A bout of laughter drew Julia’s eyes back to her sister. Julia turned as one of their childhood friends, Mister James Poppy approached.
Jane was fairly waylaid. Clasping his hands, Jane said, “Mister Poppy, it has been an age. You remember my younger sister, Julia.”
“Of course I do; Lovely as always.” He kissed her hand and Jane’s and although Julia could appreciate his clean good looks, nothing happened when he touched her. She felt no rush of heat or fluttering in her belly. Apparently he felt nothing too, because he turned almost immediately with polite interest to Jane as she spoke.
“How are your sisters?” Jane asked.
“Here,” he said with a wave of his hand in the direction of Lady Patience’s last sighting. “Mother is in a tizzy; like a hen trying to keep track of her chicks before some sly fox steals them away. It is a chore in this crush.”
“And you are not helping her, for shame,” said Jane.
James smiled at Julia showing overly large teeth in his ready grin and then turned back to Jane. “Of course I am. What sort of older brother would I be if I did not?”
The only brothers Julia had on her mind were the Grugers, mostly Cedric and their shared childhood. Perhaps she was too quick to condemn him. Perhaps he… what? It was clear he thought to kiss her and yet he had not asked permission. He had not even asked to call her by her given name. The thought of his hands on her would not leave her, and then Lord Fawkland walking her safely home. She flushed with embarrassment.
Could brothers be so different? She had only known them as boys, she reminded herself. She did not know the men.
Jane spoke with James as she took his arm. “Surely your mother is not managing all the girls alone? Is Constance not helping her chaperone?”
“My eldest sister is in the country with her newest son,” Mister Poppy said.
“Oh,” Julia said, a pang striking her heart at the thought of Constance’s second baby. Perhaps not everything was odious about marriage. Even if her husband was a rake, she would have her children.
Julia remembered how helpful Constance was with Jane’s own coming out. She was only a year older than her sister and now Constance was twice the mother, and Julia had yet to find a man who suited her.
Perhaps she should marry Lord Fawkland if he would still have her.
A shiver went through her at the thought. He was not so bad, was he? He was kind when he walked her home, but somewhere in the back of her mind was worry about his sincerity. She remembered the Gruger brothers from her childhood and how Cedric had sworn to her that his brother had broken one of her dolls…the beautiful one that the Poppy sisters always wanted to play with. Cedric said he had trussed up the others for ransom. What ransom he wanted Julia never found out, because the stable master had untied the dolls from the rafters and released them to her; only the beautiful one, the one she had named Juliet, for her mother, was broken. Her poor porcelain head smashed to bits on the path. Such a trick suddenly did not seem like something Godwin would do. Could she have been mistaken, all this time? Would Cedric have ever been so cruel to her? Cruel to the girls who teased her, yes. But to her? They had been friends. Still, Cedric was the trickster, she knew that. Godwin always seemed the responsible one.
“And Gerald is quite the responsible big brother too,” Mister Poppy continued speaking of Constance elder son. He is already resembling his father.
The thought of a baby just now made her heart strangely warm and a picture of a young boy with Lord Fawkland’s cool gaze came into her thoughts. Jane had always insisted Julia would love her own children, but she had never been convinced until just this moment. A flutter of love and protective feelings rushed through her, followed immediately by a shock of fear. She could barely turn her mind around having a husband. Children were completely out of her depth. She would surely do everything all wrong.
Julia turned back to James. “All is well?” she asked “With your sister and the babe?”
“Oh Yes,” he said. “But Constance is itching to go riding again. The doctor will have none of it.”
“Riding! Your mother must be appalled,” Jane said.
“Oh she is.” He laughed. “And Mister Nash moreso.”
“Constance husband always struck me as a nervous man, but in this I must agree with him,” Jane said. “I love riding to the hunt as much as the next, but being in a delicate way, a woman must take precautions.” Her hand went to her own belly.
When Constance was first married to Mister Miles Nash he was hesitant about Constance riding in the hunt, but she loved it. Her dogs and her horses meant the world to her. Constance had so wanted to ride in the autumn hunt, she hid her first pregnancy for two months. Mister Nash had been furious afterwards, but no ill tidings came of it so he was solicitous in the end. Such a man would not do for Julia though, she thought to herself. Constance enjoyed running roughshod over her husband, and had been ever so. Julia did not want such a milksop, but she also did not want a man who would attempt rule her with an iron fist. Could there not be something in between?
Jane clucked at something Mister Poppy had said. “And Francesca?” Jane asked “How old is she now? She has not come out yet?”
“No not yet. She is five and ten,” he said. “And if Alfreda and Roberta are spoken for soon, my mother hopes to present Francesca this coming Season in London. How long will you be in Bath?” James asked.
“I hope to stay until the Michaelmas Ball at the end of September, but I may return sooner,” Jane said.
Julia looked up. This was news to her. Jane had promised to stay in Bath with her for the whole summer.
“My husband will want me back home,” Jane said “If Julia is settled sooner, we may return to plan the wedding.” Jane grinned at her, but Julia did not grin back.
What if she wasn’t settled sooner? Jane had promised her the summer here in Bath. Even if she could count nothing else, she could always depend on Jane, but now, it seemed as if Jane wanted to leave Bath early. Why? And why had Jane not shared this news? Julia suddenly felt very rushed.
“And you Miss Bellevue?” Mister Poppy said. “I am sure my mother would love for you to stay with us if your sister needs to return to her husband.”
“Thank you,” Julia said simply. She did not want to stay with the Poppys. She wanted to be in her own house in Bath with her sister. A niggling voice said the house would not be hers for long. She wanted to scream.
Jane gave Mister Poppy a look, and he feigned puppy dog eyes at her. His eyes had a warmth that neither Cedric nor Lord Fawkland had, He was simply too brotherly. Maybe she wasn’t so easily moved by a smile. Perhaps it was only the Gruger brothers that unbalanced her so.
~.~
Chapter Five
At that moment Julia spied Lord Fawkland. He was speaking with a small group of women just to their right. They were, as she expected, fully engaged with him. She decided not to look at him. There was another man at Lord Fawkland’s side that she did not know. He had brown hair. She wondered briefly if he could be Lavinia’s Mister Hart, but somehow her eyes were pulled back to Lord Fawkland himself. My but he was easy to gaze upon.
He turned towards her. Oh Bother. As the man looked Julia’s direction, his height gave him a clear view to her. She dragged her eyes away and then hid her scrutiny beneath the guise of her fan. She peered over it stealthy. Had he seen her? Her father had chosen this man, Julia reminded herself. The papers were all drawn up, all she had to do was accept him, and then her whole life would be in his hands. No. She could not make a decision like that on how he looked. She would not. Besides he still had not properly asked her. Lord Fawkland turned back to his companion, laughing aloud at something the man had said. It was a glorious sound. It reverberated within Julia, all the way down to her toes. She turned away, looking for someone else to take her attention.
The Poppy sisters, Alfreda and Roberta drifted over with Flora Muirwood who had just returned from her dance. Jane and Julia spent some time t
alking with Mister James Poppy’s sisters, and a few minutes later, Mister Michael Poppy, James older brother also joined them.
James Poppy asked Flora to dance and Julia noticed Michael Poppy, near Jane’s shoulder talking with his sister Alfreda. Alfreda was scolding him in low tones, about his sulking in corners instead of having fun in Bath.
“Have you danced with anyone at all?” she hissed. “How are you to find a wife when you will not dance and will not speak? The ladies all think you are a dullard.”
“Surely not,” Julia said kindly. Julia remembered Mister Michael Poppy as the shy bookish older brother of James. They had not been well acquainted even though they had grown up near each other. Michael was four years James’ senior, with Constance between them and Julia younger yet.
Michael was not unpleasing to the eye, but he was so shy, she wondered if they would manage to say more than a word or two to each other. She studied him from veiled lashes.
“Go on,” Alfreda said, giving her older brother a little shove. “Lady Keegain will dance with you, or perhaps Miss Bellevue.”
Julia opened her mouth to protest that she had hurt her foot, but then Michael would think she didn’t want to dance with him. She could not do that to him. She could handle one dance, as long as he didn’t step on her toes. Please, she prayed, let him not ask her.
Julia hoped he would ask Jane, but instead Michael Poppy had already turned, his dark eyes arresting her. He held out his hand as he spoke, “May I have the next dance, Miss Bellevue?”
He was a sweet, shy man. She could not let him down.
“Yes, Mister Poppy,” Julia said placing her hand in his and catching her dress in the other.
He led her onto the dance floor in silence and shifted her hand to his arm as they proceeded to join the other couples. Mister Poppy rather shyly inquired if she was introduced to Lord Percival Beresford and she replied in the affirmative. Lady Amelia Atherton was his partner for the dance. Julia made a quick glance around the dance floor for Lady Patience, but did not see her directly. She hoped that Jane stayed put with Michael’s mother and his sisters. Surly they would have enough to talk about that they would not stray and she could easily find Jane again after the dance.
As the dance began Julia placed her fingers on Mister Michael Poppy’s palm. He closed his hand slowly, gently with only the slightest pressure. His hand was very warm in hers and she met his gaze. She expected that he would not be a very good dancer, and she would fear for her toe, but he surprised her with his grace. He was not often in Bath, or even at the gatherings in London. James had said Michael preferred his own company to that of others, and yet, he danced with a quiet competence. In a moment she had traded partners to Lord Beresford. A moment later, she was back with Michael, who smiled at her, and she wondered why she had dismissed him so. Michael had a wonderful smile with the same full lips as his brother but smaller teeth. It was a pity that society saw so little of his smile. It was quite engaging. He held her with ease, but allowed the requisite space between them. He did not crowd her or make her feel uncomfortable. The truth was, though, as pleasant company as he was, she felt nothing. There was no rush of heat that flooded her like it did when Lord Fawkland held her; no feelings of tension like when Cedric touched her. There was simply, nothing. She may as well have been dancing with her father. As the dance neared its end and Michael brought her back to Jane and his sisters, Julia realized her toe was protesting with a solid ache. She did her best not to hobble.
As they left the dance floor Julia passed Cedric Gruger and her eyes were drawn to him. Her heart beat frantically at the sight of him. He did not notice her. He was in animated conversation with a gentleman a little more than half his height, while a gaggle of women looked on. Good, let them entertain him for the evening. She did not want to be his sport. Julia’s eyes slid away from him and scanned the room for Lord Fawkland. She did not see him.
“My sister said your father chose a husband for you,” Michael Poppy ventured.
Julia nodded, but she was not sure what to say.
“Is that your betrothed talking to my brother?” he asked, and Jane realized that Lord Fawkland was now standing with Jane and the Poppy family. As Julia and Michael approached she heard Lord Fawkland speaking to Jane and the Poppy’s, asking them all to dance, one after the other. He seemed quite personable. Julia thought she liked him with a smile upon his face.
Fawkland’s voice was respectful and pleasant, but it did not only touch her ears. It reverberated down to Julia’s bones. She found herself realizing just how much he affected her; much more than Michael did. Perhaps she wasn’t a wanton after all; or she was only a wanton when the Gruger brothers were concerned.
Fawkland’s cravat had been loosened, destroying the elaborate knot his valet had like worked to achieve, and his hand went to it, ineffectually smoothing it.
Again her eyes were drawn to him: to his hands on his cravat, and his chest and how his waistcoat fit him. She could not help but think of how he supported her when he walked her home, or how he had said he would carry her. A picture formed in her mind of her nestling against that strong chest as he held her and she remembered the scent of sandalwood. With her Amazonian size the thought of resting in his arms, the thought of him picking her up and carrying her, was certainly pleasurable. She shivered with the thought and drew her eyes away, looking up to his face only to realize his gaze was lingering upon her.
He cleared his throat and once again smoothed a hand nervously over his cravat. “Good evening, Miss Bellevue. Would you be so kind as to allow me your dance card?” She could of course, refuse him. Lord Fawkland’s brow was drawn close together, his serene façade ruffled. This was the nearest thing to anxiousness she had seen in him and her heart softened.
Julia fumbled at her wrist. “I—“ she began. She wanted to tell him that her foot hurt and that she didn’t want to dance again but she couldn’t make the words come from her mouth. Her fingers shook as she slid the ribbon over her hand and passed the ivory covered booklet to Lord Fawkland. He flipped it open and studied the list of dances.
“With your permission, Lady Keegain,” he said to Jane. “I would choose the waltz.”
Jane glanced pointedly at Julia, her look clearing asking Julia’s preference. It was an intimate dance. It was Jane’s choice as her chaperone, not hers. Jane could forbid it. But didn’t Jane say to act normal to foil the gossips? What was normal? Fawkland was, according to her father, her fiancé. He would be expected to dance with her. If she failed to dance, would that fuel the fires of conjecture? If she danced a waltz with anyone else it would certainly be scandalous, but did she want to dance at all? What if Cedric asked? Her heart leapt into her throat. That would be disastrous. She looked at Lord Fawkland again, and paused. He was so handsome, and his face so hopeful. The thought of being in his arms…She found herself giving Jane the faintest of nods and Jane approved him rather reluctantly.
“Of course. You are her fiancé,” Jane said with a tight smile.
Lord Fawkland fairly radiated gladness. Then he scrawled his name her dance card in a bold hand. Twice.
Rather than give the booklet back, he held out his hand for hers and slid the loop of ribbon delicately back upon her wrist. His touch did not linger there, but left a blaze of heat in its wake as his finger dragged slowly over her fingers and wrist. She found herself staring into his eyes again, at the spark of heat in them like a glowing ember in their charcoal depths. She noted his rumpled tie, his starched white waistcoat and his perfectly fitted formal dress coat. It was cut away at his trim waist sweeping down into the tails meeting the line of his dark trousers and accentuating his great height. It was with an effort that Julia brought her eyes back to his face. Lord Fawkland’s jaw was set and he did not look quite so kind as he had when he escorted her home.
“I will see you shortly,” he announced. Then he unsuccessfully attempted to straighten his cravat once again, and with a brief bow, Lord Fawkland turned to Al
freda Poppy and escorted her onto the dance floor.
Julia watched Lord Fawkland’s departing back until she realized she was staring. As he danced with the other young woman, Julia looked down at his signature on her dance card. It overtook the boundaries allotted on the card for the dance and she was reminded of the bold strokes of the brush she made on canvas when she was sure of her intent. There was no hesitancy there. No uncertainty. A person who wanted to dance before or after him would have to squeeze their name around his. She smiled at the thought. Fawkland he had written. Not Lord Fawkland, nor The Baron of Fawkland. Nothing so grand as that, and nothing so forward as Godwin, just Fawkland. The F was tall, as was the k and l and d, each touching the top and bottom lines in perfect looping symmetry. There was a familiarity to his style of writing.
She turned to watch him again, but Jane brought her back into the conversation with the remaining Poppys. She still allowed her eyes to follow Lord Fawkland, but only when she could do so without being obvious. He had been ever the gentleman, but she had felt the heat in his eyes. Was it possible that he still wanted to marry her, even after the events with his brother? Did he not blame her for the incident with Cedric? Did he think she had knowingly encouraged Cedric’s advances, or did he think that she did not realize what she had done at all? She could not have her husband think she had invited the attentions of another man. She was not like that. At least she did not want to be. She could see Cedric had designs upon her, but Lord Fawkland was harder to fathom.
As if summoned by her thoughts, she caught sight of Cedric at the edge of the room lurking by a window. He glanced up, spying her eyes upon him. Cedric broke off his conversation, leaving a wake of disappointed women as he moved across the room. She did not want to speak with Cedric. She certainly didn’t want to dance with him, and yet, she feared he would persuade her.
The Baron in Bath - Miss Julia Bellevue: A Regency Romance Novel (Heart of a Gentleman Book 4) Page 15