Please forgive me.
Yours Sincerely,
Lord Nathaniel Shepfield
1 December 1813 Eton
Dear Julia,
Please excuse me for not realizing that it was not the kissing itself that you found repugnant but kissing me in particular. I will bear this in mind in our future meetings.
As you stated in your letter, I shall see you next summer.
Yours Sincerely,
Shep
22 September 1814 Oxford
Dear Julia,
Thank you for your letter. You have heard correctly from Ben. Reg bought a commission in the His Majesty’s Royal Army to fight Napoleon against my parents’ express wishes. Although I rarely agree with my parents on anything, I admit that I do not understand why he would do such a thing as the first born son. He will be the Duke of Sermont someday. It should be me, the second son, who enters the army, when I am of age. For Reg to do this when we are at war makes me very worried for him.
It has not helped my parents’ very volatile relationship either. In some ways, when I consider it that way, perhaps I do understand why he did it. To be in that house, no matter how big it is, with all that arguing and yelling, the servants full of tension over His Grace and Her Grace, it must have been maddening. I think the only thing that has kept me sane has been my summers at Pritchford Place. He did not have an escape as I have had all these years, so he created one.
Thank you for keeping him in your prayers. You and I may not agree on much, but I have never doubted your loyalty and devotion to those you care for.
Yours Sincerely,
Shep
2 July 1815 Cunningham
Dear Julia,
Thank you for your letter, which included your condolences about Reginald. I miss him more than I could ever write to you. There seem to be no words to say how I feel in all the letters I receive with condolences from people I hardly know. But since I do not consider you to be a part of that fold, I will try to attempt to tell you a little of how I feel.
Reg and I never spoke about it much, but he loved me and I loved him. I think I did not realize how much he loved me until he was gone, until I was left with only my parents and their apparent lack of feeling. I have only admitted the following to your brother and now I shall share it with you: I wish it had been me. I am no great loss to the world. But Reg, with all his hopeful optimism and compassion… Sometimes I dream of him. He is married with children running around his feet. He is so happy. And I then I wake up and realize that dream is gone. I do not sleep well these days.
He was the best brother I could ever hope for and it seems senseless that he would die at the very end of this war, much like your uncle. I hope you received my letter about your Uncle Robert. Two great men are gone. So now the world has these giant holes where they might have lived and loved. It is simply horrible.
I do wish I was at Pritchford Place, though that it is not possible now. I hope to, at least, come for a few weeks late in the summer, as your parents have extended an invitation. Mother and Father are driving me mad, along with each other. If you ask either of them why Reg died, they would point the finger at one another instead of at Napoleon and the French. Perhaps I am sharing too much with you, Julia, but I think I blame them too! If they were not so awful, if they did not make our home impossible to live in, Reg would never have left.
I cannot imagine forever tying myself to someone who makes my life so miserable as my parents did with each other in their marriage. Reg would have married a nice girl. I am sure of it. They would have been Duke and Duchess and happiness would have been their legacy.
Now that title will pass to me and since I have already admitted so much to you, I will admit this as well. I do not want it. I never wanted it. It made my father miserable. It made Reg miserable. Am I to be miserable as well? That feels selfish to say because Reg is dead and nothing will ever be as it was before.
Oh, if only I had just come back from a long ride with Ben on the horses to find you in the library where we could argue over Homer or some such thing. I think then I would not be in so much torment. That is not to say I miss you or that you are a comfort to me, but then again, I have already said too much.
Yours Sincerely,
Shep
14 September 1815 Oxford
Dear Lady Julia,
What took place this summer, the kissing, which I am aware I initiated, but of which we both participated in, can never happen again. You are Ben’s sister and he is my best friend. Besides that, we find each other’s company nearly intolerable. Let us not speak of it again. I am quite determined on this subject.
Yours Sincerely,
Lord Nathaniel Shepfield
Julia closed the box with many letters still to read. She could not bear to go over what happened next, to think of how the story unraveled. Here she was in her bedroom alone and unmarried, and he was somewhere else in the same house, a widower by another woman. How had they ended up here?
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… she was not that girl anymore …
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CHAPTER ONE
Strange Behavior
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Julia knew she would be seeing Shep that morning at breakfast, but she refused to act differently or change her habits on his account. She would go on as if everything was normal because it was, she told herself, as she clenched her teeth. She chose her blue muslin day dress with its capped sleeves and widened neckline that just so happened to accentuate her alabaster collarbone. Smith pinned back her hair, leaving a few artful dark curls near her face. Julia raised an eyebrow at her own refection, secretly envious of her sister-in-law, Catherine, who could take breakfast in bed because she was married. Julia would have to march down the stairs and face her enemy over toast.
But she was determined.
She would never allow him to know that he affected her in any way.
She saw him before he noticed her. She was thankful for that, because she could prepare and make sure her mask was in place. She took in the circles beneath his eyes, his slightly gaunt face, the new lines grief had marked there. She quelled any tenderness that lurched in her heart at the realization that he truly was in pain. But she also could not help but notice how handsome he still was, with his dark golden hair, rich and curling, a bit too long on his neck, his serious, somewhat feline, green eyes looking down at his lap.
How annoying that even grief did not temper the effect he had on her.
“Your Grace,” she finally said aloud, bowing her head slightly. She knew that it was not necessary for her to stand on ceremony with Shep, since she had known him since he was a boy and because of their personal history, but it made it easier for her to protect her own heart. She would not be as stupid as she had been last time. She thought of the letters she had read the night before, how as children he had urged her to curb her fearlessness with some caution. Her feelings for him, at one time, had been exactly that—fearless. There had been no caution. Now, she would be as cautious as possible with her heart. “I am so sorry about your loss earlier this year. The Duchess of Sermont was too young and too good to leave this world.”
Shep did not bother to glance up at Julia and ignored her condolences over his wife completely. “I do not know why you are using my title. We have known each other far too long for that.”
“I suppose I have just always had excellent manners,” she replied sweetly, although the true meaning of her statement was anything but sweet.
His green eyes flashed to hers, and he opened his mouth to snap a retort before her brother jumped in. “Now, now, children. It is very early. You still have plenty of hours in the day to begin one of your epic arguments.” Ben had always remained clueless as to anything more than animosity between them, never considering the reason for it.
Julia tilted her
head and batted her eyelashes at her brother and Shep. “I only have arguments with people who can keep up with me.”
“If memory serves…” Shep began, his voice smoldering. “We were always quite evenly matched.”
“Your memory has always been selective,” she replied before he could say more. “Let us just move forward, shall we?” The last thing she wanted to do was rehash the past with him, especially the parts that were unknown to her brother. She looked Shep straight in the eyes, which, of course, made her chest ache. Those green eyes of his would always affect her. “I am very sorry about Rosemary. I hope you received our note. I wanted to attend the funeral but with Catherine pregnant…I could not leave her.”
Shep looked down at his lap. “Thank you. I understand. I know you would have been there if you could have been.” And it was true. No matter what had happened between them or her feelings about his marriage, loyalty was of the utmost importance to Julia, though she would hardly ever admit it.
“Good morning,” Catherine said cheerfully, unaware of what she had missed at the breakfast table. She had Baby George on her hip, who was happily gumming his little fist in his mouth.
Ben looked at his wife with love and a little bit of awe. For so long, Julia could never imagine Ben married, but now she could not imagine him without Cat. It was as if they had been made for one another. She wondered if it had been the same with Shep and Rosemary, that elementary, visceral need.
“Come here, my boy,” Ben murmured as Catherine handed the baby over.
“Your Grace,” Cat murmured as she took Shep’s hand. “I am so sorry again about the duchess.”
Shep liked Catherine a great deal, and it was not her fault that he was tired of hearing people’s condolences when they were only trying to be polite. “Please call me Shep. Your husband is my best friend, and I hope you do not mind me saying such a thing, but this place was like a second home to me growing up.”
“I mind,” Julia muttered under her breath.
Everyone at the table ignored Julia’s comment.
“Shep, then. If you insist,” Catherine replied, smiling. “I must admit that is how I think of you after all the stories Ben has told me about you.”
“About me?” Shep laughed outrageously. Julia turned away at the sound, squeezing her eyes shut. It had been too long since she had heard his laugh. Why did his throat have to look so appealing against his cravat? Life was not fair. Why should he be so appealing, despite his pallor? “What about him?”
“Do not try to turn my wife against me, Shep,” Ben warned with a twinkle in his eye.
“He could not do such a thing even if he tried. Cat is as loyal as can be.” Julia jumped into the conversation just as Catherine was taking George back from her husband. She smiled slowly at Shep. “Nothing you could say could turn her against Ben. But let us hear the stories anyway. And make sure to embellish the especially embarrassing parts.”
Everyone laughed, which had been her intention. She took a sip of tea very delicately, well aware that Shep’s eyes were on her. She did not like it when he looked at her. She had not liked it when he had done so after her father died nearly two years ago. It was as if he still saw the girl she had been with the dreamy eyes and just-kissed lips, looking up at him as if he was the sun and the moon. And she was not that girl anymore.
George began to babble. “A wordsmith is he, then?” Shep asked, his voice only a bit rusty. One could hardly blame the man. He had been so close to having a child nearly the same age as George. Instead, his wife had died in childbirth, and his life was ashes. “Has he started Latin yet?”
“He is a good boy,” Cat said humbly.
“I shall brag, since I’m the aunt,” Julia announced. “He is about to walk and can crawl faster than you could possibly imagine. We can hardly keep up with him.”
Just then, George’s eye lit on her face. “Ju, Ju, Ju!” he called to her as he grinned, his tiny teeth like the smallest of shells one might find on the beach. His hands, full of his own saliva, reached for his aunt.
Normally, she would have swept him into her arms and they would go dancing around the room. She would speak to him in very grown up tones while he watched her like a little owl. But she could feel Shep’s eyes on her, watching, waiting. He had always accused her of being cold and unfeeling. Once, she would have liked to prove him wrong. Now, she only wanted to get through his visit with her heart intact. Better he think her cold than expose her heart to him.
“I’m sorry, darling, but I would not want you to make a mess of my dress,” she told the baby. It was the exact kind of statement Shep would expect of her, which showed, perhaps, how very little he knew her.
Catherine looked at her strangely, her arms already outstretched to hand Julia the baby, then pulled him close again. She had never known her sister-in-law to forgo a chance to play with George.
“We shall play some other time, hm? Just the two of us?” Julia stood. “I think I shall go for a walk.”
“How strange,” Cat murmured softly, not realizing that Shep could hear her. “She’s usually mad for babies, especially George.”
“It is not strange at all when you consider she is made of stone,” Shep replied before he could stop himself.
Cat looked at him, her head quirked as if he was a puzzle she was trying to figure out. “I am sorry, Shep, I assumed that since you and Ben are so close, you would know Julia better than that.”
Now that the subject was on the table, so to speak, he could not avoid it. “I know her better than you imagine,” he muttered. “She has no interest in children or babies.”
George pulled a bit at Cat’s hair for attention, but she took another moment to observe Shep’s stubborn countenance. “I see you and Julia are very much alike,” she told him, her words kind.
“How?” He laughed, though it was a bit strangled in his throat. “I do not have a problem with children…” He would have said more, but he did not want to think of Rosemary and the child they had lost just now. He could not hold both Julia and Rosemary in his head at the same time. “I like children,” he insisted, taking George’s fist in his hands.
“I am not referring to your belief that Julia does not like children,” Cat replied, smiling. “When I said you are alike, I was referring to the fact that you both stubbornly refuse to accept the fact that it is possible to be wrong.” Cat went back to looking at the baby but not before glancing at her husband. Was he completely oblivious to the passion that simmered off of Shep and his sister? When Ben grinned at her, cooing at George, she realized that if it was happiness that blinded him, she would keep this information to herself.
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She was the Ice Queen, after all …
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CHAPTER TWO
The Ice Queen
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Shep could not deny that Ben had been right to bring him back to Pritchford Place. Cunningham was too full of memories, both of his parents’ volatile relationship, and because of sweet Rosemary. He had eventually loved her for that sweetness and the peace she brought to his life. He had not loved her when they first married, but he had always yearned for that peace and simplicity she seemed to bring into his life.
He had believed then, as he did now, that some people brought chaos and volatility with them. Some people may court that kind of all-consuming passion. But he was not one of them, not after the way he grew up. There had been a time when he had lost himself in a relationship like that. But in the end, because of his upbringing, he knew he could not live a life filled with such dramatic feeling. He wanted quiet and calm. He found those things in Rosemary. He had not loved her when he proposed, but he had wanted her in his life. But now that was gone. She was gone.
When he woke in the middle of the night now, he could still hear her screams as she labored to bring their b
aby into the world. Twenty-eight hours she had labored but the midwife and the doctor, who had been summoned halfway through the event, had told him it was no use. The baby boy was breech, with the cord wrapped around his neck, and had died long before he had been delivered. It was the loss of blood that took Rosemary soon after. So he had gone from the happiest of men with everything within his grasp to someone who tasted the ashes of lost dreams in his mouth, all within little more than a day.
He wondered if God was laughing at the way Shep had taken to planning his life. He’d thought that if he married someone he liked but did not love, who was guileless instead of complicated, his life would be like sailing on the calmest of waters. He would not know the pain or the volatility his parents had. And yet, he had learned that losing one’s spouse and child all in one go was just as painful.
Regency Romance: The Duke’s Ever Burning Passion (Fire and Smoke: CLEAN Historical Romance) Page 2
