“What of our aunt and uncle? You know they would be appalled at your behavior.”
“Yes, they would. It pains me, and do not think I am proud of what I am doing. But Aunt Beryl and Uncle John are not fully aware of how I feel, or what it has been like in the village this past year. I have not told them of some of the slights and insults I have received, because I know it would just cause them pain. Believe me, I am sensible of the risk I am taking.”
“Then there is nothing I can say to dissuade you in this reckless plan?”
“I am afraid not, dear cousin.”
“See, willful and stubborn,” Caro sighed with a woeful shake of her head to Mariah, who nodded her agreement.
Julia looked from one to the other, her expression a mixture of indignation and affection. “Really! Have the two of you forgotten that I know you just as well as you know me? Caro, I seem to recall a fine vase being broken in your mother’s boudoir a number of years ago, and you swearing me to secrecy as to how it came to be broken. And, Mariah, do you recall beseeching me to procure an ink pot for you so that you could play a rather cruel prank upon one of your brothers?”
Caro and Mariah exchanged surprised, yet amused, glances. “As you said, Mariah, our Julia is the most generous and thoughtful of creatures! Now, shall I ring for tea?”
Chapter Fifteen
B y mid-afternoon on Tuesday, a dense, low cloud cover hung over the sloping hills of Bath. Caro, ever the optimist, looked out of the salon window and cheerfully pronounced that it would serve as a pleasing backdrop to the fireworks display planned for the evening’s entertainment at Sydney Gardens.
Now, as her maid helped her put the finishing touches to her toilette, Julia fretted over how to behave with the duke.
For several days she had been feeling an inexorable escalation of tension building within her at the thought of seeing the duke again. As promised, the duke’s mother had sent an invitation to join her party at Sydney Gardens. Julia had accepted promptly and, over tea, had urged Mariah to come also.
“I know it promises to be a dreadful crush, but you and your mama must come. If you arrange it artfully, it will appear as if you are just happening by. I shall be ever so pleased to see you and will make the introductions. The duchess, with her impeccable manners, shall invite you and your mama to join us.”
Mariah had agreed to this plan instantly. “Even if it does not work out to your specifications, I should still like to attend the gala night. It sounds a lovely way to spend an evening.”
“Good, it is settled, then. We shall see you there,” Julia had said with satisfaction. But that was the last moment of satisfaction she had felt since.
Two days after the visit to the Orange Grove, Julia, Mariah, and Mrs. Thorncroft returned to the townhouse after an afternoon of shopping. Upon entering the foyer, the butler, Hill, informed her that the Duke of Kelbourne had called while she was out.
Julia had exchanged a startled glance with Mariah as Mrs. Thorncroft vigorously fanned herself with her handkerchief. “Bless me! Mariah dear, I think I need my hartshorn. To think a duke of the realm has called upon our dearest Julia! Mariah, you must endeavor to emulate Julia, for she is certainly doing something right!”
Recalling this now, Julia made a wry face at herself in the mirror. She certainly did not feel as if she was doing anything right. After their last encounter, it was obvious that flirting with the duke was much easier in theory than in actuality. Blast him, when he looked at her with that knowing, amused glint in his eyes, every clever thing she wanted to say shriveled up and blew away.
Frowning, she remembered the nasty things Mr. Fredericks had said to her, and the veiled innuendos Mrs. March had spread through the village. Again, her wounded pride gnawed at her.
Glancing at the clock on the mantel, Julia quickly completed her toilette. From her brief acquaintance with Clive, she knew he was a stickler for punctuality.
Gathering her large, deep green shawl and reticule, she checked her appearance one last time. Without vanity, she knew the deep violet blue of her gown did wonderful things for her pale complexion. She only hoped the duke would think so, too.
Moments later, as a smiling Clive handed her in the coach, Julia was glad of Caro’s excited chatter, for it gave her a few moments to gather her composure. Heavens, she was nervous, she thought as the coach lurched to a start.
When they arrived at Sydney Gardens, Julia noticed the throngs of people—of every level of society—crowding around the entry.
“How shall we ever find the Kelbournes in this crush?” Caro looked crestfallen as her husband helped her from the carriage.
They need not have worried, for the moment they were all down from the coach, two footmen, dressed in burgundy and gray livery, approached and bowed in unison.
“His Grace, the Duke of Kelbourne, sends his felicitations. If you please, come this way,” the older one said.
Julia exchanged a glance with Caro, and the look on her cousin’s face showed how impressed she was with this attention.
“Very good,” Clive said, offering Caro his right arm. Julia followed.
As the group made their way through the crowded garden, the tall footmen took care that the Farrens and Julia were close behind. As they walked up a meandering path, Julia looked ahead, through the trees and past the milling crowds, and saw an elegant stone pavilion. The sky was deep azure, and even though it would not be full dark for some time, she noticed the multitude of fairy lights that illuminated the paths, trees, and lush flower beds.
A vibration of excitement traveled through the very air, and Julia was aware of her own mounting sense of excitement as they weaved their way through the dense throngs of merrymakers. The breadth of the footmen’s shoulders and the consequence of their livery seemed to part the crowd with ease.
They left the path and moved up to a flat area of lawn near the pavilion, which afforded a sweeping vista of the rest of the park and a clear view of the orchestra below, several hundred yards away.
Although anyone was free to enjoy the garden for the price of admittance, it was apparent to Julia that the duke had claimed, in essence, this area for his party. A large number of people mingled on the grass, and footmen were setting up chairs and arranging cushions for the comfort of the guests. A dozen or so blazing torches encircled the area, successfully creating a certain illusion of privacy.
Gazing around with a smile, Julia saw the lights of town beginning to twinkle in the distance as the fading sun spread before her. The whole scene reminded her of some romantic version of a medieval fair.
“My, the Kelbournes entertain in such state and elegant opulence—I hardly know how to behave,” Caro said, her tone filled with awe.
As the footmen led them within the circle of torches, Julia’s eyes instantly found the duke. With a nervous gulp, she tried to slow her breathing. It was not just his superior height and athletic build that made him stand out. Her attention was caught by something else altogether—the confidence and resolve displayed so plainly on his countenance.
Again, she was struck by how vital and handsome he looked. His appearance was in complete contrast to the ogre her imagination had created this past year.
He stood with his sister, Lady Fallbrook, and Lord Mattonly. The duke’s expression showed that he was listening attentively, with no sign of condescension or impatience.
How amiable and easily charming he could be, she thought as she and the Farrens drew nearer—and how thoughtless and arrogant. The oddest touch of sadness mixed with her deep resentment of him.
More than anything, she wanted to cause him pain, to prick the mantle of pride and superiority he wore so well. She wanted to affect his life the way he had affected hers.
Of course, she knew powerful men like the duke could not be truly damaged. But even a fleabite could annoy, she thought, a half-smile rising to her lips at the thought. Satisfaction was what she was seeking; she could not seem to set aside her thoughts of revenge no m
atter how she rebuked herself.
Somehow, she knew she would have no peace until she hurt him. This unkind and unladylike thought caused her a stab of shame, but she resolutely pushed the unwanted emotion aside. She knew her own nature, and as long as she had the hope of capturing the duke’s attention, she would keep trying—all so she could finally put to rest her desire for revenge.
The duke turned at that moment, and Julia experienced an unexpected thrill at the smile he sent her.
“Lord and Lady Farren. Miss Allard. We are pleased you could join us this evening. The weather has been kind to us, has it not?”
Julia sucked in her breath at the teasing, intimate smile he sent her. Obviously, his comment referred back to their previous conversation at the Orange Grove. She felt a little shock of surprise that he was not going to refer to her coldness toward him as he had driven her home.
“Yes, it is a lovely evening,” she responded a little breathlessly.
His smile held hers for a moment before he turned to the others. “All of you are acquainted with my sister. But I do not believe Lord and Lady Farren have met Lord Mattonly.”
As the duke performed the introductions in the light of the torches, she sighed at the ethereal beauty of the gloaming and admired the elegance of the other guests.
The sight of the duke’s grandmother standing a little distance away with several ladies caught her attention. Studying the lady, Julia decided that the duke, in physical appearance, was more like his grandmother than his mother.
The duchess looked over at that moment and beckoned Julia with an imperious wave of her hand.
Eyebrows rising in surprise, Julia sketched a brief curtsy to the duke and the others before crossing the lawn to the duchess.
“Miss Julia Allard, how good of you to join us this evening. A few young faces are welcome.”
Dipping into her best curtsy, Julia lowered her head. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Let me make known to you my friends. Mrs. Sheldon, Mrs. Brent, and Miss Brent.”
Julia curtsied to the three other ladies and wondered at the duchess paying her such marked attention. Mrs. Brent and Mrs. Sheldon looked to be the same age as the duchess. Miss Brent was an extremely thin, middle-aged woman who barely returned Julia’s smile.
“Miss Allard is from Chippenham, I believe. She is an interesting creature, for I spent more than an hour in her company some days ago and she spoke nary a word about herself. Most singular compared to other young ladies of my acquaintance.”
A footman approaching with a tray of wineglasses saved Julia from having to respond immediately to the duchess’s startling comment.
Accepting a crystal goblet from the servant, Julia glanced at the duchess and was relieved, yet somewhat puzzled, by the glint of amusement dancing in the lady’s hazel eyes.
“Do you find young ladies interesting as long as they say little, Your Grace?” Something in the mischievous gleam in the formidable lady’s gaze convinced her that the duchess would not take offense at her pert reply.
The duchess gave a delighted laugh. “Saucy girl! But I confess you are correct. Most fashionable young women are tedious in the way they prattle on about themselves. I also find you unique in the fact that you seem to prefer the quiet charm of Bath to the excitement of London.”
“But Bath is quite exciting of late, Your Grace,” Mrs. Sheldon spoke up. “Now that your grandson indulges us with his presence, and some of his friends have come. Why, I believe Bath shall soon be just as fashionable as Brighton.”
“Oh, tosh. My grandson can barely stay awake since he arrived in Bath. I am surprised he has not resorted to arranging a pugilist match in the Pump Room or setting the Upper Rooms on fire, just to relieve his boredom. Every morning, I confess myself astonished that he has not sneaked off to London in the middle of the night.”
Julia hid her smile behind her glass while Mrs. Brent nodded her agreement. “Yes, having known your grandson for years, I am surprised he tolerates this quiet town. He’s always been so full of high spirits; London seems the place for him.”
The duchess snorted. “High spirits! How delicately put, Mrs. Brent. But you know as well as I that my grandson is a shocking rake.”
At this, Julia almost choked on her wine. The duchess sent her a keen glance.
“Why do you look so astonished, Miss Allard? But I forget, you have spent little time in London. ‘Tis no secret that my grandson leaps from one scrape to the next. Those dreadful gossip columns in Town are always full of his escapades.”
“Indeed?” Julia replied quietly, at a loss as to how to respond to the duchess. She certainly could not tell the duchess how personally aware she was of the duke’s “high spirits.” At this thought, Julia stifled a laugh as she imagined what the lady’s expression would be if she learned of what had happened on Bolton Street last year.
“Do not mistake me,” the duchess said, wagging her finger. “My grandson is exceedingly attentive to all his duties. He has never failed his family, or the Crown. Indeed, my grandson’s excellent management of his estates during the war was exemplary. But he inherited the title much too young, being only fourteen, and I think the burden wears on him at times. So I do not censure him for kicking up his heels a bit.”
Julia took note of the deeply affectionate tone in the duchess’s voice. But it was curious that the lady would be so open about such personal matters. Julia also found it curious the duchess would consider the mantle of nobility a burden to her grandson. Before this moment, Julia had only considered the privileges of a title, not the duties.
At that moment, the duke’s mother approached. As she curtsied, Julia thought the lady seemed to glow like a jewel in her garnet-colored gown.
“Ah, Miss Allard, I am pleased to see that you have joined us on this fine eve. Has not my son arranged everything perfectly for our enjoyment? Mrs. Sheldon! Mrs. Brent! I did not see you, how do you do?”
As the duke’s mother exchanged pleasantries with the other ladies, Julia gazed around with interest. Possibly two dozen people mingled within the ring of torches, not including the servants. She observed the dowager Lady Farren sitting with Caro and Clive some little distance away. At least Caro appeared to be enjoying herself, Julia thought wryly. Indeed, on such a night, Julia doubted anyone could find fault—even with the dowager Lady Farren.
Her eyes continued to scan those assembled on the lawn until she came across the duke. He was obviously holding court, surrounded by a half a dozen people. Lady Davinia Harwich was included in their number, and by the laughing expression on her pretty features, she was evidently taking great delight in whatever the duke was saying.
Recalling what Caro had said about Lady Davinia, Julia wondered how much truth there was to the rumor that she would soon wed the duke. He certainly did not seem to be singling out the lady for any special attention.
Feeling a flutter in her chest, Julia kept her eyes on the duke for a moment. He would be busy mingling among the guests, so it might be difficult to attempt to say some of the alluring things she had practiced. Even so, she could not set aside her sense of breathless anticipation.
A movement from the other side of the duke caught her attention. Beyond the grassy area claimed by the duke for his guests, Julia saw Mariah and her mother hesitantly trying to gain her attention.
Smiling, she excused herself from the duke’s mother and grandmother and moved across the lawn with a quick step.
“Mariah, Mrs. Thorncroft! How pleased I am to see you.” She exchanged a warm glance with her childhood friend.
Mrs. Thorncroft took in the scene with wide eyes. “Goodness! Oh my! Look at the gowns and jewels! You are certainly flying in high circles, Julia!”
Exchanging a quick glance with her friend, Julia saw that Mariah looked uncomfortable with the way her mother was gaping at the guests.
Glancing back, Julia caught Caro’s eye and gave her a slight nod. A moment later Caro and Clive approached, with the dowager Lad
y Farren in tow.
“Mariah, Mrs. Thorncroft, how good to see you!” Caro smiled, and then made the introductions.
“How pleased we are to make your acquaintance, my lord, my lady,” Mrs. Thornton gushed as she curtsied to Lord Farren and his mother. “Caroline, er, Lady Farren has always been very dear to us. We have watched with delight as she has grown into a very elegant and accomplished young lady. Over the years, my daughter and I always looked forward to the times when Caroline and her family would visit Chippenham.”
“I am gratified that my daughter-in-law has such good friends,” Clive’s mother said in a neutral tone.
“And I am very glad to meet you both,” Clive put in with a gracious smile. “My wife has told me of her pleasure in your company, Mrs. Thorncroft, Miss Thorncroft.”
“You are very good, sir.” Mrs. Thorncroft’s face showed her gratification at this attention.
Julia could practically feel the palpable excitement throbbing from Mrs. Thorncroft. All of Chippenham knew that Mrs. Thorncroft was a desperate social climber, and Mariah often complained bitterly to Julia about how often her mother’s desire to foist herself on the nobility often produced embarrassing results.
“Won’t you introduce me to your friends, Miss Allard?” At the sound of the duke’s deep voice, Julia gave a start.
Everyone looked at Julia expectantly. For a moment she was so taken aback by the duke’s unexpected and disturbing presence, she could not speak.
“O-of course, Your Grace. This is Mrs. Thorncroft and Miss Thorncroft, my very good friends from Chippenham.”
Mariah and her mother curtsied deeply as the duke gave a brief bow.
“I hope you will join us this evening. We shall have a perfect view of the fireworks from this spot.”
Julia could not prevent a stunned glance to the duke. This invitation was most unexpected.
Mrs. Thorncroft gaped and stuttered, and Julia forced herself not to look at Mariah, for she knew they would both burst into laughter if she did.
The Wagered Heart: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) Page 13