The Secret Life of Lady Julia

by Lecia Cornwall

  She blinked at him. He was so close, his mouth inches from her own. Would he kiss her again, here, in the middle of the reception room? He stepped back.

  “Your reputation is safe. Why would he spread a tale of anyone breaking into his private office, getting past not one but two locks, to steal secret documents? It would make him look like a fool.”

  “He could have arrested us,” she whispered.

  He frowned at that. “Yes, he could have indeed. It would have caused a scandal of quite a different sort, made England look—­” He stopped. “Let’s concentrate on enjoying the rest of the evening, shall we? We don’t want Talleyrand to think it was anything other than a seduction, do we?” She shook her head. “Good, let’s go in to supper.”

  “Stephen is waiting outside, probably freezing,” she reminded him.

  He grinned charmingly. “I know. ”

  Chapter 45

  Stephen Ives took Julia’s hand and helped her into the coach. His fingers were very cold.

  “Well?” he asked when the coach set off.

  “We have the documents,” Thomas said. There was silence. “Are you surprised?”

  “Frankly, yes. I had imagined that Talleyrand had better security than that. Where are the papers?”

  Thomas took them out of his coat pocket, and Stephen put them into a pouch and set it on his lap.

  “Aren’t you curious? Aren’t you going to read them?” Thomas asked.

  “No, I’m going to place them in Castlereagh’s hands as soon as we return to the embassy. Unread.”

  “And tomorrow?” Thomas asked.

  “What of it?” Stephen demanded. “Your job is done, Merritt.”

  Except for their bargain, Julia thought. Surely Stephen would find a way to pay Thomas. And what of her bargain? Was the kiss enough? She glanced at him in the darkness. If she could kiss him again, do more than that—­was he was watching her, thinking the same thing? Her heartbeat tripled, her body vibrated.

  It was a relief when the coach pulled up in front of Thomas’s lodgings and he got out.

  “Good night, Julia. It was a lovely evening,” he said with formal politeness, as if they hadn’t kissed, hadn’t been through an ordeal in the past few hours. “And Ives—­congratulations. I have no doubt you will take the credit for everything, and rise far in the ser­vice of His Majesty on it.” Then he was gone.

  “Will we see him again?” Julia asked Stephen.

  He sighed. “I suppose we must. There is the matter of his reward, the conditions he set.”

  “And will you meet them?” she asked.

  He stared at Thomas’s retreating back with narrow eyes. “I suppose that remains to be seen.”

  Chapter 46

  Stephen came across the coach to sit beside Julia, and drew her into his arms. He turned her face to his, kissed her gently.

  “Were you afraid?” he asked her. He could smell her perfume. She shivered, and he draped his coat over her shoulders.

  “Yes. We were caught, my lord, but Thomas managed to—­talk—­his way out.”

  “Thomas?” he asked, feeling a flare of jealousy. “You call him Thomas, and still refer to me as ‘my lord’? Call me Stephen, Julia.”

  “Stephen,” she said. “Perhaps I should take my leave in the morning.”

  He put a finger under her chin. “No, my darling girl, you aren’t going anywhere. Castlereagh cannot deny us anything now. You have triumphed, once again. Marry me, Julia.”

  She stared at him in the dark. “What? You know that’s impossible.”

  “Not now. Merritt was right. These papers will make my name, Julia. I am set for life. We needn’t return to England, at least not very often. I will be posted abroad as an ambassador, and no one will remember that Julia Ives was once—­” He felt her stiffen in his arms and stopped. “No, that came out wrong. I want to marry you because I love you. I have never felt like this about any other woman. I don’t think I can live without you.”

  She didn’t immediately reply, and he kissed her, tasted the salt of tears on her lips.

  “What about Jamie?” she asked softly.

  Merritt’s child. He felt a twinge in the pit of his stomach. “I hope we’ll have children of our own. I want a son to inherit, of course. Perhaps our son will grow up to be an ambassador.”

  She was silent.

  “Oh, I will care for Jamie,” he said, “see he’s well educated. He’ll lack for nothing, and I’ll raise him to be a good man, decent and honest.” Unlike his father, though he knew he would see Merritt in the child’s face every time he looked at him, remember how he was conceived. He’d try not to let it matter. He would ensure that Julia and the boy never saw Merritt again. It was, after all, for the best. Thomas Merritt didn’t deserve Julia. He squeezed her hand. “Say yes, Julia. Make me the happiest man in the world.”

  She drew away from him. “It’s been a very long day, Stephen. I need some sleep, time to think. Can I give you my answer tomorrow?”

  He felt the sting of disappointment but forced a smile. “Of course. I must confess I hadn’t planned on proposing to you tonight. I should be down on one knee, ring in one hand, flowers in the other. Isn’t that how it’s usually done?”

  She smiled. “I don’t know. My parents called me downstairs to the study on my eighth birthday and introduced David as my future husband. I had very little idea what that meant. There was no ring, no flowers. He did bring me a puppy as a birthday present, but I think it was actually from Nicholas, David’s younger brother. He was such a good friend of James’s, you see. My mother promptly turned the dog over to my brother and told me not to cry, because I would be a duchess someday, which was far better than having a puppy. Only—­” She stopped. “I would have rather had the puppy.”

  Stephen smiled. “James, Nick, and I were friends in Spain. I seem to recall James rescuing a litter of puppies during a battle. The barn they were in was on fire. It took three trips to get them all. Burnt a hole in his new tunic, but he was a hero that day too.”

  “Will you tell me more stories about James?”

  He kissed her forehead. “One for every day of our life together,” he promised.

  He helped her out of the coach, led her inside, escorted her to the door of her bedroom. “You’re a remarkable lady, Julia Leighton, and you were very brave tonight. Rest and we’ll talk tomorrow. I’ve got to go and see Castlereagh before I can find my own bed. Or . . .” He looked hopefully over the threshold.

  “Good night, Lor—­Stephen,” she said, and firmly closed the door behind her.

  Her bedroom was cold, and the curtains shivered in the icy wind coming through the open window. She hurried across to shut it, and turned to her bed. There, on the pillow, was the letter with her name on it that Talleyrand had left in the folder. She crossed and looked outside, but Thomas Merritt was nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter 47

  “What was Thomas Merritt doing here?” Charles Stewart’s question stopped Stephen in his tracks. He was on his way to see Castlereagh, to give him the documents, to praise Julia, and to make a deal with the outgoing ambassador. He hadn’t expected to see Stewart, who was leaning against the doorway of the library, a drink in his hand, his shirt stained with wine and his own blood.

  Stephen winced at the man’s appearance. His nose was broken and he had a black eye, swollen shut. He had to admit that he was almost pleased to see the damage.

  He could afford to be pleasant. The future was secure, both his own and Julia’s. “Don’t you know why he was here, my lord?” he asked. “I thought you were in charge of the embassy’s security. Haven’t you been briefed?” He read the confusion in Stewart’s one good eye.

  “I’ve been—­away—­for several days. Business,” Stewart lied. “I’m on my way to see Rob now,” he said, referring to his half brother.

&nbs
p; “Then you should ask him,” Stephen said, and turned to walk away.

  “Has Julia Leighton gone yet?”

  “No. She’s upstairs, asleep. You won’t be able to get rid of her now. She’s done his lordship a favor.” He waved the folder in his hands.

  “What’s that mean?” Stewart growled. He reached for the folder, but Stephen held it out of his reach.

  “Sorry—­classified. For the ambassador’s eyes only.”

  “And this has something to do with Julia Leighton, and Tom Merritt?”

  He was quick, Stephen would give him that much. Stewart was reputed to be an excellent spy when he wasn’t drunk. He also hated Thomas Merritt. He wondered again just what Thomas had done to cross Stewart.

  He hadn’t missed the way Julia looked at Merritt as he got out of the coach. Did she still have feelings for him? He’d never been a jealous man, but he’d never been in love before. If Merritt was the reason Julia had hesitated in accepting his marriage proposal, then he would remove his rival by whatever means came to hand.

  “I see you know Merritt, my lord. To me, he’s merely a thief. We hired him for his professional skills, nothing more.”

  Stewart’s brows rose, and he winced at the pain, crossed to pour a tumbler of whisky. “So that’s what’s become of him.”

  “Wasn’t he a thief in London?”

  Stewart snorted. “He was a fool when I knew him—­a rake, a gambler, and a charmer of women, but he was a fool with morals. His brother married for love, but his bride married for money. Joanna lived for pleasure, wallowed in it, in fact. When she lost a fortune gambling and Edward cut off her allowance, she simply took lovers and made them pay, and when her husband discovered that, he banished her to Brecon Park. She wanted a playmate in her solitude, and she wanted to hurt Edward, so she sent for Thomas, and me. I was Edward’s oldest and closest friend, above suspicion in his eyes, but if a woman offers . . .” He shrugged, and Stephen felt his gut twist.

  “Joanna was in my bed one night, and Edward arrived at Brecon unexpectedly. We didn’t know until we heard him coming up the stairs. There was no time to make it to her own rooms, so she ducked into Tom’s rooms instead. That’s where Edward found her, naked.” He chuckled. “Joanna begged him not to tell. Tom saw me in the doorway when the shouting began and guessed the truth, but he’d given his word before he knew what that truth was. The chivalrous fool didn’t defend himself, just let his brother disown him, cut him off without a penny.

  “Joanna went to see him, days later, at some squalid hellhole he’d found in London. She offered him a pair of diamond earrings, Edward’s wedding present, to keep quiet. He found out later just what she was, but it was far too late by then. He came to see me, hoped I would admit the truth, but I owed him money—­a lot of money. I refused to help him, since he was better dead and disowned to me. I threatened to do the opposite, and tell Edward I’d seen him with Joanna, that he’d forced her. I heard that someone broke into Edward’s London house and took all Joanna’s jewels from the safe. They never caught the thief, but now I assume it was Merritt.”

  “Probably,” Stephen said, gritting his teeth. Stewart was even more loathsome than he could have imagined. He had hoped to hear that Merritt was a wastrel, a philanderer, a depraved rake guilty of terrible crimes. Instead, it turned out he’d done the honorable thing to defend a woman. He shut his eyes. It did not make Merritt’s seduction of Julia any more bearable, or even understandable.

  Stewart dropped into a chair and fixed Stephen with a one-­eyed glare, completely without a shred of remorse for ruining a man’s life. “So Tom’s a thief, eh? How the hell did he end up here, in Vienna, helping you with . . . ?” Stewart pointed at the folder in Stephen’s hand. “Why would he help you?”

  Why indeed. For Julia? He didn’t want to believe that. “I told him we’d hang him if he didn’t.”

  “The Tom Merritt I knew wouldn’t care about that. Not if helping wasn’t already in his best interest. Not anymore. What was his price?”

  Stephen hesitated. “He wants money, of course, and Castlereagh’s Order of the Garter star.”

  Stewart chuckled. “The star? Why? Does he want revenge on the whole bloody British aristocracy?”

  “I don’t know. He made having it a condition of his help.”

  “Then I can only imagine he wants to embarrass this embassy out of spite.” Stewart regarded the folder again. “Does he know what’s in there?”

  Stephen nodded. “I assume so.”

  “And if he were to tell anyone?”

  Stephen considered. Who would believe that Wellington was involved in a plot to set Napoleon free? No one would, without the documents. Without them, Talleyrand had nothing.

  “You don’t like Tom, do you, Ives?”

  “No,” he admitted.

  “I won’t ask why. He’s the kind of man women adore, and other men despise him for it. Is that sufficient to say? I’d love to be rid of Tom too. He has a few too many interesting tales to tell, and that makes him dangerous, even a potential traitor. It’s my job—­and yours—­as part of this embassy to ensure traitors are harshly dealt with. I don’t know why you have cause to hate him, but let’s just say that this”—­he pointed to his broken nose—­“cannot go unpunished.”

  Stephen clutched the folder tighter. Actually, Merritt wasn’t a traitor, he was a hero. Except for the fact that he had asked for a reward. And Julia still had feelings for him, even after he’d used her, abandoned her. “I’ll help you arrest Merritt under one condition, my lord,” he said. Stewart waited without comment, his one good eye gleaming. “Leave Julia Leighton alone.”

  Stewart’s laugh was a dark gutter innuendo. “Ah, so that’s it, is it? No wonder she refused me. Are you . . . ?” He made an obscene hand gesture that made Stephen’s skin crawl. He stiffened.

  “No.”

  “It doesn’t matter to me, but whether she stays or goes is up to Castlereagh. But we can be rid of Merritt if we work together. So are we friends?”

  Stephen considered how Stewart treated his friends. He also considered how Julia had looked at Thomas Merritt, the way her breath had caught in her throat when he left the coach, and the fact that she’d hesitated in accepting his proposal.

  “What did you have in mind?” he asked Stewart.

  “Julia Leighton is to be dismissed at once,” Castlereagh said an hour later, once Stephen had presented the stolen documents to him and he had quietly looked them over. “I will pay her passage back to London, but nothing else. She will not receive a commendation or any other acknowledgment.”

  Stephen felt indignation fill him. “She has not asked for anything at all, my lord, and she took a great risk to get these letters back.”

  “She will be expected to sign a document promising never to disclose this incident to anyone,” Castlereagh said. He got up and dropped the stolen pages on the fire, watched the flames obliterate them and poked the ashes to dust.

  Stephen stood at attention. “I’ll know, your lordship. I will be expected to make a full report to the Duke of Wellington when he arrives to take over the embassy. He’ll wish to know, don’t you think, in case it comes up again, in case Talleyrand kept copies—­or originals.”

  He paused, waiting for Castlereagh’s face to soften in defeat, but it did not.

  “I also know, my lord, that you have exceeded your mandate here in Vienna.”

  Castlereagh’s face creased into a rare smile, but it did not meet his eyes. “A good try, Major. You could take Charles Stewart’s place when Wellington arrives, if I recommend you. Are you truly willing to risk your career for a woman like Julia Leighton?”

  Stephen felt his throat tighten. “I intend to marry her.”

  Castlereagh’s brows rose. “Did you know that my wife is a dear friend of the Countess of Carrindale? She is—­was—­Miss Leighton’s
mother. She has been writing to my wife, insisting that Julia not be allowed to remain here, that it is an embarrassment to her husband. My wife has been pressing me most strongly to send Julia away. She fears she will embarrass us. It turns out she was quite right. Shooting a thief in the park appears quite brave and heroic to some, but others would see her as a woman who is dangerous, overbold. And if the other tales of her—­accomplishments—­here in Vienna come to light, do you see how that could work against our mission here?”

  Stephen did indeed. A fallen women, stolen documents, thieves . . .

  “I can, of course, insist on her dismissal, Major. It is within my rights. I can even order soldiers to eject her from the premises if she will not go. You will do as you must, of course, but it will mean the end of your career.” He paused. “Perhaps we can come to an agreement.”

  Stephen waited.

  “There is an excellent posting available in Spain. I am offering it to you. In return, if you decide to marry Julia Leighton, you will keep her silent and obedient. No more listening, or shooting, or daring adventures, is that clear? You have an estate somewhere in England, do you not? Take your wife there, keep her there, out of sight.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Stephen’s heart sang. “I will tell her at once.”

  Chapter 48

  Julia hurried along the snowy street wrapped tightly in her cloak, her hood up. She ignored the street vendors, the shoppers, the carriages rolling by. When she reached Thomas Merritt’s lodgings, she hurried up the stairs and knocked on the door. She wasn’t sure what she would say when he opened the door, or worse, if a servant opened it. In England a lady did not call upon a man at his home, and even if she was far from England, and no longer a lady, she still obeyed the rules of correct behavior—­except this one, just this once. Still, if anyone recognized her, it would be most embarrassing trying to explain herself.