turning had caused.
Of course, what did it matter? The man she loved looked through her as if she didn't exist. She may as well allow the locks to do their worst.
She was destined to be alone. Her heart would allow her no happiness with another. And Jonathan was a lost cause. The knot in her throat that accompanied the realization had fresh tears burning her already aching eyes.
Grandmother sat down on the bed and stared expectantly at her. "Are you listening, child?"
"I'm sorry." She sighed. "I suppose I don't feel very well. I feel out of sorts."
"I know." She patted the bed. "Come sit by me. Let me comb your hair as you did when you were but a little thing."
Julianna sat and handing Grandmother the brush and closed her eyes, enjoying the relaxing strokes of the soft boar's hair bristles. She would be back to sleep in no time if Grandmother continued. And would that be such a terrible thing?
"Now, for the surprise."
Julianna didn't respond, just listened and savored the welcome lightening of her mood.
"We are going to London."
Her eyes popped open. London…oh dear. She didn't like London. The air was thick with fog and humanity. The streets dirty. And the ton. Dear lord, she never fared well with those people.
"We are?" she asked, wondering how Grandmother could think a trip to London would be a surprise. Of course, she didn't say a pleasant surprise.
"Yes, we will be staying at Lady Martha Whitcomb's townhouse. She and her daughter will be coming in from the Inn to stay here. A sort of swap of properties for a month or two."
Anxiety twisted her stomach into a knot. "Constance Whitcomb staying here at Oak Park? A stone's throw away from Denbigh Hall? You can't be serious."
"I most certainly am serious. We need to be away from here. You need a change of scenery. Besides, Bennett Nesbitt and his family so want to get to know you."
"But Jonathan…"
Grandmother stopped combing her hair and instead set her hand upon Julianna's shoulder. "Is never going to marry you."
Hearing the words that constantly picked at her resolve said aloud and her hand flew to her mouth. "He may change his mind," she muttered weakly, knowing there was no use in denying her words.
"No," she replied sternly. "I asked him straight out last night if he would consider marriage."
Julianna's lower lip trembled, the ache in her heart so severe she thought it may kill her. "You did?"
"And he said he wasn't ready to marry."
"You shouldn't have placed him in that situation. He felt trapped. Of course he declined." Julianna sprang to her feet and wrapped her arms about her waist.
Grandmother lifted her gaze, the sorrow in the depths of her eyes profound. "No child. He said marrying you would be like marrying his sister. He loves you, but not in the way you need."
Julianna stared at her grandmother, not knowing what to say or how to feel. "All this time he has viewed me as a sister? But just last night I thought I saw something in his eyes."
"Just last night he told me he wouldn’t marry you. I asked him to leave and never come back and he left. He doesn’t want you as his bride. He only wants you as his friend when he’s lonely. There’s nothing for you but what scraps he tosses your way. You’re my granddaughter. You deserve better." Lady Chesterfield reached up and gave her arm a gentle squeeze.
"I know how badly you had hoped for a marriage but it's not too late for you to have a happy life."
"But with another man?" Julianna interrupted, her voice rising with the question. The room seemed suddenly too small, too hot. Hopelessness washed over her and she fought for her breath.
"Yes."
"I don't think I will ever love anyone the way I love Jonathan." Tears poured from her eyes and deep, wracking sobs had her stomach muscles aching.
"I know," Grandmother said, standing and wrapping her arms around Julianna, her embrace surprisingly strong. "But there are so many people in this world. There is destined to be a man out there who will love you with all of his heart."
"And we will find this man in London?" she asked through her sobs.
"Perhaps you already know him. Bennett Nesbitt was truly interested in you until he saw you with Jonathan. He told me as much. He is
a good match and my heart is set on seeing you settled."
"Bennett?" she asked, her hands shaking, her head suddenly light. "We hardly know one another and I don’t think I could ever love him. I wouldn't wish to put him in the position I now find myself."
Grandmother kissed her cheek. "Let us go to London this day, if for nothing more than to put some distance between you and this sorrow."
Julianna buried her face in the soft, warm vanilla scent of her grandmother's hair. "But shouldn’t I at least say goodbye to him?"
Grandmother let out a sigh, her small frame practically deflating beneath her embrace. "Why? He has made his lack of intentions known. He doesn’t want you. If you go rushing to Denbigh Hall to say farewell, he will not only know where you’re going but that you have no respect for yourself, or for my wishes."
Juliana released her hold and gazed into her grandmother’s silvery eyes. "Of course I respect your wishes. But I need to say goodbye."
"No you don’t. Just as he has so willingly done, you too must end this friendship, or love affair or whatever it is you wish to call it." She smoothed a strand of hair from Julianna’s forehead, the gesture so gentle and loving that Julianna knew she couldn’t disobey her. "And the next time you do happen upon him, which you know you will, I entreat you, do not allow him back as your unconditional friend. For if you do, he will continue to take advantage and you will never have the life you want or need."
Julianna allowed her tears to flow freely. "Perhaps a trip to London will ease the ache in my heart."
Grandmother kissed her cheek. "That’s my sweet girl. And remember, you are a Chesterfield, that in itself is deserving of more."
***
Jonathan urged Arion forward, the stallion groaning at the sharp knock of his master’s boot heels against his ribs. Of course the animal wasn’t in a hurry to go anywhere, having been deprived of his breakfast and morning apple.
"Move your blasted arse," he grumbled. Arion blew out an impatient breath and increased his pace from cantor to full gallop.
"Thank you," Jonathan shouted and tapped the bay on the neck. "Atta lad!"
Oh but the wind felt good against his unshaven face. He knew he must look a wreck but damn it all, sleep had evaded him. Food didn’t interest him. All he wanted was to confront Julianna. To reclaim his friendship and end the silliness of the night before.
Surely, Lady Chesterfield’s claims were wrong. There was no way on earth that Julianna could love him. Not in a romantic sense. It was absurd. Ridiculous. More than likely brought on by too much champagne or perhaps a bout of senility on the old girls part.
Still, he had to see Julianna, for despite his suspicions, he knew he wouldn’t rest until the foolishness had ended and he had recouped his life. For without Julianna to discuss things he’d be doomed to listening to the postulating of his friends or worse the silly prattle of some conquest he had yet to come upon. She was the constant in his life and he liked it that way. And despite his admiration for Lady Chesterfield, until he heard Julianna tell him their relationship was over unless they wed, he simply wouldn’t skulk away like a whipped dog. He had his pride, after all.
Dashing across the stream that divided the Denbigh and Chesterfield Estates, he slowed Arion to a cantor. The sight of Oak Park sprawled out before him and melancholy spread over him like a wet cloak. Julianna was behind those thick stone walls, reeling either from his lack of a declaration or more than likely the stupidity of her grandmother’s misguided observations.
Slowing Arion even more, he raked his fingers through the horse’s wild mane, the idea of seeing his best friend suddenly leaving him with stones deep in his gut. Was he nervous?
"No!" he very nearly shouted. He wasn’t nervous. He didn’t get nervous when he was chasing a skirt across a ballroom and by God, he didn’t get nervous when he called on Julianna. "Damn it," he muttered. Clenching his jaw, he tapped Arion’s sides and the horse sped up. He would put an end to this nonsense once and for all.
***
Julianna walked the path, the soft purple rhododendron blooms leaving her heart to ache. For when she returned to Oak Park, they would be gone, the camellias would be finished, the azaleas done for another year. She would miss her favorite season, trapped in the Whitcomb’s townhouse, surrounded by Constance’s things and not her own.
But she would enjoy them now and she plucked a purple bloom and studied it, still walking. Still trying to enjoy the moment despite the ache in her heart.
As she turned the narrow cobbled path that led deeper into the back garden and toward the orchard, she heard the soft thud of hooves on the packed earth of the drive just beyond the garden wall. Looking up from her blossom, her heart lurched. For just beyond the stone fence, atop his dark stallion was Jonathan, the sun glinting off his dark blonde curls.
Her breath caught in her throat at the sight before. There was no joy in his countenance. His intense gaze pierced hers and sent her heart in to a spasm of rapid beats. Dear Lord, what did he want? Anxiety skittered across her skin and left her feeling light headed.
Still, she lifted her chin and refused to look away. If he had something to say, he had better say it. You're a Chesterfield. That in itself has you deserving more…
Her grandmother's words encouraged her and she held onto the quaking pride with all the strength she could. It was now or never for them. It was time to move forward…together or apart.
In a swift motion Jonathan jumped from Arion's back and over the fence. Her heart fluttered again. My but he was as graceful as a lynx.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, cursing herself for the quiver in her voice. "You said all you needed to say last night."
He didn't respond, just kept coming toward her, his shoulders squared, his gaze unwavering. She recognized that look. One that promised determination and a stubbornness that rivaled the barnyard's most obstinate mule.
"Why are you here?" she asked, taking a step back, her body colliding painfully with a Pipperidge bush. He came ever closer, a stealthy cat ready to pounce.
And still she stood there, wanting him to touch her, needing him to erase the pain his indifference had caused.
Now upon her, he set his hands on her shoulders and pulled her to him, his mouth crushing hers as he drew her into a strong, heady embrace.
She yielded to his kiss, her mind spinning, all her senses sparking to life. She pressed herself against him, her hands upon his chest, her finger curling in the fabric of his jacket.
What was happening to her? Never in her life had she expected his kiss to send flames licking through her body. Her core tightened into an aching knot.
God knew she should push him away. She should slap his face and yet she opened her mouth wider to receive his probing tongue. More, damn him, she wanted more. Needed all of him. A low, deep groan slipped from her throat and she slid her hands up, up and around his neck, her fingers entwining the soft curls that brushed his collar.
His hands traced the length of her spine, urging her ever closer.
She felt her self falling, sinking into him, losing herself in the kiss she never believed would happen, but he pushed her away. With her vision still shrouded with lust, she looked in to his eyes, they were darker than she had ever seen them before. His broad chest rose and fell, his mouth a thin, angry line. "You see, we are nothing but friends."
There was a cold, callousness to his words and an iciness in his stare. "If you felt nothing, then you are right." Her heart threatened to burst but what shred of pride she had left, refused to give way. Lifting her hand she landed a heavy blow to his cheek, her fingers stinging as she pulled away. The look on his face one of utter shock, his mouth agape, his eyes alive with anger. "Now leave and don't come back." Tears blinded her. "And consider our bond of friendship dissolved. You are a cruel man."
Finally, her tears lost their battle with gravity and streamed down her cheeks.
"You can't mean that what your grandmother said is true." He sneer
ed. "Surely, you're not in love with me."
"I said leave." She turned her back on him, shame and humiliation spiraled upward from the pit of her stomach. "I have nothing to say to you."
"Julianna—"
"If I ever loved you, I no longer do. You are not the man I believed you to be." She felt sick to her stomach, her entire body quaking with disappointment.
"I'm sorry, I thought…Damnation, I don't know what I thought!"
Lifting her skirts, Julianna rushed into the house leaving Jonathan behind. She didn't look back. She would never look back, it hurt too much. She determined with the slamming of the door, that he had most assuredly kissed her goodbye.
Chapter Three
"Oh look Julianna!" Grandmother positively glowed. Her eyes glistened with excitement. London, certainly did agree with the sweet old thing. "Not one but two invitations!" She held up the folded cards as she rushed forward, barely using her cane for support.
Julianna sat up from her button back chair, and set her sewing on the small table at her side. "Who are they from?" she asked, trying to rouse some enthusiasm from her despaired soul.
"One is from Lady Manchester. She's having a ball this very weekend! She apologizes for the short notice but she's been planning it for months and only learned this day that we were visiting London. Did you pack your rose gown? That so compliments your lovely skin."
"Yes, Grandmother," Julianna replied. "You told me to, remember?"
"And I'll chaperone. Do you suppose it would be scandalous if I wore my green gown? I am a widow, God rest Chesterfield's soul."
"It's hardly scarlet." Julianna smiled. It was good to see her grandmother so happy. With any luck a bit of that happiness would rub off on her.
"Yes, and Nancy will put combs in your hair and feathers?" Grandmother smoothed Julianna's cheek. "No, not feathers but pearls. Yes, pearls in your glorious hair."
His For The Taking Page 2