“Then he’ll simply be sitting there instead of here,” her aunt protested.
“True but with careful planning, we can stop the carriage far enough away that he’ll have to walk a short distance to where the meeting is held. That will provide some exercise. We’ll do the same upon leaving. Perhaps the lecture itself will distract him from the book and temper his obsession with it.”
“Excellent idea,” her aunt declared with a decisive nod.
Together they studied the notice in the paper of the lecture featuring William Morris, who had recently written The Earthly Paradise, an epic poem designed as a homage to Chaucer and set in the late 14th century.
“Surely Alfred was already aware of this,” Aunt Matilda said. “He was at the last meeting, was he not?”
“He probably forgot about it. I’ll see if I can’t rouse his interest.”
Aunt Matilda drew a visible sigh of relief. “I will leave it in your capable hands. Let me know if you need any assistance.”
Julia made her way to the library with the notice, hoping merely showing it to her father would cause him to grow excited at the prospect of the meeting. The topic was certainly in his range of interest.
Days like this were exactly why Julia knew she could never marry and leave her father in her aunt’s charge. Aunt Matilda was only five years younger than him. While she was in better health, in both mind and body, that didn’t mean she was strong enough to bear the burden of the care her father required.
Besides, no matter how much she told herself otherwise, Julia still felt responsible for her father’s condition. From all he’d told her, he and her mother had been quite happy with their life until their first child—Julia. Her mother’s restless behavior hadn’t started until she’d become a parent.
Julia couldn’t help but believe it was her fault her parents’ happiness had dimmed. Her mother became even worse after Julia’s brother’s birth. The only reason she’d been pleased to have a second child was because he was a boy. She’d produced an heir, done her duty, and considered her responsibilities complete.
No matter how hard Julia had tried to please her mother, she’d failed. Granted, Julia realized there were limited ways a young child could do so. But she still felt she’d failed in the worst possible way.
If only Julia had been...more. More intelligent, more clever, more attractive...something—anything—that would’ve made her mother love her and therefore kept their family together. Instead, her mother had looked elsewhere for joy, always chasing it and had ended up dead in her pursuit of it.
Though she hadn’t been able to save her mother, the least she could do was aid her father. Even on the days he didn’t want to be helped.
She shook her head at the sight of him as she entered the library. He appeared to be in the same position in which she’d left him.
“How is the research progressing, Father?”
“Quite well. Many things to share with Frost,” he muttered, not taking his eyes from the text as his ink-stained finger ran along the page.
“I have a question for you.” She knew better than to ask him anything unless she had his full attention.
“Perhaps later, Julia. I’m quite busy at the moment.”
She brushed aside her hurt at the way he so easily brushed her aside. Or rather, she tried to. Why wasn’t she used to it by now? She’d lived with it all her life, that dismissal of her by both her mother and father. She’d never been a priority to them.
Oh, she knew her father loved her dearly, but her mother had tolerated her at best. That made her father’s love all the more precious. Still, he rarely set aside anything for her.
Ignoring his statement, she remained at his side and set the paper near the book with the notice clearly visible. “Didn’t you say you were attending the Medievalists Society lecture tomorrow?”
“What’s that?” her father glanced over to the paper to which she pointed. “Oh. I’d nearly forgotten. I had wanted to attend, but this research is a priority. Frost made that quite clear.”
“I’m certain he wouldn’t mind if you stepped out for a few hours. Perhaps taking a break will clear your thoughts and refresh you. Provide you with better insight.” She wasn’t about to let him say no, no matter what it took.
Her father glanced at the notice once again as though tempted. Then he shook his head. “I simply can’t spare the time.”
“Perhaps Viscount Frost will be there. That would give you a chance to update him on your findings.” Surely that would force him to attend.
“He never comes to any of the events. I don’t think he often leaves his house. Now that I’ve begun this research, I can see why he finds reading with a specific purpose so invigorating. I don’t want to leave it for any reason.”
Julia wanted to stomp her foot in frustration. This was all Oliver’s fault. Somehow, she had to make him aid her with the problem.
“From what little he said to me,” Julia offered, “he has come to realize he needs to venture out more.” That was a total lie, but what choice did she have?
“Oh?” Her father actually looked at her for the first time since she’d entered the room.
“Why don’t we send a message to him to see if he’s attending? Then you can decide if you should.”
“Very well. Let me know if he responds, will you?”
Which meant sending the message was up to her. That was fine, as she intended to do all she could to convince the reclusive viscount to attend.
Without bothering to say anything more to her father as she knew he was no longer listening, she left to find pen and paper in her room.
Seated at her desk, she held the pen poised above the paper, wondering how best to approach the message. Rarely did she ask someone other than her aunt or her brother for assistance with her father. She didn’t care for it. It made her feel as though she’d be indebted to the viscount if he were to agree.
Shaking her head at her silly thoughts, she decided it best to keep it simple.
Viscount Frost,
Will you be attending the lecture held by The Medievalist Society tomorrow? My father will be and would like to speak with you there as he has significant findings to share.
Lady Julia
That was simple enough. Not completely true, but such a small deception would cause no harm. She directed a footman to deliver it immediately and to await a response before he returned.
Now she could continue her own research on other book dealers who might have one of the texts. Never mind the anticipation that filled her as she awaited the viscount’s response.
~*~
Oliver had enjoyed nearly two full days of peace and quiet at home. The stress of venturing into the world had faded, and he was reluctant to repeat his outings. Plus, there was no true need. Tubbs had made some inquiries with various individuals and shops who were keeping an eye and ear out for the books. The lad was hopefully watching Mr. Porter’s import and export store. Hawke had been apprised of his progress, or lack thereof.
There was no need to leave his home. No matter that it felt a bit lonelier than ever before. He preferred it that way, didn’t he?
The delivery of a message was not a big surprise, nor was the knowledge that it came from Lord Burnham. But as he opened it and saw the feminine flourish to the writing, his heartbeat sped. He scanned the missive and contemplated tossing it aside unanswered when his footman advised that the deliverer was waiting for a reply.
Oliver scowled. The requirement of a response threatened his solitude. Responding meant temptation—the temptation to agree to her request. The lure of seeing her again was nearly overwhelming.
While setting it aside was problematic, replying immediately didn’t give him time to remind himself of the importance of keeping his distance.
Rather than focus on the thought of seeing her, he imagined the meeting itself. No doubt it involved a rather large room filled with people. He didn’t bother to pull out a new sheet of paper but in
stead, took the liberty of writing on hers.
No.
Frost
He folded it and handed it to his footman, telling himself he didn’t appreciate the interruption of his important work.
He returned his attention to the book before him. After several moments of reading, he realized he had no idea what it said. Instead of the Latin he’d been translating, a pair of brilliant blue eyes stared up at him, beckoning him.
~*~
Julia stared at the single word reply, unable to believe the gall of the man. No? That was all? How could she have forgotten how rude he was?
She considered her options. Part of her wanted to pay the lord a visit and explain to him how to properly respond to such a query. No. That was far too risky as it would mean she’d see him. Alone. The desire she’d felt was still too vivid. Seeing him would only make it worse.
She withdrew a new sheet of paper and tried again.
Viscount Frost,
It would greatly please my father if you attended. The lecturer is William Morris, which should interest you as much as my father.
LJ
She reread it several times but could think of nothing more to add, so folded, sealed it, and once again requested the footman to await a reply when he delivered it.
~*~
The echo of a knock on the front door a short time later jolted Oliver’s nerves. Surely it couldn’t be another message. Anticipation hummed through him at the thought. He watched the door and could barely contain his anticipation at the sight of Tubbs entering with a message in hand.
As Oliver skimmed the now familiar writing, he waited for annoyance to fill him but found none. It was almost as if he enjoyed matching wits with Julia. He could sense the anger in the carefully polite words along with a strong will.
Why did he find that so attractive?
He truly couldn’t attend such an event. Who knew how many people might be there? The very thought of it made his mouth dry.
He penned the only answer he could, using the same paper she’d sent but attempting more politeness.
No, thank you.
O
Surely she’d accept that.
~*~
Julia studied the strong but simple strokes, attempting to interpret what his response meant. A more polite answer this time. She couldn’t help but take that as a good sign, although she supposed it might mean he was being firmer. But he’d signed it with his first initial, certainly a more personal signature. How was she to interpret that?
With a scoff, she berated herself. It didn’t matter if it meant anything else. His answer was still no. That was what should be concerning her.
Did she go to his house and insist he attend?
Did she accept his answer and attempt to convince her father to go anyway?
Or did she try one more message?
“Miss, will there be anything more?” the footman who delivered the message asked.
She’d forgotten he was there. “Yes. I need to send another.” Well aware of the waiting footman, she debated how to proceed.
Then at last, she wrote a new message.
Please? I need you.
J
~*~
Oliver’s heart stuttered as he read her words a short time later. What on earth did she mean? Did she literally need him? Or did she simply wish he’d attend? Yet that wasn’t what she’d written.
Need.
That was a word filled with both possibilities and pitfalls. Damn if he didn’t need her as well. For a moment, he allowed himself the truth. Then he began the internal conversation where he convinced himself it wasn’t true. He merely wanted her.
A true statement as well.
Tubbs cleared his throat, a reminder that her footman waited for an answer.
What should he do? He felt pressed between two opposing forces. Part of him wanted to go if it meant he would see her again. The other part could hardly bear even to consider attending.
He read the message for the tenth time. Why did he get the impression Julia truly needed assistance? Perhaps she was only being polite. But something told him otherwise.
Deep inside him was the urge to attempt the role of hero once more and help someone in need. To play a valiant knight rescuing a damsel in distress.
What was wrong with him? Hadn’t he learned how terrible things could go when he permitted himself to think he might make a difference?
He closed his eyes for a moment before crushing the message. “Tell the footman there is no reply.”
~*~
The following afternoon, Julia braced herself as she and her father made their way to the lecture hall at the Simpkin Museum near Notting Hill. She rarely attended these sort of events with her father. He liked going by himself as he met his friends and fellow members of the society. They enjoyed debating the pros and cons of all sorts of topics. Most were elderly men and considered themselves experts. They were all extremely opinionated, which was one of the many reasons she didn’t care to attend. Their arguments were endless.
But as much effort as it had taken to convince her father to step away from his project, she’d decided she needed to make certain he didn’t change his mind during the ride here. They walked slowly along as she’d advised the driver to park a short distance away so they’d have the opportunity to walk.
The overcast day was muggy, the air heavy. Her chemise clung to her in places she’d rather it didn’t. She thrust aside the uncomfortable feeling and focused on enjoying the stroll with her father.
“Why didn’t the driver bring us closer, Julia?” he asked. “This is a rather long way to walk.”
“I thought you might appreciate the chance to stretch your legs. You’ve been so busy with your project that you haven’t done that for a few days.”
“I suppose that’s true.” He glanced around as though looking for someone. “Didn’t you say Frost would be attending?”
“It sounded as though he might.” She said a quick prayer to ask for forgiveness. Another lie. She didn’t know if he’d bother as he hadn’t responded to her last message. The footman had returned saying there was no reply. She had no idea what to make of his lack of response. Perhaps he’d had enough of her and her messages.
“What was the topic of today’s lecture?”
She looked closely at her father, trying to determine how aware he was. Had he forgotten already? Or perhaps he hadn’t truly listened when they’d discussed it yesterday? Worry plagued her. This sort of behavior was exactly why she’d wanted to pry him away from his desk. He needed to think of something else for a time, to breathe fresh air, or rather, outside air at any rate. Though the walk wasn’t long, it would do him a world of good.
“Remember?” she asked. “Mr. Morris is discussing his recent publication, The Earthly Paradise.”
“Oh, yes. That’s right.” He nodded, and she noted with some relief the blank expression he’d held slid away. In its place was a more focused interest in his surroundings.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m most anxious to speak with Frost.” He glanced around as though expecting to see the viscount walking toward them.
Julia bit her lower lip. She doubted Oliver would make an appearance though she couldn’t eliminate her hope. Perhaps she should’ve worded that last message differently. That’s what she got for asking for help with her father.
They walked up the steps to the building’s main entrance, and the hall was immediately to the left. Quite a few people were already in attendance. A podium stood at the front of the room and rows and rows of chairs were set up for the audience. Apparently, they were expecting a significant number of people today.
“Do you see him?” her father asked.
“Not yet.” She didn’t bother to look around. She didn’t think he was coming. “Perhaps we could sit toward the back so he can join us more easily if he arrives.”
“Excellent idea.”
They found seats, but her father s
oon excused himself to speak with several acquaintances. Julia prepared herself for a boring afternoon. The few lectures she’d attended were long, dreary speeches given by men who seemed to believe the information they shared did not require an interesting delivery. As though the material was so exciting on its own, the speaker bore no responsibility for making certain it was given with enthusiasm.
An odd feeling crept over her, setting the back of her neck tingling. As she started to glance around to determine the cause, Oliver slid into the seat next to her.
The pleasure that filled her went far deeper than it should’ve. Her cheeks heated, and her heartbeat sped. How could his mere presence please her quite so much?
He nodded at her, those green eyes of his guarded. From the firm set of his lips, she’d guess he was less than pleased to be there. Yet as she studied his expression more closely, she saw something else in the tight lines of his face. From the brackets around his mouth and the tension near his eyes, it almost seemed as if he were uncomfortable.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, unable to quell her rising sympathy at his obvious discomfort.
Again he nodded, this time not looking at her, but glancing about the room.
Compelled by an impetus she couldn’t name, she reached out a gloved hand and rested it on his arm. Perhaps the urge to touch him was only to express her gratitude for coming to the lecture. But she worried it was something more—much more.
She had no idea what to do about it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I think that I may go as far as to assert that so complete is the disbelief in the honesty of their servants by these masters, that to the best of their ability they provide against loss by theft by paying the said servants very little wages. A notable instance of this is furnished by the omnibus conductors...”
~The Seven Curses of London
Oliver latched onto Julia’s smile like a drowning man might grab a life preserver. He focused on it as he continued to breathe, beating back the anxiety clawing up the back of his throat.
This was a far more difficult outing than he’d anticipated, much to his surprise. He didn’t understand why—unless it had to do with the fact that he’d remained home for the past two days. If it hadn’t been for the knowledge that Julia was inside the hall, waiting for him, he would’ve returned to his library.
Love Conquers All: Historical Romance Boxed Set Page 35
