All Things Beautiful

by Cathy Maxwell

  “Who better?”

  “Aye,” he admitted ruefully. “Who better? But why not? It’s been known to happen. Fortunes have been won at the gaming tables.” He shrugged his shoulders.

  “More often than not, they’ve been lost.”

  The features of Peter’s face tightened. “Well, mine was lost.” He raised a hand ineffectually in the air. “And Arabella kept spending. I warned her, pleaded with her, demanded that she quit her extravagant ways.” He looked at Julia, his face bleak and hard. “No, I don’t mourn her death. Whatever goodwill we had between us before our marriage died years ago. She’s ruined me.”

  “Peter, you can’t blame Brader for any of this.”

  “I can blame him for buying the vouchers, for forcing me to represent him to you in a matter I found totally repugnant. He wouldn’t even tell me why he wanted Kimberwood.” Peter lifted his noble chin to punctuate the end of his story, as if he’d conveyed some dramatic information.

  “I don’t see where any of his actions brand him an extortionist,” Julia said frankly. “Did he not give the vouchers to you once you completed your task?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I see nothing dishonorable about my husband’s behavior.”

  Peter stared at her as if she’d sprouted wings. “Nothing dishonorable?” He frowned. “Julia, I am on bended knee, offering you my heart—”

  “Oh, please,” she snapped, finally losing her temper. She placed her hands on her hips. “What you’ve offered me is a number of unfounded accusations about my husband and an acting performance to rival John Kemble’s.” Seeing his brows come together, Julia held up a hand as if to ward off his anger, not afraid to give him a dose of her own temper. “Oh, yes, and the dubious honor of leaving Brader and running away with you, a man who has obviously been tipping the bottle too much for his own good.”

  “It’s the money,” he concluded. “You think I don’t have money. Don’t worry, I’m not a pauper—thanks to a little task I performed for Brader Wolf,” he added bitterly.

  “Peter, you are being ridiculous. I won’t run off with you,” she said, enunciating each word, sure now that his drinking had affected his mind.

  His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Perhaps Geoffrey was right.”

  “Geoffrey? What has Geoffrey to do with this?” Julia felt a twinge of alarm.

  His aristocratic lips curled in disdain. “He warned me. Told me you were completely besotted with the brute. He said only death would pry you apart from your burly tradesman—but I didn’t believe him. I didn’t believe you’d throw your life away on a cit.”

  Julia was so angry her whole body shook. “I think you had better leave, and I don’t ever wish to lay eyes on you again,” she managed to choke out.

  A stricken expression crossed Peter’s face. “No, Julia. I don’t know what came over me. Don’t ask me to leave.”

  She moved toward the door, but Peter, in two steps, stopped her, grabbing her arms. Julia pulled against his hold, her face turning away from his brandy-laced breath. “Let—go of me.”

  “I didn’t mean to chase you away. I love you. Leave Wolf,” he pleaded, “and come with me. Now. This instant. We—”

  He broke off, his eyes looking past Julia. Abruptly his grip loosened and she was able to pull free. Turning toward the door, Julia froze.

  “I wasn’t informed we had a guest.” Brader shut the door firmly behind him and walked into the room. “Hello, Carberry. How are things in London?” His voice held the sharp edge of a knife slicing through silk.

  He’d been working in his study. His hair was unruly and ruffled where he’d combed his fingers through it while debating over his reports and ledgers. An ink stain marked the index finger of his right hand. Dressed in buckskins, top boots, and a fine linen shirt with the neck cloth loose and untied, as was his wont when he worked at home, Brader made a fine contrast against Peter’s more staid manner of dress.

  Julia didn’t know if Brader’s presence made matters better or worse. For herself, she considered him a savior. Now, certainly, Peter would leave her in peace.

  Peter allowed himself only one terse word in greeting. “Wolf.”

  The animosity between the two men was a living thing eating up the oxygen in the room. Julia stepped between them. “Peter stopped to pay us a call on his way out of the country.” She kept her voice pleasant, as though it were the most common thing in the world for Peter to do.

  Brader lifted his eyebrow in mock surprise. “Traveling, Carberry? How kind of you to go four hours out of your way to pay a call on me and my wife.”

  “This isn’t a social call, Wolf,” Peter snapped. “And do I need to remind you how to act before your betters?”

  Julia gasped at Peter’s audacity. Brader’s eyes took on a dangerous and unholy gleam. Completely unrepentant, he answered, “I beg pardon, Carberry.” There was nothing humble about his tone.

  Julia intervened. “Peter’s wife, Arabella, has passed away, Brader. It happened very suddenly. He was kind enough to deliver the news to me personally.”

  Her words had the desired effect. The stern set of her husband’s features softened, his stance relaxed. “I am sorry to hear of your loss.”

  Julia took her first complete breath since Brader had stepped into the room, certain the danger of a confrontation had passed. Peter stunned her when he declared, “Save your condolences, Wolf. I’ve asked your wife to go off with me.”

  “Peter!” she burst out in shock, whirling on him.

  Before she could say more, Brader said, in a voice as hard as flint, “And has she given you an answer?”

  “No!” Julia turned so she could look at the two angry men, her hands coming up as if to keep them away from each other. “The answer is no!”

  “She’s afraid of you,” Peter jeered.

  Brader’s body tensed. Julia threw herself toward him, placing a hand on each of his arms. “He’s mad with grief and drink. Don’t listen to him.”

  Brader looked from Peter, down to Julia, and back again. The set of his mouth grew grimmer. She understood him enough to know how hard he fought to control his temper.

  “What, no response, Wolf?” Peter taunted, obviously believing he held the advantage by Brader’s silence. “She’s above your touch, you know. She’s fine silk to your dross and coarse wool. Let her free to be with her own kind.”

  Brader’s eyes flared golden for a mere second before retreating behind a hard opaque shell. His expression had changed so quickly, only Julia knew Peter’s barb had struck a nerve.

  The unique timbre of Brader’s voice filled the room. “Leave, Carberry. Do so now or I shall be forced physically to remove you, a task I shall relish.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Peter challenged.

  Oh, he’d dare, Julia thought wildly, and she wasn’t sure she shouldn’t let him. Instead, she pushed her back against Brader’s chest. “Stop it, both of you.” Turning wide eyes on Peter, she stated, “I have no intention of leaving with you. My life is here. I took a vow before God to honor this man, and I will not leave—with you or anyone else.”

  “Julia, my angel, is that all that holds you here?” Peter asked. “Your honor does not demand you sacrifice yourself—”

  “Peter, you fool!” she shouted in full voice. “He’s my husband!”

  Shocked, Peter’s eyes lost their defiance. He stared at Brader’s hands, now resting on her shoulders. “You will not come with me?” His voice sounded bewildered, betrayed.

  “No. Now please leave,” she spoke softly, realizing the battle was over. “You have created enough havoc in my life for one morning.”

  “You heard my wife, Carberry. She’s asked you to leave.” Brader’s voice was emotionless.

  Peter straightened his shoulders, looking past them and seeming to study the December landscape outside the window, before giving a nod of his head, as if he’d come to an understanding. He focused on Julia. “I’m willing to give up everything for you, to
leave the country and disgrace my name.”

  Julia shook her head. “Peter, please.”

  He did not like losing. She’d known him since childhood and he’d always been the same. Now she watched as he finally accepted that she would not leave Kimberwood with him—and braced herself.

  Peter did not disappoint her. He drew himself up to his full height, hiding behind an aura of self-importance. “Next you’ll babble to me you are in love with this—” he raked Brader with his eyes disdainfully—“merchant. Well, I won’t stay to hear it,” he decided crisply.

  Walking to the door, Peter paused to make his last grim pronouncement. “Good-bye, Julia. We shall not see each other again. I assure you of that fact.” He opened the door. “From this day forward, you are as one dead to me.” He slammed the door behind him with finality.

  Brader’s body started as if he would spring after Peter and throttle him. Julia turned and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against the linen covering his chest. “Don’t, Brader. He’s not worth it. That’s just Peter’s way.”

  Brader took her arms and moved her aside. “And it is my way to answer insult with like. Carberry is a pompous puppy, and has never been anything more.”

  “Yes, but he’s not worth having the constable set on you, and Peter would do that if you laid a hand on him. He’d use his position in the House of Lords to do every vindictive little thing he could.”

  Brader stepped back from her and sneered. “He doesn’t have the power.”

  Julia suddenly felt drained. “Whereas you do?”

  “I could destroy him,” Brader acknowledged.

  “You may have already.” She walked over to the window in time to watch Peter put spurs to his horse and charge down the drive. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the crackling of a log in the fireplace.

  Julia spoke. “I did nothing to encourage him.”

  “I did not think you did.”

  He’d crossed to the fireplace and picked up the same piece of glass Peter had studied earlier. He turned the fine glass in his hands, as if contemplating the way the flames from the fire played against it.

  She gave him a small, tight smile. “Yes, you did. You wondered, Brader. That’s why I want you to know. I’ve had nothing to do with Peter Jamison since the ball in London.”

  Brader made no response at first but kept his attention on the heavy glass. Julia waited. “He’s in love with you.”

  Julia raised her eyebrows in surprise, wondering if Brader had heard Peter’s wild declarations, and then dismissed the possibility. The walls of Kimberwood were thick and solid. She corrected him. “Peter thought he was in love with me. His desire for me was merely his grief and guilt talking.”

  Brader shook his head and stood up straight to face her. “No, Carberry loves you. I had him thoroughly checked out before I sent him to your parents with the marriage offer. What he did today is completely out of character, especially since—” He shook his head as if he changed his mind about what he was about to say.

  Something weighed heavy on his mind. “Does it bother you if Peter believes he loves me?” she prompted.

  “He does love you,” Brader shot back.

  Julia rolled her eyes heavenward. “Fine. If you insist then I agree, Peter loves me. But my feelings toward him are unchanged. He is a friend, a childhood acquaintance really, nothing more—and even less now,” she amended.

  When Brader made no response, she tried a different tack. “Brader, a person could almost imagine you are jealous.”

  “And what if I were, Julia? Is it so hard to believe?” Brader didn’t look at her, again studying the glass intently, one long finger carefully tracing its contours.

  Truly hurt that he would even doubt her, she answered, “I’ve given you no cause. I am not some dumb animal to be bought or traded, unable to know her own mind. I meant what I said to Peter. I took a marriage vow before God, and I honor my vows. You never need fear I will cuckold you.”

  Brader looked at her then, his eyes dark and enigmatic. “Is that all that binds us? Wedding vows?”

  Julia held her hands out to him in exasperation. “Hello? Is this the same Brader Wolf I married not seven weeks ago?” She heaved a beleaguered sigh. “Brader, I don’t understand what you want. Are you angry I didn’t refuse to see Peter immediately? I would have if I’d known he was going to behave so foolishly.”

  “Like he did in London.”

  She let her arms fall to her side. “Yes,” she agreed. “He was out of line in London. I extended him a common courtesy today, and he abused it. It will not happen again. Even if he should come to the door, I will order Fisher to refuse him.”

  His face set in strong, tense lines, Brader looked far from satisfied, but he did not answer.

  Julia wished she understood what he wanted. She changed the subject. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Nan I would read to her this afternoon.”

  Brader stared at her as if trying to read her soul. She wanted to stamp her foot in vexation. Damn Peter for showing up with his theatrics and upsetting the perfect world she and Brader had created. And, damn Brader, she added, for behaving in such an odd manner. With a last frustrated glance in his direction, she walked to the door. His voice stopped her just as her hand turned the handle.

  “You know that it was Peter Jamison who hired Lawrence Alcorn to seduce you.”

  Julia didn’t know how to answer his statement. Brader stood in brooding silence watching her. She wondered if this was behind his strange mood.

  “Yes,” she said finally. “I knew Peter was one of the group of men who hired Lawrence.”

  Brader’s lips parted, his eyes opening in surprise. “You knew? And yet you’ve treated him with kindness and friendship, even listened to my proposal through him?”

  “And accepted it,” she acknowledged dryly.

  “Why? Why did you even listen to him? He betrayed you.”

  “He was one of a group of men who set me up and betrayed me,” she corrected. “Two members of that group had been fleeced by Geoffrey and wished revenge, with good cause. I had rejected the suit of several others—legitimate rejections,” she added. “But knowing Peter’s involvement, why did you use him?”

  “My sources recommended Carberry because of his status in society and the longstanding relationship he had with your family.”

  “I know Peter better than I know my brothers,” she agreed. “And I did listen to him when he spoke for you. I truly believe Peter regrets he played a part in my downfall.”

  Brader snorted his disbelief.

  “Peter gave me his coat and led me out of the room when all the others could do was laugh.” Laugh? She could still hear the catcalls, the crude words, the hands reaching for her. Taking a deep breath, she admitted, “I blame only myself for what happened that night. Lawrence Alcorn had very little to commend him besides good looks. The hardest moment of my life was when I realized I made the choice that led to my disgrace. Lawrence spoke of love, just as Peter did today, but I never should have entertained his suggestion to elope. It was bad ton,” she explained with a rueful smile. “In doing so, I betrayed my name. If I had listened to the rules of society years ago, I would not have become a scandal.”

  Julia held her head higher.

  “Today Peter offered me another choice—one that, for all his fine words of love, would have ruined me.” She flashed Brader a brilliant smile full of confidence as she turned the handle on the door. “But this time he didn’t succeed.”

  There, she thought, with no small amount of pride. Let Brader mull over that! She started to open the door.

  “Julia?” The baritone of his voice stopped her. She turned to him. He still stood by the mantel, his arms at his sides, the glass piece held loosely in one hand. In spite of his stance, he looked tense. His face was an emotionless mask.

  “Yes, Brader?” She raised her eyebrows in askance.

  “The only reason you didn’t leave
today is because of our wedding vow?”

  She smiled. “I will honor that vow until my death,” she assured him proudly. She opened the door. “Do you have much more to do before dinner? Perhaps we can try to go out for a quick ride, although the air is rather brisk.”

  He shook his head but made no move to follow her out of the room.

  “Are you returning to the study?”

  “No, I think I will stay here a moment. Close the door for me, please.”

  Julia blinked. Brader rarely spent any time alone in the sitting room, and his request was unusual. Still…“Of course, Brader. I’ll see you at dinner?”

  “Yes.”

  She gave him her famous smile, trying to divine his thoughts. His face was an inscrutable mask. “Well, I’ll see you at dinner,” she repeated and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

  She’d climbed halfway up the staircase when she heard a crash from the sitting room. Instinctively, she knew the glass figurine existed no more.

  Aware that Fisher and the footmen’s eyes must be on her regardless of their training, Julia pivoted on the step, debating her next move. The door to the sitting room opened.

  Brader stopped in the doorway, his aura civilized and controlled. His expressionless gaze met hers. They studied each other, and then Brader broke eye contact and walked without a word to his study.

  Waiting until his study door closed, a bewildered Julia turned to Fisher and the witnessing footmen. Proud of the steadiness in her voice, she said stiffly, “I believe, Fisher, there is a mess that needs to be tidied in the sitting room.”

  On that understatement Julia continued up the stairs, aware that Peter had stolen something precious and special from her and Brader…and wondering what would she have to do to get it back.

  Eighteen

  They gave the majority of the staff the holiday off, starting after the Christmas Eve meal, which they’d shared with Nan, Mrs. Brown, and Mrs. Elliott in Nan’s room. Mrs. Brown, a widow, had no family and would spend the holiday with Nan. Mrs. Elliott planned to leave two days after Christmas to visit her oldest daughter.