She dodged him and the movement seemed to have unstuck her words. "I detest parties,” she said. “Being thrown together with people I do not know, only to have them say awful things about me the moment my back is turned.” Julia knew it sounded mulish, but she could not stop herself from blurting out the tumble of her thoughts.
“People say all sorts of things when they believe there are no consequences for lying.” Lord Fawkland said as he took up his bow and nocked another arrow, aiming sideways at the farthest target, his body completely relaxed. “People are cruel. Sometimes they need to be put in their place.” He shot the arrow and chose another one, moving with smooth precision like a dancer…or a painter, placing the paint just where he wanted it.
“Are you saying I should threaten them as you do? I have heard…” She broke off. She could have kicked herself. Why had she said that? Why hadn’t she just been quiet and looked demure.
He stiffened, just for a moment, and she thought she caught a flash of heat in his eyes. Then he shot another arrow. It flew unerringly and struck dead center once again, sinking much deeper than the previous arrows. The intensity of Lord Fawkland frightened her, but she stayed nonetheless. He shot several more arrows, each one hitting the target with unerring ease and the boiling nervousness in her stomach turned to a soft simmering as if she were expecting something. She was not sure what.
“What have you heard?” His voice was almost a whisper, but she heard it still.
“I—I should not give any account to gossip,” she said, feeling her face flame. “I know how it feels to be the brunt of it.” What would he think of her? Did she care what he thought? She supposed she should. Her Father had tied her future with his. All she had to do was figure out how to avoid that future; that is if she still wanted to avoid it?
When Lord Fawkland turned to face her, there was no sign of anger in his face, just weariness. “Gossip is a coward’s weapon,” he said.
Lud, who was he speaking of? Her gossip or his own?
“Pardon?” she blurted.
“I am saying; people lie. People do things they should not, and hide under a mask of respectability.”
Well, that was true, Julia thought. Hadn’t she just said the same to Jane earlier today? But she didn’t want to agree with him. And yet to disagree seemed churlish. “Do you do that?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“Hide. Under a mask—“ she broke off before she spoke her thought aloud: a mask of respectability. Was she seriously going to ask him that? What was wrong with her?
Lord Fawkland did not answer immediately. Instead, he considered his answer for a moment. “I do what I must to protect the reputation of my family.”
Not himself, she thought. His family. He could not just let the talk stand. Like Jane. She could not let injustice stand either. That did not seem like a man who would take liberties. Julia studied his face a moment and he turned back to the target again, aiming and shooting with perfect precision.
Julia admired his form. She thought she could stay here all day and just watch him move with such precision and grace, but it was unseemly.
Julia, for want of a distraction, picked up her own bow and stood again across from the nearest target. “I do not think my threats would have the same effect as yours Lord Fawkland; it would only prove those people right— that I am wild and ill-mannered and prone to fits of passion because of…because of…” She broke off uncertain where to go with this confession. Once again, she had said things that were better off unsaid. She bit her lip, angry with herself for letting her tongue take off with her. She pointed her arrow at the ground. She took a shaky breath before beginning again.
She was trembling with anger, and emotion, cursing her stupidity which did not help her form. Lord Fawkland stepped up beside her when she began to draw again. His fingers hovered just above her elbow, never touching, but close enough to feel the heat of them.
“I have never felt you were wild and ill-mannered,” he said. “I know my brother sometimes led you astray, but…”
“It was not him, truly,” she said. “Mister Gruger was once my friend.”
Fawkland’s smile was extinguished as quickly as a snuffed candle and the sun in the sky went behind a cloud. A chill shuddered through her. What had happened between the brothers she wondered to make the animosity between them so pronounced? She pointed her arrow to the ground and released the tension from the bow, as she waited for him to enlighten her, or not; as he wished.
Godwin took a breath, and spoke. “My brother can be charming,” he said. “Amusing even, there is no doubt of that. However, Cedric never much cared who might be harmed by his amusements.”
Your brother was the only one who never teased me about the circumstances of my birth,” Julia said.
Lord Fawkland’s jaw tightened and she bit off the flood of words that threatened to fly from her mouth. What was the animosity between him and his brother? The question was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. She could not ask such a thing. Even she was not so socially inept, but there was certainly more here than she had first realized.
When at last Lord Fawkland spoke, his voice was sure. “Do not let anyone tell you it is wrong to be yourself. The talk of the Ton has of your breeding has more to do with their manners than your own,” he said. “Never forget that.”
Her own father had said much the same thing when she was inundated with rumors of her mother’s infidelity and her own tainted birth. “That sounds like something my father would have said,” she commented.
“It is something your father said,” he replied. His voice was wistful. He really had known her father well.
She raised a hand and then stopped, uncertain. She wanted to reach up and brush her fingers against the strong line of his jaw, to ease the tension there. Surely that was a forward thing to do. A lady would not even think of it.
Lord Fawkland looked at her then, and his eyes were the cool grey of a storm cloud. She felt they held the same intensity as an oncoming storm. She could nearly feel it blowing along her skin although the sun still shone.
His jacket was still open. His white waistcoat defined his chest and the heat which had moistened his body, made the garment cling. A baron had no right being so well built. And she had no right to look. What was wrong with her? A decent lady did not think about a man’s form! She tried to tear her eyes away and failed. She felt her face heating. He was so close she could smell the faint scent of sandalwood on his skin.
A shadow was on his cheek. His beard would grow darker than his hair, she thought, and she wanted to feel that rough stubble against her own skin.
His eyes alight on her lips and the moment stilled. Was he thinking of blueberries, she wondered and her heart pounded. She realized she wanted him to kiss her. Oh she was such a hoyden. She should look away. She should make some witty remark. Say…the sun was shining today…Oh, she was horrible at this.
She realized she was holding her breath, and let it out with a shaky sigh.
He cleared his throat. “Shall we try another arrow?” he asked.
She nodded dumbly and chose another.
“Lower your elbow so that is in line with your arm. A bit more. A straight line here will make for a straight shot,” he said, drawing his hand along her arm, but still not touching her.
“Do not try to hold the arrow,” he said. “Nock, aim, fire all in one smooth motion. There. That’s it. Now, release.”
She did. The arrow flew. It did not wobble but flew through the air. It landed point first in the target and stuck; in the outermost ring, but still. Julia danced in place and Lord Fawkland cheered for her.
“Did you see that? I hit it!” Julia laughed, forgetting her manners completely and jumping up and down like a small child. She all but flung himself into his arms. Where was her decorum? Oh she was a ninny. She took a deep breath and settled herself. There she went, getting worked up and emotional.
“A marked improvement,” Lord Fawk
land said. “You are a quick learner.”
“Thank you for teaching me,” she said.
“I enjoy teaching you.” There was a hint of a smile still playing on his lips, and it almost looked genuine.
~.~
Chapter Three
“Imagine, my brother the, taskmaster, teaching such a beautiful lady,” Mister Gruger’s mocking voice came from behind Julia. “And in such disarray,” Cedric tsked marking Lord Fawkland’s unbuttoned coat. Julia realized how close she and Lord Fawkland had been standing and took an immediate step back.
“Hello Cedric,” Lord Fawkland said tightly. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” He whispered under his breath, though Julia caught the words.
Cedric strode onto the range, pushing his blond hair back into place with one hand. “I could not allow you to commandeer all of Miss Bellevue’s time, when I have hardly had any of it myself, brother,” he said.
The setting sun was obscured by fine high clouds, tinged golden by the light behind them. Lord Fawkland’s shadow stretched across the grass as he stepped away from his brother, and re-buttoned his jacket. His face was hidden by the low light.
Julia wished Jane would hurry back. She had been gone a long while…too long. The air between the brothers felt like the moment before a storm, crackling with threatening energy and she felt Lord Fawkland’s cool grey eyes on her like a physical touch. She was not sure what to do.
“Go on and draw,” Cedric told her and she obeyed. He was so close to Julia’s back that she could feel his heat; his breath on her neck. Then he touched her. His fingers were as warm as Lord Fawkland’s had promised as they brushed her shoulder.
“Cedric,” Fawkland said, but Cedric ignored him.
“Stand straight,” Cedric said, correcting her tendency to slouch by pulling her shoulders back against his body as he stood behind her. She could feel the heat of him in the summer sun and the firm line of his body behind her. She couldn’t breathe. Her hand shook.
Lord Fawkland took a step toward them, but Cedric had already moved. He stepped around to her front and brought his hand up to her cheek. “Pull to here,” he said, his eyes on her lips. “Right there. That is the perfect spot.” He touched the corner of her mouth.
“Cedric,” Lord Fawkland said again. “You are too familiar with Miss Bellevue.”
Julia’s mind was buzzing. Her body was screaming three kinds of alarms. She couldn’t even see the target. Her eyes were blinded with his closeness. When Cedric dropped his hand from her face, she sighed in relief. She lost her head so easily. Hadn’t she just been so discomposed by his brother? She was indeed a hoyden. Even Lord Fawkland commented on how she allowed his brother’s familiarity. She started to relax her draw to simply put the arrow down, but Cedric interrupted.
“No, no, no,” Cedric coaxed her. “Draw to the corner of you lip. Yes, just so.” If her proximity affected him the way his did her he did not let it show. He stepped aside. “Now shoot.”
Julia shot at his word, but she was not even looking at the target. Her arrow flew past it and the next one, landing ten feet off to the side of the third target out. Cedric groaned humorously and covered his face with his hands as he chuckled; his eyes sparkling with mirth.
“Are you laughing at me, Sir?” Julia asked. There is no hope for me. I am awful, she thought. Can I do nothing right? At least if she was competent at archery she would not have to talk. They could just stand companionably together, and shoot, but that was not to be.
Cedric was still chuckling, but he dropped his hands from his face and showed his wide grin.
Julia could not help joining in. It felt good to laugh. She felt like a child again in on some rambunctious joke Cedric had played.
“My apologies, I am afraid you are hopeless, but you are so beautiful while you try that the results of the shot are not important.”
Julia’s laughter died on a breath. She was not beautiful, and she did not want to hear lies. She was thankful for the dusky light, that he could not see the way her cheeks reddened at his words. Then she remembered they were not alone and she turned around, embarrassed, Lord Fawkland’s name, on her lips, but Lord Fawkland spoke first.
“I believe your chaperone is returning, Miss Bellevue,” he said tightly to Julia. “And dinner will be served soon.” He was standing just few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest and a look of censure in his eyes.
She turned to see Jane ambling across the lawn. Julia pulled off her shooting gloves and tried to put on her kid gloves again, but her hands felt damp with perspiration and getting the gloves back on was a chore.
“Perfect,” Cedric said rubbing his hands together.
“The lanterns are being lit,” Lord Fawkland said, ignoring his brother. “We should return, Miss Bellevue. It is after all, a sunset picnic.” He turned to look at her, but Cedric had already captured Julia’s hand and tucked it around his own elbow before she even had the second glove completely on. There was a bit of fabric loose at the end of each finger, and now that Cedric had captured her hand, Julia was unsure how to proceed.
“I am quite excited to see if Lady Pratt can outdo last year’s stuffed peacock,” Cedric said.
What was it stuffed with? Julia wondered.
“And here is the elder Bellevue daughter for you to escort to dinner, Fawkland,” Cedric said with his ever present smile. “The elder sister for the elder brother.”
Jane looked momentarily from Cedric to Lord Fawkland, and Julia remembered she had told Jane she preferred the younger brother. Lord Fawkland did not look happy, but he held out his arm for Jane while Cedric helped Julia to smooth the gloves, finger, by finger. The action was helpful, but certainly on the edge of propriety.
Lord Fawkland glowered at him.
With her hand already tucked into Cedric’s arm, Julia was uncertain what to do as he smoothed the glove of her opposite hand. She looked to Jane for help.
“Lady Keegain,” Lord Fawkland said coolly as Jane came forward and took his arm. With her very presence, Jane calmed the tension between the Gruger brothers.
“I am sure we will have a lovely dinner,” Jane said. “Lady Pratt is the perfect hostess.”
They walked somewhat companionably back to the main area of the picnic. Jane chatted amicably about the Pratts while the others listened.
Tables were set away from the edges of the trees in the stone courtyard. The scent of flowers hung in the air covering the faint mineral scent of the Bath waters. The food was as beautiful as the gardens. Lanterns hung all about the courtyard, and candelabra were on every table. The place was a glitter with lights and silver. Flowers and fountains added to the magic of the moment.
“It is so beautiful,” Julia said as Cedric helped her to her seat. Propriety said that she should talk only to those on her left and her right, not across the table; not that she wanted to talk to anyone at all, but she was forced to speak near exclusively to Cedric and Jane. The food was plentiful and what she ate was delicious, but she found she had little appetite. Cedric commented that the Pratts had served several fish and fowl dishes, along with three different styles of venison which was a bit presumptuous.
Julia merely nodded. She supposed it was so, but she did not want to criticize their hostess. It seemed impolite.
Cedric continued undaunted. “You remember the deer park on our property, do you not?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered monosyllabically, thinking that remembering the deer park did not make the venison more appetizing to her.
“We had some great adventures there, did we not?” Cedric asked. He launched into a story of which she had no remembrance, but Julia put a bite in her mouth and nodded anyway. The one dish which was venison filet medallions in a creamy mushroom sauce smelled delicious, but she was never that fond of the dark game meat so she chose fish and fowl instead. Julia picked at her stuffed pigeon. She divested it of its decorations and pushed it around the plate, while Cedric tried each of the venison
dishes and coaxed her to taste them.
Jane was chatting amicably with Lord Fawkland and Julia was left her much to her own devices with Cedric. She tried to settle her nerves and smile at him.
“That’s my girl,” he said softly when he saw her smile.
Julia blushed. She was most certainly not a girl. Not his girl at any rate.
“I remember a young girl who had a spirit of adventure,” he continued leaning close.
She did not remember that herself. She remembered wishing she was more adventuresome. Julia found herself nervous again. She supposed it was because she was forced into such a social situation. Jane attempted to aid her in the conversation, engaging Cedric from the other side of Julia, leaving Lord Fawkland to his own musings.
Finally dessert was served: a multitude of cakes and tarts as well as fresh fruit which Bath was known for in the summer. Julia nibbled on a cherry tart.
~.~
Julia was relieved when the gentlemen at last went apart to smoke and the women excused themselves to the retiring rooms.
“Are you quite alright?” Jane asked, when Julia had refreshed herself. “You look pale.”
“I shall just be glad to be quit of this whole endeavor,” Julia said as she anxiously smoothed her dress.
“I know you would rather be home,” Jane said, “But did you not enjoy your conversation with Lord Fawkland this afternoon? Is he as you expected, or do you still prefer the younger?”
“No,” Julia said. “Yes. Oh, I do not really know what to expect, Jane. It is just that I still feel I do not know him.”
“Shall we go out into the garden?” Jane asked. “The men will be back soon, but the garden will give us a moment’s peace.”
The garden was quite beautiful with roses blooming on all sides, but it appeared many of the party-goers had the idea of a walk after dinner, so there was no privacy for Julia to talk to Jane. The day was moving well into evening now, but the path was swept clear of obstacles and the garden was well lit. The walk was pleasantly cool and other small groups of women walked along various paths. Lady Charity and Lavinia caught up with them, along with the Poppy sisters. Julia smiled as the women conversed, but she did not attempt to join in.
The Baron in Bath - Miss Julia Bellevue: A Regency Romance Novel (Heart of a Gentleman Book 4) Page 8