by Georgie Lee
‘It is such a bother to turn one’s own music,’ Annette remarked from her place at the pianoforte. ‘Captain, will you turn the pages for me?’
‘Simon can turn the pages for you,’ George responded.
Simon stopped his chattering long enough to heave a small sigh. ‘She knows the tune by heart and can play without the sheet music.’
Annette’s face went pale before she fixed a charming smile back on her lips. ‘How silly you are, Simon, to make such a joke. You know very well I do not know this piece.’
Julia caught Uncle George’s eye. He glanced from her to Simon, scrunching his brow with a silent question. Julia flicked her hand in his direction, waving the question away, but she could tell he wasn’t deterred. Panic stole through her. Uncle George didn’t believe her sudden interest in Simon and suspected something. Had he guessed her scheme? She hoped not. She didn’t need any more obstacles.
‘Mr Johnson told me Mr Wilkins is hosting a game at the Sign of the Swan tonight,’ Uncle George announced with a sly grin.
Drat, Julia thought, wishing they were still at dinner so she could kick him under the table. She didn’t need him working against her, but she also wasn’t ready to let him in on her plan.
‘A game, you say?’ Simon asked, taking his gold chronometer out of his pocket and checking the time.
‘Quite a large one from the sound of it. A man could make a lot of money. It seems Mr Wilkins is very keen to win back some of the blunt he lost last night. Though I doubt he’ll succeed. He’s a terrible player.’
‘Simon, tell me more about your horses,’ Julia implored in a feeble attempt to outmanoeuvre Uncle George, but it failed. Simon rose and sauntered over to the card table, quite forgetting their conversation.
‘You’ve played the man?’ he asked.
‘Once or twice. He has no face for the game. Reveals his hand—hardly a challenge.’ George laid a card on the table and drew another.
‘Where’s the fun in an opponent who gives away the game? A real gentleman wants a challenge, a chance to truly flaunt his talent,’ Annette chided Simon, who, for the first time since their arrival, didn’t respond to his sister’s rebuke. Instead he stood, fingering the button on his coat, appearing to weigh Uncle George’s announcement with Annette’s comment before the gambler in him won the debate.
‘If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll retire for the evening.’
‘But it’s only nine. Stay,’ Annette pleaded. ‘I’m sure George can make room for you at the table.’
‘The country has tired me. Goodnight, ladies.’ He bowed to Mother and Emily, then made his way out of the room. He didn’t fool anyone with his excuse and Julia knew it would only be a matter of minutes before they heard him sneak out of the front door.
Annette’s hands lingered over the keys and she looked torn between following him and returning to her pursuit of Captain Covington. It took only a moment for her to reach a decision and she resumed her pretty playing.
Julia sat on the sofa, clutching her hands in her lap in frustration. Beyond a few dinner conversations, she hadn’t made any progress with the dandy.
‘Captain Covington, would you mind turning the music for me?’ Annette sang to him.
‘Would you care to accompany me across the room?’ The captain stood in front of Julia, his hands behind his back. She had no desire to watch Annette fawn over him, but with no Simon or interest in cards, annoying her stepcousin seemed the only thing left to do.
‘It would be my pleasure.’
‘Perhaps Miss Howard and I may play a duet,’ Annette suggested with false gaiety when they approached.
‘You are quite aware I don’t play.’ She was in no mood for another discussion of her accomplishments.
‘You don’t play. And you don’t draw.’ Annette’s fingers paused, giving her astonishment the most effect before she resumed her piece. ‘How do you expect to find a husband without such accomplishments?’
Julia restrained her urge to slam the keyboard cover on Annette’s pale fingers and wipe the pompous look off her face.
‘I think many gentlemen would be pleased to have a wife skilled in running an estate for he would never have to agonise over his purse or hers,’ Captain Covington offered, coming to her defence against Annette again.
‘Even without a gentleman, it’s a comfort to handle one’s own affairs instead of trusting them to men who only gamble them away,’ Julia added, staring down her nose at Annette.
Annette struck a sour note, then stood, turning hard eyes on Julia. ‘Do not be so proud. A lady’s fortune is always in the hands of her male relations, no matter what her accomplishments.’
Her words rang more of sad bitterness than malice and Julia’s spirits fell, the realisation striking deeper than any other comment Annette had ever made about her. For the first time, Julia felt sorry for her stepcousin, thinking they had more in common than she knew.
‘If you will excuse me.’ Annette pushed past them towards the door, disappearing upstairs.
‘If I had an estate, I would wish for a wife like you to run it,’ Captain Covington offered and Julia responded with a weak smile, unwilling to accept his pity.
‘But you have no estate. And neither do I.’
‘Perhaps in time that will change for both of us.’
‘Yes, you will buy an estate and I—well, I’ll wait for my brother to return and then I can be the spinster aunt.’ She meant the comment to sound like a joke, but it fell flat. Desperate for something to occupy her hands, she sat down at the despised instrument and began picking out the tune in front of her. She tried to concentrate on the black notes in their cosy lines and not the captain standing close behind her.
‘No, you will not be a spinster. Do not listen to the likes of Miss Taylor. There are many gentlemen who want a lady with a head for business.’
‘Then they must all be married for I’ve never met such a gentleman.’
She came to the end of the stanza and he reached over her shoulder to change the page, his cheek tantalisingly close to hers. She closed her eyes, listening to the sheet music rustle, hearing his heavy breath in her ear. She only had to turn her head to sweep her lips across his skin, bury her face in the warm crease of his neck while reaching up to lace her fingers in his dark hair.
‘I am not married,’ he whispered, his breath teasing her neck.
Her hands dropped to the keyboard, the clanging notes snapping her out of her daydream. Going back over the stanza, she tried to make her awkward fingers behave, but they kept tripping over the keys. She glanced at the card table, noting the way Emily watched them before Uncle George distracted her with some comment. She also felt the captain’s eyes lingering on her. Why did he insist on staring? Julia hit another wrong note, increasing her agitation until she could no longer bear it.
‘If you’ll excuse me, Captain, I’m tired.’ She stood, closed the keyboard, then fled for the door.
George leaned back in his chair. ‘Retiring so early, Julia?’
‘Yes, goodnight.’
She hurried from the room before Uncle George could compel her to stay. Reaching the top of the dimly lit stairs, she heard a faint noise, like someone crying. She followed the sound, tiptoeing over the carpet, expecting to see a maid in one of the small chairs situated near the window. Moving past the cushioned retreat with a view of the garden, she found it empty. Down the hall, light slipped out from beneath Annette’s door. Cautiously approaching it, Julia heard her stepcousin’s muffled sobs. She felt sorry for the girl and raised a hand to knock, then thought better of it. If Annette was rude downstairs, Julia could only imagine her fury if she interrupted her now.
Once in her own room, Julia sat in the window seat, snatching up the agricultural report in an attempt to lose herself in the dry pages. She read the fir
st two lines, then tossed it aside, too frustrated to concentrate. Leaning her forehead against the cool glass, she watched a few stars peep out through a break in the moving clouds.
What did the captain mean by suggesting gentlemen wanted women with a head for business? Did he mean he wanted such a lady? No, he was not interested in a sensible wife, only a country fling, no matter how much tender sincerity filled his eyes. Paul had warned her about a man’s ability to charm a woman for purely dishonourable reasons. She could not let herself fall into the captain’s trap, no matter how easily her body reacted when he stood so close.
The idea that she might be too weak to resist him scared her as deeply now as it had at the keep and in the library. Pulling her knees up under her chin, she wrapped her arms around them in an effort to ward off the sudden cold. Everything felt so uncertain, as if the captain’s arrival had changed more than just the place settings for dinner. Not even Knollwood or her own conviction to buy Cable Grange seemed steady any more.
If only Paul was here. He’d know what to do about the captain, the Taylors and Cable Grange. However, he was at sea and about to face unimaginable dangers. Even if she could get a letter to him, it wasn’t right to burden him with her concerns at a time like this. She would have to solve these problems herself.
* * *
James lay in bed, staring at the white plaster ceiling, his aching shoulder preventing any chance of sleep. He’d gritted his teeth more than once during the ride back to Knollwood, but the pain seemed a worthy price to pay for the excitement he experienced racing Miss Howard. Outside, the wind rattled the window, knocking a tree branch against the house. Thoughts of Miss Howard continued to torment him despite all attempts to drive them from his mind. He could not care for her. He would not. What did he have to offer her but a weak body and a meaningless life?
As he pulled the medallion back and forth across its chain, those old familiar protests sounded hollow tonight. Over the last few days, he’d felt freer than he had since being wounded and dreams of the future crept into the long hours of the night. Perhaps he’d travel to Rome, inspect the ruins, then carry on to Greece or Constantinople. He might even return to India and explore more than the port cities. Miss Howard’s eyes would flash at the sight of the palaces and market places.
James twisted the chain tight around his finger until the metal bit into his flesh. How many times had he lain here, distracting himself from his painful shoulder with dreams of her young, supple body? He’d almost groaned when she’d appeared in the dining room tonight, her low-cut gown displaying the delicate curves of her body. He wanted nothing more than to slip his hands beneath the green silk, to feel the soft flesh of her thighs, taste the sweet hollow of her neck while his hands caressed her stomach. Did she know how she teased him and made him ache with need? She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He’d seen it in her eyes at the keep, felt it in the way she’d held his hand when they’d run through the rain. Yet still she went back to the dandy.
Smacking his fist against the sheets, he tried to ignore the subtle throbbing in his member as it overcame the sting of his shoulder. He’d placed his happiness in the hands of a woman once before, only to be cruelly disappointed. What did Melinda matter now? George was right; she was in the past where she belonged. Thinking about her did nothing but weaken his spirit. No, there were other, more pleasant things to consider, such as the taste of Miss Howard’s lips. He’d been tantalisingly close so many times today, yet she continued to elude him.
Shifting on the bed, he searched for a more comfortable position. Guilt filled his mind. He couldn’t ruin George’s niece, not for simple need, nor could he ask for her hand. Or could he? A woman with her talents would be an asset and he could well imagine her accompanying him to India or on any other whim. But were these reasons good enough to tie him to a woman for life? Miss Howard would certainly keep things interesting, assuming she’d have him. He remembered George’s suggestion that a man with an estate could capture her heart. He’d wanted Cable Grange for revenge; now he had another, sweeter reason. For once the idea of marriage didn’t seem distasteful, but was he ready to spring the parson’s mousetrap? If so, he’d need a tempting bit of cheese to catch this mouse.
Chapter Seven
Julia ambled back from the stables, the cold, early morning air chafing her cheeks. Stifling a yawn with the back of her hand, she tried to blame last night’s restlessness on Annette or the problem of Simon, but it was Captain Covington who’d kept her up until almost sunrise. With the auction date drawing closer, it was time to put such foolishness aside and be serious about her pursuit. She calculated again the ready locked in the desk drawer, wondering how much it would take to buy Simon and his silence. Father had always kept the money at hand, mostly to send to Paul when one of his frequent letters arrived asking for more. She’d left it there out of habit; now she could use it to her advantage. She’d corner Simon once he finally awoke and came down to eat, assuming he’d even returned from his rousing night at the Sign of the Swan.
A flash of pink caught Julia’s eye and she noticed her mother, parasol in hand, inspecting her roses. Charlemagne trotted beside her, his tail wagging in happy excitement. The rose garden was her mother’s domain, the one area of Knollwood off limits to both Father’s and Julia’s management, and she coaxed from it flowers of amazing beauty. Watching her with her precious bushes, her hem wet, feet encased in sturdy shoes instead of slippers, she knew her mother played a small part in her own love of the land.
In no mood to risk a serious discussion, Julia slunk past the garden, hoping her mother wouldn’t turn around. She was nearly to the house when Charlemagne let out an excited yip.
‘Come here, dear,’ her mother called in a voice Julia could not ignore.
She wondered if Emily had told her about their conversation yesterday. It wasn’t in her mother’s nature to scold, but she was not above the occasional reprimand. ‘Yes, Mother?’
‘Do you have feelings for Simon?’ She turned over a leaf, searching for signs of disease.
Julia hesitated, hating the blunt questions. It made evading it difficult. ‘He’s an affable gentleman.’
Her mother stared hard at her. ‘The truth, please.’
‘No, certainly not,’ Julia admitted, knowing it was better to level with her mother than continue the charade.
‘Then why show him so much preference?’
‘I thought if I could make him ask for my hand, then an engagement would be enough for Charles to give me my inheritance in time to purchase Cable Grange.’
‘I suspected as much.’ Her mother plucked off a wilted bloom and tossed it over the wall. ‘Even if he did propose, Charles wouldn’t allow it. Simon has too much of a reputation in town.’
‘Must my entire life be governed by what Charles does and does not like?’
‘I thought you didn’t care for Simon?’
‘I don’t, but I hate Charles’s high-handed meddling.’
‘Be kind, dear. He does love you and only wants your happiness.’
Julia didn’t agree, but held her tongue. Arguing with her mother would get her nowhere and with the plan to entice Simon unravelling, she needed her help. ‘What am I going to do?’
‘Have you considered Captain Covington?’
Julia fingered a stem, snapping off a thorn with her thumb. During the long hours without sleep she’d considered the captain many times, in many different ways, none of which was suitable to discuss with her mother. ‘I chose Simon because I thought the promise of a fortune would be enough to attract him. I won’t have the same influence with the captain. Besides, he’s infatuated with Annette.’
‘I don’t believe he is. I’ve watched him and I think he tolerates her simply to be courteous.’
Julia knew she was right. At certain unguarded moments, the captain did appear bored or ann
oyed with Annette.
‘I’d have to tell him directly of my scheme and what if he told others?’ She knew he wouldn’t, but she felt the need to make some kind of protest. If she agreed too speedily to the idea, her mother might suspect something more, something Julia didn’t even want to admit to herself.
‘I don’t think he’ll reveal your secret. He’s honourable, possesses a good reputation and George can vouch for him. Charles is more likely to accept him. And think of Paul. A friendship with the captain may help his career. He must know people in the Admiralty and he might be in a position to bend their ears.’
Despite her mother’s reasoning, Julia hesitated. Such a game with the captain would prove far more dangerous than with Simon. Could she trust herself to spend enough time with him to give the appearance of genuine affection without compromising herself? Of course she could. Couldn’t she? ‘I’ll think about it.’
‘If nothing else, imagine how it will annoy Annette,’ her mother suggested with a wry smile.
Julia gasped. ‘I never knew you were so wicked.’
‘I’m your uncle’s sister, am I not?’
‘Indeed.’
‘Now come along, for I believe George has a surprise for us about nuncheon.’
* * *
Uncle George’s nuncheon plans did come as a surprise. Somehow, without Julia discovering it, he’d arranged for an outdoor picnic on a grassy hill near Knollwood. He’d ordered a number of oilcloths spread on the still-wet grass and brought over from Creedon Abbey a large canopy acquired during a visit to India. From their high vantage point, they could see Cable Grange perched on a distant hill and one turret of Creedon Abbey peeking above a far-off line of trees.
