Nell was correct. Rejoining Julian in the library, Dr. Coleman related the news that her ladyship should give birth to a child in midsummer. Since a child was the last thing on Julian’s mind at the moment, he stared at the doctor for several seconds before the other man’s words made sense. A child. His wife was pregnant. His Nell was to give him a child. He would be a father. This summer.
The anxieties of the long sleepless night vanished. Wonderment and joy flooded him and a huge, silly grin broke across his face. His wife was with child.
Dr. Coleman, watching his reaction with a kind eye, smiled and said, “I see that my news pleases you.”
“Pleases me!” Julian declared in jubilant accents. “You can have no idea! By Jupiter, Coleman, it is the very best news you could have given me.”
Coleman laughed. “It is my pleasure, my lord, to give you good news.” He picked up his small black valise and said, “I shall be on my way and leave you and your ladyship to contemplate the change in your future. Again, congratulations. If you need me, send a servant at a moment’s notice.” At Julian’s worried look, he shook his head and laughed again. “Do not worry, your wife is young and healthy and strong. I anticipate no problems at all.”
His lean face transfigured by delight, Julian vigorously shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you for coming so quickly.” A dazed looked entered his eyes. “I cannot believe it. A child.”
Alone in his study, Julian laughed aloud, feeling drunk with joy. He was to be a father! By midsummer he would hold his and Nell’s child in his arms. Filled with exhilaration, his feet hardly touched the ground as he walked over to stand before the fire.
Gazing into the leaping red and gold flames, a soft smile curved his hard mouth. A child! How he had once longed for this day and had never thought that he would ever hear those wonderful words again. A pang went through him, the memory of Catherine’s reaction to the news that she was expecting a child dimming his joy, clouding this moment of jubilation.
He and Nell had parted badly the night before and he admitted that it was his own damn fault. Anxiety, jealousy, doubt, pride and a temper that he usually kept under tight control had made for an unstable mixture and, unfortunately, it had caused him to lash out at the one person who did not deserve it. Remembering the flash in her eyes, he grimaced. His wife also had a temper and pride to match his and he considered just how much she was going to make him grovel before she allowed him back in her good graces. He frowned. If she let him back in her good graces…The coming child complicated matters and uneasiness stirred. Would Nell react as Catherine had done and use the pregnancy as a weapon against him, or would she share his joy, his wonder?
But he could not dwell on unhappy thoughts too long, his pleasure too intense, and it pushed aside those painful memories. Just contemplating fatherhood brought that same silly grin to his face once more. Surely, Nell would be pleased.
A knock on the door broke his concentration. Dibble entered at his command and murmured, “My lord, your cousin Mr. Weston is here to see you.”
Startled, Julian exclaimed, “Charles is here to see me?”
Striding into the room and expeditiously moving Dibble aside, Charles said, “Yes, I am, and why you insist upon having Dibble announce me as if I were a perfect stranger is just one sign of how arrogant you’ve become since you inherited the title. It is a good thing that I am around to knock holes in your conceited ways and save you from becoming too stuffy by half.”
Julian choked back a laugh. Talk about arrogance! And audacious in the bargain—Charles outdid him in spades. Waving Dibble away, he said, “Leave us…and in the future, please treat this overbearing jackanapes as you would any other member of the family.”
“Which I am,” retorted Charles, grinning, as he walked over to join Julian near the fire, “even if you’d like to pretend otherwise.”
“Shall I serve refreshments, my lord?” Dibble asked.
“Well, of course you should,” declared Charles, warming his hands by the flames. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s bloody cold out there and I didn’t ride over here without expecting some of that wonderful punch that you make. Be a good fellow, Dibble, and see to it, won’t you?”
Well used to Mr. Charles’s manner, Dibble hid a smile and departed. It was good to see the cousins together again. And as for that punch…a gratified expression on his face, he hurried to the kitchen.
Smiling at his cousin, Julian said, “You know, if we are going to talk about arrogance—”
“Oh, hang it all, Julian, you know how much I dislike formality. I used to run tame through this place, and to be treated like someone who’s never stepped foot in the house…” He looked rueful. “Sorry if I offended your sensibilities.”
“Good God! Can it be? Charles Weston apologizing?”
Charles shrugged. “I do sometimes, you know.” He grinned at Julian. “Just not very often.”
Thinking of Nell and their unborn child, Julian wished his cousin at Jericho. If Charles had come to extend a further olive branch, he could not have chosen a more inconvenient time. Impatient to see Nell, to hold his wife in his arms and share the joyous news, he bit back a groan. Dare he send Charles on his way and make plans to meet later? Charles, for all his careless ways, could be devilish high in the instep and reluctantly Julian put away the idea of fobbing off his cousin. One never knew with Charles. His cousin might take offense and the moment would be lost. He and Charles had been at loggerheads for too long and Julian was surprised to feel a deep desire to lessen the chasm between them. Resigning himself to having to wait to see Nell, he took a seat not far from the fire and asked, “So what brings you to my house? Striking while the iron is hot?”
Charles shot him a keen look. “You mean building on yesterday’s accord?”
“If you like.”
“How would you feel if I said that it was true? That I want the discord of the past put behind us?”
Julian studied him. In many respects of all his cousins, at one time, he’d been the closest to Charles. Like he and Marcus, he and Charles had grown up together—practically in each other’s pocket due to the proximity of Stonegate to Wyndham Manor. There’d been some rocky moments, but there was a bond between them not shared by other members of the extended family. The estrangement between them had hit him hard and while he had great affection for Marcus and enjoyed his company immensely, he missed Charles’s sheer audacity and neck-or-nothing attitude.
“There have been some hard words exchanged between us,” Julian said slowly. “If I remember correctly, you accused me of usurping your right to the title.”
Charles made an impatient gesture. “Said in the heat of anger.” He stared at Julian. “You cannot have thought that I meant it!”
Julian flicked a brow upward, a quizzical expression on his face. “At the time, it certainly sounded like it.”
An embarrassed laugh was dragged from Charles. “Damn you! I suppose I did mean it at the time. But I didn’t believe it. Not really.” He looked away. “Father and I were deeply hurt…and angry that John named you guardian of his son.” His mouth tightened. “By rights either my father or myself should have been—” He stopped, reminded himself that he was here to make peace, and muttered, “We said things then that should never have been said. I reacted badly.” He flashed a thin smile at Julian. “As you may recall, I usually do when things don’t go my way.”
“Yes, I remember that trait,” Julian said. “And while I’m willing to give a certain allowance for pride and temper—something I’ve become rather familiar with myself of late—it doesn’t explain away all the other things that have been said and done over the years.”
“I don’t blame you for feeling as you do but I can’t change the past—I can’t unsay what was said or undo some of the things I’ve done.” A thoughtful expression on his face, Charles murmured, “When John was murdered Father went a little mad for a while—we all did and in our agony we struck out blindly, foolishly.
And even though he made those ugly claims about babies switched at birth and that your father had snatched the title from him, he knew that it was arrant nonsense.” He sighed. “He was my father, I had no choice but to stand by him. And perhaps sometimes, for a while, because I wanted it to be true, I let myself be dazzled by the thought that mayhap he was right. That I should be sitting where you are. That I should be the heir to the earldom and all that the title entails.”
“You feel differently now?”
Charles grinned. “Let’s say if I could prove any of father’s wild claims, I’d turf you out of the house and title in a blink of the eye, but since that isn’t likely to happen, I’m resigned to being plain Mr. Weston.”
Julian laughed. It always amazed him that Charles could say the most outrageous things and one ended up amused by words that uttered by anyone else would have brought swords swinging from scabbards.
“That’s very handsome of you,” Julian drawled, “but it doesn’t quite undo all that lies between us.”
“You’re speaking of Daniel,” Charles said, all signs of good humor gone from his face. At Julian’s nod, he admitted, “I cannot pretend that I am not a bad example, the worst, for any young man to follow—and you were right, though I railed against you, to keep Daniel from me. I am all that you think me—wild, profligate, reckless to a fault, a rakehell without parallel and careless of what other people think. But hear me, Julian: I loved my brother and I loved his son. I would not have deliberately led Daniel into ruin and danger.” With a twisted smile he added, “Upon my honor—such as it is.”
“Yet you did.”
A muscle bunched in Charles’s cheek and his hands clenched into fists. He took a deep breath and, not meeting Julian’s eyes, he said harshly, “Guilty. And I cannot blame myself any more than you do for what happened. You were out of the country. I should have watched him more carefully…I just didn’t think that—” His mouth thinned. “It is my fault and no one knows that better than I.” He glanced back at Julian. “No one regrets it more than I.”
Julian tended to believe him—to his knowledge, Charles had never lied when confronted with his own misdeeds. Yesterday and today had done much to start the healing process between them, but he knew that they had a long and treacherous road to travel before their relationship would be as it had been in their youth. And while he was willing to cautiously meet Charles’s extended hand, to take him at his word, one thing bothered him.
“And yet,” Julian said, “you allow the man who caused Daniel’s death to roam tamely through your house.” A bite in his voice, he snapped, “You call him friend.”
A wry expression crossed Charles’s face and he tugged on the lobe of one ear. “You have me there and I can’t quite explain it myself.”
“Try,” Julian said dryly.
Dibble’s knock on the door and entrance into the room with a tray of steaming rum punch prevented Charles from replying. Both men watched as Dibble deposited the heavy silver tray and served them. The scent of rum, lemon, cinnamon and cloves drifted deliciously in the air.
After taking a sip of the warm, fragrant punch from the tankard served to him, Charles remarked, “Dibble, dear fellow, if you ever wish to change positions, please seek me out immediately. For this punch alone you are worth, I am sure, far more than my cousin pays you.”
Dibble said nothing, but there was a smile on his face when he bowed and departed.
“Stealing my servants?” Julian asked, a twinkle in his eyes.
“If I could get away with it.”
Julian shook his head. “Is there nothing that you would not dare?”
Charles appeared to give the matter some thought. “Hmmm, at the moment, I cannot think of anything,” he said with a grin.
Julian took another drink of the punch. Staring at the amber liquid in his tankard he asked, “So tell me, why do you allow Tynedale to roam like a pet through your home? Knowing that he ruined Daniel and caused your nephew, a mere boy you claim to love, to kill himself? How can you bear to even look upon him?”
“Needs must when the Devil drives,” Charles growled, his gaze on the fire.
Julian’s brows snapped together. “How badly,” he asked, “are you dipped?”
Charles threw him an impatient glance. “That horse won’t run. My finances, despite rumors and gossip to the contrary, are in order and I do not look to you to drag me from the clutches of the bloodsuckers. Believe me, I do not tolerate Tynedale because he has his hooks into me. I wish it were that simple.”
“Then why, for God’s sake? I curse the very ground he walks upon and if my blade had not slipped and I could have run him through—” Julian took a deep breath, choking back his rage and frustration. “Why?”
Charles tossed off a swallow of the punch. “Because it suits me,” he said in a voice that brooked further discussion. He looked at Julian, a grim expression on his face. “I realize that I am in no position to ask you anything, but is it true that you hold enough of Tynedale’s vowels to ruin him?”
Julian stared at him, his eyes hard and suspicious. “Why should I answer your question when you would not answer mine?”
“Because my question is less complicated? One that can be answered with a simple yes or no.”
“Why would you care if I did? What business is it of yours?”
Charles waved away the questions with a careless hand. “If gossip is correct, you now hold the means to ruin him, yet you do nothing. Why is that, Cousin?” he demanded. “What holds your hand?”
“Needs must when the Devil drives?” Julian taunted, getting up to poke at the fire.
Charles laughed, but there was no amusement in it. “So we are at a stalemate, are we not? You will not answer my questions and I will not answer yours. We are a sorry lot, Julian.”
“Indeed we are,” Julian agreed.
Charles rose to his feet. “I must be going.” Extending his hand, he said, “I shall look forward to dining here with you and your lady in the near future.” A grin flitted across his hard features. “To cement our renewed relationship.”
“As I have said before, only your sheer audacity makes you bearable,” Julian said as he shook Charles’s hand. “I shall see what night will suit my lady.” His expression unyielding, he added, “You do realize that the invitation will not include Tynedale? That under no circumstances will he step foot into my house?”
Charles nodded curtly. “You have nothing to fear on that head.”
Escorting Charles from the room, Julian mulled over the situation. He and Charles were speaking to each other again and unless he missed his guess, Charles was not Tynedale’s friend. A mystery there, he thought as he opened the door to the hallway, its floor an imposing gray and white marble.
Nell and Lady Diana were coming down the staircase at that very moment and at the sight of Julian and Charles walking out of Julian’s study together, they both stopped and stared. The two women made a fetching picture as they stood on the stairs. Nell’s tall stature and tawny hair complemented Lady Diana’s dark hair and smaller, rounder form, and Nell’s simple cornflower blue-striped frock contrasted nicely with the cream and rose confection that Lady Diana wore.
“Good heavens, is that you, Charles?” Lady Diana blurted, her brown eyes very big and amazed.
“Why, yes, I believe so,” Charles replied, amused.
Lady Diana drifted the remainder of the way down the stairs. Crossing to the two men, she presented her hand to Charles. “I cannot quite believe my eyes. Never say that you and my stepson have resolved your differences!”
“Some of them,” Charles said as he bowed over her hand and dropped a polite kiss on the back of it. Grinning, he added, “He has even offered to invite me to dine one evening soon.” Performing the same office to Nell’s hand when she reached him he added, “That is, if your ladyship does not object?”
“Why should she?” demanded Lady Diana. Clapping her hands together, she said, “Oh, it will be famous! Company
! I swear it has been so boring. Do bring your mother. I so enjoyed visiting with her yesterday. Oh, and your brother. I shall have to think of a few more people to round out the numbers. Tomorrow night, perhaps?” Suddenly remembering that it was no longer her house to arrange as she willed, Lady Diana flushed and cast Nell a guilty glance. “That is, if Lady Wyndham does not mind,” she added hastily.
Nell cast Lady Diana an amused glance and murmured, “It sounds an excellent idea to me, but perhaps not tomorrow night.” She looked at Charles. “Shall we say, Thursday, next?” At his nod, she added, “I shall send a note over to your stepmother. We will look forward to having you as our guests.”
Throwing Nell a grateful look, Lady Diana took her leave and disappeared down the hallway in the direction of the breakfast room.
Taking his curly-brimmed beaver hat from Dibble, Charles said to Nell with a grin, “I shall not let you cry off, you know—mind, I expect that invitation within the week.”
“Are you always so brazen, Mr. Weston?” Nell asked with dancing eyes.
“Always,” Julian remarked. Looking at Charles, he added, “Go away, Cousin, before I change my mind about that invitation to dine.”
Charles laughed and turning on his heels, departed.
Left alone with her husband, Nell fidgeted, intensely curious about his reaction to the news of her pregnancy but feeling awkward and unsure after their parting last night. He had obviously not told his cousin of the impending event, but then she realized that other than Becky, she had not mentioned it, either. She’d had every opportunity to inform Lady Diana of her state but she had not. A soft smile curved her lips. Her emotions were tangled—she wanted to shout it aloud and yet at the same time, she wanted to hug the knowledge of the child growing inside of her close, to savor it before sharing it with the world.
Scandal Becomes Her Page 21