by Sharon Page
“I’m riding with you,” Cal said. “Back to Worthington, and I’ll drive to the hospital.”
“You won’t be able to gallop as I can. You’ll fall.”
“I’ll take that risk,” he said, his jaw set.
That was exactly the kind of person she wanted to be—willing to take risk.
* * *
She led Cal out to the road, where they could let their horses gallop. It was too far for a flat-out run. Julia had to admit she was amazed at how Cal stayed in his seat.
They reached Worthington with lathered horses, both coated in perspiration and breathing hard. Cal leaped down from his horse and shouted orders that her car be brought round. Julia wanted to drive, but he jumped into the driver’s seat and refused to move, forcing her into the passenger side. Then he stomped the car’s accelerator to the floor and took off with a spray of gravel.
Over the roar of the engine, she shouted directions. She couldn’t believe Cal could drive so well on a road he barely knew. He slowed as they reached the village—just a moment before she was going to warn him to do so since there were bicycles on the road, and horses, and children.
Even though it was part of Nigel’s land holdings, Brideswell’s village hospital served much of the area, including the Worthington estate.
Inside the hospital and outside the office of Dr. Hamilton, a nurse tried to insist the doctor could not be disturbed. It was Cal who bellowed, “I am the Earl of Worthington and the doctor had better come with me right now. Now.”
She and Cal burst into the doctor’s office. The doctor dropped something very quickly into a drawer of his desk and gazed up at them calmly. “What is all this, my lady? Is there an emergency? Or is this another woman with supposed shell shock?”
Julia gritted her teeth. She remembered the irritating debate she’d had with Dr. Hamilton about Ellen Lambert. He had insisted Ellen could not have shell shock, which only afflicted men. Obviously she had hysteria—it was obvious, he’d said, because her temperament had also obviously led her to her scandalous line of work. Julia had wanted to hit him with a bedpan.
Now she cried breathlessly, “You must come at once to Lower Dale Farm. We shall drive you. Hurry—you must hurry!”
She had never thrown away her composure like this with an outsider to her family, with anyone other than Cal.
“You must tell me what is going on,” Hamilton said, unruffled. He wore a white coat, his graying hair and mustache elegantly styled with pomade.
“Oh bother! Just come with us,” she cried.
But he was not moving, so she threw the story at him. He had a bland face that was somewhat handsome, but also had ferrety attributes. He was no substitute for Dougal Campbell. Not in the least.
He still was not moving. He should leap to his feet—but he did not.
“We must go now, Dr. Hamilton,” she cried. Ladylike Lady Julia would never do what she did right then. She stalked around to his side and then she smelled the strong aroma of alcohol. Something snapped in her. “Are you drunk? Is that why you are not getting up? I will have my brother throw you out if you do not get up and come with us at once!”
He had the gall to look offended. “To Lower Dale Farm for a birth, my lady? That is the business of midwives. I’d come at once, of course, if it was a patient of mine at Brideswell. But these people prefer midwives who come from their own social stratum. They have no money to pay for a proper phys—”
“I will pay,” Julia bit off. “Do remember my family is the reason this hospital operates. It is by the generosity of the duchy that you can even sit in this office and drink brandy, Dr. Hamilton. If you do not come, you will be removed from your position.”
“And as Earl of Worthington, I will destroy your fat arse if you don’t listen to Lady Julia,” Cal growled. Then Cal made a fist and slammed it so hard on the desk she let out a gasp of shock. The force sent things flying and clattering to the floor. “Get the hell out of that chair and save a woman’s life.”
She’d never seen such rage on a man’s face. Cal’s anger wasn’t even directed at her and it made her want to whimper. Dr. Hamilton stopped arguing. He did get off his bottom and grabbed his bag. Cal put his hand on the man’s shoulder and pushed him all the way to her motorcar. Cal drove with Dr. Hamilton at his side. Against Cal’s wishes, Julia chose to perch in the rumble seat.
Cal drove back with such speed the doctor turned green.
But it was all for nothing.
Hamilton examined Mrs. Toft, used forceps to take out the baby. Drenched in sweat, Mrs. Toft could no longer cry out. She sobbed, her breathing coming in small gasps.
The poor infant girl came out and Mrs. Toft gave out a terrible scream. The midwife quickly wrapped up the child. But Julia saw a small bluish face and her stomach churned. The baby was already dead. There had been no hope for the child.
Mr. Toft held his wife’s hand. Told her it was all right. That she was not to worry. That she just had to get strong. He’d look after her. Their children would look after her.
But Mrs. Toft just simply closed her eyes, let out the softest sigh and slipped away.
Julia stood there, staring with horror and not quite believing that something so terrible could have happened. She knew what Zoe had suffered. Now this family had lost a child, and their mother, too.
Mr. Toft collapsed to his knees by the bed at his wife’s side. He held his wife’s hand. Clung to it. Julia hurried out of the bedroom and downstairs, knowing her own tears were going to come.
Then she saw them—four pale, frightened faces.
The children.
* * *
Watching Julia gather up the children to get them outside and away from their mother’s room just about broke Cal’s heart. Julia had brushed away the tears on her cheeks and she tried to herd them out briskly. But she hadn’t told them their mother was gone. To spare them, he figured. But the children were going to find out—he realized he was going to be the one to tell them. He was not going to let Julia go through such a painful thing.
She was trying to urge them out the door that led outside from a surprisingly large kitchen, but he said, “Julia, let me talk to them.”
Panic flared in Julia’s large blue eyes. She had two little girls by the hand and she was trying to make the boys go outside. “Not yet.”
“Now,” he said firmly. “They’re stronger than you think.”
“But there is nothing to be done.”
“They have to go in to see her. To say goodbye.”
“No. I want to spare them the sight of—”
“Julia, I’ve been through this,” he said softly. “When I was as young as some of them. The children need to see. They need to touch their mother. Give her a last kiss.”
Cal got down on one knee in front of the children.
“Don’t,” Julia protested.
He had to. But suddenly he couldn’t find the words. Christ, he just couldn’t say it. All he could remember was the gut-destroying pain he’d felt when Mam died. And the anger. The white-hot rage.
The children were sniffling, looking at him. They had to know, but they needed to be told. And Christ, he was failing. “Help me with this, Julia. I need your help to do this.”
She touched his shoulder. It was such a tender gesture it gave him a burst of strength. He told the children their mam was called back to heaven. That she loved them, but sometimes love was not enough—a person had to face something they weren’t strong enough to battle.
“You have to honor her always,” he said to them. “Be strong for her. Look after each other and your father. Your mother will watch you all the time from heaven. If you just think about her, it will be like having her with you.”
He told them all the things he’d been told when he lost his mother.
The two girls began to cry and Julia hugged them both to her skirts. The boys sniffled. Cal remembered how he had been told to behave like a man. To hold in tears. But he said to the boys, “People will tell you to be tough. They’ll say you have to behave like men. But I’m going to tell you to cry right now if you want to. Do it now, get it out of you. Then you’ll be ready to help your father.”
One of the boys flung his small body against Cal’s chest. Cal embraced the lad. The other bigger boy staunchly held in his tears.
“It’s not fair,” the older boy said. “It’s not fair.”
“I know, lad,” Cal said. “But even though life doesn’t seem fair, we have to survive. You have to keep fighting. You have to get up and kick life in its crotch—”
“Cal!” Julia gasped.
But that was how he’d felt about life. He remembered what had kept him going—knowing he had to care for his brother. “You’re the oldest and it’s important you look after your siblings. They’ll need you.”
“Come, we must clean your faces,” Julia said. She was using her crisp, lovely, ladylike tones and the children followed her. She herded the children into the kitchen and wiped small faces. She gave them coins for their savings, then she answered all their desperate questions as best as she could.
In that moment, Lady Julia reminded Cal of Alice. He had been deeply in love with Alice. He couldn’t show it or act on it—he couldn’t hurt his brother, David—but he’d never met another woman who compared to Nurse Alice Hayes.
Julia compared.
He saw her face. How pale she looked. She made tea as she had done before, with a big iron kettle. She poured a cup of tea for each child. Then one more. “Take this for your father. He might not want it now, but leave it close by. He should have something. I’ve put honey in to make it sweet.”
With the tallest girl carrying the cup and saucer, the children went back into the other room to see their father.
Lady Julia leaned against the sink, her head bowed. She kept her back to the doorway, then she put her hands to her face.
She was crying. And she didn’t want anyone to see.
His mother used to hide to cry, because she was so worried about where their next dollar would come from. But she always turned a bright and cheery face to him and David, no matter how scared, how hungry, how desperate she felt.
Cal used to wake up and hear her sobs, after his father’s death. She would cross herself and touch the one picture she had of Cal’s father.
Cal had been too young and too powerless to help his mother. He’d tried—he’d been young but the Five Points Gang had offered a way to make money. A lot of money...
Now he was an adult. An earl. A rich man. He could do anything he wanted.
Including soothe Lady Julia.
He wrapped his arms around her. Her dress was a summer dress, thin and soft. He drew her tight to his chest. She tried to push away, but he wouldn’t let her.
“Cry against me,” he said.
And she did.
She sobbed and sobbed. Then her crying began to ease. She looked up at him, her lips almost touching his chin.
She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. A nice girl. He didn’t know a lot of girls who were truly high-class. But Julia was.
Next thing he knew, he’d bent his head and his mouth touched hers.
“No,” she whispered against his lips. “We shouldn’t. That family has lost their mother. That tiny baby never had a chance to live. It will never be right...never. If only I could have helped them.”
“You did everything you could, Julia. I’ll help them. Don’t cry and don’t worry—the family will be cared for.”
Her tongue swept over her lips, and his knees just about buckled. “You will do that?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
He lifted her onto her toes to kiss her hard. To kiss her with his heart so full of longing and need he thought it was going to burst. He couldn’t stop remembering his mother’s death. How cold and empty he’d felt. He was kissing Julia, struggling to feel warm again.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, holding him tight. She broke away from the kiss. “You are truly an earl,” she said, before pushing her lips against his again and kissing him back.
Cal felt a surge of heat like he’d never known.
Not sexual heat. Something deeper. Something more. Something that made him warm right through to his soul.
9
The 9:20 to Paddington
He was kissing her.
Cal’s large, strong hands skimmed lightly down her back, caressing her. His palms went lower, following the curve of her bottom through her jodhpurs. He cupped one hand there and used it to pull her close. Shock hit her. Shock that his hand felt good there—that she liked the pressure of him holding her tight to his firm, warm body. His tongue traced her lips in a caress that made sparks burst and cascade through her with a hot sizzle.
Then his tongue slipped between her lips.
Panicked, Julia pulled back. Ladies didn’t kiss like this. And they didn’t do it in the kitchen of someone else’s cottage. She’d needed to be held, but she couldn’t do this. She gripped Cal’s arms, feeling hard muscle through the sleeves of his worn sweater. “No. Don’t. Please.”
He let her go. “It’s okay. We both needed comforting. Nothing more.”
Nothing more. Of course, he was a wild artist who had love affairs with his models. A kiss didn’t mean that much to him.
Embarrassment set her cheeks on fire. “I must go and see if I am needed.”
He held out his hand for her. “You can’t do anything more for them now. Let me take you home.”
She wouldn’t go until Mrs. Thomas said the same thing. Then she realized—because of her elevated social station, the midwife and the family felt awkward having her help them. She was causing them more distress by being there. When Mrs. Thomas urged her to go home, she finally agreed. Her heart hurt, her stomach hurt, and when she saw Mr. Toft, a most unsentimental man by nature, bend his head into the crook of the neck of his oldest daughter and let his back shake with sobs, she almost dissolved into tears.
Yet there was nothing she could do. Cal drove her home. They didn’t speak in the car. Stars began to wink in the darkening sky, and just looking at them made her want to cry. The car rumbled up the gravel drive—a footman was coming out of the door before they had even stopped. As she was getting out, she said, “When you had to force the doctor to come, you used your title to convince him. I won’t forget that, Cal.”
“I’m sorry, doll. It doesn’t mean anything. You aren’t going to change my mind.”
“I have to,” she said. “I can’t bear to lose anything more. Not even Worthington Park.”
* * *
I can’t bear to lose anything more.
Dawn light spilled in through the attic windows. It wasn’t enough light to paint by, but Cal didn’t care. He couldn’t sleep. He would drift off, then wake up sweating and tangled in the sheets on his huge bed. He’d stalked up here about 3:00 a.m. First, he’d plundered a few bottles of good red wine out of the wine cellar—he couldn’t find the key to the damn lock, so he’d picked it with the end of a kitchen knife.
Despite weaving on his feet from draining the wine to the last drop, he picked up the wooden board he was using as a palette. Squirted paint on it. He painted as hard and fast as he could, working out the frustration inside him.
He wanted to kiss Julia again. The heat she’d sent coursing through his body was like a drug. He wanted more.
His Irish mam had raised him to have a good sense of guilt, and a fear of paying for his sins that he never could quite shake out of his soul.
Both worked on him now, one kicking one side, and one kicking the other, like a couple of gang
toughs working him over in an alley.
He’d planned to seduce Julia. Like an artistic challenge. Now he knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t pour on the temptation until she gave herself up to the adventure of sex. He couldn’t do it to a woman who transcended the definition of “nice girl.”
But that didn’t stop him from wanting her. More than food. More than the clean, flower-scented country air that kept going into his lungs.
More than revenge?
Hell.
Voices buzzed downstairs. Cal could smell breakfast, even all the way up here in the attic. His gut growled, making him wonder when he’d last eaten. Not last night. He hadn’t come ho—Come back to Worthington for dinner. He’d dropped Julia off at Brideswell, then he had driven down to the local pub.
The Worthington estate was huge, and bordered Brideswell’s land. They were neighbors but miles apart. His lands encompassed several towns and villages, like that one of Chipping Worth, called that because it had been a market. The earldom received money from all the tenants and businesses within. Driving into a village and realizing that he was lord of it, that he owned his own tiny town, was crazy to him.
The beer was bitter and no one seemed to have discovered that the stuff tasted good when it was kept on a bed of ice, but he had to admit it wasn’t half-bad.
Then, in the pub, he’d met a man whose sister had gone missing...
Cal dabbed green where it shouldn’t have gone and stopped. Stepping back from Julia’s portrait, he knew he’d done something damn stupid.
He’d destroyed the picture. Lost his focus and ruined it.
It wasn’t the blob of green, but how he’d changed her. Her face didn’t glow with fiery passion anymore. The portrait was starting to capture her shielded, cool demeanor. It was like she was drawing away from him. There was no spark in her eyes that promised inside there was a lady who would go off like a firecracker.
He’d changed her face with strokes of paint here and there and now he was seeing the women who had pulled away from his kiss yesterday. Who couldn’t face losing one more thing.
