Never Less Than A Lady

by Mary J. Putney

  “This isn’t so bad, is it?” Mariah whispered when there was a lull after the first rush of guests.

  “Not bad at all,” Julia admitted. “I’m glad you forced me into this, your grace.”

  Mariah laughed, then greeted another guest. There was intense curiosity about the duke’s daughter who had returned from the dead, but Julia sensed no hostility. As Ashton had said, her father was not popular with society and the Dowager Duchess of Charente inspired awe. The beau monde was prepared to like Lady Julia Randall.

  “Anthony!” she exclaimed as her brother appeared. She hugged him exuberantly. “Will you dance with me later?”

  He laughed and hugged her back. “Yes, even if you do step all over my toes. I don’t suppose you did much dancing in the wild north country.”

  “No, but Mariah engaged a dancing instructor who drilled me ruthlessly.” She surveyed Anthony, who looked as handsome and elegant as a future duke should. “If you weren’t my brother, I’d say you looked madly attractive.”

  Anthony’s eyes twinkled. “I would say the same of you if you weren’t my sister.” He moved on to Randall. The two men shook hands and slipped into easy conversation.

  The next guest, to Julia’s shock, was Lady Daventry. An invitation had been sent to her and her husband, but Julia and Randall had assumed the earl would rip the card into pieces and toss it into the nearest fire.

  Yet here was the Countess of Daventry, looking as elegant as a very pregnant woman could in a sky blue gown and splendid sapphires. She was on the arm of a handsome young man. After a quick glance over the countess’s shoulder, Julia said warmly, “How lovely to see you again, Lady Daventry.”

  “Don’t worry,” the countess said with a mischievous smile. “My husband isn’t here. He had to go off to Turville for a few days.” She patted her belly. “I’m not allowed to travel, of course. But when I received the invitation, I couldn’t resist coming.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Julia studied the countess’s escort. “This handsome young man is one of your sons, I think? He looks very much like you.”

  As the young man blushed, Lady Daventry said, “Yes, my oldest, Lord Morton. He’ll be back to Oxford soon, but he consented to escort his aging parent tonight.”

  Lord Morton smiled. “My mother is the most dreadful tease. I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Julia.”

  When his admiring gaze went to Randall, Julia guessed that the young man might be army mad. She introduced him to her husband, then turned back to Lady Daventry. “Will Daventry be angry that you came here even though he’s disowned my husband?”

  “Yes, but it’s not the first time I’ve enraged him,” the countess said tartly. “He rages and stomps about furiously, but he’s never laid a finger on me in anger. I would not tolerate that.”

  At least the earl wasn’t as mad as his son had been. Julia said, “You’re a brave woman, Lady Daventry.”

  The countess’s animation vanished, and she spread her hand on her belly. “Not brave at all.”

  “How have you been feeling?” Julia asked with quick concern.

  “Huge. Slow.” Lady Daventry swallowed hard. “I was very young when my first son was born, and the others came within the next five years. My body isn’t as strong and resilient as it was then.”

  Julia took the countess’s hand. “That doesn’t mean you won’t be safely delivered of a fine, healthy baby. Have faith, Lady Daventry. A hopeful spirit will encourage a good outcome.”

  “I’m having trouble being hopeful,” the older woman said in a low voice. Her hand tightened on Julia’s for a moment before she released her. “But enough about me. When we first met, you mentioned that you were curious if Branford had spawned any by-blows. I wondered myself.”

  Attention caught, Julia said, “Did you ask your husband?”

  “I sounded Daventry out on the subject, but he said no. Regretfully.” The countess sighed. “It would be comforting to know he could have healthy descendants. You’re lucky your husband has the good blood of his mother’s people.”

  In other words, Randall could probably sire strong children…if he had a different wife. Julia suppressed the thought. It sounded as if Daventry didn’t know of Benjamin Thomas’s existence. Perhaps he’d be willing to accept the boy. Julia hoped so.

  But first, they must find him.

  Randall swept his wife into the first waltz. “Obviously your practice with the dance instructor paid off. You dance well and you haven’t missed a set yet.”

  His wife laughed, her expression vivid with delight. “I love dancing! I do believe that I am learning to enjoy London social life. Especially when I can have the first waltz and the supper dance with you.”

  Gossamer strands of dark hair had loosened to fall around her face and shoulders. The effect was startlingly erotic. He wanted to lick her slender throat, but settled for saying, “Since we’re married, we could dance more than twice without scandal.”

  “As a good guest of honor, I shouldn’t spend too much time with you.” She smiled mischievously. “They might think that I’m trying to seduce you. Would it be horribly indelicate of me to admit they would be right?”

  He grinned. “We’ll probably both be too tired to care by the time the night is over, but we can lie in late in the morning.”

  She moved a little closer in his arms, her gaze sultry. “You were right. I don’t want to take off for Gloucestershire first thing tomorrow. The day after will do.”

  They spoke no more, but he savored the heat between them. Disapproving dowagers were right to condemn the waltz—it was indeed inflammatory to spin around the ballroom with a beautiful woman in his arms. Knowing that they would be sharing a bed later was all that kept him from luring her out onto the terrace to steal kisses.

  The dance had just ended and Randall was leading Julia from the floor when a familiar dark man came up to them. “Ballard!” Randall exclaimed, shaking his friend’s hand. “I thought you’d be in Portugal by now.”

  “Business delayed me. I’m leaving tomorrow, but tonight, I can be here.” Ballard turned to Julia. “And this lovely creature must be your wife?”

  After Randall performed the introductions, Julia gave Ballard her hand. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” she said warmly. “I’m developing a definite taste for port that has been produced by Ballard House.”

  Ballard laughed. “A woman with a fine palate! You’re a lucky man, Randall.” The musicians were starting to play again, so Ballard offered Julia his arm. “May I have this dance, Lady Julia?”

  “With pleasure.” She gave Randall a roguish glance as Ballard led her away. “I want you to tell me disgraceful stories about my husband.”

  Randall watched her go, his heart tight in his chest. She was laughing and radiant, perfectly suited to this milieu. The gown’s neckline was modest, but the low back was tantalizing and the fitted bodice proved that her figure did not lack femininity.

  Now that she’d mastered her fears and discovered her passionate nature, she attracted the attention of every man who saw her. Lady Julia Raines was the belle of the ball. She had high birth, beauty, dazzling charm, and an extravagant fortune. She could have any man she wanted. The knowledge was like a weight in his belly.

  The fact that she currently had a husband was a minor impediment, given that he’d carefully arranged for her to be able to end the marriage in a year if she chose. He’d signed the quitclaim that waived his husbandly rights to her fortune. Why should Julia stay married to a man of no great fortune or distinction?

  Granted, they had turned out to be very compatible lovers. But as he watched her laughing with Ballard, he bleakly acknowledged that she could easily find satisfaction elsewhere. He wasn’t jealous of Ballard, who would never betray a friend, but the world was full of men who would happily bed a woman as lovely and sensual as Julia. Could his marriage survive when there was such a disparity of fortune and there would be no children to bind them together?

/>   Knowing he was being morbid and foolish, he forced himself to stop watching his wife. As he turned from the dancers, he saw Lady Agnes Westerfield, founder of the Westerfield Academy. Tall and masterful, she stood on the edge of the dance floor watching the other guests with benign amusement.

  “Lady Agnes!” He crossed to her and bowed. “Ashton said he’d invited you, but he didn’t think you would be able to come.”

  When he straightened, Lady Agnes gave him a hug. “You’re looking very well, Randall.” She picked a thread off his scarlet sleeve. “Splendid as you are in this uniform, I’m glad you’ve left the army. I worry.”

  Lady Agnes was a visionary headmistress and a gifted teacher, but even more important was the caring she gave her students, who often came to her angry and neglected. She wasn’t precisely a mother to her boys, but she made a splendid aunt.

  “What brings you to London?” he asked. “Just the ball, or other business?”

  She laughed. “Much as I love my boys, I was in need of a few days of adult conversation. It’s summer and only a handful of students are at the school, so I decided to come up to town. I’m staying at my brother’s house and indulging myself.” Her gaze went to his wife. “I talked a bit with Lady Julia last spring when I was here. A very sound young woman. She has turned from a quiet caterpillar into a shimmering butterfly in the months since. Is that your doing?”

  “Perhaps a little. But mostly it is Julia herself. She was born to this life, and now she is finally claiming it.” He offered his arm. “May I take you off for an ice?”

  She took his arm. “Wicked boy! You know how fond I am of ices.”

  As they headed to the refreshment table, he said, “I may have a student for you. Apparently my cousin Branford had an illegitimate son that the family hasn’t known about. Rob Carmichael thinks he’s located the boy, Benjamin Thomas. Julia and I are going to Gloucestershire to see.”

  “The illegitimate son of your wife’s first husband?” Lady Agnes’s brows arched. She knew of Branford’s violence because of what Randall had told her when he attended the academy. She was quite capable of deducing what that had meant for Julia. “Lady Julia has a generous spirit if she wants to help the child.”

  “Julia is generosity personified, especially since it seems likely the boy is being ill-used.” Randall collected two ices and a pair of spoons at the refreshment table, then led his companion to a small table under a towering palm. When they were seated, he continued, “The local parish handed young Benjamin over to a brute farmer as labor. Probably the child hasn’t a trace of education or manners. I know you have a reputation for working miracles, but there are limits. Would you be willing to take the boy on?”

  “Branford’s mother came from unsound stock,” Lady Agnes looked intrigued. “But that doesn’t mean Branford’s son is mad. He must be twelve or thirteen?”

  “From what we know, yes.”

  “Young Benjamin would present a challenge, but not an impossible one if he’s willing to work to better himself. We could give him private tutoring if needed,” Lady Agnes said thoughtfully. “Once you have the lad in hand, bring him to me for an interview. If he hasn’t the background and temperament for academic pursuits, I presume you could find him an apprenticeship or some other suitable situation.”

  Relieved by her calm acceptance, Randall said, “I had hoped you would be willing to look him over. Will you be in town very long?”

  “About a fortnight, I think.” She tasted a mouthful of her lemon ice and smiled blissfully. “I’ll return to Westerfield Manor just before Michaelmas term begins.”

  “Then I will bring the boy to you here rather than in Kent.” With that settled, Randall concentrated on his ice. But his gaze kept searching out Julia on the dance floor.

  What did the gallant knight do when the princess didn’t need him any more?

  Chapter 31

  Julia danced every dance, but it would take more than one night to make up for all her years of deprivation. She was on the sidelines ruefully examining her hem when Randall approached bearing two glasses of champagne. From the way female gazes followed him, Mariah had been right about how magnificent he was in his uniform. Just looking at him caused heat in unmentionable places.

  He offered her a glass of champagne. “A problem with your gown?”

  “My last partner stepped on the flounce at the bottom of my skirt and it tore loose.” She accepted the champagne and swallowed a mouthful with pleasure. “I’ll go to the ladies’ retiring room. Elsa is working there and she can pin it up.”

  “Let’s go up to our apartment,” he suggested. “I can manage if you provide the pins. I could use a break from all this concentrated humanity.”

  The look in his eyes made her feel even warmer. She finished the champagne in a single swallow and set the glass on a nearby table. “I’d like that.” She took his arm and they headed across the ballroom. “I noticed that you danced most of the dances. Were you enjoying yourself, or being a good guest?”

  “Mariah gave me my marching orders before the ball,” he explained. “I’ve danced with every wallflower and frisky dowager in Ashton House.”

  “I hope they didn’t all fall in love with you.” Her tone was light, but she had been very aware of his other partners. Though he claimed to be merely doing his duty, some of those “wallflowers” had been young and more beautiful than she would ever be.

  “If they were attracted by the uniform, I’m sure my stern expression discouraged any romantic fantasies. Mostly I was glad that you did such a good job repairing my leg that it is hardly aching at all.” He smiled down at her. “You do very good work.”

  “The governess I had as a girl would probably say that my needlework lessons were good training for surgery,” Julia replied. “She was always trying to persuade me to embrace ladylike accomplishments.”

  The cooler air outside the ballroom was a relief. As they started up the stairs, Julia caught up her skirt where the flounce was dragging. “It’s convenient to be living in the house where the ball is being held. Sanctuary from all the noise and talk.”

  “I’ve been on battlefields that were quieter than a London ball in full spate,” Randall agreed.

  At the top of the staircase, they turned right toward their apartment. When Randall opened the door to the sitting room, Julia realized that they were directly above the ballroom. She could hear the music and feel its vibration through her feet.

  Closing the door, Randall said, “I’ve wanted to do this all night.” He turned and drew her into his arms.

  “Oh, yes!” She reached up to put her arms around his neck as passion crackled between them like heat lightning. All night she had been aware of Randall, not just where he was in the ballroom and how splendid he looked, but memories of his taste, his touch, his ability to make her melt with desire.

  He drank her in as if she were a fountain and he was dying of thirst. Dimly she was aware that her back was pressed against the door as their mouths and tongues melted together with no beginning and no end.

  Her hips rocked against him. She felt quick disappointment when he pulled back a little, until she realized that he had lifted her skirt. Cool air touched heated flesh as he sought and found the most sensitive parts of her body.

  Exquisite though the sensations were, she wanted more. Blindly she fumbled with his breeches, managing the buttons with clumsy fingers until she freed the hard, pulsing shaft into her hand.

  He groaned. She had thought they might kiss their way to the bedroom, but instead he caught her around the waist and lifted her high. Crushed between the door and his taut body, she was shocked into mindless pleasure as he slid into her slick, heated depths. For an instant they were both still, adjusting.

  Then she wrapped her legs around his hips and ground frantically against him. Her nails bit his arms and her teeth sank into the scarlet wool of his shoulder as his harsh breathing sounded in her ear. More, more, more…

  Such fierceness couldn
’t last. Her body convulsed and she smothered her cry against his shoulder. A heartbeat later he spilled into her with a wrenching groan.

  The shattering release faded and sanity returned. Randall had intended a playful seduction, not mating with such raw need. Gasping for breath, he lowered Julia’s feet to the ground. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

  “You didn’t, Alex.” Julia’s pulse pounded in her throat as her palms skimmed down his arms, fingers opening and closing. “Not in any way I didn’t want.”

  He was grateful for that. Though he hadn’t expected to burn so hot or run so wild, at least they had been consumed together. But as passion ebbed, he realized bleakly that physical possession was fleeting. Julia was his for the moment. But for the future?

  Only God knew.

  Julia woke slowly the morning after the ball. If it was indeed morning. Her eyes were still closed, and for all she knew, it was high noon. Her muscles ached from so much dancing, and her stomach was a little queasy, probably from too much champagne. It was all quite wonderful.

  Randall’s body was warm and close, so she opened her eyes lazily. He was lying on his side, his tousled blond head propped on one hand as he studied her thoughtfully. His chest was bare, and so was she, now that she thought about it. Heavens, they were both thoroughly naked! She felt deliciously indecent.

  Memory flooded back. After they recovered from their fierce coupling, they’d returned demurely to the ballroom to eat supper. She had felt sure that her wanton behavior was written all over her, but no one seemed to notice.

  When she and Randall finally retired at some ridiculous early morning hour, she’d been ready to collapse into bed and sleep for days. Yet when he helped her disrobe, she’d returned the favor and all of their garments had ended in a pile on the carpet.

  His skin against hers felt so lovely that when they climbed into their bed they had been unable to keep their hands off each other. Fatigue dissipated as they had made love with slow thoroughness. Julia had fallen asleep smiling.