by Stella Riley
Inside his head, a primitive voice shouted Yes! … while an even more primitive growl vibrated through his chest. Inexplicably, it was the latter which awoke some small degree of reason. He froze and thought hazily, What am I doing? Then, with greater clarity, This isn’t me. I don’t … holy hell, I never lose control. Not ever. What is wrong with me?
Stepping back from her, his hands as unsteady as his breathing, he said, ‘I beg your pardon. That was … inexcusable.’
‘Was it?’ Flushed and confused, yet seemingly less shocked than he was, Elizabeth pushed her hair from her face. ‘Is that not for me to decide?’
‘No. I am the arbiter of my own behaviour … and I do not behave like that.’
‘I know.’ Stooping, she began gathering up hairpins. ‘You always behave perfectly.’
He opened his mouth to thank her and then, recognising that something in her tone wasn’t complimentary, said cautiously, ‘And that is a bad thing?’
‘By no means. But impeccable manners are your shield and armour, aren’t they?’
‘What?’
‘And very effective they are, too.’ She rose to face him, hoping she looked calmer than she felt. ‘But you don’t need them with me. I could quite easily love the man they are hiding if only you would let me know him.’
The floor shifted beneath his feet and his mind went blank. He said, ‘Elizabeth … I can’t … I have lost the ability to – to --’
‘It isn’t lost, Ralph. It is merely … misplaced. And I understand why. I also think that, in time, we might find it again.’
His brain still seemed to be moving very slowly. ‘You don’t understand.’
‘Actually, I do.’ Turning back into the pink room, she located a mirror and began tidying her hair. ‘You believe yourself incapable of love. I think you capable of a great deal of it … but am aware that you need to find out for yourself. Fortunately, I don’t mind waiting.’
Ralph struggled to find his usual manner.
‘You sound very sure. That … concerns me more than a little.’
‘It need not. You could have chosen any number of ladies but you didn’t. You chose me. I am assuming that counts for something. Does it?’
‘Yes.’ He swallowed and, exerting the full force of his will against the self-made impediment inside him, managed to add ‘Yes. It … counts for a very great deal.’
‘Good. Then nothing else matters.’ She smiled at him over her shoulder. ‘As to what took place between us a few moments ago … I didn’t find it inexcusable in the least. I believe I was flattered.’
‘And that is even more worrying.’ Since the right words were clearly beyond him, he closed the space between them to turn her into his arms and kiss her with slow thoroughness. Then he simply stood holding her, his cheek against her hair for a long somehow significant moment before murmuring, ‘Upon which note – and before I forget myself again – perhaps we should go downstairs and discuss our wedding?’
Elizabeth nodded and let him lead her from the bedchamber. Neither of them spoke until they were seated in the drawing-room and then it was she who said, ‘Why don’t we begin with what you want?’
‘It is less a matter of what I want than of the practicalities. I know you would like to be married by your father in his own church … but it presents various problems. The distance involved and the time it would take to cover it; a three week stay in your father’s parish while the banns are called; and a return journey in December through winter weather. None of these things are insurmountable, of course … but they cannot be discounted.’
‘No,’ she agreed reasonably. ‘So what do you suggest instead?’
‘I suggest having the banns called in St George’s, Hanover Square and setting the wedding for the first available date. Meanwhile, I will arrange for your parents and sisters to come to London for the ceremony. It may not be possible for your father to actually marry us but it should be possible for him to perform a blessing.’ Ralph paused, uncharacteristically uncertain. ‘I know this is not what you would prefer and I’m sorry for it. But might you find it an acceptable compromise?’
‘Yes.’ She reached out and took his hand. ‘Yes. More than acceptable, actually.’
‘And your father?’
Elizabeth laughed suddenly. ‘My father isn’t going to find anything I have done in the last two months remotely acceptable. Fortunately, Mama’s reaction and that of the rest of my family will make up for it. As for the wedding, we’ll tell everyone that St George’s was my choice and you allowed yourself to be persuaded.’
His fingers tightened on hers. ‘You would do that?’
‘Why not? It’s no sacrifice. I want to marry you, Ralph. The when matters to me; the where is less important. And it’s our wedding – no one else’s.’
Seconds ticked by in silence until, finally, he kissed the hand he held and said, ‘I cannot promise that you will never regret it, Elizabeth. I do promise to try never to give you cause.’
~ * * ~ * * ~
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
On the day before the concert, Arabella and her mother paid calls on the Earl and Countess of Sarre and Mr and Mistress Audley. In Cork Street, Lady Brandon made the acquaintance of the Misses Caldercott and, in Bruton Place, that of Paul and Janet Featherstone. No one, it was agreed, would breathe a word of their arrival in London to Julian.
‘It must be a surprise,’ Arabella had told them. ‘I know that he would want all of you to be present at his first concert – but he won’t expect it. And I want the occasion to be as special for him as we can possibly make it. Having all of you visit him just before he walks out to perform, will mean a great deal.’
‘You don’t think he’ll find playing for a hundred fashionable folk in a duke’s house quite exciting enough?’ Paul had asked.
‘Exciting, yes – and of course success tomorrow is vital. But an audience of strangers isn’t the same as knowing that his friends cared enough to travel here to wish him well.’
‘Such a dear, sweet boy,’ said Miss Caldercott, brushing away a tear.
And, ‘It was a very kind thought, Arabella – both for Julian and for us – so we thank you for arranging it,’ said Miss Abigail. ‘Now … go back and hold our boy’s hand until it’s time for him to show the world what he can do.’
Julian didn’t need his hand held. He tolerated a final fitting with Rockliffe’s tailor and spent what was left of the morning checking the tuning on the harpsichord and running through certain passages. Then, the afternoon being his final rehearsal with the concerto ensemble, he concluded the session by performing the solo part of the recital to an enthusiastic reception.
‘Excellent,’ said Mr Bassett simply. ‘Very well-balanced, if I may say so.’
‘And my arrangement of the Johann Christian Andante?’
‘Ah. There I must admit to feeling somewhat aggrieved, sir. My colleagues and I would have greatly enjoyed playing that lovely thing with you in its original form.’
‘I daresay. But is the arrangement all right?’ demanded Julian. ‘Does it work?’
‘It is most interesting, sir. It--’
‘Cut line, Henry,’ said the cellist. ‘The arrangement is bloody genius, Mr Langham. So I hope you’ve got an encore or two up your sleeve – because you’re going to need them.’
* * *
Since it had never happened before, Arabella was astonished to find Julian in the drawing-room before dinner. She said, ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Wrong? No. Why would you think that?’
Shaking her head, she laid a hand on his brow.
‘You don’t feel feverish but --’
‘That’s because I’m not.’ He stepped back and finally saw the laughter dancing in her eyes. ‘Oh. Right. Very funny.’
‘Well, we usually have to send a footman to fetch you. And even then --’
‘Oh! Forgive me, Belle – I didn’t realise you had company,’ said Max from the doorway. And with only slig
htly exaggerated incredulity, ‘Julian? Is that you? Freshly-shaved, hair that’s seen a brush sometime in the last day or so and a coat – a very nice coat, by the way – without a single crease? No wonder I didn’t recognise you!’
Arabella tried to turn a giggle into a cough.
‘If you really want to know, I took a bath as well,’ retorted Julian, ‘Now – can the two of you please leave it?’
‘Leave what?’ asked Louisa, entering in time to hear this. Then, ‘My goodness, Julian – how very elegant you look this evening.’
Max gave a choke of laughter and Arabella hid behind her fan.
‘Thank you, my lady,’ said Julian, grittily. ‘Since everyone takes such an interest in my appearance, I thought I’d better rehearse that as well.’
Her ladyship slid a hand through his arm. ‘Have they been teasing you?’
‘You might put it that way, yes.’
‘Learn to ignore it, my dear. It’s the only way. Max … stop tormenting Julian and bring me a glass of sherry, if you please. It is only we four tonight. Rockliffe and Adeline are taking Elizabeth to a ball where she and Lord Sherbourne can accept the usual felicitations.’ She huffed a small breath. ‘Unless I’m imagining it, something fundamental has changed between those two since he took her to view his house. But I must say that I am not looking forward to Josiah’s views on their wedding plans.’
‘He’ll get over it – and sooner rather than later, if he has any sense.’ Handing his mother her sherry, Max said, ‘Not working tonight, Julian? With the concert imminent, I’d have expected you to be burning the midnight oil.’
‘There’s no need. Everything that can be done already has been.’
‘You sound very relaxed.’
‘Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘Oh – I don’t know. The weight of expectation resting on you, perhaps?’
‘Stop it, Max,’ said Arabella. ‘If Julian isn’t nervous, don’t try to make him so.’
‘It’s all right,’ shrugged Julian. ‘He’s not saying anything I don’t know. And nothing he can say is going to turn me into a bundle of nerves – if that is what’s worrying you. The ensemble is ready, I am ready and the harpsichord is perfectly in tune. There’s nothing left to do now except give the actual concert.’
* * *
The day of the concert dawned pale with wintry sunshine. The fact that Julian did not appear at breakfast did not particularly surprise anyone. But just as Adeline was rising from the table, Symonds entered the room and said, ‘Pardon me, your Grace … but Mrs Fawcett wonders if we can begin setting up the ballroom for later – his lordship not seeming to require it this morning?’
‘By all means,’ began Adeline, a second before Rockliffe said, ‘Where is his lordship?’
‘I am not sure, your Grace. But if you will give me a moment, I will ascertain.’
Rockliffe nodded and, when the butler had gone, Arabella said, ‘He’s probably with the children. I’ll go up and find out.’
Five minutes later, Symonds re-appeared.
‘I can only assume that Lord Chalfont has left the house, your Grace.’
‘Left the house?’ echoed Max. ‘After being a recluse for the last week? Why?’
Arabella skidded back into the room, almost colliding with Symonds.
‘He’s taken the children and gone out. Lily says he came for them an hour ago but she doesn’t know where they went.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s not so surprising. He said last night that there was nothing left to do. Why wouldn’t he want some time away from it all?’
‘But why take the children?’ asked Elizabeth dubiously.
‘That was sensible of him,’ said Louisa firmly. ‘It will stop them becoming over-excited about this evening. And I daresay they will be back by noon.’
* * *
They weren’t.
After exploring the gardens, marvelling at the cascade and finding some ducks to feed, noon found them sitting in the rotunda at Ranelagh, eating bread-and-butter and listening to the regular breakfast concert. When it ended and without any warning at all, Julian said, ‘How would you feel about being adopted?’
‘What’s that?’ asked Rob and Ellie, more or less in unison.
And, ‘By you?’ blurted Tom, too stunned to think about it.
‘Yes.’
Bread-and-butter dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers. ‘You – you’d really do that?’
‘Yes. But only if it’s what all three of you want.’ Leaving Tom to get over his shock, Julian turned to the younger children and said, ‘If I adopted you, you would take my name – just as if I were really your father. You’d be Tom and Rob and Ellie Langham. But it would mean that you’d be stuck with me and there’d be no getting away.’
‘Ever?’ asked Rob.
‘Ever.’
‘Yes!’ Nearly upsetting the tea-cups, Ellie threw herself on him. ‘Oh yes – please!’
Julian gathered her on to his knee but held out his hands to her brothers and, when they had taken them, said, ‘What do you think? Shall we do it?’
Seeming beyond words and his face one big, happy smile, Rob nodded.
Tom said gruffly, ‘You’ve always been more than good to us. But this … this isn’t a small thing and I can’t …’ He stopped. ‘Thank you isn’t nearly enough.’
‘It’ll do. And I’ll take that as a yes.’ Julian grinned, restored Ellie to her chair and leaned back in his own. ‘All I have to do now is find out how to go about it.’
‘Don’t you know?’ asked Rob.
‘I haven’t a clue. Fortunately, however, I think I know a gentleman who will.’
* * *
When, at nearly two o’clock with the whole house in a frenzy of preparation and the truants still absent, Rockliffe was conscious of a mild quiver of disquiet. The concert was due to begin in four hours and though he didn’t doubt that Julian would return … he did wonder how late he might leave it. But some twenty minutes later, in the wake of Rob and Ellie who raced across the hall shouting for Miss Belle, Julian sauntered in with Tom at his side.
Rockliffe said softly, ‘Julian … I would admire your nerves better if you had shown some consideration for my own. Where have you been?’
‘Ranelagh.’
‘Ranelagh.’ A faintly pained expression touched the duke’s gaze. ‘Really.’
‘Yes. You weren’t worried, were you? You must have known I’d be back.’
Before Rockliffe could reply, Ellie and Rob – having failed to find Arabella in the drawing-room – hurtled back through the procession of footmen engaged in carrying chairs to the ballroom in time to find their quarry descending the stairs.
‘What is all this noise about?’ asked Arabella. ‘His Grace must be deafened.’
They tripped over themselves in their haste to tell her their news.
‘We went to a garden with a waterfall --’
‘There was a concert--’
‘And ducks--’
‘And bread-and-butter--’
‘And the best bit,’ shouted Ellie, determined to be heard above Rob, ‘is--’
‘Shut up, the pair of you!’ bellowed Tom. ‘Sir Julian should tell her.’
Julian dropped a hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘It’s all right Tom. Let them.’
‘We’re going to be adopted!’ announced Rob, triumphantly beating Ellie to it.
‘And I’m going to be Ellie Langham,’ added his sister, unwilling to be defeated.
Suddenly, for the first time since they had entered the house, there was silence. Arabella stared into hesitantly smiling green eyes, her hands creeping to her mouth. Finally, she whispered, ‘You’re going to adopt them? Truly?’ And when he nodded, ‘Oh … Julian. That is the best thing … the very best thing you could do for them. It’s quite - quite splendid. You are splendid.’ And, as she had wanted to do all week, she flew across the hall to throw her arms about him. ‘I am so – so very proud of you!’
He held her close
and muttered, ‘Well, since I’m keeping them, it’s the only thing to do.’
‘You will not make it sound like nothing,’ said Arabella fiercely while tears soaked into his cravat. ‘It’s not nothing. Not to them – and not to me either. You’re giving them your name! And look how h-happy you’ve made them. It’s m-magnificent.’
‘I’m going to tell Aunt Louisa,’ said Ellie single-mindedly. ‘Me, Rob – not you!’
Without haste, as Arabella reluctantly stepped back and wiped her face with her hands, Rockliffe strolled across, saying, ‘You will need a lawyer, Julian.’
‘I know. I was hoping you might be able to help with that.’
‘And I will. But only on condition you go to your rooms, take a bath and rest.’
‘I don’t need to --’
‘It is an order – not a topic for discussion,’ sighed the duke. ‘My valet will attend you at half-past four. And yes, I realise you don’t need him either but you will humour me on this occasion. Now, please go.’
* * *
Those favoured with an invitation to the most talked-of event of the season began arriving shortly after five o’clock, some going directly to the ballroom and others lingering with the duke and duchess in the drawing-room.
Julian, splendidly attired in darkest green silk over a gold embroidered vest, was led through the servants’ passageways to a small room from which he could access the platform and left there with an order from Rockliffe’s valet to neither remove his coat nor sit down and risk creasing it. Smiling and looking the picture of docility, Julian took this as permission to do what he intended to do anyway. He was leaning against the window embrasure wishing he’d brought a book when the door opened and Arabella said, ‘I thought you might like company – so I’ve brought you some visitors.’