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

by Isabella Thorne

  The maid came back and curtseyed. “Your water is ready,” she said to Jane, and Julia assumed she meant the basins Jane had asked for to wash the dust of the road from their skin. Tea would wait, Julia reminded herself. She did not want to inconvenience her sister. She was not in her own home.

  “I am a bit weary,” Julia said to Jane. “And I’m sure you will want to rest before dinner as well. It has been a trying couple of days.”

  Jane’s eyes lit up and Julia was certain her sister was glad for a bit of privacy with her husband.

  “I’m sure you can do with a bit of rest and refreshment,” Keegain said. “Travel is so draining.”

  Julia noted he had moved Jane’s hand from his arm, and now stood with one arm around her waist. Julia remembered Lord Fawkland’s arm on her waist in just that way as he helped her up the stairs with her hurt foot…as he danced with her. His hand was so warm, there in the small of her back. There was no comfort in these thoughts. They would only make her maudlin. She brushed them away from her mind, and smiled at Jane and The Earl.

  “I will have a late tea sent up to you, Julia” Jane said. “and when is dinner?” Jane asked turning back to look at her husband. Her sister’s face was already sunny.

  “Dinner will be at eight,” The Earl said, “but it is just the family here this evening if you would like to adjust the hour?” he looked at Jane.

  “Dinner at eight,” she repeated. “I see no need to change.” She turned back to Julia. “I will send Jacqueline up to help you dress for dinner and fix your hair, if you want to rest now,” Jane said.

  “That would be wonderful,” Julia replied with a tight smile.

  The maid showed her to her room as if she did not know which guest room Jane would put her in. It would not really be a guest room any longer; it would be her room and it would always be a guest room, Julia thought. She wondered if the awkwardness she felt with Jane and her husband would ever go away. She felt a third wheel on a cart. She was never so aware that without her they could be a couple. They could speak freely. Even though, Jane had said she was her sister and she would always be welcome, Julia thought, she would also always be the odd one, the extra spinster aunt.

  She had sworn that this would not happen and at the same time she had dreaded it. Julia knew she was inept in pleasant conversation. She knew of her deficiency, and still she had tried to dance and flit about society as if she were one of those social creatures. Why had she been so foolish? That was not her. It was no wonder she managed to make a mess of things. She now thought she should have just married Lord Fawkland as quickly as she was able, before he changed his mind; even if he had been an ogre. She sighed. But he was not an ogre. He was tall and handsome and virile and kind. She realized suddenly that he was everything she had once hoped for, and she had been so cold to him. Why did she not believe her father had her best interests at heart? Her father knew her. She should have trusted him a little more. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly. She would not cry. She was done with crying.

  One of Jane’s ubiquitous maids tapped on the half open door.

  “Come,” Julia said and the maid came in with a brief curtsey. “I saw your door was open, Miss Bellevue. May I unpack your things?” the maid asked and Julia nodded. Yes, she thought. Unpack my things. This is my room. This is my home. “I would very much like a cup of tea,” she said.

  “Right away, Miss,” the maid said. She left, but returned shortly and a second maid followed, who brought the tea set. Julia took a blessed sip of the hot liquid and it seemed to fortify her.

  The first maid also helped her to strip out of her traveling clothes. She had brought a basin and pitcher for washing. Julia was much more comfortable after a brief wash to rinse away the grime that always seemed to accumulate on days of travel.

  “Shall I press a dress for you for dinner?” the maid asked.

  Julia nodded. She chose a dress for dinner, the first one she grabbed, a medium blue frock without frills. It looked a little matronly. It had puffed sleeves and a round neckline which was a bit dated, but it was cool and simple, perfectly fitting for the spinster aunt, Julia thought. The maid took the dress to press it, leaving Julia alone with her thoughts. They were not good company.

  She kept running over all the mistakes she had made and the greeting that Jane gave The Earl made her realize just what she had done wrong. When she had first met Lord Fawkland she had been so cool towards him, telling him he should deed her the house in Bath. She had not tried to get to know him. She had not even looked him in the eye. How many times had she looked at her shoes? How could he tell anything about her when she did not open up to him? He had tried. She remembered the conversation in the carriage on the way to the Pratt picnic when he has asked about her paintings. He had asked if she liked to go for walks. Would he have escorted her on a walk if she had said so? Would he have talked about birds or cats? Would he have shared his own interests? She would never know. She had closed him out, and now, what did she have?

  Cedric was right. She had nothing. No one wanted her. No, she thought. That was not what troubled her. It was only that Lord Fawkland did not want her. Julia realized what she had tried so hard to deny. She loved Lord Fawkland. Somehow she had fallen in love with him, but he did not love her. If he loved her, he would have offered marriage. He would have proposed. But how could he love her, she warred with herself? They had barely begun to get reacquainted.

  Julia wasn’t tired and she could not still her thoughts. She wished she had her paints, but they were not yet unpacked. She remembered the misty grey of Lord Fawkland’s eyes; they were like a storm cloud and she wanted to paint them. She wanted to capture that color before she lost it in her mind’s eye. Perhaps she should try a portrait; to capture Lord Fawkland’s likeness. She had always been much better at landscapes, but perhaps she only needed the proper subject.

  She sighed. Lord Fawkland was not here and neither were her paints; she had to content herself with a book. It appeared her sister had left her a text of Lyrical Ballads by Coleridge and Wordsworth, and another book of poetry by Robert Burns, both on the night stand. No, perhaps not her sister, Julia thought. Jane didn’t read romantic poetry. If she read, Jane would rather have had a novel. This was more Lavinia’s fare; poetry that sang of the power of love. Julia opened the book and was filled with melancholy. No one would recite poetry for her; of course, she was not really the poetry type. Although if Lord Fawkland were the one to read the verse perhaps an exception could be made.

  Jane had never been much for poetry either unless she had been changed upon her marriage to The Earl. Julia wondered if Keegain recited poetry for Jane. She hoped he did. She hoped Jane had all the romance she did not. Still, The Earl seemed more of an enlightened type. Surely he would have something of substance in his library, Julia thought. What sort of books were in Lord Fawkland’s library, she wondered suddenly. She put the poetry book aside. She considered briefly if she should try to find the library, but the journey had fatigued her and she thought instead she would just close her eyes for a moment.

  A moment became an hour and soon, Jacqueline was knocking on her door asking if she was ready to have her hair done for dinner.

  “Dinner this evening is only a family affair,” Julia reminded Jacqueline. “Do not fuss overly much. Something simple.”

  “Oui Mademoiselle,” Jacqueline agreed, “simple.” But it seemed the woman was incapable of just pulling her hair back in a knot.

  “Some of the Greek and Roman styles are simple.” Jacqueline suggested. “I shall do this, yes?”

  “Yes,” Julia agreed. “That will be fine.” She didn’t want to think about anything at all, but Lord Fawkland kept sneaking into her thoughts. She closed her eyes and Jacqueline brushed her hair and arranged it with her fingers separating the curls. She was gentle and it was soothing and Julia was reminded of Lord Fawkland meticulously replacing all of her pins in her hair. She sighed and opened her eyes to Jacqueline. Instead of pulling all o
f her hair up, the woman gathered it to one side with a ribbon plaited through the hair, and wrapped the braid around to hold the rest. The style required only a few pins. It took Jacqueline almost no time at all.

  “Your hair is magnifiques,” Jacqueline said.

  “Thank you,” Julia replied. She did not think her hair was beautiful. She thought it was a nuisance; generally a rat’s nest of tangles unless she braided it.

  “Tant de boucles,” Jacqueline said.

  “Pardon?” Julia said with a frown. Perhaps she would use her free time to better her understanding of French.

  “De boucles,” Jacqueline said again. She paused to think a moment. “The curls,” she repeated. “Many curls.” When she was finished, Julia was surprised to see Jacqueline had let the mass of her natural curls drape, her dark locks streaming round her neck and shoulders. It looked very pretty, but there was no one to see her. The thought depressed her. She pulled herself together and went down to dinner.

  ~.~

  Chapter Five

  The Earl seated Julia beside Jane for dinner. Lord Keegain was a congenial host, smiling almost without ceasing at his wife, but dinner was a simple affair with only Julia, Jane, and Jane’s husband. Julia had never felt so ill at ease with her sister by her side.

  With only the three of them at the table, the conversation stilled. At first, Julia kept quiet thinking that The Earl may enjoy a more formal dinner. It was certainly appropriate to speak to one another. Even at formal dinners one spoke to the person on either side of oneself although it was considered vulgar to speak across the table. Julia thought of how Cedric had tricked Lord Fawkland out of his seat beside her at the Pratt picnic. She should have known then what a manipulative man Cedric was. Jane and her husband were looking at each other like an engaged couple, only Julia thought, no one would ever look at her like that.

  “If I had known you both were coming home so soon,” Lord Keegain said. “I could have invited some of the local ladies and gentlemen.”

  Oh praise heaven he did not, Julia thought.

  “We will celebrate my return soon enough,” Jane said. “I have not yet informed anyone that we have returned to the country. It was so sudden,” Jane said. “We barely had time to pack the necessities. I asked Harrington to oversee the closure of the Bath townhouse.”

  “I am sure he will do a fine job,” The Earl agreed, “But are you sure it is necessary?”

  The footman stood at Lord Keegain’s shoulder until acknowledged. “May I bring in the first course?” the footman asked The Earl.

  “Yes,” he said. “I am sure my wife and her sister are hungry after their journey.”

  “Very good. I will inform White,” Gagnon replied and with a bow, he retired to the kitchen and retuned almost immediately with a tureen of soup. Once the white soup with mushrooms was served, the other items of beef, venison and pigeon were set on the table.

  Julia found she was hungry and the soup was delicious, but the stillness bothered her and little more than half way through the soup she paused, her stomach rolling. She never would have thought it so. She normally liked silence, but now, it allowed too many thoughts to crowd in. She supposed that dinner conversations about destressing topics were bad for digestion, but she found the quiet just as wearing. The distressing topic was still present in the silence.

  A complement could not be adverse. She turned to her sister, Jane.

  “What a lovely table,” Julia said breaking the silence.

  “Yes,” Jane repeated. “Everything is lovely, Gagnon.”

  The footman appeared pleased with the compliments. “Thank you, Countess,” he said with a brief bow.

  It sounded strange to have her sister addressed so formally and Julia once again felt uncomfortable.

  “Did you attend the Pratt’s picnic in Bath,” Lord Keegain asked. “You were so looking forward to it.”

  “Yes,” Jane replied and regaled her husband with a description of the shuttlecock game, while Julia thought of the other events of the picnic that were not so pleasant…excepting perhaps her walk home with Lord Fawkland.

  “I wish I had been there to cheer for you,” Lord Keegain said to Jane, bringing Julia’s attention back to her sister and The Earl.

  Julia hoped she would feel better after having eaten. She applied herself to her pigeon in white sauce with sautéed mushrooms. It was nicely paired with fresh asparagus in breadcrumbs and Jane’s cook had added a variety of sauces which could be added to the other meats available. Everything was delicious and she found she was quite hungry after the long ride. Julia decided that food would do her good. She could not feel much worse, she thought.

  After dinner, the time when most men would have retired for a smoke and brandy, came and went, while Lord Keegain sat, looking to remain at table with the women. At last he suggested that the three retire together to the parlor. The Earl poured sherry for the women and a brandy for himself. Julia took a seat in the corner and to her chagrin, The Earl sat in the chair opposite her. Julia had thought that she would have some time alone with Jane.

  “Do you not smoke?” Julia asked.

  “Not usually. I have a cigar now and then with company,” he said, “but I have never really liked the habit, and today, I have two beautiful women in my company, why would I leave them?” He beamed at Jane and toasted her with his glass. Then he turned to Julia with purpose.

  “Now, as you might have guessed, your sister related much of the events that transpired in Bath, but there are some small details that escape me. I hope, little sister, that you will enlighten me.” He smiled brightly at her.

  “I shall of course, do my best,” Julia said her face heating with her nervousness. She threw a glance at Jane who nodded slightly and sipped her sherry.

  Julia sat her sherry on the side table and worried her hands in her lap.

  “Do not be shy,” Keegain said. “We are family, are we not?” He patted her hand in an almost paternal gesture.

  “We are,” she agreed, but she had never had an older brother, and the conversation was strange to her.

  “As I understand it,” he continued, “Mister Gruger was inappropriate at the Pratt’s picnic, and Lord Fawkland walked you home unchaperoned afterwards. Is that correct?”

  “Yes,” Julia agreed. “But Lord Fawkland was the perfect gentleman,” she added, attempting to excuse him from any blame. If Lord Keegain asked her anything about what had transpired between her and Cedric, she was going to sink into the floor boards, or perhaps into the chair pillows. She would surely die of embarrassment. She slouched a little with the thought. Surely he would not. She threw a glance at Jane feeling somewhat betrayed. She had told Jane of Cedric in confidence.

  Jane raised an eyebrow at her sister, but said nothing.

  The Earl caught the look. “My wife and I share most things,” he said calmly deducing Julia’s upset from Jane’s look. “Do not be alarmed. We both think that honesty is a strengthening factor in a marriage and in a family in general. Pray, be honest with me now. We are trying to help you.”

  Julia nodded miserably. “That sounds reasonable,” she said. She had once said as much to Lord Fawkland at the ball. She had asked for honesty in marriage. Reasonable or not she would never have the chance to know for herself now.

  “Jane shared your secrets only to help you,” Keegain added. “You know she loves you.”

  “I know,” Julia said. It did not make this conversation any less embarrassing.

  Lord Keegain took a breath and looked at her. He was calm and kind, but also resolute. “Jane is under the impression that Lord Fawkland was aware of his brother’s activities with you at the Pratt picnic. Is that correct?”

  “Yes,” Julia said, her face hot with embarrassment, but she went on. “Lord Fawkland even warned me that his brother was not who he seemed. He said the boy I knew was not the same…Oh bother,” Julia muttered as she tangled up her words. “Yes, he knew,” she finished. She looked at her shoes.


  “Did he know about his brother’s proclivities only generally, or specifically; I mean to say…did he know of the actual incident at the Pratt picnic? Did he know his brother kissed you?”

  Julia’s face flamed, but she persevered. “He knew,” Julia insisted. “But I do not see how this matters now. What matters is the proposal, and the rumors.”

  The Earl shook his head. “No, what matters is that if Lord Fawkland wished to end your betrothal he would have done so after he learned his brother kissed you, but he did not. He walked you home. And Jane said he even asked for a dance at the Assembly Ball afterwards, a waltz. That does not sound like the actions of a man who wanted to break his engagement.”

  “Yes,” Julia said with a sigh as she thought of the waltz with Lord Fawkland. It was so wonderful to be in his arms.

  “Are you absolutely sure he knew of the kiss? Could you be mistaken? Think carefully.” Lord Keegain pressed.

  “Yes,” Julia said firmly. “Lord Fawkland knew. I did not think so at first but he gave the comb back to me and my pins,” she said, and then she stumbled to a halt. She glanced at Jane. She had not told her sister the comb was lost. She supposed now was the time to be entirely truthful. “When I ran from Mister Gruger,” she admitted, “He still had your comb, Jane. The one you loaned to me. I worried how I would get it back, but Lord Fawkland sent the comb back to me and the next day he even returned the pins from my hair.”

  The Earl leaned back in his chair, a smug look on his face. “Do you see?” he asked Jane.

  “I see,” Jane said and Julia realized they had discussed her in detail this afternoon. Julia picked up the sherry and took an overly large sip to cover her embarrassment. She did not see at all. What did they mean?

  “But you are a man,” Jane said. “I would expect you to think as a man would think, but still, the rumors will be much worse now, since Mister Gruger’s proposal. Even if Lord Fawkland was of a mind to marry Julia earlier in the week, things have changed. How can you know if he still wishes to marry Julia now, Keegain? As much as it pains me to say, we have left quite the scandal.”