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

by Isabella Thorne

  Perhaps Julia could beg off dancing with her sore foot. Yes, that would do. It was actually quite painful. The dance with Michael had stressed it and she wanted to sit down.

  “Good evening, Miss Bellevue. You are a vision of loveliness tonight.” Cedric said when he reached the ladies. Julia thanked him softly, wishing she were anywhere but here.

  He turned to greet Jane as well, inviting them to walk with him. “If this is your first visit to the Upper Rooms, you must allow me to take you both on a tour of all the rooms. I have been in every one and know some of their history.”

  Julia thought uncharitably that no doubt he had been in every room, propositioning other young women he had separated from their chaperones, though you would never know it just looking at him. Cedric’s voice was smooth like poisoned honey and his face was the very picture of innocence. Cedric’s face was softer than Lord Fawkland’s Julia realized almost cherubic; lacking his brother’s strong jaw. It was not right for a man to appear so angelic. An angel’s face hid a devil’s heart was the saying, but Julia could not believe fully it. Cedric had once been her friend. Was that person not still within? People did not change, she reminded herself. She found herself caught up in his smile, as in their youth right before he proposed some dangerous trek…but she usually had fun. She shook off the lethargy with the thought to refuse him his offer of a tour. She was no longer a child, and such treks were dangerous now.

  But Jane spoke before Julia could refuse his offer. “Although it is not our first time here; perhaps you have some new insights. My sister is quite taken with the history of Bath.”

  Julia worried her lip as they turned to follow Cedric from the ballroom. Jane nudged Julia up to walk beside him, though she would have preferred to make for the nearest exit, or find a bench on which to sit. She wished Jane would stop helping her. This was only digging her in deeper. Cedric held out his arm for her and she had no choice but to lay her hand upon it.

  “Miss Bellevue.” Cedric said as he took her hand and held it. She was reminded of how he had gripped her arm, but his voice was passionate and private, as if her were speaking only to her. Shivers ran down her spine. Was it only yesterday that she had accepted his advances? Had a simple stolen kiss driven all feelings of affection from her and replaced them with animosity? Had she given him some signal? She could not imagine what she had done to let him think his advances were expected…wanted even, but she must have done something.

  He put his other hand on hers possessively and she felt as if she couldn’t escape.

  After the ballroom, the Tea Room was a respite. Though smaller, it held only a few groups of people swaying to the distant refrains of music from the ballroom as they talked in small groups. Banquet tables were laid out with trays of wine. Cedric commandeered three goblets from the nearest as they passed, and handed them out to Julia and Jane. Julia sipped the wine, more for an excuse to hold the cup with both hands and edge away from Cedric than out of any desire for the wine.

  “Every time I see you, you are more beautiful than the last,” Cedric said. “If you continue on this way, I will not be able to speak at all the next time we meet. I shall be struck dumb.”

  She certainly hoped that was true. “What luck that would be,” she blurted caustically.

  Cedric opened his mouth to reply and then closed it. A smirk came over his face as he whispered. “I’m sure we would find something to do to pass the time.”

  She glowered at him, all semblance of romance gone. In the next instant he smiled again, and she was suddenly struck by the thought that his smile was only a mask. A perfect mask in his angelic face that had every one of the Ton fooled.

  Jane frowned at Julia and Julia stared back. Jane was above such petty games of the Ton. Could her sister truly not see what a conceited cad Cedric was? No. Jane still thought Lord Fawkland was the one who upset her. Julia had told Jane that Lord Fawkland walked her home so Jane thought it was Lord Fawkland who took liberties. If only she could tell Jane the truth of the matter now without actually speaking. There was no privacy and no way to convey to her sister her feelings.

  “Now, the rooms in the Assembly,” Cedric said importantly, “Were first used by the commanders in the Roman legions. This was all built around 70 AD for the Roman army.” He gestured grandly.

  That was not exactly true, Julia thought. The temple was built around 70 AD, but most of the actual bathing areas grew up around the temple over the next three hundred years. The army used the baths, but it was not built for the army specifically. But she did not contradict Cedric.

  “It was called Sulis for their pagan god.”

  Aquae Sulis, Julia thought. Did he think he knew all the history of Bath? Julia was quite sure she was just as knowledgeable, probably more so. As she opened her mouth to say so, her sister interrupted.

  “I am sure you are much more versed than either of us.” It was a blatant lie and Jane knew it, but Jane was good at smoothing over gauche remarks. She had had lots of practice with Julia as a sister.

  “Did you know about the curse?” Julia asked.

  He frowned. “What curse is that?”

  “Oh, she said blithely. “There is a curse that the ancient gods are said to perpetuate on anyone who steals an article of clothing from another in Bath.”

  Jane laughed.

  “You are making a jest,” Cedric said.

  “No. It is true.” She paused thinking what she knew of the Romans. They would definitely curse someone who stole their clothing while they bathed. “I believe the curse is doubled for anyone stealing jewelry,” she added. Now that part was made up, but she smiled when she thought Cedric went just a little pale.

  He sputtered for an answer, but just then Lord Fawkland appeared at her shoulder. “I believe our dance is about to begin,” he said, taking Julia’s hand. Lord Fawkland’s timing could not have been better, but Cedric stepped forward and there was a moment while the two men glared at one another. They squared off in a silent battle of wills. Julia could feel the building tension and even Jane shuffled nervously on her feet.

  Cedric was fuming. Still smiling of course, but the tendons in his neck stood out and she could see his gloved hands had tightened at his sides.

  “Godwin, you are interrupting our conversation,” Cedric said.

  “I have the honor of escorting Miss Bellevue for the next set, and I refuse to give up the privilege, even for you brother…especially for you.”

  “It is our dance,” Julia said breaking the tension.

  “If you will excuse us,” Lord Fawkland said addressing Jane.

  ~.~

  Chapter Six

  Julia, still flustered, let Lord Fawkland lead her back toward the dance floor. Surely he remembered her hurt foot. What little grace she had for dancing would be curtailed by her limp.

  Lord Fawkland paused, noticing. “Does your foot still pain you? Would you rather sit than dance?” he asked, but the music was starting and they were already on the floor. It would look unnatural to leave the dance floor now, but he cared nothing for that. He was only concerned with her welfare. She remembered that the dance he had chosen was the waltz, a new and particularly intimate dance.

  Julia blushed and shook her head, unable to speak.

  It should have been awkward, dancing so, but it was not. He took careful steps to the rhythm of the music and lifted her with ease into the air to spin her around, dress twirling. Julia knew people were staring but she could hardly bring herself to care.

  He was so very close. For just a moment she caught her breath. She could smell the cherry scent of his pipe tobacco clinging to his clothes, his sandalwood soap and beneath it all, the faint scent of him. He was so very warm. The way she had felt with Cedric was nothing like what she felt with Lord Fawkland.

  Julia wanted to close her eyes and lay her head against the firmness of his chest, but she resisted. She finally managed to speak.

  “Thank you for your kindness, Lord Fawkland. I…your broth
er…you do always seem to arrive at just the right moment.”

  “My brother is too forward with you.” Lord Fawkland was showing no signs of exertion despite the dancing. His statement almost made her fall in shock, but his arm tightened around her waist and his opposite hand kept her steady as he caught her, never missing a step.

  Her eyes opened wide. “I don’t know what happened,” she said babbling, and trying to get her feet under her. “I am sorry.”

  “Are you alright,” he asked, holding her scandalously close.

  “Yes. Yes fine.”

  “And your foot? Should we stop?”

  “No,” she said thinking if she left the dance floor in the middle of the dance, the rumors would never stop. “I am fine,” she repeated. “Your brother…Mister Gruger and I seemed to get along so well as children,” she said trying to re-ignite the conversation.

  “I remember,” Lord Fawkland said. He hardened his jaw and Julia thought that he was on the verge of saying something that pained him, but he just sighed, and held her close to him to keep her steady. Far too close, and yet she did not feel so ill-at-ease as she did with his brother. She did not want to flee. She wanted to lay her head on his chest and feel his heartbeat. She sucked in her breath with the thought.

  “He is not who you think he is,” Lord Fawkland said finally. “He is not even the boy you once cared for. He no longer steals baubles from our mother’s jewelry box. He has moved on to…” He stopped then cutting off his own words as if he had said too much and instead led her into a turn. She twirled around and a moment later was back, close in his arms.

  “I know Cedric,” he said. “He will go to any lengths to ensure he gets anything I have ever desired. He simply takes what he wants with no regard for anyone else.”

  “Surely not,” Julia began to protest, defending Cedric, but even as she spoke, she knew Lord Fawkland’s words were true. Julia thought about the kiss last evening. Lord Fawkland was right. Cedric did not ask to kiss her. He had simply taken.

  “Your loyalty does you credit,” Lord Fawkland said. “I know you were Cedric’s friend,” he said. “But I do not think he was ever yours. Despite his charm, he is not the man he seems.”

  Lord Fawkland’s closeness was making her giddy. She did not want to step away. If they only talked, he could not hold her in his arms and she wanted to be in his arms. Wanton, she told herself, but she could not bring herself to care. They were close enough for her to admire the intricate carvings on his buttons, the wrinkles in his cravat where it had been retied, the faint shadow of stubble on his cheeks and the hardness of his jaw.

  Julia did not want to spoil the moment with her questions, but she had to know.

  “And are you the man you seem, Lord Fawkland?” she said trying to get it all out in a rush, stumbling over her words. “I would have the truth. Might I have your word that we may start out with a clean canvas, so to speak? Whatever the rumors, I would have the truth from your lips.” It was a long speech for Julia and she looked up hopefully at him. She had expected many reactions, but none was the sadness that entered his eyes. He took a moment to compose himself before replying. There was an edge to his voice. “This is very irregular,” he said

  “Truth is irregular?” she asked.

  “In the Ton? Yes. But perhaps not with you.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Miss Bellevue, you are the most forthright woman I have ever met. There is no precedent for the situation in which we find ourselves. Perhaps truth is the only way to proceed and you shall hear it from me. But not here,” he said and she nodded, resolved to just enjoy his closeness and the silence. The music filled her with joy as she let herself be romanced. Lord Fawkland twirled her and held her and looked into her eyes as the dance ended and she saw kindness there.

  She had not noticed her sore foot at all until the dance ended and suddenly it pained her again. She knew she should sit, although she did not want to leave Lord Fawkland’s arms. In his arms she felt content and whole. She felt cherished. For this feeling, she realized she would have given up the house in Bath and more besides. Perhaps Lavinia was right about being in love. Was she in love with Lord Fawkland? Julia did not know. She only knew her foot would not handle another dance. It was aching something fierce and she hobbled off of the dance floor with Lord Fawkland holding her as he had done last evening, letting her grip his arm for support, while his other arm supported around her back.

  “I would carry you,” he said. “To keep you from any discomfort, but the gossips would never stop.”

  She nodded. “I can walk,” she said.

  The second dance began. Couples moved around the dance floor and for a while, Julia and Lord Fawkland sat in the alcove where Lord Fawkland had led her and watched them in silence.

  Julia did not feel the need to talk about the weather, or the Ton or to tell him anything about her archery lessons or Cedric or the recent dance. She just sat in compatible silence and let all they spoke of sink in. He was near enough that she could still smell the sandalwood soap.

  He turned to her with a sudden thought. “Did you get your comb alright?”

  Lord Fawkland had returned the hair comb, not Cedric! How could he have gotten the comb? Did he go back and find it on the grass? Had he confronted his brother about it? That was why his written name on her dance card looked so familiar. It was the same handwriting as the note she received with the comb this morning. She did not recognize it earlier for the letter he had written her weeks ago was penned so much more formally. Oh but this meant that he had seen everything that transpired with his brother.

  “Yes,” she said simply. “The comb is my sister’s,” she added. “I am glad I did not have to explain its absence.”

  “I am also glad,” he said. “And…”

  She watched confused while he reached in his jacket pocked. He brought out a small collection of pins tied with a red ribbon.

  “My hair pins,” she said wondering if he had returned to the Pratt’s gardens and crawled around on the ground himself to find them. They were somewhat of a precious commodity, but she had thought them all lost. Now she stood looking at the pins in his hand. She had no reticule. “I have nowhere to put them,” she said.

  “Here.” He untied the ribbon and began placing the pins in her hair, one at a time. His fingers were light as a butterfly, but none the less, she could feel each touch.

  “I am sorry my brother treated you so.” His voice was soft, gentle and yet had a sincerity that she had not often heard. The next song finished and Julia thought she should find her sister, but she did not want this moment to end. It was a quiet contented kind of silence, the kind of silence she enjoyed in the morning when she painted and the sun came warm in through the window.

  We should go back,” she said at last.

  “Yes, of course,” he answered. He stood and tucked her hand under his elbow and she felt secure.

  They stood in silence and walked slowly back towards Jane while the dance ended and Julia’s pulse settled.

  ~.~

  By the time Lord Fawkland returned Julia to her sister Jane had danced several times herself and was looking a bit pale.

  Jane, are you alright?” Julia asked her.

  “Just fine,” Jane said “Though I believe I need to sit.” Julia could not agree more so the three of them went in search of some chairs. They found several in a corner of the ballroom, near some of the older chaperones. The Poppy sisters had gravitated back over to where their mother was seated. “Finally,” Jane sighed, sinking down into one of the unoccupied seats. Julia was only too glad to sit with her.

  It was there that Lord Percival Beresford found Lord Fawkland. He greeted the women politely, if somewhat hastily, before addressing Lord Fawkland.

  “I require your assistance, Fawkland” he said simply.

  “What is it?” Lord Fawkland asked somewhat annoyed that his time with Miss Bellevue was once again being interrupted.

  “A
friend in need,” Lord Beresford said enigmatically.

  “Who?”

  “Captain Hartfield needs you to speak to his lady.”

  “He should speak to her, himself,” Lord Fawkland protested

  “He needs someone to explain that his feelings are true regardless of the deception played earlier.” Lord Beresford explained. “You must tell his lady love that he truly is a captain. She does not believe him and he cannot convince her. She is sure this is another ruse, and that he is a cad. You must speak to his character. You know the man, Fawkland.”

  “You know Hartfield as well, Lord Beresford,” Fawkland argued.

  “Not half so well as you do.”

  “Samuel then,” Lord Fawkland said. “Commander Beresford served longer with Hartfield, than I and, at the moment, I am otherwise engaged.” He gave Julia a longing look.

  “You would have my brother speak delicately to a lady’s chaperone?” Lord Beresford asked slowly. Julia did not remember much of the particulars of the members of the Ton but even she knew that Commander Samuel Beresford was known to be a rather outspoken man.

  “You said the maid. You said nothing of the lady’s chaperone,” Godwin protested.

  Julia frowned, realizing just whom they were talking about.

  “Are you speaking of Lavinia’s Mister Hart,” she asked. “The clerk is truly a captain?”

  “One and the same,” Lord Beresford agreed.

  Julia clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh how wonderful.”

  “You see, Miss Bellevue understands,” Lord Fawkland stated. “Miss Grant will as well. The matter is not so hard to explain.”

  “I am afraid your friend Miss Grant, has some rather strange notions of romance,” Lord Beresford said to Julia.

  Julia started to rise to help if she could, she would speak to Lavinia, but sitting seemed to have worsened her pain. She winced the moment as she put weight on her foot. Lord Fawkland steadied her and helped her to sit back down.