The Baron in Bath - Miss Julia Bellevue: A Regency Romance Novel (Heart of a Gentleman Book 4)

by Isabella Thorne

  How had he gone from the boy she liked as a friend to this man? People did not change, she reminded herself, only perhaps he had done so, and for the worse. And what about herself, she wondered. Had she changed?

  When at last her hands had been scrubbed free of paint, she took her foot from the basin and dried it with a flannel. She dabbed her toes dry, being extra careful of the sore big toe. Still Jane had not come to fetch her, so Julia went in search of her sister.

  “Jane?” Julia called, opening the door to her sister’s room and stepping inside.

  To Julia’s surprise Jane had not yet dressed. Her hair was done, but she was still sitting in her dressing gown. Her eyes were closed. There were only two hours until the ball and Julia knew, in Jane’s mind that was hardly adequate.

  “Are you ill?” Julia said inspecting Jane’s face, but her sister was neither pale nor clammy, in fact, she looked as bright and beautiful as always.

  Jane laughed. “No, I am just a little tired, but I am most excited for this evening.”

  “If you are sure,” Julia began.

  “Yes,” Jane assured her kissing her cheek. “It is going to be a wonderful evening. I know it.” She called her maid and asked her to bring a box while Jacqueline brought an assortment of combs and brushes to do Julia’s hair.

  “A moment,” Jane said to Jacqueline as she took the box from the other maid.

  Julia’s face screwed up with a question.

  Jane caught Julia’s hands and smiled at her. Jane did look happy and as always, Jane’s good humor was infectious. “Now, close your eyes and hold out your hands. I have a present for you.”

  Julia closed her eyes and held her hands out flat. “What is it?”

  A weight settled on Julia’s palms, something so soft and silky it flowed like water, trying to slip from her hands even as she grasped it. She opened her eyes.

  It was a dress far too magnificent to ever wear. It was the palest shade of butter yellow and all over the bodice was embroidery worked in gold thread, the shape of tiny flowers glistened as the light caught them. Golden leaves peeked between the flowers. The fabric was exquisite, the stitching perfection, and though Julia had no mind for clothes she knew enough to know the gown must have cost a fortune for the embroidery alone.

  “This is far too much. You know I could never do it justice, Janey. Please, wear it yourself. It will look amazing on you.” Julia held the dress out toward her sister, but Jane shook her head and backed away.

  “No. You have never owned a dress like this and you deserve one. I had Claudette finish it for you yesterday. Now, if you cannot find a husband in that dress then perhaps you are hopeless,” teased Jane.

  The gown was entirely too beautiful to reject. “Fine, I will wear it,” Julia relented, “but please know; from this point on that I am entirely content with your hand-me-downs. Do not get your hopes up, though; by the end of the night, you will be adding hopeless to my list of attributes.”

  Jane seemed to have not heard a word she said after Julia agreed to wear the gown. Jane had turned at once and begun pulling jewelry from her collection. Jacqueline lifted the fine fabric over Julia’s head. It fell around her like a cloud. It truly was beautiful with a high empire waist and puffed sleeves. It was golden elegance.

  ~.~

  Chapter Four

  Julia watched out of the window of the coach as they went past the ubiquitous fountains in Bath. There were so many of them here, and they were all so beautiful. Julia took a breath and tried to relax. They had arrived at the Assembly in Jane’s coach with several acquaintances of Jane’s. It was well after the start of the night and the ballroom was already filled to the brim with the members of the Ton. Julia was still nursing her bruised foot, and Jane had required an entire extra hour to prepare.

  The Assembly rooms were only a short distance away from the Grand Pump Room. From the outside, the Assembly did not seem an enormous building. It did not look like it could hold as many rooms as it did, but the strange horseshoe shape of it allowed for a variety rooms dedicated to frivolous pursuits. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and hundreds of candles and lanterns lit the area. While the white stone of the building’s exterior had been dulled by weather to something of a slightly fawn color, the pillars inside were as white as an egg shell. An orchestra played as couples danced; the women’s gowns a bright blur.

  “Everyone is staring at me,” Julia hissed as they entered the ballroom.

  “I told you we would make an entrance,” Jane said. “With that dress, you could rival any lady here tonight, only you must stop slouching. Chin up, back straight,” said Jane, stalking farther in to the crowded room. “You are lovely.”

  Despite Jane’s words, Julia felt ridiculous. Her hair was a massive curled confection on top of her head, making her appear even taller.

  “Juste magnifique,” Jane’s French maid had said when she finished styling Julia’s hair. “Vous ressemblez à une reine.”

  “At least a princess,” Jane had said nodding at Jacqueline.

  “I do not think I should deign to rival royalty,” Julia said dryly.

  Julia’s hair was strung with a net of pearls, and another strand of pearls encircled her neck, but compared to some of the other women in attendance, her outfit lacked the overly garish lace and frills. Instead, her dress was elegant and the embroidery was exquisite.

  “Stand tall, Julia,” Jane said. “You do look regal. You must not slump. We should put you in a position to be found by Mister Gruger. Even if The Lord Fawkland has so upset you, I am certain Mister Gruger will certainly request a dance with you.”

  It was only then that Julia realized that she still had not told Jane the truth of last night’s events. She had been so upset wrapped up in her own thoughts this afternoon …and Jane always seemed to know what was wrong without being told. This situation was not the fault of Lord Fawkland. This was about Cedric and her own unbecoming behavior last night. She hadn’t thought to explain. How could she? Especially not now. There was no time. Well she would have to tell Jane tonight. It would be alright. Jane would understand and Julia would feel better to share the whole sordid mess, but right now she just wanted to be inconspicuous.

  “I do not want to dance, and even if I did my foot would not allow it.” Julia wrapped her arms around herself. In the crush it was all she could do to avoid getting trod upon and she was very careful of her sore toe, making her shy even more into the corner of the room than usual.

  “Jane please,” Julia begged. “I just want to sit somewhere and try to be unobtrusive.”

  Normally, Jane would not let her get away with hiding, but with her sore foot, Jane finally took pity on her sister. “Very well,” she said. “Let’s find a quiet place. We will hope Mister Gruger can find you.”

  “Look,” Jane said nodding in the direction of Julia’s friends. “There is Miss Grant. Shall we go and speak with her? Perhaps Miss Muirwood is with her or Lady Charity.”

  Julia did not protest and they started across the hall towards the women instead of positioning herself for the gentlemen. She realized that Lavinia was trying once again to convince Lady Charity that she loved her penniless Mister Hart. This was good. Julia could lose her own problems in a conversation about Lavinia. Yes, it was much preferable to talk about another’s woes and Lavinia would fill all the silences.

  “He is my one true love,” Lavinia said with a sigh.

  “Are you still taken with that clerk?” Jane asked.

  “I thought you had not heard from him since the weeks after the opening masquerade.” Julia added.

  “She received a letter this morning.” Lady Charity said, “and managed to conceal it before her aunt found her out. Though after all this time, I would not answer it.”

  “Oh but, I must,” Lavinia protested.

  “Waiting so long to write is an insult to you. I would have none of him.” Charity said haughtily.

  “A letter to a man in the service of the Regent is on
e thing, as a patriotic duty, but to carry on a correspondence with someone so unsuitable…” Jane sighed. “Can you not talk sense into her?” she asked of Lady Charity.

  “I have plenty of sense and sensibility,” Lavinia replied. “I want to marry for love. I have told you too, Julia. Do you not think it would be romantic to be so in love that a man’s position is of no consequence?”

  “I have tried, speaking to her,” Charity said with a shrug to Jane. “It is no use.” She turned to Julia. “You know how stubborn she is when she gets a thought in her head.”

  Julia nodded agreeably. “So you have sent him a reply?” Julia inquired of her friend.

  “I could not,” Lavinia said miserably.

  “Good,” Jane said.

  “Oh But,” Lavinia said with wide liquid eyes. “I want to see him. I die to see him.”

  “Is he in attendance?” Julia asked looking around the room as if she could recognize the man by his manner.

  “Yes. He is here. Or he will be. He said as much in his correspondence this morning.”

  “How exciting! So you will meet him again,” Julia said, catching her friend’s hands.

  “Do not encourage her,” Jane said.

  “Yes.” Lavinia’s brow winkled in thought. “I think. I feel a bit faint,” she said fanning herself.

  “Come; do try to drink something Lavinia,” Charity suggested, tugging her friend toward a man in livery who stood beside another stone fountain. A small que had formed and they came up behind Flora Muirwood.

  “Oh, I couldn’t,” Lavinia protested. “I shall not drink the water, but I do believe shall have a flute of wine,” Lavinia said decisively. She looked around for a man to fetch it for her or perhaps she was just looking for her Mister Hart. Julia found herself also searching the room.

  “Wine does sound more refreshing,” Julia said thinking of how awful the water actually tasted. “I’ve always thought that the water has an odd and off-putting smell.”

  The others began talking about the water, and if the water here at the Assembly Rooms tasted better or worse than the water at the Grand Pump Room. Julia thought they were equally awful. She did not know if she was nervous because she wished to see Lord Fawkland and Mister Gruger or because she did not wish to. She worried her gloved hands together as she searched the room for the two brothers, knowing that both of their blond heads would be easy to spot above the smaller men in the crowd. She did not see them.

  Flora Muirwood laid her hand on Julia’s arm, and she startled at her touch. “What do you think, Julia?” Flora asked.

  “Oh pardon,” Julia replied. “I was wool-gathering. What did you say?”

  “I was wondering if you would go to the musicale or the ball tomorrow night?”

  “I have not decided,” Julia said. “I suppose it depends upon who is going where.” She smiled at Flora. “But I am not much for dancing at any rate with my sore foot.”

  “Oh, what happened to your foot, dear?” Flora asked.

  “She hurt it playing shuttlecock, at the picnic” Jane supplied. “Will you be attending the ball tomorrow night?” Jane asked Miss Muirwood.

  “The Poppy brothers are escorting me and Miss Muirwood,” Charity said. “Oh come, Julia. I was hoping to have some friends along as well.”

  “Michael is not much of a conversationalist,” Flora added.

  “He is just shy,” Julia said.

  Charity had coaxed a gentleman into bringing them glasses of wine and they stood talking and sipping the beverage while looking for Lavinia’s captain. Jane was nearby conversing with several married women. Julia felt almost normal here with her friends. She started to relax. The evening was almost pleasant.

  It was just having fun, like they had enjoyed last summer without confusing kisses and husbands and everything that had happened since she found herself engaged to Lord Fawkland. Charity pointed out Lady Stewart’s gaudy slippers and Neville Collington’s dark gaze, and Julia commented that none of them actually knew the face of Lavinia’s clerk on sight.

  “Oh I do not know it either,” Lavinia said worriedly. “It was a masquerade.”

  Julia’s gaze traveled to over Neville Collington and the man with him. “Who is there with Lord Wentwell?”

  Lavinia’s gaze followed where Julia had been looking and her eyes widened. “There has been a coach full of rumors about Lord Wentwell this season,” Lavinia warned. “Even more than your betrothed,” she said fanning herself profusely.

  Julia scowled thinking, why did Lavinia have to remind her of her betrothed. She had almost managed to put the whole mess out of her mind. “What about the man with Lord Wentwell,” Julia asked again. “Do you know him? Is that your Mister Hart?”

  The three women all started to turn as one, and Charity hissed. “Pray don’t look!”

  They were less obvious then, peering over their fans one by one.

  “That man is not my Mister Hart,” Lavinia said.

  “That is Lady Patience’s elder brother, Lord Reginald Barton” Charity said. “You know him, Julia.”

  Julia frowned wondering if she had ever been introduced to him. She did remember Lady Patience though. She was one of Jane’s friends.

  “And Lord Barton is ginger,” Lavinia looked heavenward and then gave Julia a poke. “As if I would fall for a ginger!”

  “He is not that ginger,” Julia observed. “His hair is more auburn than red. In this light you can hardly tell he is a ginger at all.”

  “That ginger is a future earl,” Charity advised.

  “How do you know your Mister Hart is not a ginger,” Julia teased her friend. “We still do not know what he looks like. Do tell. Or do you not know on account of his mask?”

  “That is right, Lavinia,” Flora added. “You said it was a masquerade.”

  Charity chuckled. “I would laugh if your Mister Hart turned out to be ginger.”

  “He’s not. I would know,” Lavinia said hotly. “His mask covered his face not his head. My Mr. Hart has brown hair.”

  “I think it is quite shallow of you to be so indifferent of a man’s purse or lack thereof, but so critical of his hair color,” Charity added.

  “They are looking this way,” Julia warned hiding behind her fan.

  “How do you not know Lord Barton?” Charity asked. “I thought you came to Bath with his sister and their party.

  “I don’t know,” Julia said miserably, wondering if they had been introduced and she was just distracted at the time, and now she looked foolish.

  “Now, Lady Patience is a true ginger,” Flora added peering over her fan. “At least her brother is not so bad. He is well-built.”

  “His poor sister…” Lavinia commented.

  “Red hair and freckles,” Flora added.

  “I think they are ghastly,” Lavinia said fanning herself rapidly.

  “I do not think freckles are so awful,” Flora added. “But the red hair…”

  “Hush,” Charity warned. “They are coming this way.”

  The gentlemen in question, Lord Barton and Neville Collington, The Earl of Wentwell turned and began walking towards the small group of women. Julia blushed and wondered how they would hide the fact that they were just moments ago speaking of the men, and somewhat disparagingly.

  Charity it seemed though had the matter well in hand. She beamed at Lord Wentwell. “We were just speaking of you gentlemen,” she said including Lord Barton in her smile.

  “It seems everyone is,” Lord Wentwell said gaily making fun of the rumors that surrounded him. Julia wished she herself could be so glib.

  “Miss Grant and I were discussing your sister, Lady Patience, with Miss Bellevue,” Lady Charity said addressing Lord Barton. “I understand they traveled to Bath together. You were of course introduced?”

  “Of course,” Lord Barton said. “Lady Keegain’s young sister. Charmed, Miss Bellevue.”

  Lord Barton bent over Julia’s hand and kissed it. He conversed briefly before asking Mi
ss Grant to dance, perhaps having mistaken her earlier scrutiny. Lavinia’s eyes opened wide for just a moment, and regardless of her wish to look for her Mister Hart, Charity pushed her towards Lord Barton.

  “Were we not just speaking of Lord Baron and his sister with kind regard,” Lady Charity said with laughter in her voice.

  Once Lavinia had gone Julia and Charity were left standing with Lord Wentwell. Julia turned away and would have given the man the cut, earl or no. Her reputation could not support a discourse with another known rake, but Charity chose to dance with him. Had she not just spoken of the rumors? Lady Charity knew of the man’s reputation, surely, but if anyone could handle herself with such a man it would be Charity. For all her buxom form, Charity could always wiggle out of any tricky situation with ease, unlike Julia who seemed to fall into it face first and come up blushing.

  As Charity and Lavinia went to dance, Julia turned around she realized that someone had also asked Miss Muirwood to dance, leaving her alone with Jane.

  She would never be so discourteous to say so, but Lavinia and Charity had upset her. Her friends could say the most unflattering things and were always considered so droll. Julia was a little bit jealous that she could not be witty or coy. Whatever truth she thought was generally on her lips before she could prevent it, and no one ever thought she was witty for it.

  She wanted solitude away from these social games. She thought about her painting waiting for her at home. How pleasant it would be to not have to watch her words. How pleasant it would be to recreate the stormy night sky, to hear nothing but the soft sound of a brush on canvas and perhaps the song of a nightingale outside her window.