by Sharon Page
“Bradstock writes to say how much he enjoyed seeing us again, Julia. Of course he mentions you. Of course he is too much of a gentleman to be blunt, but I know he’s wrangling for an invitation. Viscount Yorkville is a disappointment—I heard he became engaged to an earl’s daughter. I am going to speak to Zoe and Nigel about throwing a ball. That would be the perfect thing to place you in the path of the duke.”
Now she knew why Mother was happy. “Mother, I am not interested in the duke.”
Definitely not, after the things he’d said about her charity work. He had apologized but her entire life would be dictated by a man like that.
“Julia, you are almost seven and twenty. You must be interested in the duke, whether you like it or not. No woman wants to be a spinster. At this age, you should have an establishment of your own. You are restless—and you can’t deny it. That is why you are dabbling in this rather scandalous work. Fallen women indeed!”
For years, after unhappiness in marriage, her mother had withdrawn from the world. For this, she had suddenly found strength. Julia wanted her mother to be strong. To no longer be trapped in mourning Will. But why did it have to be for something they were destined to fight about?
Zoe had confided how her American mama had wanted her to marry Nigel instead of Sebastian from the start. Now Julia found she was saying to her mother exactly what Zoe had said to hers: “Mother, I am not going to marry the duke.”
For the first time in forever, Mother set her jaw resolutely. She folded her arms over her gray cashmere cardigan. “Then who will you marry? There were no dowries before, so there were no offers. Now there will not be many, my dear, because of your advanced age. You will never be content as a country doctor’s wife. You were raised to be mistress of a grand estate. You would never be happy with anything less.”
“As for men attracted by my dowry—what good are gentlemen who assess you only by your money?” Julia asked. “I don’t want to be married to one. So many great estates are being sold. I could marry the duke and he could have to sell his home six months later. Nothing is certain in the world anymore.”
“Julia, your dowry will be sufficient to keep an estate—”
“Not if he gambles his way through it. Or invests it badly.” She spoke on instinct and pain flashed over Mother’s face. Father had gambled through the money, and he’d had no sense of investment at all. “I’m sorry, but it is true. I do not want to have to turn over my money to a husband and have no say in how it is spent.”
For she realized she didn’t blindly trust a man to be cleverer than her. Ten years ago she might have believed it, but not anymore. She now knew marriage was not an achievement, but a beginning—and she didn’t want it to be the beginning of a descent into hell.
She had no place in the world. She had been waiting for marriage to define her. She was not supposed to seek a career. And what would she do? Become a secretary? Build engines for locomotives? Take a job from a deserving man with a family to feed?
Her siblings seemed to have found their places. Nigel was the duke and he was a good, responsible one. Sebastian loved to paint. Isobel, her younger sister, wanted to become a doctor.
She needed to find her place.
Her mother touched her arm. “If you make a wise choice, darling, you will have nothing to worry about.”
“But that is not true! I do not want to hope and pray I marry a sensible man who doesn’t make my life miserable. There must be more for me. Why could I not make money of my own? Buy my own house?”
“You are a duke’s daughter. Dukes’ daughters marry.”
“And those who don’t become spinsters. This is the 1920s! There has to be more. More than this constant worry about suitors and titles, dowries and estates.”
“Those have been the reasons for marriage in our class for centuries.”
“It’s not good enough for me. I want love.”
“Love and affection can develop.”
And she knew that wasn’t enough, either. “I want more. I want to be swept away by the person I marry. I want to feel a whoosh. I want passion.”
Her mother’s mouth dropped. She went white, then blushed scarlet. But what was wrong with a woman wanting to go to bed with the man she had married?
She’d had few kisses in her life, but Julia knew what she’d felt when Cal had draped his shirt around her. Hot, trembling, aching—and filled with a dizzying need.
She had seen the way Zoe and Nigel looked at each other. Enough heat to ignite flames. She had seen Nigel sweep Zoe into his arms to carry her to bed—or Zoe lead Nigel by his necktie to his bedroom. Desire and joy had exuded from both of them.
How could a woman think of decades spent with anything less?
But Mother shook her head. “Passion is a terrible reason for marriage. It fades. It ends. And it leads to disaster.”
Julia swallowed hard. “Maybe it doesn’t have to. If both parties feel it.”
“A gentleman is very ready to feel passion for any woman who catches his eye. He may still feel it for you, but I assure you that will extinguish anything you feel for him. You are much better to marry for sensible reasons. If you marry a man like the duke, he can never take away your happiness if you are happy to be a duchess.”
“But your happiness was taken away—”
“Because I hoped for more, Julia.” Her mother drew herself up, looking almost as fierce as Grandmama. “If I had not had that rather hopeless hope, I would have been happy.”
Love would have made Mother happy. But what was the point of saying it?
She couldn’t trade an estate for her heart and soul. She simply couldn’t. Even if it meant eventually she ended up with nothing. For somehow she would survive. Wouldn’t she?
“I must go, Mother. I must visit some families on the Worthington estate. And look in on some of the Brideswell families.” She left the room and hurried upstairs. Julia threw on jodhpurs and a hacking jacket, along with her riding hat. The fashions had gone away from the old-fashioned riding habit. She went down to the stables and had a groom saddle Athena. Zoe and Nigel took care of the Brideswell families, but she still liked to visit them. And she had promised Anthony she would look after Worthington. Spurring on her horse, she galloped away to do this work she loved—leaving the problem of marriage behind her.
* * *
Being in the house made Cal feel like an animal trapped in a gilded cage.
He was walking down the drive when he saw an elegant white horse canter toward him. A woman was on top, wearing jodhpurs, a trim-fitting black coat, a black riding hat.
Julia. His heart rate accelerated and Cal felt nerves he hadn’t felt since he was a boy of fifteen, trying to coax a girl to let him make love to her because he was tired of being the only virgin in the Five Points Juniors Gang.
“I wanted to take you to see more tenants but Athena needed exercise,” she called to him. “And the chauffeur was fixing something on my motor. We can take one of your vehicles if you wish. Can I stable Athena here while we go?”
“I haven’t been down to see the stables yet.”
“You must go. The grooms will be wondering why you have not. I assumed you would have thoroughly explored the house and grounds. If I’d known, I would have taken you myself.”
She spoke to him like a disappointed schoolteacher—not that he’d had much experience with one of those. Mam had wanted him to be educated but he didn’t see much use for school. But his father bought books and pushed him to read, so they could debate, in the few hours his father was not working at some menial job.
“Worthington’s stables are admired throughout the county,” she went on. “There are some fierce horses, but there are gentler ones, too, so you could learn to ride.”
Julia’s smile entranced him, but it reminded him they were from two di
fferent worlds.
He had come to Worthington filled with defiance about his humble origins. Now, damn it, when he was with Julia he found himself wishing he had a better past.
Why should he damn well care? He wasn’t going to be like the Duke of Bradstock or the Earl of Summerhay. He hadn’t been to the right schools and he had the blood of simple, hardworking people in his veins.
He was never going to be good enough for Lady Julia. Not to marry her. But he could be good enough to seduce her.
What he wanted was to see her sparkling eyes filled with desire—for him—as he made love to her. That was all he wanted.
“It would be a good idea for you to learn how to ride. Most gentlemen ride. I would be delighted to teach you.”
“I’m not a gentleman,” he said, “and I don’t have any intention of trying to act like I am one.”
Hurt showed in her face.
He needed to remember that she was getting in the way of his plans. She was making him care about the people on the estate. Getting her to leave him alone would be a damn good idea.
But he wanted her. Wanted her badly.
“All right, doll,” he said. “Teach me to ride.”
* * *
Cal may not have ridden before, but he had a way with horses that surprised Julia. He went to the stables with her, dressed in his threadbare clothes, which shocked the grooms at first. But his engaging manner won them over. The head groom, Michaels, found a gentle mare for Cal.
As soon as Michaels gave him the reins, Cal stroked the mare’s nose, fed her from the palm of his hand. The horse whinnied happily as he stroked her withers.
Cal could make any female melt, Julia realized.
He spoke in soft murmurs to his mount, Empress, then tried to swing up onto her. The first time, he fell back, landing hard on the ground.
Julia cringed, certain his pride would be hurt.
But Cal laughed. A rich, husky laugh that spoke of joy and wickedness. He tried again, and got into the saddle with stunning grace. He seemed happier, less angry than he had when she and he had herded the pigs.
Within an hour, he’d progressed to trotting around the fenced-in ring. Julia had seen many gentlemen ride and some looked magnificent in the saddle, but compared to Cal they all looked stiff. He had such sensual grace. Watching the loose-limbed movements of his arms and shoulders made her want to snatch off her hat and fan herself.
“You are a natural. Born to it,” she called out.
“You’re my teacher. The credit is all yours.” He grinned. “Where did you intend to take me today? Can we ride there?”
“Lower Dale Farm. It’s one of the most productive on your estate. Yes, we can ride.”
She led him to a path that wound through the meadow below the stables. Wildflower blooms swayed in the late spring breeze. Bees buzzed around the flowers. The horses flicked their tails. The trail was wide enough for them to ride side by side. She could see Cal’s inexperience in the jerky way he handled the reins, but Empress was a patient, placid horse.
“Do you realize everything on this estate needs modernization?” Cal asked. “I’ve driven around on my own, looking at the farms. I went out early this morning.”
“You went to look at them?”
“Yeah. All of these farms would be improved with mechanization. They need tractors instead of horses and plows. They need to adopt some up-to-date methods of farming. New barns. New houses for the farmers. Those stone cottages are damp and cold. How does anyone survive the winter?”
Her heart lifted. For him to show such interest was a good sign. She was getting through to him. These were all the things she and Anthony had planned to do, but she knew she must take a different approach. “We use fires and once there is a good blaze going in the hearth, the houses do warm up. And the people of the estates are hardy. They are accustomed—”
“That’s not good enough,” he broke in. “What they need are—” He stopped and faced her with a stubborn look on his face. “Don’t look so smug, Julia. These are just observations.”
Bother. She had hoped to goad him into vowing to do all those improvements because she had “implied” the people did not need them. And it had been working, so it was impossible not to look victorious. “Of course. But I think the tenants are very happy as they are.”
“And I say they are not.” He frowned. Muttered, “Damn it.” Then he said, stubbornly, “I have to examine the place before I figure out what it could sell for.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” She tried to sound disappointed. To sound as if she feared she had lost. But she was certain she was winning. So she asked, “What did you mean when you said you couldn’t live with yourself if you stayed and lived like an earl?”
He rode in silence for a while. Silence that made her uneasy. She yearned to know the answer. She’d been awake most of last night wondering about it.
Suddenly he said, “I’m obsessed with painting you. I’ve tried painting you from memory, but I can’t capture what I want. I need to have you sitting there so I can study you while I work. I need to paint you, Julia. It’s eating at my soul. I need you to pose for me.”
The fierce, vehement way he said it shocked her. But she didn’t believe he needed to paint her. “You are trying to change the subject,” she protested.
“I’m not, doll. I’m telling you the truth. For me, painting is like breathing air. I need it to live. And when I get obsessed over painting a woman, it drives me crazy. So will you pose?”
A searing image struck her. Cal in his white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, watching her with this fiery, intense yearning in his eyes. It took her breath away. But a lady would never reveal how unsettled she was. “You paint barely dressed as I remember.”
He gave her a scorching look. “I need to be comfortable when I paint. Would it bother you?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know about having my portrait painted. I don’t think I would like to sit for hours and hours.”
“You don’t want to spend hours with me?” he asked lightly.
“What if I said yes? Would you explain what you meant?”
He shrugged, holding the reins. “I meant what I said.”
“Cal, you are a good man. A kind man. I saw that in the way you leaped to Hannah’s defense, in the way you want to help Ellen, and how tender and gentle you were with Mrs. Brand. You don’t seem like the kind of man to be vengeful or cruel.”
“Every man has his breaking point, Julia,” was all he said.
She wished she knew what exactly had happened when the old earl had disowned Cal’s father.
“I asked around the village about Sarah Brand, Julia.”
She jerked her head toward him. “You did?” He had been concerned about the Brands and that touched her heart.
“I heard she was seen driving with a man in a fancy automobile. How could she never have been found? Wouldn’t it have been easy to find a man who drove a car back then? Or didn’t they look for her all that hard?”
“What do you mean? I was quite young but I assure you that people scoured the estate in case she’d had an accident, Cal. Even I joined in to search—though my mother was shocked that I did.”
He moved at her side, thighs rising and following with the motion of his horse. He seemed lost in thought for a while. Then he said, “People said there were only automobiles at the great houses at the time. Brideswell had a car. So did the earl at Worthington Park. I heard the old earl had bought an up-to-date motorcar for his eldest son.”
Her horse reared beneath her. She had jerked abruptly on the reins, startling Athena. With a firm grip of her thighs, firm hands on the reins and soothing words she settled her horse. Was she just leaping to suspicions over what he was implying?
“Mrs. Brand said h
e had a flashy automobile,” he went on. “Which means she must have seen it.”
“Anthony loved it and drove it all over Worthington. Of course she would have seen it.”
“The man who took Sarah out in his car could have been one of the men at Worthington or Brideswell.”
“What are you saying?” she cried. “Brideswell’s car at the time was a rather sedate vehicle. And I can assure you that none of my brothers was flirting with Sarah Brand. Nor could it have been Anthony or John.”
“Why couldn’t it have been one of them?”
“John was young. Only fifteen. And Anthony—Anthony was already courting me.”
“You thought he was in love with you by then,” Cal said. “I expect he was. But Sarah Brand wasn’t a girl like you.”
She knew he was implying she might be blind to the behavior of her former fiancé.
“I just wondered if the law believed the man in the car was a toff, a local one, if they really investigated.”
“The magistrate did investigate, I assure you,” she answered stiffly.
But he had put a horrible thought into her mind. One she had never, ever considered before. Could Anthony—?
What if he’d had his way with Sarah and didn’t want to marry her?
No! No—Anthony was not that kind of gentleman. She was sure of it. “You are deliberately trying to poison my mind with awful thoughts so I’ll stop fighting you.”
She gave Athena a press with her heels and urged her horse ahead as they entered the woods. It was impossible to talk unless they shouted. Once they emerged from the woods into another meadow, Cal caught up to her. “Julia, that wasn’t what I was trying to do. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But there couldn’t have been many men who could afford an automobile. And would Sarah Brand really have gotten justice if an earl’s son was involved?”
“Yes,” she declared. “She would have done.” But in her heart, she feared he was right. About justice, not about Anthony.
Cal glanced around, frowning. “I smell smoke.”
“Cooking fires,” she said. Her hands trembled around the reins.
