by Joan Wolf
Julia looked dumbfounded. “How can you compare a horse to a flower, Lizzie? Horses are living breathing creatures with minds of their own. They’re interesting. Roses are just …. plants.”
Evan looked down at his knees and tried not to laugh.
Lord Roger said gently, “We all have our own passions, Lady Julia. In the interest of human harmony, it is probably best to try to be tolerant of each other.”
Julia looked skeptical but didn’t reply.
Lizzie said, “Lord Roger is right. Life is more pleasant when people are kind to each other.”
“I wasn’t unkind to Mr. Bellford,” Julia protested. “I didn’t yawn.”
This time Evan laughed out loud.
The Duke put an end to the conversation by asking Lizzie to put him and his brother down for two dances each. “And I would appreciate it if you would do the same, Lady Julia,” he said. “I promise you neither Roger nor I will talk about plants.”
“Good,” Julia said firmly. “We can talk about horses instead.”
Chapter Twenty-six
The day of the come out ball dawned with fog and rain. At breakfast it was clear that my aunt was taking the weather as a personal insult.
“My dear, this is England,” Uncle Gordon said mildly. “The ball is not being held outdoors. Your guests won’t melt walking from their carriages to the house. Don’t get yourself into a tizzy over nothing.”
Aunt Barbara looked at her husband and slowly her exasperation seemed to drain away. “You’re right,” she said. “There are too many other important things to worry about. And it might clear by evening.”
A few days ago I would have been surprised to see my aunt react in so positive a fashion to anyone who admonished her. But, as I had seen them together, I realized that Aunt Barbara respected and cared for her husband. My aunt was a much easier person to deal with when Gordon Lewis was around.
Watching Lizzie with her father mesmerized me. They so clearly loved each other.Seeing them together made me think of my own father, who had been every thing my uncle was not. My father hadn’t cared one jot for his children. All he had wanted to do was squander away the family fortune on horse racing and games of chance. The last time I had seen him alive was a year after my mother’s funeral, when he had come to Stoverton to tell me he had to cut my allowance to run the house.
Lady Barbara’s prayers were answered and the rain let up by nightfall. The dinner guests didn’t need umbrellas as they crossed the glistening pavement to the front door of Althorpe House, which was held open by a splendidly liveried footman.
A select group of twenty had been invited to dine, and I was placed between the Marquis of Ormesby and an army officer who introduced himself as Lizzie’s cousin. The Marquis was one of the men who regularly asked me to dance, and I knew my aunt was hoping he would make me an offer.
The Marquis would never do for me, of course. He had his own great estate and wouldn’t want to spend all his time at Stoverton. Of course, I couldn’t say such a thing to Aunt Barbara, nor did I think the Marquis was about to propose, so I did my best to be pleasant to him. He owned some racehorses, which made conversation fairly easy.
Lizzie and I wore fancier dresses than we had worn to previous balls. These dresses featured a new style according to the dressmaker. They had a decorative underskirt, which was worn under a partially open dress of worked French muslin. Frankly, I liked the simpler ones we had worn to the earlier balls better. But then, as Aunt Barbara had said when I shared this remark with her, what did I know about fashion?
My gown was an unusual shade - a pale gray French muslin. Aunt Barbara had been outraged by the dressmaker’s suggestion of gray, which was a mourning color, but when she had seen the fabric, which almost exactly matched my eyes, she had agreed to it. Lizzie’s abigail had dressed my hair in an elegant knot high on the back of my head. The fashion was for short hair with curls around the face, but my hair didn’t curl and I refused to sit for an hour while someone fussed over it.
I looked quite nice, if I do say so myself. Evan had even looked at me before looking at Lizzie, who, as always, looked like a goddess.
When we were all seated at table and the soup was being served, I sneaked a glance at Evan, who was sitting in the host’s position at one end of the long table opposite Aunt Barbara. He looked so splendid in his black evening coat. Both a Duke and a Marquis graced our table, but Evan outshone them both.
He is everything one could wish for in an Earl of Althorpe, I thought. I wish he’d stay in England! Then perhaps we could…
As soon as I realized what I was thinking, I pulled myself up short. This won’t do! I scolded myself. Our futures were plain: Evan would go home and marry some boring American girl and I would marry Tom Winston.
I had decided Tom would make a good husband. He had grown up on a large estate and knew what the upkeep entailed. He loved country life. He hunted with the Quorn and had promised to see if he could persuade the Master to let me ride out with them. And I liked him. There was an easiness between us, a familiarity I felt with no other man I had met in London.
But Tom wasn’t big and blond, and when we danced I didn’t feel as if his body enclosed mine so that my heart quickened and my blood ran hot.
“What do you think of that, Lady Julia?”
It was the Marquis, the dinner companion with whom I was required to make conversation. I turned to him and said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t following. Would you mind repeating that?”
* * * *
The flow of guests kept Aunt Barbara, Uncle Gordon, Evan, Lizzie and me standing at the top of the stairs for an hour before we could enter the ballroom. Finally we went inside, where we opened the ball, Evan dancing with Lizzie and me dancing with Uncle Gordon.
After that, the night proceeded as so many had before it. I danced with the Marquis. I danced with Tom. I danced with a few other men, then with Tom again. We were standing together at the side of the dance floor when I saw Miss Dixon slip in.
I knew she was nervous about coming into such grand company and she looked very alone as she stood near the wall watching the next dance form up on the floor.
“Come along,” I said to Tom. “We need to rescue Miss Dixon.”
“Who’s Miss Dixon?” he asked as he followed me.
“Maria’s governess. She’s a very nice young woman and we have to make certain she has someone to dance with.”
“Is that she? The one against the wall?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll dance with her,” Tom said. “She looks pretty.”
In fact, Miss Dixon looked beautiful. She was tall and slim and Lizzie’s pale gold dress looked lovely with her auburn hair.
We came up to her and I presented Tom, who promptly asked her to dance. A faint flush stained her porcelain cheeks as she looked at me.
“He thinks you’re pretty,” I said.
“I most certainly do,” Tom agreed.
Miss Dixon’s flush grew brighter but she put her hand in Tom’s and let him walk her to the floor.
I was smiling like the cat that ate the cream when Evan came up behind me.
“Thank you, Julia. I’ve been watching for her but you got to her first.”
I looked up at him. He was watching Tom and Miss Dixon move together as the dance started.
“She’s very pretty,” I said.
“She’s lovely,” he replied, emphasizing the lovely. “I’ll never understand why a beautiful, intelligent young woman like that is not accepted into society.”
He thought Miss Dixon was lovely. Beautiful. Intelligent. I knew he would apply none of these encomiums to me. I immediately felt depressed.
“She has no money,” I said, “and her father was a vicar of decent but modest birth.”
“She should come to America,” Evan said. “The men would be fighting to marry a girl like that.”
I felt as if a sword had pierced my heart. He was in love with Miss Dixon!
I made myself say, “Why don’t you marry her?”
He looked astonished. “I have no intention of marrying Miss Dixon. I merely said that she would find plenty of suitors in America.”
The sword disappeared and I smiled as if he had given me a trunkful of gold. “Good,” I said. “I don’t think you two would suit.”
At this point the horrid Mr. Bellford appeared in front of me. “I believe mine is the next dance, Lady Julia.”
I gave Evan a meaningful stare, but he only looked as if he were trying not to laugh and said nothing.
I said, “I am so sorry, Mr. Bellford, but my cousin has just asked for this dance and I cannot refuse him. Why don’t you come back later?”
“But this is my dance, Lady Julia!” Mr. Bellford was clearly put out.
“Mr. Bellford is right, Julia,” Evan said. “I wouldn’t want to steal his dance. I see that Miss Dixon is free. I’ll go and ask her.”
He bestowed a bow upon Bellford and a humorous look on me, and left me to the mercy of that man and his bloody roses.
* * * *
The ball had been underway for some time when the Duke of Morton’s brother appeared at the doorway. Lord Roger was dressed in the correct attire and his hair had been properly cut, but he looked very young as he regarded the dancing crowd in front of him. I was just about to drag my partner across the floor so I could greet him when I saw Lizzie had got there before me.
I saw Lord Roger give her a grateful smile. The music started and I looked to see who Lizzie was supposed to be dancing with. It was the Marquis, and he didn’t look happy about being left on the dance floor by himself.
Aunt Barbara will murder Lizzie, I thought as the dance began and my partner and I paraded down the middle of the floor. At least it wasn’t the Duke she dumped.
It was too late for Lizzie and Lord Roger to join the dance, so I expected she would introduce the Duke’s brother to some nice girls. However, when I looked around for her when the dance was over, she wasn’t there. Nor was Lord Roger.
I peered across the floor at Aunt Barbara, who looked like thunder. Tom appeared beside me and asked if I’d like to go outside on the balcony for a breath of air.
Since I had no recollection of the man who was supposed to get this next dance, I consigned him to perdition and agreed. We stepped out the French doors onto the long, narrow balcony and discovered that two other people had got there before us.
Lizzie and Lord Roger.
Lizzie gave me a dazzling smile. “Were you finding the ballroom too warm as well, Julia?”
“Yes.” I looked at Lord Roger, sending him a message with my eyes. He said in his soft, gentle voice, “Perhaps I have kept you out here too long, Miss Lewis. Your mother will be looking for you.”
“She is.” I sent the same message to Lizzie as I had to Lord Roger: Get back into the ballroom. Now.
I had a brilliant inspiration. “Why don’t you introduce Lord Roger to Miss Dixon?” I said to Lizzie.
She narrowed her eyes. Lizzie actually narrowed her eyes.
What is going on here? I thought.
“Perhaps,” she said shortly.
After the two of them left, Tom and I looked at each other. “Isn’t that Morton’s younger brother?” he asked.
“Yes, it is.”
“Have he and Miss Lewis met before this?”
“Once.”
“Hmm. Not very wise of her to disappear out on the balcony with him like that.”
“People might say the same thing of us,’ I retorted. I felt I should protect Lizzie.
He grinned at me. He had a lovely smile. He picked up my hand and kissed it. I really liked him very much.
The balcony door opened and Evan came out. Tom dropped my hand and the two of us looked at him like a guilty thing surprised, as Hamlet would put it.
Evan looked grim. “I think you should come back into the ballroom, Julia. The Marquis was looking for you.”
Tom said hastily, “We just came out for a breath of air, my lord. We’re going in right now.”
He took my arm and steered me toward the door. I had to pass Evan on the narrow balcony and, as I went by him, I stepped on his toe. Hard.
He swore.
I smiled up at him. “I’m so sorry, my lord. There’ just not room out here for so many people.”
I went back inside and had my dance with the Marquis.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The morning after the ball, when a sleep-deprived Evan came downstairs, a footman told him that Sir Gordon and Lady Lewis wished to see him in the library.
“Now?” Evan asked doubtfully. He badly needed a cup of tea.
“Yes, my lord. Lady Barbara has a tea tray in the library.”
Evan made his way down the passage, a slight frown between his thick, blond brows. What could be on Aunt Barbara’s mind that she should demand to see him so early in the day? After last night’s ball he had expected her to remain in bed for most of the morning.
He opened the door and saw his aunt and uncle sitting near the fireplace drinking tea. A small rosewood table had been drawn up in front of Lady Barbara with a teapot and a tray of toast and muffins resting on its polished surface.
“Come in, Evan,” she said. “I’m sorry to take you away from your breakfast but there is tea here if you want some.”
He sat in a chair close to them and took the cup she handed him. After he had drained the cup and felt the hot liquid wake up his brain, he said, “What is so urgent that you must see me before breakfast?”
There was a short silence while Lady Barbara looked at her husband. He sighed and put down his cup. “We may have a problem, Evan, concerning Julia.”
“Julia?” He looked from one face to the other. “I thought she was behaving extremely well.”
“Her behavior is not the issue,” Lady Barbara said. “The problem is that she appears to have developed a partiality for Thomas Winston, and he for her. Julia cannot be allowed to marry Thomas Winston, Evan. Such a union is unthinkable.”
“Really?” Evan’s spirits rose. He knew there was something not right about the fellow. “Why?”
Silence fell as Lady Barbara looked at her husband once again. Sir Gordon spoke, “She cannot marry him because he is her half-brother.”
It was a good thing the teacup was no longer in Evan’s hand or he would have dropped it. He shook his head as if he hadn’t heard right. “I beg your pardon, sir, but how can that be?”
“It’s simple enough.” Lady Barbara took over, her voice very clipped. “Julia’s mother, Helen, was the Earl of Sheffield’s mistress for years. It is Sheffield who is Julia’s father, not Philip. As he is also Thomas Winston’s father, you can see the problem that faces us.”
Evan was too stunned to speak. His brain balked at what he had just heard. Julia was not his uncle’s daughter?
“How can you be sure who her father is?” he finally asked, his voice hoarse.
“The timing. Philip was in London and Helen was visiting an assortment of country houses during the time Julia was conceived.”
“They may have got together for a night or two,” Evan protested.
Lady Barbara shook her head. “You may have noticed that Julia doesn’t look like us. However, she looks very like the Earl of Sheffield. Those eyes.”
“Then my uncle must have known. But … he accepted Julia into the family as if she was his.”
“He had no choice. I realize Evan that you may be naïve about such things, but in our world Helen played the game properly. She and Sheffield were discreet; they never flaunted their liaison. And she had already provided Althorpe with two healthy sons. She had done her duty by him and she was entitled to lead her own life. Not even I could blame her; Philip was such a chuckle-head.”
Evan was speechless. He didn’t know what shocked him more, Julia’s mother’s unfaithfulness or his aunt’s easy acceptance of it.
“Does this sort of thing happen frequently in ‘your world,’
Aunt?”
“You are shocked. But when two people marry for property or dynastic advantage it only seems reasonable to allow them to pursue a love life somewhere else. Once an heir has been produced, of course.”
Evan looked at his uncle, who smiled wryly. “One of the reasons I am happiest in the country, my boy.” He put his hand over his wife’s. “I am in the fortunate position of having a wife who is loyal to me.”
Lady Barbara smiled at her husband, then turned back to Evan. “So you see why we cannot allow Julia to develop a tendre for Thomas Winston. A marriage between them is impossible.”
Evan stared at the teapot and wished it contained brandy. “Julia knows nothing of this?”
Sir Gordon said, “Of course not. Who would tell her such a thing?”
Evan got up and went to the small cabinet in the corner of the library where the brandy was kept. He poured himself a liberal amount, brought it back to his chair and took a big swallow. Then he said, “What about Maria? She certainly looks like a Marshall.”
His aunt and uncle exchanged another glance. Evan finished the brandy and said, “Tell me.”
“There was an extremely handsome Russian diplomat in London for a brief assignment. Blond haired and blue-eyed. He was also a very fine musician. He played the violin.
Evan slumped forward, his face in his hands.
Sir Gordon said, “I am sorry you had to hear this, Evan. I hope this doesn’t change your sense of responsibility for your cousins. They are not responsible for their birth and they are alone in the world.”
But they’re not my cousins, Evan thought. His head jerked up as another thought hit him. Julia’s not my cousin after all!
He realized that his aunt and uncle were looking at him with apprehension and he said, “Of course I am still responsible for Julia and Maria. This information doesn’t change that.”
His aunt rewarded him with a relieved smile. “I knew we could count on you.”
Evan frowned. Why had his aunt and uncle brought him into this? Surely they could have handled the situation without his having to know - although it had turned out to be information he found surprisingly welcome.