by Amelia Hart
Then as the stranger shifted, even at a distance, Julia recognized the graceful, languid pose, the leisurely virility of it.
She sucked in a sharp breath, and Mr Kingsley turned her way with an expectant smile, his eyebrows raised. Julia choked and coughed, turned towards him, and blindly took the hand he held out to steady her.
No, it was not. How could it be? The Carstairs had never spoken of him. Why would he be here in their country estate in the midst of the Season? There was no house party and the place was out of the way of any major thoroughfare? What would bring him?
She must be mistaken. So often she had imagined him - his presence in her mind unwelcome but persistent. Cautiously she checked again, raising a hand to the rim of her bonnet to conceal her glance and peering past her own fingers.
It was him. There was no doubt of it. He was here in the flesh.
She rolled her lower lip between her teeth in vexation, even as her eyes hungrily devoured him. He looked the same. Bulkier within winter clothing of course.
"Miss Preston?"
"I'm sorry. I truly am distracted."
"This chill is doing you no good at all. Would you like me to return to the house to fetch you another wrap?"
"Oh, you are too kind. My thanks, but no. This one will do. I hope everyone will soon grow bored with the sledding, and we'll go inside to the fire."
"You really do feel the cold, don't you?"
"I confess I do. I'm afraid it's having so little flesh on my bones. I try to cultivate more padding but I can't manage it."
"If not for your discomfort I'd have said you were perfectly formed," he complimented her with an easy smile.
It took a conscious effort to smile back, to respond as usual. She wanted to go to Mr Holbrook and demand to know what he did here. To scold him and drive him away. She wanted to ask how he was and see if his eyes would still light up that certain way when they rested on her.
Crazy foolishness. Julia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, dismayed to find herself so instantly susceptible, and prayed for strength. She had no intention of repeating past mistakes.
"I beg your pardon?" she asked with raised brows, having missed what Mr Kingsley said.
"I'm sure they will not miss us if we go inside. There is nothing for you to teach out here, and surely many preparations you could make for lessons inside."
"Yes, you're right." Only she would need to go to the Carstairs and excuse herself, which would mean passing within scant feet of Mr Holbrook. Too close for comfort, but then she could hardly be comfortable even standing so many yards away, aware of his presence like a prickle of discomfort up her spine. Was he staring at her as he used to do? No, she would escape him and go inside.
Mr Kingsley offered his arm and she took it and walked steadily, her head high, to where her employers stood.
"Miss Preston?" said Mrs Carstairs, turning to acknowledge her with lifted eyebrows and the faint smile that was habitual carving delicate lines in the fair skin of her face.
"If you'll excuse us, Mr Kingsley is seeing me inside so I may prepare for the afternoon's lessons."
"Certainly, though while you're here I should introduce to you to an acquaintance of ours. Mr Holbrook. He has come to see the Roman ruins."
He bowed, and his face was shockingly the same as ever: too handsome for ease, too well-remembered for comfort. "I am a great student of the antiquities, and I could not resist the opportunity. Though actually Miss Preston and I have already met," he added as if it was an afterthought.
Now she blushed as their gaze joined and she saw lurking behind his deadpan expression a spark of some indefinable emotion, intense and burning.
"Oh?' said Mr Carstairs with a pleased smile. "Then you know each other? Excellent. Miss Preston has some interest in the antiquities herself."
"Good fortune indeed. I hadn't realized, when we met before, or I would have talked your ear off," he drawled to her with a crooked smile that belied the intention in his eyes. "I have a room at the inn at Hazelwood and when I asked what was worth seeing in the neighborhood the innkeeper waxed loquacious. I dared to impose myself."
"Not at all," said Mrs Carstairs politely. Julia saw by the assessment in her eyes she was reserving judgment but prepared to be friendly to this stranger.
"A fellow soldier is always welcome in my home," said Mr Carstairs. He was as always more casual than his wife, ready to dispense with formality. "Cavalry man, weren't you, Holbrook?"
"Lieutenant-Colonel."
"Good man. Part of the full charge that took down the left bank of cannons at Waterloo?"
Mr Holbrook's eyelids drooped a little. "Certainly."
"Brave thing that was, and stunning to see. But the carnage, man. The carnage."
"A black day."
"For all of us," Mr Carstairs agreed. "You must stay for luncheon. You can ask Miss Preston about the ruins. They're mostly covered in snow but she swarmed all over them when she first arrived, and made a hundred sketches."
"A half dozen, perhaps," Julia murmured.
"An excellent eye. I'd never paid them so much attention, growing up with them, though I must have clambered about them a thousand times. As do the children. We can hardly keep them out of there."
"Well if Miss Preston will grant me some of her time I'd be delighted," said Mr Holbrook, and again she saw the casualness was a pose. He had an object and it had nearly succeeded in it. He wished to speak to her.
He had come for her.
She did not know if the knowledge terrified or excited her more. The situation was horrific. She did not want him here.
She did not want to want him.
Oh, abominable man, to destroy her peace this way!
"I'm afraid I must prioritize the planning of lessons-" she began, trying to escape the snare.
"You needn't be too strict on yourself, Miss Preston," said Mrs Carstairs, warmed by her husband's approval of their unexpected guest. "The children are happy, and an hour or two less of reading and arithmetic will do them no harm. Let them enjoy the good weather while the sun shines."
Never was it more irritating to be subservient to another than when her instincts told her flight was her best option. She was not safe with Mr Holbrook. Not when she felt this way after two shared glances and a few lying words.
"Actually I'm certain Miss Preston would benefit from some time indoors. She is chilled," came Mr Kingley's calm, deep voice. "Perhaps I could escort you to the ruins, sir, if the Carstairs will watch over my little ones. I'm no expert, but I can at least show you where the ruins are and you can take whatever time you wish to explore them."
"Oh, of course you must not go out if you are very cold, Miss Preston. Unless you think a walk will warm you?" said Mrs Carstairs while Mr Holbrook's gaze flicked between Julia and Mr Kingley, who stood protectively close to her. His eyes narrowed.
"Not so much as the fire, my thanks," Julia replied, bobbed an abbreviated curtsy and turned, giving Mr Kingley a gentle tug on the arm to steer him indoors at her side.
"I'll be with you shortly," said Mr Kingsley over his shoulder, to Mr Holbrook.
"I'm sure you need not hurry," Julia said after a moment, when they were out of earshot. "Nothing I know of Mr Holbrook leads me to believe him such an eager scholar as he claims."
"Oh? You know him well then?"
"Mostly by reputation," she said after a moment's hesitation. "He is a dilettante in all things. He must have some other reason for visiting."
"I wonder what it is," said Mr Kinsley idly, as if hardly interested. "There is so little about our quiet society to draw strangers."
"I can't imagine."
"A cavalry lieutenant. Very dashing."
"He probably chose the commission to impress the fairer sex."
"Well you certainly don't think highly of him." He looked down at her with amused speculation, his eyebrows raised. "I don't think I've ever heard you speak an unkind word about anyone."
"It is too b
ad of him, really, to put me to the blush immediately. Or no, that's not fair. I embarrass myself. I bear him a grudge. He pursued me a little the last we met, enough for my previous employer to think the matter unseemly and find me unwelcome in my post."
"Ah," said Mr Kingsley, his expression hardening. "That does put a different complexion on things."
"I shouldn't have mentioned it. I do not wish to give him more importance than he really possesses. Let us not speak of him again."
"No, of course not." He frowned at the ground as he walked. After several long seconds he went on, "Perhaps it is you who draws him here."
"Oh, I hardly think so," she said with a scornful little laugh. "He has not such constancy." Even as she said it she felt a quiver of shame for her harsh words. Oh, Mr Holbrook really did make her strange. If only he had not come.
Mr Kingsley quirked a doubtful look at her under his brows. "Perhaps you inspire him to be a better man," he said, and his tone was jesting.
"I have not such power."
"You underestimate yourself, I'm sure."
"You overestimate, from a kind heart."
"From genuine affection, more like."
"You are a great deal kinder than I deserve." Such words should be cherished when they came from a good man such as him. Instead they seemed awkward to her and out of place when she was in such turmoil over another man's presence.
"Not at all. I have come to know you more than a little, these past months, and what I know I naturally admire. You are everything that is constant and noble in womanhood, earnest and dutiful and wise."
"You make me sound a bore." She tried to say it lightly, as the atmosphere between them became something she was not ready for, no, not yet, and not now, while they were still outside and within view of any of the party on the snow-covered lawn.
"Not at all," he said, and his hand came to cover hers where it rested on his arm. "Often we laugh together, and you know I enjoy your wit too."
She took a deep breath, but did not know what to say. Was he about to declare himself? He was everything she had always been certain she wanted in a husband: kind and affectionate, a caring father, a gentle and well-educated man. Sober, respectable and level-headed. Brimful of every virtue, but she could find no storm of emotion inside herself for him. Such a thing could grow though, could it not? Over years of caring partnership? It did not have to happen at once. Love could be a gradual thing. She looked at him, trying to imagine meeting him over the breakfast table every morning, sharing her days with him, retiring with him at night.
Or sitting on his lap with him half-clothed as he kissed her and reached inside her dress as Mr Holbrook had once done-
She looked away, putting out a hand to rest on the curved iron door handle that would grant entry to the largest drawing room.
"I don't wish to make you uncomfortable,” he said, “but you must know I feel a great preference for your company, and a growing affection I would venture to call love. I wish you would let me know if my attentions are welcome."
He said it with the natural diffidence of a humble man, but without real doubt. After all, she had not given him any reason to think she did not enjoy his company just as much.
Was Mr Holbrook to throw all that into jeopardy, merely by showing his smug face in the midst of their company, unannounced? No!
"You are always welcome to me, Mr Kingsley. In fact I cannot think of a single man - no, not a single one - who could be counted more welcome." She met his gaze and lifted her chin to a militant angle.
He smiled a bright smile, his face creasing into a happy shape that made him more attractive, if only she could concentrate on it and not feel this dreaded tide of guilt that rose within her.
"Then I shall entertain glad thoughts of a time when I may do more to smooth your path and lift your burdens," he said, and turned the handle that was the twin to the one she held, opening the other door of the pair. She released the one she held and stepped through the doorway, while he remained outside, then stopped on the threshold and searched for a truly honest thing to say to him.
"I think you may be the kindest man I know, and I count myself extraordinarily fortunate to have earned your regard."
His eyes were very warm, and he held out one hand in clear expectation. She put her own into it, and he lifted it to his mouth and kissed her gloved fingers, a gentle touch she did not perceive through the leather. She felt the squeeze of his fingers though, before he released them, and he bowed respectfully, stepped away and with a jaunty stride went back towards the party standing on the snowy slope. Around his figure she could see Mr Holbrook watching them both. From this distance she could not make out his expression but he stood very still and there was something about how his body spoke that made her think of great tension.
Then he looked away, and the spell that had held them as she stared at him and he at her, around the man who had so nearly spoken to claim her future, was broken.
She shut the door.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"She is in great looks tonight, is she not?" said Mrs Carstairs, sat down gracefully next to him and contemplated the tiered selection of small cakes on the side table.
"I beg your pardon?" said Colin, awaking from his reverie.
"Miss Preston. It amazes me, really, for I never saw a woman so transformed by happiness. She is so vivacious tonight. Almost a different person. It's a pleasure to see her so well matched in Mr Kingsley. You said you were friends, so I'm sure you feel it too. We expect an announcement any day now. We shall be sorry to lose her, for she manages the children so beautifully. Not every governess can, you know. I love them all dearly, but they are a handful, there's no doubt."
"The children?"
"Of course. I blush to say it but Mr Carstairs and I have raised them to be so independent and courageous there's barely any controlling them. I hope I can find another who does so well."
"Certainly Miss Preston is a marvel," he said, trying to keep bitterness from his tone. He had not imagined - while he was immured on his estates avoiding the temptations of the flesh, that she might be forming a connection with some other man. He would never have left her side if he had thought it likely. So much for unswerving devotion.
"She was such a fortunate discovery of mine. I fear she was undervalued at her last post, for they let her go when she attracted unwanted attention. I will say that sort of nonsense makes me furious. Simply beside myself." She straightened and looked very grim, as if she would like to dismember an unseen foe, an expression incongruous on such a gently pretty face.
"Nonsense?"
"When women are pursued and others make it out the unseemly attentions are the fault of the woman and not the man. It's enough to make me take up arms, I swear it is. I have a charity I foster, in London, that raises foundlings in decent circumstances, and sometimes helps their mothers, if we can find them. I cannot tell you how often I have heard that the siring of bastard children is the fault of the woman alone. Even in the case of rape. I get so angry."
He could see it was true, her small frame rigid on the seat, her delicate tart forgotten in a hand that quivered slightly. Evidently his Julia had come to represent something much larger in her mind. Or was she speaking more precisely?
"Is that the case here?" he asked with care, ready to go to war himself. What exactly had gone on in the past six months?
Mrs Carstairs came back to herself with a start, and a slightly guilty look. "Oh, no, of course not. Forgive me. I am climbing on my soap box again. No, of course in this case, luckily, it was kept innocent, whatever the objectives of the man in question. Goodness, I must not say such things to you after all, when I do not even know how closely connected you are to Miss Preston. I am scandalously indiscreet. Mr Carstairs will scold me."
"I'm sure he could never find fault with you," he said with charming gallantry, and she grinned a sudden, impish grin.
"Then you know nothing of married couples, Mr Holbrook. There is always fault
to be found, and only love makes us tolerant. So it does delight me to think Miss Preston will discover the same. A charming end to her story, or more precisely, a beginning, though I hesitate to say it is a man who defines the start of a woman's life. That is not how I mean it, of course, but only that after many years one can look back on meeting one's husband and feel that is when life itself changed radically. Perhaps I am speaking Greek to you, though."
"No, I understand you completely," he said slowly, his own smile dying as he looked across the withdrawing room to where Julia sat next to Mr Kingsley, their heads bent close together. Suddenly she laughed, tilting her head back, and laid a hand on his arm. His hand immediately rose to cover it, and though she withdrew hers a moment later there remained that impression between them of tenderness.
Colin clenched a fist.
"So you are in love?" Mrs Carstairs said in a tone of delighted discovery, her eyes lifting to his face. "You've felt that change?"
"Yes," he said with unintentional emphasis, and a moment later realized his mistake as she followed his gaze to Julia. He heard her draw in a sharp breath. When he looked down at her he saw her eyes had gone wide in a face that was suddenly pale. She was far too clever.
"Mr Holbrook," she said, and he heard the note of steel was back in her voice, not so sweet as it had been. "I hope you will take care what you do here. Others may be different, but I do not let my guests meddle with the happiness of my staff. I see Miss Preston has clearly made a choice, and you will not interfere with that, no matter your own agenda."
He suspected she had put together his sudden appearance and prior knowledge of Julia and leapt to an unsavory conclusion. He faced her down with the certainty of his own nobility of purpose.
"As to that, Madam, Miss Preston operates on only partial information. I have no desire to distress her, but I will be very certain - very certain - she has every piece of that information before she makes any lasting choice."