“I always return, Joseph. Always. He knows that. You know that. Please do not berate me for a passion you knew of before we married.”
“What would it take for you to have a passion for your family?” he asked through a tight jaw.
This was quickly growing both personal and uncomfortable. Lucas wasn’t certain how to maneuver an escape without embarrassing either of Their Graces. They couldn’t simply walk away.
“Lucas, darling, would I be terribly uncivil if I requested a glass of ratafia?” Julia asked. “I’ve been thirsty since we finished the allemande.”
She had managed the thing perfectly.
“Of course, sweetheart.” He took her hand in his, then looked back to the duke and duchess. “Please forgive us for slipping away. I do not wish my wife to linger in her thirst any longer.”
“No offense taken,” the duchess insisted.
“None whatsoever,” His Grace added.
Hand in hand, they slipped away.
Once out of earshot, Lucas said, “Excellently managed, darling.”
Rather than appearing pleased, her expression remained heavy. “Do you suppose they realized I was fabricating an excuse? I do not wish to add to their obvious tension, but I could not bear to remain while they argued.”
“They might very well have realized the escape for what it was, but you executed that departure as expertly as you did the allemande.”
He took her to a passing servant bearing a tray of ratafia. They soon had cups in hand, but she didn’t take so much as a sip of hers. The worry didn’t leave her expression.
“Julia?” he pressed. “Is something weighing on you?”
“I am simply out of my depth,” she said. “I will rally after a moment to catch my breath.”
He ran his free hand down her arm. “Take whatever time or space you need. I want this to be a happy evening for you. And the Gents are determined to do the same.”
“The lot of you will spoil me.” Her smile was a little forced but proved relieving just the same.
“That is the goal, Lady Jonquil. That is always the goal.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
After the allemande, the ball had passed in a blur. Julia’s mind had spun as ceaselessly as the shimmering gowns that had filled the elegant space.
“Do you, Lord Jonquil, ever feel as though you are suffocating when you have not journeyed in some time?” The duchess’s question still echoed in her thoughts as Julia finished her breakfast the next morning.
Suffocating. Lucas had readily agreed with the description. When he was not in the middle of a journey, when he wasn’t away and traveling and seeing the world, he felt as though he were suffocating. Suffocating.
Leaving was what Lucas Jonquil did. It was who he was. As a little girl, she’d had the cold comfort of believing he left her behind only because she was so much younger and, therefore, not terribly near the forefront of his considerations. As his wife, she could no longer dismiss his departure that way.
They were married. She was supposed to mean more to him now.
He’d been planning a trip and hadn’t said a word to her. He hadn’t mentioned a thing: where he was going, when he was leaving, how long he’d be gone. He’d not included her in any of his planning.
Was he simply going to leave one day without warning, like when he’d decided to move away when she was twelve and hadn’t even told her? That she’d not warranted consideration then had hurt. That nothing had apparently changed was devastating. She’d let herself believe she mattered to him more than she had eight years earlier. But she was wrong. She’d misplaced her trust. Again.
Upon finishing her morning meal, she slipped quietly into the Falstone Castle sitting room. The other guests who had stayed overnight, living too far distant to safely make the journey home after the ball had ended in the early hours of morning, were not up and about yet. Lucas had told her they would be making an early start. They would be returning to Brier Hill that day. Apparently, his definition of “early” did not match hers; she was the only one of their entourage who was out and about.
The sitting room, however, was not empty. Little Lord Falstone knelt in a chair, elbows on the round table in front of him, head bent over a backgammon board. Across from him was an older woman in the clothing of a servant, likely the nursemaid.
“Mother doesn’t like to play backgammon,” the boy said to his nurse. “I don’t know what she likes, except going away.”
“Your ma does like to travel about.” The observation was not made unkindly.
“Why does she not like to be here? I am here, and Father says I am the very best of sons.”
“And so you are, my sweet Adam.”
Lord Falstone shifted, sitting back, slumped against the chair back. “Then why does she go away all the time? We have a nice castle, and Father is a very good duke, and I am the best of sons. It isn’t sensible to leave when we have this home. It is ridiculous.”
The nurse took her turn at the game, speaking as she moved a checker. “Not everything can be ridiculous, wee boy. You’re in need of a new word.”
“I like that word.” He returned to his kneeling position in order to take his own turn at their game. “I especially like it when it is the right word. It is often the right word.”
“Is it the right word for your ma leaving again?”
His brow pulled, the movement puckering his vast array of scars. “That she does not like to be home is ridiculous. But Mother leaving makes me feel sad.”
Julia’s heart went out to the little boy. Being left behind was a difficult thing, especially with the additional burden of wondering why the one leaving didn’t want to be with him, why he was not loved and valued enough to warrant notice and time and consideration. She knew that far too well. Her father had rid himself of her, and she felt the sting of that still. Lucas was leaving again, and he didn’t love or value her enough to even tell her he was going or how long he would be gone or if he meant to come back to their home before embarking on another journey without her.
The nursemaid noticed her there and popped to her feet with both poise and surprise.
“Please,” Julia said, “continue with your game. I had not intended to interrupt.”
Little Lord Falstone hopped to the ground and offered a very proper bow. He gave the impression of one much older and perhaps a bit too wise for his age. “Lady Jonquil.”
“You remembered.” She was impressed; he must have greeted dozens of people the night before.
“I remembered your hair.” Some of his formality slipped away, and a look of very childlike curiosity filled his expression. “I’ve never seen anyone with hair like yours. I don’t know what color to call it.”
“I will let you in on a little secret, Lord Falstone,” she said. “I don’t know what color to call it either.”
The smallest of bashful smiles tugged at his little mouth. “It is pretty, Lady Jonquil.”
What a sweet compliment. Such a dear-hearted boy would be quite in demand as he grew. How easily she could imagine him forming fast friendships and winning hearts. Society, though, could be unkind to those it viewed as falling too far from perfection. She only hoped they were willing to see past the scars marring his face to the good heart he’d offered her a glimpse of.
“I do not live terribly far from here,” she said. “I suspect you and I will come to be friends, Lord Falstone.”
His smile blossomed, lovely and adorable even in its misshapen state. “I would like that. And Mother would enjoy callers. She likes to see people, but not many people come to the castle.”
Julia managed a smile, not wishing her heavy mind to leave an impression of displeasure with Lord Falstone. “I look forward to seeing you and your family in the future.” She hoped, for his sake, his family found a solution to their difficulties.
> A bow and curtsy were exchanged. Lord Falstone climbed back onto his chair and bent over his backgammon board. His nursemaid watched her. Servants were meant to remain unobtrusive whilst their employers had company. Julia offered a dip of her head and slipped from the room.
The grand entryway was empty. The footmen, she suspected, were preparing multiple traveling carriages for the departing guests. Julia appreciated the privacy.
She lowered herself onto a chair. Lucas had said he would hold her and comfort her whenever she needed him to; he had promised. But he had also told their hosts that he was truly happy only when he was traveling. He had told their hostess about his upcoming journey to Portugal, something he hadn’t yet shared with Julia. He’d every intention of leaving, had already decided the when and the where of his next departure, and hadn’t felt the least need to even mention it to her. And he’d made her a promise on that score as well: not to leave without informing her.
Sitting there, pondering yet another man in her life making decisions that impacted her without the least effort to involve her in those decisions, Julia felt years of loneliness return with painful clarity. She’d lived this too many times to not know how it would play out. Lucas would be kind and thoughtful when they were together. He’d likely kiss her again, as he had a few times, kisses that still sent tingles throughout her body when she thought of them. He would give her every reason to hope that he cared for her, perhaps would even begin to love her in some small way. But in the end, when traveling and journeying and adventure were on the horizon, she would once again be an afterthought.
How do I move forward?
She would miss him when he was away, yes, but she didn’t expect him to never be gone. But he hadn’t spoken of it, hadn’t asked her thoughts or feelings. How could they build a life together if she was still being left out of so much of his?
“Our Julia.” Digby’s cheerful and gallant voice echoed gracefully off the stone walls.
“Good morning, Mr. Layton.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “Is something amiss? I have not been ‘Mr. Layton’ to you for some time now.”
She offered a quick smile. “I am merely a little sleepy.”
“I believe we should combine forces and punish Aldric for deciding an early start was wise the morning after such a grand ball as we experienced last night.” Digby rolled his eyes, an affectation Julia found entertaining. “Being awake at such an unholy hour is a form of torture I ought not be made to endure.”
She nodded emphatically. “You will notice the General is not even here yet. Perhaps he has played a dastardly trick on the two of us and does not mean to rise until well past noon. And as we are the only ones who seem to have fallen victim to his ruse, the others must have been part of the strategy all along.”
“We should desert them and begin our journey alone.”
That brought to mind a different journey. “I have heard vague mentions that the Gents have planned a trip soon. To Portugal, I believe. Is this a common undertaking?”
“We have traversed the kingdom and a good amount of the Continent together—at times all six of us, sometimes only a portion of the group. There is no place too distant for us to make every effort reaching it if the others ask it.”
For the first time since she’d met him, Digby’s façade of charming arrogance allowed something else to peek through. Real affection for his friends appeared unmistakably in his eyes. “We are like brothers, family in a way that goes beyond blood and surnames. I don’t know what any of us would do without the others in our lives.”
Family. It was little wonder Lucas hadn’t felt the pull back to Nottinghamshire these past years. She longed for him, a friend who was more like family, but he had that connection elsewhere. And, it seemed, his connection to the Gents was stronger than his connection to her even now.
“When are you making this trip to Portugal?” she asked.
“Once the worst of the winter weather has passed,” he said. “We wish to return to London in time for the Season to begin in earnest.”
So they had been included in the details of the plan she had accidentally learned of.
“Do you know how long you will be in Portugal?”
Again, his gaze turned studying. “Has Lucas not told you anything about this?”
She shook her head, trying to keep her expression neutral and unconcerned. “I am curious enough to dig for information where I can.”
“Our Portugal portion will likely be three weeks, give or take a day or two. That, of course, will come after we make our usual circuit of one another’s estates. After Portugal, we will descend on London for the Season.”
Circuit of estates? Lucas hadn’t mentioned that either. And there’d been no discussion of the Season. Was she not meant to be part of that either?
She thought she’d shown herself somewhat adept at social interactions the night before. He’d even mentioned her meeting members of Society. But he’d been planning the Season without her.
And surely, neither he nor the Gents would object to her participating in the gatherings at their various homes. Yet, she’d been left out of that as well.
She breathed through the pain that echoed in her. Somehow, she would regain her equilibrium as she had so many times before, but she needed time to do so. Time, space, silence. She would have none of that until they returned to Brier Hill.
Lucas and Aldric arrived in the entryway mere moments later. Both were dressed for the journey, just as she and Digby were. They must have taken their morning meal on a tray in their rooms rather than in the breakfast room as she had.
“Shall we?” Digby motioned to the front doors. “I’m certain the carriage is packed and ready for us.”
It was, indeed. Julia stood closer to the doors than the gentlemen did and had a clear view.
“The others aren’t down yet,” Aldric pointed out.
“They can take the other carriage. Our Julia and I have been made to wait long enough.” Never let it be said that Digby Layton did not know how to forestall objections through the expert use of an imperious tone and commanding posture.
A lady customarily awaited an offered arm from her husband. Julia couldn’t. Not yet. Composure was not always easy to summon and seize. She would find it as she always did, but she needed a moment to herself in which to reclaim her composure.
She slipped from the castle. A footman scrambled to pull down the carriage step for her and open the door, then he handed her up, and she climbed in, not looking back at her companions. Perhaps she would be granted a brief minute alone inside.
Seated on the far end of the forward-facing bench, she simply breathed. In and out. Slow and deep. I can endure this. I have been overlooked before.
She could hear voices, no doubt the gentlemen. They might very well have been discussing her and her scramble to the carriage. Should they ask, she would give them the same reason she had supplied to Digby earlier: weariness. They could not argue that she hadn’t reason to be tired.
The quiet, dim sanctuary of the carriage was breached before she was prepared. The other three climbed in, Lucas sitting beside her. She didn’t look at him but made an effort not to appear to be ignoring him. She could not endure an interrogation, not when she had so many unanswered questions of her own.
The vehicle lurched into motion.
Lucas leaned a little closer to her. “You did not bid farewell to our hosts. That is an expected nicety, Julia. It would be best to not neglect that in the future.”
She nodded. The growing thickness in her throat wouldn’t allow her to answer vocally.
“Julia?”
She turned a little, settling her gaze on the window. How could she possibly explain the tears welling in her eyes if he saw them? To object now to a journey he had planned without her when he’d been doing that for years, would likely end in a return of
the tension and difficulty they’d only recently begun to put behind them. She couldn’t bear it.
He moved closer. She could feel the warmth of him beside her, hear his breath nearby. If only she wore panniers as wide as other ladies’. The side bustles would have kept him at a distance far easier on her heart.
“What is upsetting you? Something clearly is.”
“I’m simply not feeling conversational just now.” Could he tell she was spinning a tale? She felt terribly transparent in that moment. Vulnerable and open and undefended. “I’m tired, I suppose. And last evening was a lot to take in for someone who has never attended such an event. And it was an early morning. And . . .” Rambling likely wasn’t offering her any additional believability.
Without a word, he slipped his arm behind her back and settled it around her middle, holding her to him in as much of an embrace as the confines of a carriage and the bulk of her dress and coat would allow. His head rested gently against the top of hers. “Whenever you need a hug,” he whispered. “Just as I promised.”
It was both comforting and painful. He’d also promised not to leave without telling her. She no longer knew which of his promises she could believe in.
She was horrified to hear her next breath shudder through her. The tears she felt beneath the surface were nearer to falling than she realized.
“Julia?”
She attempted to wave off his concern but doubted he was so easily put off. Her eyes darted to Aldric, who was hidden behind a newspaper she doubted he was actually reading, then over to Digby, whose attention was utterly engrossed by a book. Good gentlemen that they were, they were attempting to offer some degree of privacy while she struggled with her emotions.
“What can I do?” Lucas asked. “Please, there must be something.”
“I am sorry I didn’t bid Their Graces farewell.” It was an explanation for her heavy mind that she could admit to. “I hadn’t intended to be rude or to embarrass you.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t embarrass me,” he insisted. “I know you haven’t attended balls and house parties and such. I only thought it would help for you to know what was expected for the next time.”
Forget Me Not (The Gents Book #1) Page 22