“No!” Julia exclaimed in disbelief.
“Yes,” Brader mocked. “I’ve fought the French.” His brow lifted cynically. “Your choice of husband grows worse by the moment, doesn’t it, Lady Julia? Does it help to know I did not choose the sea? I was picked up by an impress gang on the way home from an errand for my employer.”
“An impress gang!”
“Aye. I was knocked senseless on a London street, and when I gained consciousness we were already at sea. I had no opportunity to contact my family and let them know what happened to me until two years later.”
Immediately, Julia empathized with Nan. “I can’t imagine having a child of mine disappear. The pain…”
Brader’s jaw hardened. “My disappearance also led to the deaths of John and Mary. I supported my family. Without me, they were at the mercy of London’s streets. John tried, but neither his health nor Mary’s was very good.” His eyes narrowed. “Did she tell you she once lived at Kimberwood?”
Julia nodded. “And that her first husband is buried here.”
“She only had one husband, Julia.”
Caught off guard, Julia didn’t know what to say. Of course! Nan’s last name was Ashford, not Wolf. Brader was closely watching her, gauging her reaction to his illegitimacy.
In that instant, Julia knew Nan was right. Julia would not go so far as to imagine Brader in love with her. That would be doing it up too brown. But her intuition told her he did care for her good opinion of him.
Hadn’t Lord Barham declared to his companion last night that Brader was known for his pride? Yes, she could read pride in the erect bearing of his broad shoulders, the way he entered a room defying anyone to challenge his will.
But what if he did feel some attraction for her? Perhaps, as Nan suggested, something more than physical? Julia’s heart pounded with the thought.
Choosing her words carefully, Julia attempted lightness. “Brader, if you are attempting to shock me, you must try harder. I’ve fostered my own scandal, and the Markhams have more skeletons in their closet than the Tudors.”
For a moment, Brader smiled. Half moons of what looked suspiciously like dimples appeared at the corners of his mouth.
“Are your brother and sister buried here also?” Julia asked without thinking.
The light left his eyes. “You want it all, don’t you?” Brader crossed away from her to stare out the window into the encroaching night and rain. “No,” he tossed over his shoulder. “They are buried in a pauper’s grave in London.”
Shocked, Julia whispered, “That’s dreadful. I’m sorry.”
“By the time I untangled myself from His Majesty’s ‘mercy,’ it was too late. John and Mary were both dead; Mother was living off the meager kindness of friends. She wasn’t completely blind then. I took her to every physician I could find. Nothing helped. One quack said it was God’s will to take her sight.”
He whirled on Julia. His eyes bright, the capes of his greatcoat swaying, he said bitterly, “Poverty took her sight, and poverty killed John and Mary. There are those that have in this world and those that haven’t. They’d be alive today if your grandparents had allowed the deceased vicar’s family a small living.”
Understanding dawned on Julia. “You blame me! This is what is behind your anger at me, isn’t it?” She stepped toward him. “Brader, my grandfather was a cruel and selfish man. I agree he should not have turned away a widow and her children. But I am not him.”
“No, but you are cut from the same cloth.”
Julia wanted to grind her teeth with frustration. “Even blind, your mother sees more than you do! At one time you could have leveled that accusation toward me, but no longer. I am no starry-eyed debutante under the spell of her family. Do not hold their sins against me. The burden is heavy enough answering for my own.”
For once she felt she had his undivided attention. Inside her flared a small spark of hope.
“Brader, do you not see we can live reasonably with each other? Perhaps we would never completely suit the other’s ideal, but we can share a life together.”
For a brief moment, the arrested look in his eyes gave Julia hope. Then, just as quickly, his eyes hardened. “What do you want? Why are you chasing me, Julia?”
“What makes you believe I want something?”
“Because I already know how your mind works, my lady. We are no love match. Money attracted you to this marriage. You were shocked when I told you I was illegitimate, but you’ll accept it for the money.”
Julia’s palm itched to strike him. “Am I so easy to read?” Sarcasm laced her words.
“Yes. Those magnificent eyes of yours mirror every thought running through your little mind.”
Her body went rigid with her fury. “For your information, I give less credit than you do to the circumstances of your birth. And second, there is nothing ‘little’ about my mind.”
Brader laughed harshly.
Julia struggled with herself to not go over and pound sense into him. “You like belittling me, don’t you? Making fun of me makes you feel like you are getting something of your own back. But you won’t, Brader. Nothing can change what has happened in the past. I’ve learned that lesson.”
Julia stood straight and proud.
“All of this,” she said, the wave of her hand encompassing the sunroom, “the mansions, the money, the power, will never make up to you or to your mother for the past. There’s only the future, Brader. Only the future.”
Brader glared at her, his features so grave they could be carved in stone.
When he didn’t respond, Julia snapped, “Fine! Hide behind your cynicism. I leave you happy with it.” She turned on her heel, grinding glass into the floor.
At the door a soft, deep baritone stopped her. “Brave words, Julia Markham, but do you have the courage to live them?”
Julia continued walking, wishing she, too, had a door to smash for her exit.
Eight
Julia’s reflection, sophisticated and elegant in the dark blue velvet, smiled back at her. She wished the smile looked more confident.
She couldn’t fault the dress. The demure high neckline was more to her taste than Madame Jacqueline’s low necklines, and the heavy swirl of velvet skirts made her feel feminine. Betty, her maid, pulled back her hair and dressed it simply on top of her head to emphasize the graceful line of her neck and the oval of her face.
Courage, she reminded herself. If Nan could be believed, Brader felt some attraction for her. Remembering his stormy presence in the sunroom, Julia could claim she felt more than a little attraction for him. After she left the sunroom—and calmed down—she had acknowledged that no man had ever challenged or stimulated her like Brader Wolf. Emma said their mutual feelings were enough.
Tonight, Julia planned to discover if Emma was right.
“You look lovely tonight, Mrs. Wolf, if’n you don’t mind my opinion, ma’am,” her little maid said.
Julia smiled with genuine warmth. “Thank you, Betty. I truly appreciate your saying so.”
She was well pleased with Betty, the maid Brader had assigned to her from the hour of their marriage. The young woman steadfastly stayed by Julia’s side during the hysterical moments in London after Julia discovered Brader had left her and during the days that followed while Julia had mustered her courage to follow her husband.
With a conspirator’s nod, Julia left her bedroom.
The thick carpet of the staircase muffled her footsteps going down to the foyer. The house was quiet. Almost too quiet, Julia thought, until she caught sight of the footmen and Fisher.
“Good evening, Fisher.”
“Good evening, madam,” the butler replied, his tone formal. Julia wondered if he would ever thaw even slightly toward her. Just as Betty gave her loyalty to Julia, Fisher gave his to Brader. Someday, Julia promised silently, I will earn the complete allegiance of everyone in this house.
Julia’s smile was charm itself. “I realize I am a few minutes l
ate, Fisher. Has everyone already gathered for dinner?”
“Yes, madam,” he answered and bowed, indicating for her to precede him into the dining room.
In the doorway, she came to a dead stop. A sparkling crystal chandelier gave out light from at least a hundred candles. Footmen stood ready to serve. The table gleamed with polish and newness, emphasizing the single place setting at the far end.
Julia looked at Fisher. “What is this? Am I the only one dining?”
“Mrs. Ashford always takes a plate in her quarters.”
Julia whirled on him, fire blazing from her eyes. Fisher jumped back, snapped out of his complacency.
She’d be damned before she’d let a servant get away with mutiny! Julia never raised her voice, but no admiral of the fleet could have put more meaning in each syllable. “I am well aware of where my mother-in-law takes her meals. But is it too much to ask, Fisher, as to the whereabouts of my husband?”
Indeed, Fisher stammered before her, an errant midshipman. “He and Mr. Hardwell are dining in the study from trays.”
She gave him a smile that did not ease the militant gleam in her eyes. “Thank you for the information. Prepare a tray for me also and have it delivered to the study.” Julia started walking down the hall.
The butler called after her, a touch of panic rising in his voice. “Mrs. Wolf. Mrs. Wolf, ma’am, I don’t think the master will like that. The master normally doesn’t like to be disturbed when he and Mr. Hardwell have these working sessions.”
Julia turned and gave Fisher a lift of her brow, eloquently conveying to the butler she didn’t have a care about what the master liked or didn’t like, before turning the handle on the study door and giving it a shove.
Now to rout out the master. She stepped into the study.
The room was much as she remembered from her grandparents’ time. Heavy oak paneling gave it a dark, masculine air. Brader looked at home behind the massive ornate mahogany desk, his wineglass halfway to his lips, where it stayed, suspended in air, as he stared at her as if they’d never met before.
Hardwell jumped to his feet almost upsetting his tray and trying to balance a heavy ledger he’d held in his lap. “Lady Jul—ah, Mrs. Wolf.” The secretary looked nervously from Julia to Brader and back to Julia again. “Good evening, ma’am,” he finished lamely.
Julia flashed him her famous smile, the one that had conquered a marquess, two earls, and a duke, reducing the man even more to jelly. “How good it is to see you again, Mr. Hardwell. I do hope you gentlemen will not mind my joining you for dinner.”
Brader lowered his glass. “As a matter of fact—”
“Yes, I knew you wouldn’t mind,” Julia interrupted smoothly and seated herself in the chair close to Brader’s desk, between the two men.
“Julia,” Brader began, “I thought Fisher set a place for you in the din—”
“Dining room?” Julia did her best imitation of a meek and timid wife, dropping her voice to an intimate level. “But I’d be lonesome in there by myself. Please say you’ll let me stay.” She peeped up at him through long dark lashes, a look that usually had men kissing her feet.
Well, she could turn to stone before Brader would kiss her feet. Her wheedling didn’t earn her anything but a cynical twist of his mouth. Still, he didn’t order her out of the room; that was some progress, Julia decided.
“Then stay…but do not interrupt,” he ordered.
Julia batted her lashes as if questioning his audacity even to suggest she would be in the way. With a wave of her hand, she said, “Oh, please, continue with your meal and pretend I’m not here. My dinner will arrive momentarily, and then I’ll leave you men to your business.”
Brader didn’t answer but directed his attention to Hardwell, who still stood gaping at Julia. “William, sit down,” Brader growled.
The young secretary colored a rosy red and stumbled back to his seat. It took him several minutes to rearrange the ledgers and papers they’d been discussing before Julia’s interruption.
“Now, William, you were discussing the percentages on the—”
A knock on the door interrupted him. Brader scowled at Julia before calling for the intruder to enter. It was Fisher and a footman with Julia’s dinner and a standing tray to set it on.
When the door closed behind the exiting Fisher, Brader cleared his throat and began again. “You were discussing the percentages on—”
“I don’t mean to disturb you, Brader, but is that the salt dish in front of you? I would so like to use it.” Julia attempted one of her devastating smiles on Brader. To her chagrin, it held no magic over him.
Irritably, Brader handed the salt cellar to her. She accepted it demurely, wondering if she dared another salvo.
Brader cleared his throat. “The percentages are based—”
Yes, she dared! “I find discussion of business at the dinner table or—ah—tray, as it were, not the least bit interesting and completely out of place,” she stated in her best society hauteur.
If she had flung the contents of her wineglass in Brader’s face, he could not have looked more furious. Hardwell sat in stunned silence, a man waiting for an explosion.
“Brader?” Julia asked, the soul of innocence. “Have I said something to vex you?”
Hardwell ducked. Julia prepared to duck. Brader surprised them both.
He smiled, dimples emphasizing his masculine good looks, gave a soft laugh as if sharing a private joke, and saluted Julia with his wineglass.
“Well done, madam. You never cease to amaze me.” His other hand came down on his desk with a resounding whack. “Fine. Stay here. Enjoy your meal with us, but have done with your little games. There is too much work for William and me to finish. We do not have time to play with you right now.” He phrased his words as if speaking to a child.
“Is that all there is to your life? Work?” Julia asked tartly.
“Yes.” Brader turned his attention back to his secretary. “Now, the percentages we discussed are based upon the funds coming in on a narrower margin than our last report. How will this affect my plans for the South American mill?”
Julia ate her meal, giving Brader his requested silence. Fascinated by the extent of his business dealings, she found much of what they discussed beyond her comprehension. She concentrated, attempting to make sense of all the business connections, but was forced to give it up since neither Brader nor Hardwell appeared inclined to answer her questions.
Finishing her meal, Julia stood to stretch her legs. She walked around the room, perusing the books lining the shelves and sitting on chairs and on tables. The books covered a wide range of topics, from bird life in the Amazon and a treatise on India’s trade laws to poetry and Henry Fielding. Each book looked as if it had been read. Julia cast a speculative look toward her husband, his well muscled arms and thighs belying the fact that he was a bookworm.
Brader studiously ignored her progress around the room. Julia smiled, accepting the challenge.
Slowly, she pretended to explore the room, moving closer and closer to him. Finally she’d made her way to behind his chair. Glancing over his shoulder, she blatantly studied the ledger books, loose ledger sheets, and handwritten reports spread out in front of him. Brader ignored her.
Julia sighed and leaned against his chair, “accidentally” giving his shoulder a shove. Brader paused for a brief second in his conversation, leaned forward, and then ignored her.
With an overly elaborate show of casualness, Julia turned and, giving Hardwell her back, seated herself against Brader’s desk. Her thigh pressed against his arm. Every fiber of her being focused on the press of her body against his. For a moment her own boldness startled her, but she felt a surge of triumph when she noticed Brader’s concentration no longer centered on Hardwell’s monotone delivery of a report but on Julia. Two spots of color burned high on his cheeks. He lowered his head to look at her blue velvet thigh brushing against his arm.
Where he looked, Julia’s b
ody burned. His warmth lured her closer. When he raised his dark eyes to meet hers, her breath caught in her throat as though he held her captive. Deeper, more liquid emotions stirred her body. Her breasts swelled, the nipples hardening and embarrassing her. Julia broke eye contact first, singed by the heat of the strange and new emotions his look kindled.
Tonight! she wanted to whisper to him. Tonight, Brader would make her his wife in something other than name only.
Instead, she rose and took a step away from him, able to breathe again. “Brader, I hope you and Mr. Hardwell will excuse me. It has been a long day.”
Hardwell jumped awkwardly to his feet again, trying to hold open the heavy ledgers in his lap. This time, Brader rose too.
“I’m sure you are tired from such an eventful day,” Brader responded. His eyes were hooded but his voice held a deeper, more intense emotion.
If Julia were a cat, she’d have purred at the mere sound of it. “I leave you gentlemen to enjoy your ledgers.” Closing the door, Julia managed to maintain her dignity past the footmen in the hall and up the stairs, but once inside her room she couldn’t resist doing a quick, happy country jig.
Emma was correct. Brader wasn’t completely indifferent to her. A woman did have certain powers over a man, and tonight Julia was going to exercise those powers. Tonight they would create her baby. She enjoyed the game of cat and mouse, when Brader played the mouse!
She sprang into action, ordering up a bath. Betty already had the water heating downstairs, and in a short time two footmen delivered the ornate tub and filled it with warm water. Pouring in the bath oil of her favorite rose and almond oil perfume herself, Julia hummed.
“You seem very happy tonight, my lady,” Betty noticed while unfastening the buttons of the blue velvet.
Julia danced away before turning on the maid. “I am. I have just discovered how to tame a beast.”
Betty’s eyes opened wide. “A beast?”
Julia laughed. “Yes, Betty, my husband.”
“Oh, Lor’, ma’am. Please be careful around Master Wolf. Fisher always warns us the master can be terrible when he’s crossed.”
All Things Beautiful Page 10