“I inherited Roscombe from my mother. It’s near Cirencester, and I lived there as a boy. Though nothing like so grand as where you were raised, I think you’ll like the place.” He grinned. “I’m looking forward to pottering around my own estate and learning more about sheep and crops. Perhaps I shall become a hunting squire. A pack of hounds, side whiskers, and a red face.”
She laughed. “Now that I cannot imagine. But I like the idea of a gentry life, comfortable and not too grand. I suppose there would be occasional visits to London?”
“Of course. As you know, Ash has given me the use of a suite of rooms at Ashton House, but we could lease a house if you prefer.”
“I might not like London well enough to want a home there. If Ashton doesn’t mind, it would be pleasant to stay with him and Mariah when we’re in town.” She looked pensively at the rugged Scottish hills. “The north is beautiful, but I’ve missed the friendly fields and villages of southern England. I’ll be happy to return there.”
“Will you continue as a midwife?” His voice was casual, as if the question was no great matter.
Her head whipped around. “You would allow it?”
“After marriage to my despicable cousin, I think you’ve earned the right to make decisions about your own life,” he said peaceably. “Besides, if I try to lay down the law too often, you’ll leave me. I’d rather that didn’t happen.”
She realized her hand was still in his, and she was squeezing hard enough to cut off the blood flow. Gently she released her grip. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but you’re right. I like delivering babies, and I will never live in a cage again.”
“Nor do I want to put you in one.” His gaze was intent. “You have a gift for healing. I don’t want to deprive the world of your skills. But Gloucestershire doesn’t lack physicians and surgeons, so perhaps you could restrict yourself to midwifery. That way you could deliver babies and still have time to be the lady of the manor.”
“That sounds like a very sensible plan,” she agreed, marveling that he accepted the value of her work, and understood what it meant to her. “I’ve had no experience of men who don’t simply lay down the law and expect women to obey.”
“I have spent most of my adult life both giving and receiving orders that were often half-mad or tragic,” he said wryly. “I find the gentle art of compromise appealing.”
Under his dry humor, she heard the weariness produced by years of war and command. Her lips curved into a slow smile. “I begin to think, Major Randall, that perhaps a marriage between us would have a real future.”
More surprisingly—she was starting to really want this match.
Their journey to Edinburgh was fast and efficient, made in one long day with post horses and brief stops for refreshment. Despite the bouncing of the coach, Randall managed to sleep for a good part of the journey. Julia envied him. It was a useful gift, and would aid his healing.
At dusk, they rolled to a stop in front of Kirkland’s handsome town house. Randall had offered commentary as they drove through Edinburgh, which was attractive and more rugged than Julia had expected. She hoped they would have a chance to visit the castle that loomed portentously above the city.
As Randall helped her from the post chaise, he said, “This is where I stayed with Kirkland on my recent visit. Since he travels a great deal for his shipping business, his favorite aunt lives here and looks after the place. You’ll like Mrs. Gowan, and she will love helping you prepare for a swift but respectable wedding.”
She looked up at the stone façade uncertainly. “You’re sure Lord Kirkland won’t mind you bringing me here?”
“Quite sure.” Randall took his cane in one hand, then offered her his other arm. “He likes you. He said that having you and Mariah with us vastly improved the journey from Hartley to London.”
She took his arm and they climbed the steps. He was hardly limping at all. “Apart from you scowling at me, it was an enjoyable trip.”
“As I’ve said, life is much easier now that I’ve stopped resisting your charms.” Randall knocked on the door, then said to the butler who answered, “You thought you were free of me, Tanner, but your relief was premature.”
The butler chuckled. “A pleasure to see you again so soon, sir. Lord Kirkland will also be pleased.” His curious gaze went to Julia.
“My plans changed,” Randall said with a smile.
The butler bowed them in. “If you would care to wait in the salon, I shall inform his lordship of your arrival.” He opened the door on the right.
Julia entered the salon while Randall lingered to talk to the butler. She was stripping off her gloves when she saw a familiar figure at the writing desk in front of the window. “Lord Masterson?”
The large, calm major was another of the Westerfield friends who had searched for the lost duke, and he’d been the most accepting of her and Mariah. “I had thought you were campaigning in Spain.”
The man glanced up, then stood and moved away from the window. “Sorry, I’m not Masterson. I’m his less respectable, not to mention less legitimate, half brother, Damian Mackenzie. And you are…?”
Without the glare of the window behind him, she recognized her mistake. He and Masterson had similar features and broad, muscular bodies, but this stranger had more auburn in his hair and a roguish gleam in his eyes. Which were of two different colors, she saw as he approached. One brown, one blue. Startling and a little distracting.
She wondered briefly how to introduce herself. Highborn Lady Julia Raines wouldn’t deign to do so, but despite Randall’s desire to reclaim her rank, she didn’t feel like that ducal daughter any more. She had never really been Mrs. Bancroft, she refused to be Lady Branford, and she was not yet Mrs. Randall. She settled for, “I’m Julia. Quite boringly legitimate.”
“Well played,” he said lightly. “Yes, my esteemed brother is in Spain, having the sense to duck quickly when necessary, I hope.”
“Did you also go to the Westerfield Academy, Mr. Mackenzie?” she asked. “I gather the friendships made there tend to be enduring.”
“Please, call me Mac. I hate it when people take me seriously.” His smile was distinctly wicked. “Yes, I’m another product of Westerfield, two years behind Will.”
“Mac is living proof that even Lady Agnes can’t work miracles on all her bad boys,” Randall said as he entered the room behind Julia. He came forward to offer his hand. “Good to see you. It’s been”—he thought—“a lot of years.”
“I was sorry when Kirkland said I missed you by a day,” Mackenzie said as they shook hands. “What brings you back to Edinburgh?”
Randall rested a warm hand on the small of Julia’s back. “We’re betrothed, and I thought Kirkland would help us arrange a Scottish wedding.”
“You’re marrying this girl?” Mackenzie exclaimed, jaw dropping.
“I hope you didn’t mean that to be as insulting as it sounded,” Randall said coolly.
“Sorry, no insult intended.” Mackenzie bowed to Julia. “I just never thought of you as the marrying kind, Randall. My best wishes to you both.”
Julia nodded thanks while wondering if Mackenzie was covering up surprise that a man as handsome as Randall would marry a drab sparrow like her. A fair question, but not something even a self-professed rogue would ask.
The awkward moment ended when Kirkland entered, as dark, handsome, and enigmatic as she remembered. “Randall, what brings you back…? Julia!” He dropped his usual detachment to smile broadly and clasp her hand. “Randall is the bad penny that will always return, but it’s a most unexpected pleasure to see you.”
“Julia and I are betrothed, and I hoped we could be married from your house,” Randall said. “It’s…rather a complicated story.”
Kirkland also looked surprised, though he hid it better than Mackenzie. “My Aunt Maggie loves a wedding, and she’ll be delighted to help you plan yours. She’s out for the day, but she’ll be back this evening. Let me show you to your room,
Julia. After you’ve refreshed yourself, come down and we can discuss complications over dinner. Randall, you’re in the room where you stayed last time. Mac, will you tell Tanner to increase the place settings to four, please?”
An efficient man, Lord Kirkland. As he escorted her upstairs, Julia tried to recall the little she knew about him. His title was from his English father, but his mother had been the daughter of a wealthy Scottish merchant. As a boy, he had been regrettably intrigued by his Scottish relatives, and trade, so he’d been sent to the Westerfield Academy. Instead of turning respectable, he’d become a shipping magnate himself.
Kirkland took her to a spacious guest room with a splendid view of Edinburgh Castle in the distance. “I believe the room is in fit shape. A maid will come to check.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” More than fine. A quick survey showed that Kirkland kept his guests in comfort. “You’re very generous to take us in so unexpectedly.”
“I’ve had far more unexpected guests than you.” His eyes twinkled. “And less respectable ones, too.”
On impulse, she said, “Randall tells me that in Scotland, a woman can sue for divorce on equal terms with a man. Is that true?”
“It is.” Without moving a muscle, Kirkland became very intent. “Did you doubt Randall’s word? You shouldn’t. He’s alarmingly honest.”
“I don’t question his honesty.” She turned away to remove her cloak. “But he might have been misinformed.”
“He’s seldom wrong.” Kirkland regarded her thoughtfully. “It’s odd to be inquiring about divorce on the eve of a wedding. Are you having second thoughts?”
Though his tone was neutral, his concern for his friend’s future was clear. “I like Randall very well,” Julia assured him. “I’m not sure I like marriage as much.”
“Samuel Johnson said a second marriage is the triumph of hope over experience,” Kirkland said. “Where would we be without hope? Randall can be prickly, but he’s one of the most perceptive men I know, and his loyalty is absolute.”
“So I have found. I’m fortunate.” She smiled wryly. “He is less so.”
“Doubt is natural when contemplating such a major step, but I think you might suit rather well.” A knock on the door announced the entry of a maid, who entered with Julia’s modest bag of belongings and a pitcher of steaming water. Kirkland headed for the door. “I shall see you downstairs when you are ready.”
After Kirkland and the maid left, Julia poured water into the basin and began to wash up. So one of Randall’s old friends thought he and Julia would suit? Perhaps hope really would triumph over experience.
Chapter 11
By the time Randall finished writing the letter that would help release Julia from their marriage, he judged that she’d had sufficient time to freshen up. He crossed the hall and tapped on the door, identifying himself. His leg ached some from the long, hard day of travel, but he needed the cane much less today.
He entered when Julia called permission. Even in her worn, ill-fitting gown, his bride looked thoroughly delectable. The shining chestnut hair that fell past her shoulders was a good deal better than passable, and her delicate features and flawless complexion made him want to touch.
In fact, he wanted rather intensely to cross the room and take her in his arms, but her withdrawn expression made it clear that she was not in the mood. The fact that she had invited him into her bedroom without hesitation was progress enough for this day. “I’m just across the hall. Near, yet too far.”
She gave a swift smile. “We really can’t sleep together here since we’re not precisely married. I hope the night isn’t too cold.”
“Two or three more days and we’ll be legal in the eyes of the world.” Even though they’d only shared a bed for two nights, tonight he would miss having her there. He handed her the letter he had just written. “As you requested.”
She unfolded the paper and scanned the brief lines. “Very good. Thank you.” Expression unreadable, she set the letter aside and began pinning back her hair. He hoped that after they were married, she might consider a less austere style.
“I didn’t know Will Masterson had a brother,” she remarked.
“Mac is the daughter of an actress, and the reason why Will ended up at Westerfield,” Randall explained.
“I’ve wondered about that,” she said, her hands moving swiftly as she tamed her hair into severity. “It’s easy to see why the rest of your lot were sent to a school for difficult boys, but it’s hard to imagine Will as a serious troublemaker.”
“Mac’s mother died when he was quite young, so he was sent to his father’s house where Lord Masterson could decide what to do with him,” Randall explained. “Will, who is a couple of years older, became very attached to his little brother. I think their father would have preferred to send Mac to a foster home where he could be forgotten, but Will wouldn’t allow that. He refused to go away to school unless Mac could come, too. As you say, Will isn’t a troublemaker by nature.”
“Unlike you,” Julia said with that quick smile again.
“Unlike me,” Randall agreed, amused. “But he can be quite remarkably stubborn. Lord Masterson wasn’t keen on sending his bastard to a fashionable school like Eton or Harrow, so the Westerfield Academy was a good alternative.”
“Mr. Mackenzie was fortunate to have Will for a champion.” Julia ruthlessly pinned down the last dark waves. “But he seemed rather disrespectful about his brother. Flippant.”
“That’s just Mac. He would give his life for Will without a second thought. Mocking all the way.” Randall offered his arm. “Shall we go down?”
She tucked her hand around his arm. He loved these small signs that they were now a couple.
“Why did Kirkland and Mackenzie look so surprised at the idea of your marrying?” she asked as they left the room.
“I used to be quite vehement that I’d never take a wife, particularly if doing so would gratify my Uncle Daventry.” He smiled wryly. “It was only recently that I recognized how foolish it would be to deny myself something I wanted merely because he wanted it, too.”
“The unglamorous wisdom of maturity.” They shared a warm glance. As they headed for the stairs, he said, “I think it best to explain to Kirkland and Mackenzie that Daventry is after you, and why. Shall I do the talking?”
She sighed. “Please. Just—don’t tell them the more humiliating details.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “And neither of them will speak of anything you prefer to keep private.” They began to descend the stairs. “Now, Lady Julia Raines, it’s time to leave the shadows and move into the light.”
“We won’t need you again, Tanner,” Kirkland said. After the butler left the dining room, he continued, “I hope I get credit for controlling my curiosity through dinner. Julia, have you ever yearned to see what the gentlemen talk about over port? This is your opportunity.”
“I think I’m better off not knowing.” She was about to rise and take her leave when Randall’s gaze caught hers. She could almost hear him thinking that if she was to face down London society, she should be able to face two men who were his friends. “But I suppose I should stay since the conversation concerns me.”
Kirkland nodded as if that was natural. “If you’re not familiar with port etiquette, I am allowed to serve a lady on my right”—he poured her a half glass of ruby wine—“but otherwise, the custom is to always slide the decanter to the left”—he demonstrated, pushing the crystal decanter down the polished mahogany to Randall—“and never to lift it unnecessarily, since a gentleman who has drunk too much might spill some.”
“Which would be a grievous waste,” Mackenzie said piously.
As Randall poured his port, Kirkland said, “You mentioned that the story behind your betrothal is complicated, Randall. Care to elaborate?”
“Though you know Julia as Mrs. Bancroft, her real name is Lady Julia Raines,” Randall said succinctly as he slid the decanter to Mackenzie.
&nb
sp; Mackenzie caught his breath, so startled he temporarily forgot to fill his glass. “You were married to Branford, Lady Julia?”
Julia winced inwardly. “Yes.”
“You have my sympathies.”
“On his death?” she asked dryly.
“On having been married to him.” Mackenzie looked as if he’d tasted sour wine. He poured himself a drink, then passed the decanter back toward Kirkland. “He would have made the very devil of a husband, and that’s putting it charitably.”
“Exactly,” Randall said, mercifully drawing attention from Julia. “One day when he was drunk and violent, Julia shoved him while she was trying to escape. He fell and hit his head and died. Unfortunately, his father, my Uncle Daventry, blamed Julia. The situation became so untenable that Julia faked her death and ran away.”
Kirkland’s brows arched. “I suspected that your background was unusual, Julia, but I didn’t guess this. If you’re a Raines, you must be Castleton’s daughter?”
“I was once,” she said tersely. “He disowned me.”
“You’re still his daughter, no matter what the old curmudgeon chose to do with his will.” Kirkland studied her intently. “So you hid in the wilds of Cumberland and became a midwife. Randall coaxed you out of hiding?”
“I would have been content to stay in Hartley forever.” She thought wistfully of her peaceful, useful life and the friends she’d made. “But I must have been recognized when I visited London with Mariah because four days ago I was abducted by Daventry’s men. Randall happened to be visiting in Hartley and came after me when he heard the news. He rescued me from four villains, suggested we marry, and here we are.”
Kirkland and Mackenzie were both staring. “Only four, Randall?” Mackenzie said ironically. “Hardly worth mentioning since there were fewer than six.”
Never Less Than a Lady Page 8
