“It is an intriguing and challenging study, but I think you are equal to the effort.”
The tension eased in her posture. “Thank you for this. The books as well as your reassurances.”
“It is truly my pleasure.”
“I won’t keep you any longer from your friends.”
He shook his head. “They will survive. Don’t misunderstand me, they will miss me terribly, but they can endure their disappointment.”
“Do you mean to stay in here with me?” The fragile hopefulness in her eyes tugged at him fiercely.
“If you’ll allow it,” he said.
She nodded and, with an almost flirtatious twinkle in her eyes, crossed to the sofa and sat before opening one of her books. Lucas was not one to pass up a sought-after opportunity. He took up one of his unread editions of The Universal Magazine of Knowledge and Pleasure and joined her on the sofa.
They sat side by side for hours, sharing things they read and found interesting. Julia asked questions when the gaps in her haphazard education left her a little uncertain about what she was reading. She found his article on travel very interesting and engaged quickly and easily in discussions.
With her beside him, sharing a mutual interest, he could, for the first time, truly imagine a future between them that was happy and comfortable. If only he could have hope for a marriage that was also built on love.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lucas took a walk around the area the next afternoon. Julia joined him, though she was very quiet throughout. Still, he had seen no indication of unhappiness in her. Perhaps she was simply pondering her newest studies.
Upon returning to Brier Hill, she went directly to her room, excusing herself with the insistence that she was tired. Lucas couldn’t be certain she was telling him the truth. He wished he understood her better.
He crossed paths with Kes and Digby in the front entryway. “You ought to have joined us this morning.”
Kes’s brow lifted in the way it did when pondering an interesting puzzle. Digby’s mouth twisted in a show of barely restrained laughter.
“What are you two scheming about?”
“No schemes,” Kes said. “We simply know something you don’t.”
He would have been worried if not for the excitement in Digby’s eyes.
“Walk with us,” Digby said.
“Is that the Royal ‘Us’ or . . . ?”
Digby rolled his eyes and motioned Lucas to the front sitting room. The sight that met him as he stepped inside was as perfect as it was shocking: the other three Gents.
Lord Aldric Benick, the General, sat in a tall-back armchair, facing the door, his elbow propped on the chair arm and his temple resting against his upturned fingers. He wore the all-too-familiar look of patient planning that had earned him his particular moniker.
Henri Fortier stood near the fireplace, its glow illuminating him in a nearly heavenly aura. Fitting, considering he was the one they called Archbishop. Fortier wasn’t a saint, but he was as close as any of them were likely to come. They’d often teased him over the years about the unlikelihood of a French saint, but he’d always responded with a very calm and cordial listing of many of his countrymen who’d been given that designation.
And Niles Greenberry sat on the sofa, wearing an expression that clearly communicated he was happy simply to be there. He was quite possibly the most agreeable person any of them had ever met, quick to undertake a lark, willing to do almost anything for anyone. He’d earned his name over the years: Puppy.
“What are the lot of you doing here?” Lucas couldn’t even pretend to be upset by the unannounced visitors.
“Saving your skin, apparently,” Aldric said. “We have it on good authority you’re making a regular rubbish of everything.”
“That seems harsh.” But Lucas was ignored.
“And the poor lady you’ve married is truly your Julia?” Henri asked. His French accent was not as pronounced as it could be, a sure indication he’d not been to Paris recently.
“My Julia?” Lucas didn’t know what had inspired the description, but he liked it. Indeed, thinking of her bright eyes and happy smile the night before, he liked it more and more. My Julia.
Aldric’s eyes darted to the others as his nostrils flared. “We’ve been hearing tales of Julia for years. None of us will ever think of her without connecting her to you.”
“Now she’s rather permanently connected to him.” Kes walked casually into the sitting room and lowered himself into a chair firmly ensconced in the gathering of furniture.
Digby strutted in with an air of superiority. The King was nothing if not a performer.
Henri sat near Niles. Digby pulled a chair over from the table near the window.
“Spill your budget, Jonquil,” Aldric said. “How deep in the mud are you?”
They had undertaken discussions like this before. The six of them—seven while Stanley had still been alive—had pulled each other out of any number of scrapes over the years. He knew better than to think they’d let him shrug his way out of a full reckoning this time.
With a sigh, he dragged a chair over and plopped down among them. “Things are rough, I’ll admit, but we’ve been doing better, Julia and I. We’ll sort it out.” He assumed his most confident, unconcerned expression.
They all exchanged looks but not with him.
“Why do I feel like I am being left out of a silent conversation?”
Niles didn’t often speak for the group, but he did then. “Our jester is wearing his mask.”
“You think I’m playing a part?”
Digby answered. “Your ability to laugh during difficulties and pretend everything is fine has been a godsend at times. But you can’t hide from this, Lucas. You have to fix it. Julia deserves as much.”
“What about me?” Lucas asked with a laugh.
“Julia deserves—”
“‘Be ye kind one to another.’” Henri was forever pulling them back from the precipice of bad form, often laughingly quoting holy writ or sage adages.
Aldric held up a hand, bringing everything to a halt. He pointed at Kes. “Give us the details.”
“I’ve been here as well,” Digby objected.
Aldric was unmoved. “We need details, not drama.”
Digby conceded the point with a regal shrug.
“My letters to all of you covered the arranged and unwanted nature of this marriage, the very vocal objections of the bride and groom.” Kes listed the issues much the way one would the various assets of a horse one hoped to purchase. Grumpy Uncle could be infuriatingly logical at times. “Since I wrote to you, they’ve arrived here. The house has been divided into areas the new Lady Jonquil is permitted to traverse and those she isn’t.”
Three pairs of shocked eyes turned to Lucas.
“That’s not entirely accurate.”
Kes continued. “The Jester’s made a little headway, but Julia continues to keep her distance. The King and I have helped where we can. Lucas danced with her, which sent her running away in apparent horror.”
“Again, not entirely accurate.”
“And he flirted with her,” Digby added, “which thoroughly confused her.”
“Est-ce vrai?” Henri, loyal friend that he was, seemed to doubt the accounting. “Lucas has flirted with young ladies before. I have heard no whisper of him being inept in such things.”
“Perhaps they were all simply sparing his feelings,” Digby suggested with a look of pity tossed in Lucas’s direction.
“The lot of you are not helping.”
“Sounds to me as though you aren’t helping either,” Aldric said.
Lucas pushed out a tense breath. “How do I fix this when I don’t entirely know what’s wrong?”
“You let us help you,” Niles said. “It’s why we’re
here.”
Aldric nodded. “Set your mind at ease, Jonquil. I have an idea.”
***
Lucas wasn’t accustomed to being excluded from the Gents’ planning sessions. But Aldric had been insistent. The five of them had pushed him out of his own sitting room with strict instructions to Mrs. Parks that they were not to be disturbed, especially by Lucas.
One did not argue with the General. Digby’s tossing out one of his monarchial smiles had sealed the Parkses’ cooperation. And so the Jester took his evening meal alone, on a tray in his room. Julia didn’t emerge from hers.
With the sun long since dropped below the horizon, he accepted the inevitable and resigned himself to bed. Cozy in his nightshirt and a pair of woolen socks, he dropped onto his well-worn chair near the fireplace. What were the Gents planning? He had faith in his friends, but he also had a few far-too-keen memories of past misadventures to not have some qualms.
He needed a moment to calm his worried mind, and he knew precisely where to do that: the circular sitting room. Lucas took up a candle and moved through the adjoining door.
The room wasn’t empty. Julia lay curled in a ball on the sofa, a small lap blanket pulled tight around her shoulders but offering not the slightest warmth to the rest of her. Absolutely nothing about her current arrangement looked at all comfortable.
Lucas set his candle on the mantel and knelt beside the sofa. “Julia.” He gently nudged her. “Julia.”
Her eyelids fluttered but didn’t fully open.
“Sweetheart.” He brushed his hand over her hair.
Her eyes opened, though her lids remained heavy. “Lucas?”
“Why are you in here?”
She blinked a few times. “I’m not supposed to be.” Her words emerged slow with lingering sleep. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d find me.”
“I’m not upset.”
Her eyes slid closed once more. “I’m not supposed to be in here.”
“This is your home, Julia. There’s no part of it where you aren’t welcome.”
A little smile fluttered across her face. “I like Brier Hill.”
He wrapped his fingers around hers poking out from under the blanket. “I’ve wondered over the years if you would.”
Her breathing grew slower and heavier. She was clearly exhausted and not entirely awake. But if she slept on this short sofa, only half covered with a thin blanket, she wouldn’t wake very rested.
“Julia?”
Her eyes half opened.
“You should go lie on your bed. You’ll sleep better.”
“A bottle of perfume broke. My room needs to be aired out, so all the windows are open.”
Ah. “The room is too cold for sleeping.”
“I didn’t know where else to go,” she whispered. “Mrs. Parks says the guest chambers are all being used.”
And so they were.
“Come along, sweetheart.” He slipped his arm under her back and helped her to a seated position. “You can sleep in my bed; I’ll use the sofa.”
She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. “You’re far taller than I am, Lucas. You’ll never fit on this sofa.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “I would sleep in Pooka’s doghouse if it meant you didn’t have to pass a cold and uncomfortable night.”
“Sometimes, Lucas, I think you don’t actually hate having me here.” She leaned more heavily against him and wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m cold.”
He helped her to her feet. “The fire is burning in my room. You’ll be warm in there.”
Lucas snatched up his candle, then walked with her into his bedchamber, his arm around her middle and her head resting against him. Her bare toes poked out from beneath her nightdress.
“We need to get you some warm socks, Julia. Your feet will freeze all winter.”
He pulled back the blankets on his bed. She climbed up and curled into a ball. Did she always sleep in that position or only when she was cold? He pulled the blankets over her, tucking them around her shoulders.
“Sleep well, my sweet friend.”
Before he even stood straight, she spoke. Quietly. “Why are you always leaving me?”
“I’m going only as far as the sitting room.”
“This time.” Sleep sat heavy in her words.
“I’ll stay in here if you want me to.” He didn’t know what else to say to set her mind at ease.
Her eyes were closed. She breathed slow and deep.
“Julia?”
No answer.
He bent and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Somehow, my darling, sweet Julia, we will sort this out.” He was telling himself as much as her. They simply had to find a way.
She didn’t stir. Lucas kissed her forehead. He checked one more time that she was fully tucked under the blankets.
“Sleep well, Julia.”
The General had best be concocting his most brilliant battle plan to date. Lucas couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Upon waking the next morning, Julia was decidedly confused. She wasn’t in her room, and she wasn’t alone. Lucas slept soundly beside her, wrapped in a blanket, on what she was beginning to realize was his bed.
As odd as the arrangement was, Julia couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, hair disheveled, face relaxed with sleep. He was handsome, as always, but he was, in that moment, intriguingly adorable.
She reached out and brushed a lock of hair away from his face. His hair had been so curly when they were children. Now it was a rather stunning cascade of golden waves. He usually wore it tied back, as the current style dictated.
Julia brushed her fingers over his hair again as he slept on. “You’re going to break my heart again, aren’t you? Hearts cannot always be pieced back together, Lucas.”
Her words must have been louder than she’d intended. He stirred.
She pulled her arm under the blanket once more and hastily closed her eyes. To be caught watching him sleep would be humiliating.
After a moment, she felt him move enough to feel he was likely awake. It was safe for her to pretend she had only just awoken herself.
She slowly opened her eyes. Lucas yawned, blinking a few times. Her heart fluttered at the unexpectedly charming picture he made.
“I’m in your room,” she said quietly.
That pulled his attention to her. His smile tipped higher on one side than the other, tugging his nose a bit. It had always done that.
“You might recall a broken perfume bottle, an uncomfortable sofa, and an undersized blanket.”
She did now that he’d reminded her of it. “You let me sleep in here. But I thought . . .” Heavens, her memories of the night before were vague and scattered. “Weren’t you . . . ?”
He moved so he was seated, hair still a mess. “I did try to sleep on the sofa, but no matter what I did, half of me hung off. I hoped you wouldn’t mind my giving up on that plan.”
She shook her head. “I don’t mind.”
“The other three Gents are here at Brier Hill,” he said. “I am hoping you don’t mind that either.”
“Oh.” The Gents. The friends he’d not neglected all the years he’d forgotten about her. And they were there, in the house, poised to claim his time and attention again. Julia pasted a smile on her face. “Mr. Layton was so certain he was the only one of your friends who would make the journey. He will be forced to eat his words.”
Lucas laughed. “The other Gents will make certain he does.”
Julia slipped carefully off the bed, attempting to look as dignified as possible in her nightdress and with her hair uncombed. Thank heavens she had recently retained the services of an abigail. “I should ring for Lucy, especially if I am to meet your friends. I would make an unfortunate i
mpression looking like this.”
“I’m glad you get to meet them, Julia,” he said. “And I’m glad they’re here.”
She moved toward the door of the circular sitting room with no intention of stopping until she was safely in her bedchamber. Breathing through her growing worry proved difficult. He might be glad his friends had come, but she wasn’t. He had only recently begun to act pleased at her company, to give the impression that he liked being with her. She knew that thread was too fragile to endure the pull he must feel to return to the life he’d led with them that had so fully excluded her.
Doubts kept running through her mind as she prepared to meet his friends. She chose her silver-blue dress—it was the one in which she felt the most confident—and Lucy spent a little extra time on her hair. She would face her competition for Lucas’s loyalty with head held high.
The lot of them were in the sitting room when Julia made her way down the stairs. She could hear their cacophony of voices and laughter. To her dismay, she enjoyed the sound. A house filled with life and merriment would do her a world of good, filling her heart with all the joy it had known before death had emptied the rooms and corridors and grounds of her childhood home. But these voices would not stay, and Lucas would follow them when they left, and heaven only knew how long he would stay away this time.
She assumed the welcoming smile of a seasoned hostess and stepped into the room. All eyes turned immediately to her, and the conversations ceased.
Despite herself, she instinctively searched out Lucas, looking to him for support. She was perhaps not so confident as she wished to be.
His valet had put him to rights. Every wave on his head sat precisely where it ought, more was the pity. Her heart still fluttered at the memory of his boyish dishevelment that morning.
“Julia.” He crossed to her, appearing perfectly pleased to see her. “Have I told you how much I like that dress?”
“You have.”
“Good. I would hate for you to not know how impeccable my taste is.”
She so enjoyed when he was in a teasing mood. “Your good taste is noted.”
Forget Me Not (The Gents Book #1) Page 17