She smiled slowly. “Excellent.”
“You needn’t look so smug.”
“Oh, but I am smug. I do love being right, you know. Now”—she ushered him toward the door—“I suggest you go home and decide on a course of action. You know, have another one of your brilliant ideas.”
“They don’t just come to me,” he muttered.
“Knowing they are a product of much thought is a great relief.” They stepped into the entry and the butler immediately opened the front door. Veronica leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Devise another one of your clever plans but try not to be too proper. Julia has behaved properly most of her life and it’s entirely possible she might now be interested in something more than, oh, nice. Which does not bode well for Mr. Cadwallender but does increase the threat from Mr. Ellsworth. You, brother dear, must fall somewhere in between.”
Harrison stared at her. “You have a very devious mind, don’t you?”
“It’s a gift.” She nearly pushed him out the front door. “Julia will be in the country for the next four to five days, I think. More than enough time for you to determine how you will make this end well.” She nodded and the now unseen butler closed the door.
She was certainly eager to get rid of him. He started toward his carriage. Not that she wasn’t right. He had a great deal of thinking to do if he was going to win Julia and, hopefully, the memoirs. There was Ellsworth who was obviously not going to give up. And then there was Cadwallender who was apparently very similar to Julia’s late husband. A husband she had loved.
It was all most confusing and irritating as well. From the moment he’d heard of Lady Hermione Middlebury and her annoying great-granddaughter, Veronica had been right more often than not.
And not one of his brilliant ideas had truly turned out well.
… and I would place the duke firmly in that category of men.
Oh yes, Dear Reader, men do indeed fall into categories and any woman who is at all perceptive recognizes that. First, there is the Proper Gentleman and no man on earth plays that role as well as those with good, English blood. Often stiff and stodgy, they prefer everything in their lives to be efficient, well organized, and on time. They have a great deal of potential.
Then there is the Hero. His purpose is to catch you when you fall. Unfortunately, heroes grow tiresome as they come to expect you to fall and tend to be annoyed when you do not and sanctimonious when you do. No man is as arrogant as a hero.
There is the Adventurer for whom there is no mountain he can’t climb, no woman he can’t conquer. Do understand that I mean a spirit rather than an actual explorer. Why, I have met Adventurers who have never stepped foot outside of England.
And there are Scoundrels, either those who are merely naughty and most enjoyable or those who are truly wicked and are to be avoided. There are other categories, of course, far too many to mention now.
The men that inevitably capture one’s heart are neither fully Proper Gentleman, nor Adventurer, nor Hero, nor naughty Scoundrel. Those are the men who encompass bits and pieces of any number of different categories. Sometimes the best, sometimes the worst. As for the duke, he was not …
from The Perfect Mistress,
the Memoirs of Lady Hermione Middlebury
Chapter Fifteen
What had gotten into her? She couldn’t remember the last time she had raised her voice let alone lost her temper. And when had she ever spoken without thinking? It was most unsettling and not at all like her.
Julia paced the large bedroom she’d been given at Veronica’s country house. The house was most impressive as were the grounds, but of course, being Veronica’s, it would be. She’d been invited but she’d never been here before. She’d assumed, when Veronica had insisted she come today, that her friend would accompany her. Instead, she’d put her on the train with a note to her staff and said she’d be along the day after tomorrow as originally planned. Julia hadn’t protested; it was rather nice for once to have someone else make her decisions for her. And nice as well to be away and by herself. Tomorrow, she would take a long walk and gather her thoughts, if that was possible.
Tonight, it was impossible not to think about this afternoon’s confrontation with Harrison and Mr. Ellsworth. Although Mr. Ellsworth’s behavior scarcely merited a second thought. It was Harrison’s comments and her own responses that dwelled in her mind. She had tried to sleep to no avail and now paced the room, trying to sort out her thoughts. It was all most confusing, and while she relished the opportunity to be alone it would be nice to have someone to talk it all out with.
“Precisely why I am here,” a familiar voice said behind her.
Julia turned to find Hermione lounging on a chaise near the fireplace. “Are you alone?”
Hermione smiled. “At the moment.”
Julia drew a deep breath. “Thank you for coming.”
“Oh, there is little I love more than staying at a grand house in the country. Although I would prefer if it was filled with convivial companions.” She paused. “I could arrange that if you’d like.”
“Would they all be dead?”
Hermione heaved a long-suffering sigh. “My dear Julia, for the most part my circle of acquaintances consists of the dead. Which is not the same as dull, mind you. They are quite a jolly lot and I daresay you would enjoy them as well.”
“Thank you, but I would prefer not to fill Veronica’s house with the dearly departed.”
“I can’t say I blame you. The whole idea of your coming to the country in the first place was to be alone.” She studied her descendant for a moment. “Shall I leave as well?”
“Please stay,” Julia said quickly and resumed pacing. “What has come over me?”
“In what sense, dear?”
“Surely you witnessed the scene in the library.”
“Oh that. Indeed I did.” She chuckled. “It was most impressive.”
“What, pray tell, was impressive?”
“First of all, darling, you did not fall prey to Mr. Ellsworth’s crude attempts at seduction. I would have thought a man with his reputation would have been a bit more subtle. In spite of the sound manner in which you kicked him, he finds it impossible to accept that any woman can resist either his charm or his fame.” She smiled. “I was quite proud of you.”
Julia scoffed. “Mr. Ellsworth holds no particular appeal for me.”
“Yet another reason for my pride in you. And then there was the way you handled Harrison.” She chuckled. “Very impressive indeed.”
“I didn’t handle him.” Julia sighed and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I lost my temper. I don’t lose my temper. I never lose my temper. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I daresay you wouldn’t have lost it at all if Harrison hadn’t been present.”
“That’s absurd. I was upset by Mr. Ellsworth’s behavior.”
“Initially, yes. You probably would have kicked Mr. Ellsworth once you were free of his clutches whether Harrison was there or not. But I suspect you wouldn’t have been anywhere near as angry had Harrison not been there. There was only one man in that room that elicited passion from you. Today, it was anger but you weren’t as angry over his refusal to thrash Mr. Ellsworth as you were about his behavior following your kiss.”
“Nonsense,” Julia muttered, but it did seem to make a certain amount of sense.
“Yes, of course. Utter and complete nonsense.” Hermione shrugged in a dismissive manner. “Let’s talk about what you’re going to do with my memoirs, shall we?”
“Very well.” Julia resumed pacing. “I do need to make up my mind. I have three interesting offers. Mr. Ellsworth’s does seem to be the best thus far. I would receive a tidy sum, equal to that offered by Harrison.”
“You do understand I do not want my work destroyed. It’s all that’s left of me in the world.” Hermione’s voice carried a deceptively offhand note, as if she didn’t care.
Julia met her gaze. “I will
never allow that. And that will be clear in any bargain I may strike.”
“That is most appreciated. Now then we are back to Mr. Ellsworth.”
Julia nodded. “His offer would include royalties from sales of your book so, with any luck at all, there would be an income in the future. It’s probably the best offer thus far but …”
“But it would involve continued association with the man as well as the matter of his fictional versions of my adventures.” Hermione’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I trust that his adaptation wouldn’t be somewhat sordid.”
Julia raised a brow. “More sordid than your adventures are?”
“They’re not the least bit sordid.” Indignation sounded in Hermione’s voice. “They might be somewhat specific as well as have a certain sensuality about them but they are not sordid.”
“Probably not.” Julia cast her an apologetic smile.
“And might I add, they are quite well written.” Hermione sniffed. “I think I could have been an excellent writer myself.” She cast Julia an unrepentant grin. “If I ’d had the time.”
“Very well. Then we agree.” Julia nodded. “While Mr. Ellsworth’s offer may be the most lucrative at the moment, everything that comes with it is not something either of us wants.”
“Which brings us to Benjamin.” Hermione sighed. “What a nice man he is.”
Julia cast her a suspicious look. “Do you really think so?”
“Don’t you?”
“Well, yes, he is very nice.” She thought for a moment. “And while his offer is not as initially substantial as the others, he does think the book will be successful, which means continuing income from royalties.”
“And he is a man who can certainly be trusted. You wouldn’t have to worry about a man like Benjamin.”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
“No, indeed.” Hermione shook her head. “Why, Benjamin is not the sort to force himself upon you in the library.”
Julia scoffed. “Absolutely not.”
“Nor would he take liberties on a darkened terrace.”
Julia narrowed her eyes. “Hermione.”
“I would think a man like Benjamin would never let his passions overrule his innate good sense. He would never pull you into his arms and press his lips to yours until your blood fired in your veins and you clung to him because your knees were too weak to support you.”
“Hermione.” A definite threat sounded in Julia’s voice.
Hermione ignored her. “Benjamin would never kiss you without asking permission first.”
“He’s a gentleman,” she said staunchly.
“And very nice. As I assume his kiss would be. Julia, dear,” she said gently. “You have had nice. William was nice. Do you really want nice again?”
“Yes! No.” She heaved a heavy sigh.
“There’s nothing wrong in pursuing what you want, you know.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
Hermione studied her but held her tongue.
“And we’re not talking about the men. We’re talking about the disposition of the memoirs.”
Hermione shrugged. “One goes hand in hand with the other. You can’t possibly sell the memoirs to Benjamin for publication and marry Harrison.”
“Who said anything about marrying Harrison?”
“I believe I did, right from the beginning,” She shook her head. “You may be able to continue to lie to yourself but you cannot lie to me, dear. You have very strong feelings for him.”
Julia stared at her for a moment then sighed. “Perhaps. I suppose. I don’t know.”
Hermione nodded in an annoyingly perceptive manner. “Marriage to him would solve all your financial troubles.”
“I have no intention of marrying anyone to save myself from poverty.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because it’s not …” She searched for the word. “Right. Honorable.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hermione scoffed. “Women have always married for money. We have no other way of bettering ourselves. It’s what we have always done. Why, it’s what we are expected to do.”
“You didn’t,” Julia said pointedly. “From what I’ve read, you certainly could have married again for money or other reasons. Why didn’t you?”
“I had offers through the years,” Hermione said, completely disregarding the last part of Julia’s question. “Most quite attractive from gentlemen I could have easily spent the rest of my days with.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I married once,” Hermione snapped. “Once was … enough. And, no, I did not marry your great-grandfather for his money.”
Julia stared. “Did you love him very much?”
For the first time since she’d begin her visits to Julia, Hermione’s demeanor was less than her usual assured self. She drew a deep breath. “We’re not talking about me.”
“We are now.”
Hermione rose to her feet. “You’re trying to change the subject away from the fact that you’ve fallen in love with a man who drives you mad.”
Julia gasped. “I don’t know that I’ve fallen in love with him!”
“It’s not something one knows like one knows the grass is green and one knows the sky is blue. Not in the beginning. It’s tentative and uncertain. Why, the very uncertainty is part of the joy of falling in love. Knowing comes soon enough. Love has nothing whatsoever to do with knowledge or intelligence or rational thinking. Good Lord, if it did, no one would ever fall in love and certainly never fall in love with the wrong person. And that happens far too often.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why you keep trying to deny it.”
“I don’t either.” Julia snapped then drew a deep breath. “What if he doesn’t love me?”
“What if he doesn’t? Knowing love at all is a miracle.” Hermione fixed her with a firm look. “’Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.”
“You’re quoting Lord Tennyson now? Did you know him?”
“Not intimately but I knew everyone,” Hermione said in a superior manner. “And those I didn’t know when I was alive, I have met here. I look forward to renewing Lord Tennyson’s acquaintance upon his arrival.”
“That’s a lovely sentiment, very poetic and all but if he doesn’t love me—”
“I can’t imagine that, having watched him argue with you. You can tell a great deal about a man’s feelings by the way he argues. By what he says and, more, what he doesn’t.” She met her gaze directly. “From what I’ve seen, he is every bit as stubborn as you. I suspect he too rarely loses his temper or raises his voice. The fact that the two of you provoke that sort of passion in one another is nothing short of”—a wicked gleam showed in her eye—“per-fect.”
“Perfect?” Julia huffed. “You expect me to spend the rest of my life with a man who makes me lose my temper? Who makes me say things without thinking? What kind of life would that be?”
“Absolutely blissful.” Hermione cast her a smug smile. “Which is ever so much better than nice.” With that, Hermione vanished.
“I was happy with nice!” Julia said to the now-empty room.
“Content, darling, you were content.” Hermione’s voice drifted from somewhere unseen.
“Come back here. We’re not finished!”
“Things to do, my sweet. It’s rude to keep people waiting, you know.”
“It’s rude to vanish in the middle of a conversation as well!”
“Do try to make allowances for me, dear. I’m dead.”
“Then perhaps you should act like it!” she yelled, although it was pointless. Hermione was definitely gone. For the moment. And Julia knew no more now than she had when they’d begun their conversation.
She sank down on the bed. She hadn’t been herself since the day Harrison walked into her library and demanded she sell him the memoirs. She never lost control of her temper, she was never indecisive, and she was the last person anyone would call overly e
motional. From the moment she’d met him her life had changed, and not for the better. Although she did have to admit she enjoyed sparring with him. Even today, there was something quite exciting in the manner in which they’d argued. Why, it was almost as enjoyable as his kiss had been. Truth be told, she wanted him to kiss her again. And again. And for the rest of her—
Good Lord! She was in love with him! With the most annoying man she’d ever met. It was nothing like the quiet, safe, nice sort of love she’d felt for William. This was indeed most uncertain as well as confusing and disquieting and, God help her, exciting.
As for whether he returned her feelings, it was obvious given their kiss and his behavior today that he felt something for her. It was possible it was nothing more than friendship. Still, she was fairly certain friends didn’t kiss friends the way he had.
She collapsed back on the bed and stared unseeing at the ceiling. Perhaps she should take a page from Hermione’s book and pursue what she wanted without hesitation or apology. Or regret.
And perhaps it was time to stop reading about her great-grandmother’s adventure and begin an adventure of her own.
Damnation, this must indeed be love. Harrison stared at the pages in front of him. He had read and reread the report from his estate manager at least three times thus far and he couldn’t recall a word it said. Yet he could, no doubt, recite every single word he had exchanged with Julia yesterday. He could as well recall the exact shade of her green eyes when they had snapped with anger. He could hear the sound of her laughter ringing in his soul, feel the pressure of her lips on his and the way her body had fit perfectly against him.
He pushed away from the desk, got to his feet, and paced the broad width of the library. Thank God Veronica had taken Julia to the country. He did indeed need a brilliant idea and he certainly couldn’t come up with one if he had to worry about Ellsworth or Cadwallender writing her notes or popping up on her doorstep or sending her flowers. And how was he supposed to know that roses made her sneeze? It was too much to hope for that that scoundrel Ellsworth and Cadwallender, who was apparently very nice, didn’t know about the roses. Blast it all, he had just entered this race and he was already behind.
The Perfect Mistress Page 23