Forget Me Not (The Gents Book #1)

by Sarah M. Eden

  “Sp—spark?”

  His hand settled at her waist, the warmth of it seeping through every layer she wore. “We’re married, sweetheart. We’re allowed a stolen embrace now and then.”

  Anticipation beat a rhythm of fascination against her ribs. “Do you want to? With me?”

  “You’re a far better option than any of the other people in this house.”

  “How flattering,” she said dryly.

  “In the words of our French friend, we’d best not simply stand here. We’ll run out of time.”

  Heat stole up her neck. She didn’t mind. “One must never ignore a Frenchman’s advice on matters of . . . sparking.”

  His hand slid achingly slowly from her waist to her back, his arm wrapping around her. The movement pulled her flush with him, her open palms pressed against the silk of his jacket, her fingers brushing over the lace ruffle beneath his cravat.

  “Do you want to know a secret, Julia?” His breath against her cheek sent a shiver down her back. “Kissing you is vastly enjoyable.”

  There in the dark, he kissed her cheek, then the sensitive spot beneath her ear. A shiver tiptoed over her, rushing her pulse. He kissed her neck beneath her other ear. The air quivered from her lungs.

  “Vastly enjoyable.” He whispered the words against her lips.

  He’d kissed her the night before, a gentle salute of reassurance and concern for her health, but the way he kissed her now was quite different. There was a heat to it that spread through her at every touch of his lips.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. The movement knocked loose a bit of his hair, sending golden waves lapping softly against her hands and arms.

  “Julia,” he whispered, shifting to press kisses along her jaw. “My Julia.”

  A pounding on the closet door shattered the moment. She jumped, startled. Lucas released a tense breath, loud enough that whoever had knocked might very well have heard it.

  “The seekers have found us,” Julia said almost silently.

  “If we keep really quiet, the troublemakers will eventually go bother someone else.”

  She pressed her forehead to his chest and held back a laugh, unsure if it arose from actual hilarity or simply how overwhelmed her senses were. His hands remained pressed to her back, and he held her.

  “We all know you two are in there.” There was no mistaking Digby’s imperious tone. “Everyone’s been found, and we’re ready to go again.”

  “Come back after a few more goes,” Lucas called back. “We’re busy.”

  “You release Our Julia, or the lot of us are coming in there to rescue her.” That sounded like Kes. Even Grumpy Uncle was joining in on the teasing.

  Julia could not hold back her giggles.

  “That sounds like crying. Is she crying?” Henri asked.

  “For your information, she is laughing. I am attempting to quite thoroughly kiss my wife, and thanks to the lot of you, she’s now laughing.” Lucas sounded like he was going to laugh as well.

  “Perhaps we had best join them, Lucas,” Julia said.

  “If we do, they win.”

  Heavens, she hadn’t laughed this much in ages. “I thought this wasn’t about winning.”

  “At the moment, it appears to be about losing.”

  Julia took pity on him. She slipped her fingers up his neck and found his face in the dark. She stretched up on her toes and placed a simple kiss on his lips, no more than the length of a breath. “Volunteer to be the next one who seeks.” She opened the door, tossing back over her shoulder, “You can always search in this closet again,” and stepped out.

  The other Gents were there not looking the least apologetic for their unwanted interference. Indeed, they seemed quite pleased with themselves.

  Lucas crossed to the now-empty doorway. “What are the chances that if I do, I’ll find one of these clods in here instead of you?”

  “I would say one-hundred-percent,” Aldric declared.

  Lucas shook his head good-naturedly. “The lot of you are certainly adding an unexpected element of challenge to this game.”

  “Promise we can play it again when the rest of us have wives to join in the fun and we’ll be more than willing to leave you be.” Digby gave him a pointed look.

  “You hear that, Julia? All we have to do to gain a moment’s privacy is find the King here a Queen. Are you equal to a bit of matchmaking?”

  “Yes,” Julia said saucily, “but that might require a bit too much sorcery.” She walked away, the air behind her filling with their uproarious laughter. Yes, this was a group she could not have been more thankful for.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Childhood Games Day had been one of Lucas’s favorites. They’d spent it engaging in any number of ridiculous youthful entertainments. There’d been laughter and camaraderie. He’d flirted shamelessly with Julia and had been rewarded again and again with her absolutely joyful smile and that hint of a blush he thoroughly enjoyed bringing to her face. He’d resolved to regularly indulge in such diverting pastimes over the coming years. And to read to her at night. And to take advantage of cupboards whenever feasible. Holding her in his arms, kissing her . . . his heart still pounded when he thought about it.

  He’d vowed after James’s death to live his life as fully as possible. More and more, he felt himself fulfilling that pledge. Adventures, good friends, a wife he was falling more in love with . . . a well-lived life indeed.

  Julia had dozed shortly after dinner, exhausted. He’d all but forgotten she hadn’t been feeling well the day before. By the time he’d climbed the stairs that night, she’d been deeply asleep and he hadn’t had the heart to wake her.

  Hope like he’d not yet felt surged at the promise of a lifetime spent chasing her around their house, flirting with her in the corners and shadows and mountaintops of their lives, laughing with their friends. They had taken the first steps toward building a beautiful life together, if only they could navigate the ones yet to come.

  “I have a question,” he told Aldric the next morning when he joined his friend in the breakfast room. The General, like himself, was an early riser. “Was preventing me from quite thoroughly kissing my wife yesterday part of your secret plan to help me win her over? Because, if so, I have some complaints about your tactics.”

  Aldric took a leisurely sip of his tea, not overly anxious to answer. It was a well-known approach of his. Lucas simply waited.

  “We have heard for years about Julia, and every story involved the two of you getting into scrapes or undertaking larks. Your deepest connections to her have always been forged through smiles and laughter. There was none of that here when we arrived.”

  That was truer than he wished it were. “Our connection was also forged in grief and loss.”

  “Life will offer you ample moments in which you will experience that again,” Aldric said. “We mean to give you memories you can laugh about: a day of children’s games with a group of grown gentlemen, an interrupted bit of sparking, moments of harmless inanity between the lot of us.”

  There’d been a decent amount of that thus far.

  “Build on your mutual happiness,” Aldric said, “and you will have a strong enough foundation on which to endure the moments of pain.”

  Lucas filled his plate from the sideboard. They chatted amiably about people they knew, adventures they’d had, ideas for future journeys. Lucas was grateful to these close-as-brothers friends of his.

  “I suppose we have your father to thank for our invitations to Falstone Castle,” Lucas said. “I’ve lived within relatively short distance of Their Graces for eight years now and have not yet been invited to Falstone.”

  “Father thinks it a connection worth strengthening,” Aldric said. “Younger sons can’t afford to alienate their sires.”

  “It’ll be a lark.” Lucas returned t
o his seat. “With all of us in attendance, even you will enjoy yourself.”

  “Even me? That sounds like something you ought to be saying to Grumpy Uncle.”

  There was truth in that.

  Julia stepped into the room, clad in a pale-pink, ruffle-edged mantle.

  They stood, as was customary when a lady entered.

  She held a hand up. “Please sit and keep eating. I have no intention of interrupting.”

  “I would be happy to fetch you a plate, sweetheart.”

  She touched his arm as she passed. “Thank you, no.”

  He sat but didn’t return to his meal. Julia continually pulled his gaze. She wore her hair tied back with a ribbon, a few tendrils loose. How was it she looked elegant even in such simplicity? London would be utterly enamored of her when the Season arrived. A significant impediment followed immediately on the heels of that realization. Julia preferred to be at home. She’d told her father, specifically, that she disliked social gatherings and balls. Lucas might have taken delight in introducing her about Town, but she would be miserable. And he refused to force her participation the way her father had.

  Julia joined them at the table. “Please, continue with your discussion. I will need this entire cup of tea and at least a quarter hour to fully awaken.”

  It was good to see her so at ease. The first weeks of their marriage, she had been anything but. Perhaps, in time, she would grow comfortable enough to consider something more adventurous than quiet days spent at home.

  “Our topic involves you, actually,” Lucas said.

  “Does it?” She looked at them both.

  “We leave in the morning for Falstone Castle.”

  Julia paled. “I’d forgotten about the ball.”

  Clearly, adventure was not on the menu just yet.

  “Are you nervous, Our Julia?” Aldric offered a look of empathy. “You’ll have five brothers there. And Lucas isn’t entirely useless.”

  “I’ve no experience with social gatherings,” she said. “I’ll be a weight around your necks.”

  Lucas himself had once argued that she would be a weight in his life. What a fool he’d been.

  “Not one of us has the least worry on that score,” Aldric said. “Resign yourself to a marvelous experience. We will see to it you have precisely that.”

  ***

  Julia would have rather been almost anywhere other than the traveling carriage as it drew ever nearer to the edge of Falstone Forest. Lucas set his hand on her clasped hands, drawing her attention to just how tight her grip had grown.

  “I’m so nervous,” she whispered. “I’ve never met a duke and duchess before. They must have very important friends and associates. I’ll be so utterly and awkwardly out of place.”

  “That is Grumpy Uncle’s role,” Digby said. “You can’t usurp it; he’ll have nothing to do tonight.”

  “I thought being the jester was Lucas’s role,” she tossed back at him with a grateful smile.

  “Monarchs are allowed to fill whatever role we choose.” He fussed with his lace cuffs, somehow making the gesture grandiose.

  “Except a role of humility, apparently,” Lucas said.

  Kes met Julia’s eye. He gave her a look of heavily tried patience accompanied by a subtle gesture toward their traveling companions. Grumpy Uncle was living up to his name. The General, Archbishop, and Puppy were following in Archbishop’s carriage. These gentlemen were good for her burdened heart.

  She threaded her arm through Lucas’s and leaned against him.

  “Feeling better?” he whispered.

  “I’m nervous yet, but my courage is rallying.” She wrapped her other arm around his, very nearly embracing his arm, feeling like a little girl needing to be rescued from a spider again. She could face a great many things with his support. His encouragement had buoyed her as she’d assumed the role of hostess. With him at her side, she’d climbed a mountain—twice—and rediscovered her spirited side. She’d gained friends. She was even on her way to a ball, and though she was nervous, she wasn’t crumbling. “Will the guests be horrified that I will not have my hair powdered?”

  “Some may find it surprising,” Lucas said. “But hair powder has begun falling out of fashion enough that no one will be truly shocked, I daresay.”

  “I agree,” Digby added. “Most will simply declare you an endearingly eccentric couple.”

  She hadn’t expected quite that wording. “An eccentric couple?”

  Kes seemed to recognize her confusion. “Lucas has declared he will forgo hair powder tonight as well.”

  She looked up at her husband. “Why would you do that? You like powdering your hair.”

  “Ah, but a lady told me recently that I look more dashing with my hair its natural shade of gold. I am not so foolish as to deny myself the opportunity to be dashing.”

  The possibility that what she thought held that much sway with him was flattering, but it also worried her. If he were mistreated or made to feel a fool for doing something to appease her oddities, it might very well snap this fragile thread between them. He, after all, had worried from the very beginning that her lack of polish and Social experience would prove an embarrassment.

  “Are you certain?” she asked. “I don’t wish for you to have a miserable evening. If we are the only two who are unpowdered . . .”

  He smiled at her kindly. “We won’t be.”

  “How can you know that? Suppose we, alone, eschew the affectation.”

  “I happen to know of several other quite fashionable young gentlemen who will be arriving unpowdered this evening.”

  From across the carriage, Kes dipped his head the tiniest bit, and Digby bowed at the waist from his seated position.

  “You would do that for Lucas?” she asked.

  “No,” Kes said.

  Digby’s smile was as dazzling and charming as ever. “We would, however, willingly and happily do almost anything for you.”

  That pleased her almost beyond words. Warmth enveloped her very heart. She leaned against Lucas once more, an unexpected peace settling over her. Life was changing, but she was feeling equal to it. Lucas was walking this path with her. He wanted her in his life, part of the adventures he so often spoke of. She had ample reason for optimism. Her nervousness hadn’t entirely dissipated, but she felt comforted and calm.

  As the carriage passed into the thickness of Falstone Forest, Lucas kept her arm through his, his hand on hers. The gentlemen chatted amicably, something she’d discovered they did almost ceaselessly, no doubt the result of so many years of deep and abiding friendship.

  “You will not wish to miss your first glimpse of Falstone Castle,” Digby said. “It is impressive.”

  She slid to the carriage window and looked through the glass. Lucas moved as well, watching from close behind her. After a time, they turned a bend, and stone towers rose up among the trees. Heraldic flags flew from the many towers. The tall, surrounding wall didn’t detract from the splendor of the edifice. Digby was correct: Falstone Castle was impressive.

  “I’m not certain I am grand enough to be a guest in such a place,” Julia said.

  “You are,” Lucas whispered.

  She carried that reassurance with her as she was handed down from the carriage some five minutes later. Lucas took her arm as soon as he too alighted. They, along with the Gents, walked through the front doors into the entry hall—large, wide, and grand.

  Lucas led her to a very regal family, their hosts, no doubt. His Grace was a large man, physically intimidating but with kindness in his expression. Her Grace could not possibly have been more elegant. Her clothes were in the absolute first state of fashion. Her coiffure spoke of utter perfection—powdered, of course. She would have been a little formidable if not for the eager, sincere sparkle of welcome and excitement in her eyes.

  I
t was, however, their son who pulled Julia’s attention. He was likely no more than six or seven years old. His sweet face was terribly scarred on one side, a literal web of wounds. What had happened to the poor child?

  He did not appear to be in any pain, neither did he otherwise appear to be injured nor the recipient of current mistreatment. His posture was sure and confident, but his blue eyes showed much the same nervousness she felt. It lent his expression an unmistakable air of shyness. How her heart went out to him.

  “Lord Aldric,” the Duke of Kielder greeted. “Mr. Layton, a pleasure to see you both again.”

  Bows and curtsies were exchanged. Aldric, being the higher ranking of the two gentlemen already acquainted with the duke and duchess, undertook the necessary introductions.

  The little boy was Lord Falstone, but the name didn’t suit him. He was so tiny to be a Lord anything. She knew, of course, that infants were born lords—Lucas had been, after all—but she felt such an urge to pull the little boy into her arms and sing him a lullaby. One did not do that with a lord.

  “Lord Falstone.” Lucas bowed formally to the little boy.

  He copied the extremely correct bow, his expression every bit as ducal as his father’s and, somehow, even more impressive. “Lord Jonquil,” his little-boy voice greeted in reply.

  “When do you begin your time at Eton?” Lucas asked.

  “Never,” little Lord Falstone answered quite seriously. “We are a Harrow family.”

  Lucas kept his expression somber, but Julia could see the mirth in his eyes. “I don’t think I can stay here after all.” He made a show of turning to leave.

  “We can forgive your educational preferences,” the duchess called after him, laughter ringing in her voice. “I doubt your wife will forgive you if you leave before the ball.”

  Especially if he left her without a word of warning or a moment’s discussion. He’d once done that often and without regret. She didn’t think he would anymore. She trusted he wouldn’t.

  That realization startled her. She didn’t trust easily, but she was coming to trust him.