Mysterious Miss Channing (Ranford Book 3)

by Nadine Millard

  Julia had found out, much younger than she ever would have wanted, that her looks were a draw for men. Perhaps, had her life gone differently, she would have basked in that attention; would have gone to great effort to highlight her green eyes and deep red hair, or worn dresses at the height of fashion to show off her figure to its best advantage.

  But her life hadn’t gone differently, and now, more than ever, she had no wish to draw any sort of attention to herself.

  The morning was getting on, and Julia did not want to waste time thinking dark thoughts.

  She pulled a no-nonsense wool dress from the wardrobe. She laid it on the bed and moved to the washstand.

  The dowager particularly hated that dress. And Julia could admit that it was probably the least flattering one that she owned. It was a dull brown and entirely shapeless and would do very well for curing young earls of any desire they may have felt last night.

  Julia now knew that she could not control her attraction to Lord Ranford, although she called herself every kind of idiot for it.

  Charles Ranford was a notorious rake and had long been pursued by women far more beautiful than Julia. Her brain told her, quite severely, that he had kissed her because she was there and because he could. Not because he felt a roaring attraction similar to her own.

  But it was no use. Her heart, and other parts that were too shocking to mention, wanted desperately for him to desire her and more importantly, to kiss her again.

  Her hearts and other parts needed to quieten down, frankly. But they wouldn’t.

  So the only thing for it was to make herself even less attractive and even more pious and hope that it put him off.

  But I don’t want to put him off, her heart whispered.

  Oh, do be quiet, Julia snapped to herself and then worried that he was driving her quite literally mad.

  IF ANYONE COULD SEE him now, they would think he needed to be carted to Bedlam. Charles knew this and yet, here he was, hiding behind corners in his own house.

  He’d come to the drawing room after dinner last night far earlier than he usually would, only to find that Miss Channing had run away.

  He knew that was what she had done. Hidden herself away because of him. Or, more precisely, because of that kiss.

  If his guess was right, she was probably chastising herself and fuming at him and feeling anything but good about it. Which was a shame, because he’d woke up this morning feeling so good about it, he hadn’t been able to get out of bed until Jefferson had left the room.

  And now, here he was. Hiding behind a large vase with a view of her bedchamber. Stalking her.

  He’d gone down to breakfast earlier, but she hadn’t been in the room so, before his mother caught him, he’d slipped back up the stairs. He planned to bump into her as he had last night, just so he could see her pupils dilate with the want she tried so hard to hide.

  A door opened further up the corridor, and he snapped to attention. It could only be her.

  Clearing his throat and trying desperately to loosen the damned cravat, Charles slipped out from his hiding place and concentrated on sauntering casually toward the stairs.

  As it turned out, sauntering casually was really rather difficult when you were concentrating on it.

  Just as he had planned, Julia came scurrying toward him, right on course to bump into him once again.

  His heart lifted at the sight of her, but he ruthlessly pushed the feeling aside. His heart had no business being involved in this.

  His eyes raked greedily over her. Good Lord. What on earth was she wearing?

  He supposed it could loosely be described as a gown, but it was unlike any he’d ever seen before. The colour was a dull, muddy brown, and it positively swamped her slight frame.

  He’d never really thought much of it before, but she wasn’t very tall. Not as tall as Caroline, in any case. Probably more like Rebecca. Charles towered over her. Which he didn’t mind since it afforded him a great view and made him feel extremely masculine and protective.

  The dress, however, looked as though it had been designed for a woman more his height than hers. And, come to think of it, more his size too.

  What was she hoping to accomplish by wearing such a thing? It did not serve to disguise her beauty as he suspected was the reason. She was, without doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Nothing would hide that fact.

  She looked up then, and his unruly heart sped up at the fleeting look of pleasure on her face before she schooled her features.

  Ah, she had decided to control her impulses around him, had she? Well that just threw down a gauntlet.

  “Good morning, Miss Channing. I trust you slept well?”

  Charles could see, on closer inspection, that she hadn’t slept well, and he felt an immediate concern. She looked pale and had dark circles under her eyes.

  Without thought to his actions, he reached out and gently tipped her face up toward his.

  “Are you well?” he asked gently.

  He watched as her eyes widened and a pretty blush spread across her cheeks and tried desperately not be affected by it.

  He was happy to find her attractive; he was not happy about the effect she was starting to have on his emotions.

  “Yes, my—”

  He quirked an eyebrow and was relieved to see a quick grin break across her face.

  “Yes, Ranford,” she said, still smiling.

  He could not help his answering grin.

  “Very good,” he quipped. “Now, shall we?”

  Like the night before, he held out his arm for her to take.

  “It is unusual, is it not, that we are meeting like this again?” Julia asked now.

  He supposed he could confess. She would either find it terribly romantic or slightly insane.

  Probably the latter. She didn’t seem the type given to notions of romance.

  So instead he answered, “Yes, a very happy coincidence,” and then said no more on the subject

  “You do not look as though you had a good sleep, Miss Channing.”

  Julia looked sideways at him.

  “Well you certainly know how to make a lady feel good,” she said, and Charles could have kicked himself. He was usually not so idiotic as to tell a woman she looked terrible. Especially a woman who looked the complete opposite of terrible.

  “Now, now Miss Channing,” he said cajolingly. “You mistake my meaning. You look tired, and I am concerned, of course, for your welfare. But that tiredness does not take away from your beauty, which, frankly, has kept me up half the night too.”

  Julia did not answer but stumbled a little, and Charles supressed a self-satisfied grin.

  “In truth, I did not sleep very well. No doubt because it is a strange bed, and I am not accustomed to it yet.”

  Did she have to talk about her bed? And did she have to talk about her being in her bed? The thought was enough to send images she would not approve of flying through his mind.

  And though he was causing almost physical pain for himself to speak of it due to his body’s unruliness where she was concerned, he could not help but tease her, hoping to see that delectable blush again.

  “So, it was not our kiss that kept you awake?”

  Just as he’d hoped, she blushed scarlet, and her eyes darted to his.

  “Well, I-I—” She blustered for a moment before taking a deep breath and facing him squarely, bringing them both to a stop.

  “My lord,” she said, and Charles was about to interrupt when she huffed out a breath and actually stomped her foot a little. “Lord Ranford,” she corrected before he could. “I do not think that continued discussion about, about—”

  “Our kiss,” he supplied helpfully.

  She threw him a filthy look before continuing.

  “Yes, that. Anyway, I do not think that continued discussion can do any good. Obviously, it was a moment of madness for both of us and was completely improper. Therefore—”

  “Improper, yes. But do no
t tell me that you did not enjoy it,” he said and was satisfied to see a flash of excitement in her eyes.

  She bit her lip, and Charles damn near expired on the spot.

  “As for madness,” he continued, and he could hear the hoarse tone of lust in his voice. “You have been driving me slowly mad since the first time I saw you, so that is nothing new.”

  “Be that as it may, I truly believe it is best forgotten about and never spoken of again.”

  Her voice had dropped to a near whisper, and Charles had to lean in closer to hear. Also, because she now addressed her speech to the floor at their feet.

  He was tempted to tease her again, but she seemed distressed, so he let the matter drop, though the thought of never kissing her again left him feeling more upset than he would have imagined.

  The idea did not please him. He had no desire to let someone, even someone as delectable as Miss Channing, get too close to him again. Perhaps she was right, and distance was the best thing for them.

  They reached the dining room in silence, and Charles escorted her to her chair before turning toward the sideboard filled with dishes. He’d woken up ravenous and full of energy.

  But strangely, he did not have much of an appetite anymore.

  CHAPTER SIX

  JULIA HAD TRULY NEVER experienced such boredom as she was experiencing right then.

  The Ranford’s estate was far and away the cream of the Society in Offaly and, indeed, surrounding counties. As such, there was a constant stream of visitors, especially when one had family visiting from Ireland.

  Nothing created such a stir, however, as the Dowager Duchess of Hartridge being there, apparently, because from the second the clock struck the acceptable calling hours, there had been a steady flow of people coming to call.

  Charles had stayed for some of it, but when it became clear that he was as much a draw for single young ladies and their ambitious mamas as the dowager was, and probably even more so, he took himself off with a haste bordering on impolite.

  The oceans of ladies and their accompanying frills and giggles mercifully dispersed soon after he had. But there was barely a moment’s respite before the door to the drawing room had opened again, this time admitting the local vicar.

  “Ah, Mr. Trent, do come in.” The countess stepped forward and held out a hand to the young man, drawing him forward.

  Julia stood and smiled, politely awaiting her introduction.

  “Allow me to present Mr. Trent, who has recently come to tend to our flock,” the countess said with a smile. “Mr. Trent, Her Grace the Dowager Duchess of Hartridge and Miss Julia Channing.”

  The countess didn’t mention that Julia was a companion, but Julia was not surprised. She hadn’t mentioned that fact to anyone, and if people were curious as to who she was, well, nobody would have the audacity to question the Countess of Ranford.

  Mr. Trent had smiled and bowed and, really, fawned over the ladies before finally taking a seat next to Julia.

  At first, Julia had been very attentive to the gentleman. His conversation was not what she would have called riveting, but it was polite and pleasant and did not cause her stomach to flip alarmingly like the earl’s.

  Julia would not allow herself to think on the earl’s words again. She would wear herself out if she kept repeating them over and over. They were committed to her memory, along with everything else he’d ever said to her.

  She would not let herself feel disappointed by the fact that he had agreed to put an end to whatever it was that had started between them with a kiss. It had been her suggestion, after all.

  “Do you not agree, Miss Channing?”

  Julia started at the sound of her name and looked at Mr. Trent. The man was clearly awaiting an answer. What on earth had he been talking about?

  She looked to the dowager for help, but that lady was immersed in conversation with the countess and Mr. Trent’s mother so she would be no help.

  Julia took a chance.

  “Oh, yes. I quite agree.”

  At this, Mr. Trent beamed, and Julia suppressed a sigh of relief. She really should pay closer attention to whatever the man was droning on about.

  “I thought you might. I enjoyed my time at Oxford immensely and was very lucky to have spent as much time in Dublin as I have done. However, a quiet country life really is best for one’s soul, and mother was, of course, delighted to have me return.”

  “I am sure she was,” Julia answered and struggled not to yawn.

  She studied Mr. Trent while he launched into a tale of the pleasures of Dublin. Caroline and Rebecca had told Julia of Dublin, and it had sounded a wonderful place. Mr. Trent made it sound desperately boring.

  Julia wondered what Charles’s stories would entail and then quickly decided that she was better off not knowing. Then, of course, she silently berated herself for thinking of him at all.

  Mr. Trent was a perfectly pleasant man. There was no need for her to be comparing his nice, quiet chatter to Charles’s scandalous statements.

  And there was certainly no need to be comparing Mr. Trent’s nondescript looks with Charles Carrington’s disturbing handsomeness and overwhelming presence.

  “I knew, of course, as soon as I saw you that you were not the sort to fall prey to the lure of fashion and society gossip. We are two of a kind, Miss Channing.”

  Julia knew she should feel neither insulted by or depressed by Mr. Trent’s statement. After all, she had purposely set out to make such an impression. But still. The same as a man who spent twenty minutes discussing his tailor’s penchant for charcoal cloth instead of black? Surely she wasn’t that bad?

  Thankfully, after what seemed like hours, Mrs. Trent announced that it was time they returned to the village.

  Mr. Trent grasped Julia’s hand, much to her surprise, and bowed over it before saying in a voice that carried across the length of the room, “Miss Channing, I wonder if you might do me the honour of taking a drive with me tomorrow in my curricle? It looks as though it will be as fine a day as today, and I shall endeavour to make sure you are not chilled.”

  Julia could think of nothing less appealing and was about to issue a polite rejection when the dowager spoke up.

  “What a marvellous idea. I’m sure Julia will be delighted. She has yet to see any of the countryside.”

  Oh, now she listens, thought Julia plaintively.

  “Excellent. Until tomorrow then.” And with a flurry of goodbyes, the Trents finally left.

  Julia turned back from their retreating backs to find the dowager and the countess beaming at her.

  “Well, my dear. What do you make of that?”

  “What, your grace?”

  “Why, Mr. Trent’s interest in you, of course.”

  Julia felt her mouth drop open.

  “I hardly think one afternoon drive displays much interest, your grace.”

  “It does for Mr. Trent,” said the countess then, sounding very pleased about it.

  “Oh, but I do not wish — that is to say, I am conscious of the compliment, but really I—”

  “Now, don’t fret child,” said the dowager kindly. “We’re not asking you to marry the man.”

  “Oh, heavens no. You’d expire from sheer boredom within a week,” added the countess wickedly.

  Julia gave a shocked laugh. Truly, these two pillars of polite society were incorrigible!

  “But you know, it does no harm to have other men interested in you.”

  “Other men?”

  The dowager and countess shared a quick look before hurriedly changing the subject.

  “Well, enough about all that now. I am sure it is time for lunch. I confess, I’m quite starved.”

  And with that, they turned and left, leaving Julia feeling very confused and very, very nervous. Clearly, they were up to something. But what?

  CHARLES DID NOT APPEAR at all for the rest of the afternoon, so Julia was ill-prepared for the impact of seeing him at dinner.

  He swept into t
he room, and her heart slammed against her chest. He truly was breathtaking. There was no other word for it.

  His eyes swept over the ladies and lingered on Julia before he moved to stand by the fire.

  “How was your day, Mother?” he asked politely, though his eyes darted to Julia as he asked the question.

  “Oh, very successful,” the countess said, an enigmatic smile hovering on her lips.

  “Successful?”

  “Yes, indeed,” said the dowager. “Julia has only caught herself the vicar!”

  “What?” Charles’s roar reverberated round the room, causing the ladies to jump out of their seats and the serving footman issue a none-too-quiet scream of fright.

  With a grovelling apology, the poor man quickly turned and practically ran from the room.

  Charles was looking thunderous and staring at Julia as though she had done something to anger him. Her! She had done nothing wrong. The dowager was grossly over-exaggerating, of course, and besides, why should he care in any case?

  “What do you mean, caught the vicar?” Charles asked, thankfully in a lower tone.

  “Your grace, please,” Julia said, desperate to put an end to the all-too-embarrassing conversation.

  The dowager shrugged her shoulders in a wonderfully blasé manner, looking as though she were thoroughly enjoying herself.

  Julia turned to Charles, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart as she was speared with those incredibly blue eyes.

  “I have caught nobody, Lord Ranford. The vicar came to call on your mother this morning and was kind enough to offer to take me driving tomorrow afternoon so that I may see a little of the surrounding area. We only met today, for heaven’s sake,” she finished with a nervous little laugh.

  What could the dowager have been thinking to say something so outrageous?

  “We had no idea you would be this upset about it, dearest,” said the countess, watching her son closely.

  Charles, who had just taken a gulp of brandy, choked and spluttered before gasping. “I am not upset.”