“That was an accident.”
“An accident I caused. There! You may now repeat with authority all the stories you have heard about me!”
“I don’t repeat gossip,” Julia said, firmly. “I dare say the village is rife with stories that feature you in some sort of scandalous behavior, but I would never believe such stories if they were spoken to me. I am a very good judge of character and I would judge you are not as unsavory a man as you would wish me to believe.”
“Is that so? We shall see if you may be made to alter that opinion.”
He crossed the space between them with purposeful strides that sent Julia’s nerves fluttering. Suddenly, she was unsure whether she was safe alone with him or in significant peril. She had only an instinct that he was, at heart, an honorable man; but her instincts also told her that he fought very hard to be otherwise.
He proved that theory by reaching out to lightly cup one hand against the softness of her cheek. The touch of his palm against her skin seared her senses. She looked up at him, her green eyes wide, and her body reacting as if it were suddenly on fire.
He lowered his head slightly as if he were going to kiss her but his lips stopped just short of hers.
“Shall we see if you can be made to alter your optimistic opinion of me?” he asked, sending the warmth of his breath dancing against her face.
Julia swallowed hard and said, in a voice barely above a whisper, “I have heard nothing yet that will change my mind.”
“Are you certain?” he asked, very quietly, and he watched her green eyes widen slightly. “Are you that convinced you know me so well, Julia Pettingale?”
“Yes,” she said, confidently, although her voice was little more than a whisper.
Gavin let his hand drop and stepped back from her. He had known many women in his life, but never one like Julia Pettingale. She was such a contradiction: her fiery red hair pulled tightly back in a ribbon that begged to be untied; her proper riding habit covered her from neck to wrist while showing off her figure; her porcelain skin held the hint of a blush even while she defiantly looked him in the eye. He had a sense that she was a woman who could give as much as she got, who didn’t back down from a challenge. “Lord, you could drive a man to madness,” he muttered as he moved away to put a little more distance between them. As he did so, the door of the sitting room burst opened.
Without announcement or preamble the Reverend Mr. Clouster and his wife, Harriet, sailed into the room, still possessed of their cloaks, hats, and gloves.
“Julia, we have come to take you home!” said the vicar, in a loud and forceful tone, as if he expected to meet with opposition. “We came as soon as we received word you were here!”
Harriet swept up to Julia and gave her a quick hug, then held her by the shoulders, saying earnestly, “My dear friend, you look a fright! Your eyes were like saucers just now when we came in and your faceMy dear, you look as thought you had been made to suffer the most beastly shock!” She cast a sidelong glance at the Gavin and said, in a meaningful voice, “I hope, my dear, you have been quite safe.”
“Harriet, leave this to me,” said the young vicar, fully mindful of his duty. He squared his shoulders and faced the Duke with purpose. “Duke, I—I demand to be told what occurred here today. I demand to know what outrage you meant to commit by abducting this young woman.”
“There has been no outrage, Clouster, and no abduction, so save your breath,” said the Gavin, dampeningly.
“So says you! But I dare say Julia may have a different notion; and if any harm has come to her, I—I shall knock you down, Warminster!”
Gavin drew his imposingly muscled body up to its full height. “You may certainly try.”
Julia shook off Harriet’s hold and stepped between the two men. “No! There shall be no fighting! You must believe me when I say nothing untoward occurred today.”
“Julia,” said the vicar, sternly, “I know of what sort of behavior this man is capable. I also know your innocence is no match for his wiles.”
“You are mistaken,” Julia insisted. “The duke has been very kind to me.”
Mr. Clouster looked suspicious. “Is that true, Warminster? Nothing occurred out of place?”
“Are you doubting the lady’s word, Clouster?”
The vicar was not a man who relished the notion of a physical confrontationespecially a confrontation with a man of the Duke’s size and reputationbut he was determined to do the right thing by Julia. He drew himself up and said, doggedly, “Warminster, do I have your assurance or don’t I?”
“For what it’s worth,” said Gavin, “yes. You have my assurance that nothing untoward occurred.”
“And you have my assurance, as well,” said Julia.
Harriet came forward then to clasp her hands in an earnest grip. “Thank heavens! When I think of what might have happened . . . Only we shall not speak of that now for you are too modest, too innocent, to believe anything but good may exist in the world.” She wrapped her arm around Julia’s shoulders and began to lead her toward the door. “Our carriage is outside, my dear, and we shall have you home straight away. Then you may forget all about this unpleasant and unfortunate business!”
“But, Harriet, it wasn’t unpleasant and it certainly wasn’t unfortunate. In fact, I should venture to say it was great of piece of luck that the duke should have come upon me in the thunderstorm!” Julia shook off Harriet’s hold and turned toward Gavin, unwilling to leave without proving to Harriet and her husband that they were wrong about him.
But he had turned away to stand at the side table where he poured out another glass of wine; and when he was done and turned back toward her, he favored Julia with no more than the merest and coolest of nods.
It was difficult for Julia to believe that the duke could look upon her with such coldness when only moments before he had held her and comforted her with exquisite tenderness. But she had no opportunity to dwell on the change in him, for Harriet had renewed her efforts to guide Julia toward the door. With her arm again draped about Julia’s shoulders, she and led her relentlessly out into the hallway and down the stairs toward the front door.
Only when they were in the Clouster’s carriage and at last on their way to the vicarage did anyone speak again; and then it was Harriet who ventured to say, “My dearest friend, you may tell me the truth. Was the dukeWas he quite odious? Did he subject you to his unwanted attentions? You may feel free to confide it to me!”
“Harriet, I assure you, nothing of the kind occurred.”
“But when we came upon you just now, you were standing so close together, I thought perhaps . . . Well, I thought, perhaps, he might have taken advantage of your situation. He is, after all, a man capable of the most horrid behavior!”
“Harriet, you are a dear friend, but I wish you would not repeat such vile gossip!”
“It isn’t merely gossip,” said the vicar, gravely. “My dear, Julia, you are a friend and so I must tell you: the Duke of Warminster is not a man to be trusted. His past actions and his present behavior are not those of an honorable gentleman. He is a known libertine!”
Harriet placed one gloved hand over Julia’s arm and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “Of course, you’re so good and dear that you cannot imagine anyone having as questionable a reputation as the duke enjoys. I blame myself. I should have warned you of him when you first arrived. I should have told you to avoid his presence at all costs. I should have”
“You should have told me he had been married,” said Julia, and she watched Harriet and the vicar exchange startled glances.
“We don’t usually speak of that,” said Mr. Clouster. “The story of Warminster’s marriage is one of far-reaching tragedy and sadness.”
Harriet nodded. “And before you feel the least bit of sympathy for the man, you must be made aware of the facts. Yes, he was married, my dear; but, you see, it is rumored that his wife died by his hand.”
“That rumor is not tru
e!” protested Julia.
“We have no manner in which to confirm or deny the story, but there is a very strong suspicion in the neighborhood over the circumstances of the duchess’s death,” said the vicar. “Warminster has been taking up and then discarding women ever sincealthough not, I grant you, with the same degree of ruthlessness.”
“Has he had many women?” Julia asked, and immediately wished she hadn’t.
“Quite a few, as I’ve been told,” said the vicar. “If only half the rumors concerning his behavior are to be believed, the duke does everything to excessGambling, drinking. I doubt very much that women are an exception to that rule.”
“Let me understand you,” Julia said. “You are not certain that the duke has taken up with many womenyou only suppose so because of his reputation?”
Mr. Clouster looked at her with a smile of kind pity. “My dear friend, his past behavior must be the ruler against which his present behavior is measured.”
Julia became aware of a sudden trembling in her body, as if within her a war waged between her usually sensible brain and her now rampant emotions. Common sense told her an entire village full of people could not be wrong; that there had to be some element of truth to all the many rumors concerning the Duke of Warminster’s character. He himself had told her that he moved in a circle that was what she most abhored; a circle of gamblers and drinkers and men who placed more import on sport than on the decent comfort of their families and homes; men who were just as her husband had been.
Yet some niggling feeling persisted that while everything she had learned about him was true, Lord Warminster was a good man worthy of trust. “I cannot judge him based on his past behavior when I have only just met him today. But I can say that, although he spoke harshly to me at first, his actions and manners were gentle and kind.”
Harriet clasped her hands over Julia’s in a meaningful grip. “Julia, dear, you know we have only your welfare at heart. It is very admirable that you have so much goodness that you should want to defend a man of Warminster’s ilk. How very like you! But you must not dwell upon what has occurred here this evening.”
“Harriet is right. It is best we say no more about this unfortunate episode,” pronounced the vicar. “If anyone were to discover you were alone in that man’s company, your reputation would never recover!”
“It’s true, you know,” said Harriet. “You would be quite ruined if it were known that you associated with the duke, to say nothing of having spent time alone with him!”
“But it was all so innocent!” said Julia.
“I know, my dear. Yet it would be so simple for someone to misinterpret what occurred. After all, two people, quite alone, and one of them enjoying a most scandalous reputation . . . “ Harriet allowed her voice to trail off meaningfully.
Mr. Clouster fixed Julia with a stern look. “Your firstand only!encounter with the Duke of Warminster is over, Julia. For your sake, and the sake of your reputation, we must never speak of it again. Thankfully, the odds are against any chance that his path shall ever again cross yours.”
Three days later, in the drawing room at the vicarage, Julia Pettingale pinned a length of borrowed ribbon to the sleeves of one of her oft-worn evening gowns, and stepped back to study the effect.
Her friend, Harriet Clouster, looked up from the book she was reading, and said, approvingly, “That will look very smart, my dear. How clever of you to think of making your old gowns look new, merely by adding a bow here or there.”
Julia, too, was pleased. “I was certain the blue of the ribbon would go very well with this dress. Thank you, Harriet, for lending it to me.”
“It is not a loan, my dear; you may keep the ribbon, with my blessing. I hope it may bring you luck.”
“I shall need more than luck if I am to find a husband among the gentlemen attending the village assemblies,” said Julia, sensibly. “You will be sure, won’t you, to point out to me the most eligible of men?”
“Of course! I dare say there are any number of local gentlemen who shall make very nice husbands. One, in particular, should suit you very well, I think. He is quite handsome and of a very happy disposition.”
“He sounds very much like the sort of man I should like to meet. Does this paragon have a name?” asked Julia.
“He is Mr. Worthing, and since there have been any number of young ladies on the scramble for him over the years, you may count yourself lucky if he should take you in regard. Of course, you are quite the prettiest young woman to come into our village in some time, and your disposition is so sunny. I should think that in little time you shall find yourself surrounded by suitors, including Mr. Worthing. Your social successat least in our little neighborhoodis assured!”
“Gracious!” said Julia, laughing. “If I am to be such a success, I think I would be wise to embellish some more of my old gowns!”
“You said that in jest, but I think it an excellent notion,” said Harriet, with enthusiasm. “I know the very thing! I have an old sewing basket in which I often used to save bits of lace and ribbons. And if I remember correctly, I kept in it, too, a very sweet length of gold torsade; just the thing, I think, for your blue satin evening dress. Now, let me see . . . Where did I put that basket?”
“I have no idea but now that I have heard of its treasures, I shall certainly help you find it,” offered Julia.
“Nonsense! You keep stitching the ribbons to your gown while I search for the sewing basket. I think I remember seeing it in my dressing room not too long ago. I shall be back in a wink!”
As it happened, she was gone for a considerably longer period of time, and when the door to the drawing room opened at last, Julia fully expected to see her friend march into the room and triumphantly present the sewing basket. Instead, Harriet’s housemaid stepped into the room and announced, in reverential accents, the Duke of Warminster.
“The Duke!” Julia repeated, jumping to her feet. “Heavens, are you quite certain?”
The maid responded by swinging the door wide. Julia had time only to tuck an errant curl beneath her morning cap before Lord Warminster swept into the room.
It had been three days since Julia had left Merrifield in the Clouster’s coach; three days in which she had thought of the Duke and wondered over him. Now that he stood before her, she had to fight back an unexplained swell of emotion and a sudden bout of breathlessness.
Her eyes flew to his. She detected there no sign of the grim and harsh lines she had noticed the last time they were together. Instead, there was a hint of expectancy about his expression, as if he were on watch to her reaction at seeing him again.
She dipped a very circumspect curtsy and said, in a tolerably composed voice, “Good morning, Duke!”
“Good morning,” he replied. “I didn’t startle you just now, I hope.”
“Not at all!” she replied, in a tolerably composed voice. “I see you are much improved from the last time I saw you. Is your arm better?”
“Decidedly. You did a fine job of patching it up.”
She smiled. “No thanks to you! You were a horrid patient, you know. But now that your arm has healed sufficiently, I shall at last have the answer to a question that has been plaguing me for the last three days.”
“What question is that?”
“Whether it is your habit to be difficultOr was it your wound that made you so surly and unpleasant?”
His dark brows flew skyward in momentary surprise, but he said, quite temperately, “I am always unpleasant. Didn’t you know?”
“Oh, yes!” she answered, unable to cudgel her brain into forming a more sensible reply. She did manage to recall her manners, however, and invited him to sit down. Too late she realized the dress she had been repairing was spread across the chair.
“Oh, dear! Let me move that for you.”
“Do not let me interrupt your work,” he said, politely, as she gathered up the dress.
“Oh, this? Why it is only an old gown
I have been reworking so I may wear it again to the assembly. I’ve added bows to the sleeves, you see. It is nothing, really!”
He cast her an odd look. “Adding bows to a nightgown might be nothing; adding bows to a dress to make it fashionable is another matter altogether, in my opinion.”
“I confided to you my present circumstance. I never dreamed you would one day make sport of it.”
“You mistake. Your circumstance, as you call it, rubs too much against my grain for me to make sport of it.” His eyes settled upon her. “What’s that on your head?”
She started, and her fingertips flew to her cap, fully expecting to find a spider or some other equally distasteful object lurking there. Patting frantically about, she found nothing out of the way. “Why do you ask? What do you see?”
“I see a dreadful bit of cloth covering your hair. Why are you wearing it?”
“My cap? Why—I am a widow and!”
“You were not wearing it the other day when we met.”
“No, no, I wasn’t.”
“It covers your hair.”
She smiled slightly. “I believe it is intended to do just so!”
“You are much more to my liking without it.”
She should have blushed. She should have scolded him for speaking to her so. Instead, she felt again that same breathlessness she had experienced when first he had entered the room. It was a difficult thing to equate the wastrel Julia had met three days earlier with the man now standing before her. And it was just as impossible to believe that a man who freely admitted to engaging in duels and riding roughshod over the laws of the land was one and the same as the man who had haunted her thoughts from the moment their paths had crossed.
She tugged the cap a bit lower over her ears and said, rather shakily, “I should never have ventured out without it before, as if I were a young girl not yet out in the world. It was wrong of me not to have been wearing it when first we met.”
The Notorious Nobleman Page 5
