Julia had even surprised herself with the difference this made. It softened her features, highlighted the green of her eyes, and made her seem younger and less severe.
This was the best it was going to get, at least until she could order some new dresses from the mantua maker in the morning.
So, picking up her heavy woollen cloak, Julia made her way downstairs.
As it turned out, she was late. Or at least later than everybody else, for she was the last to arrive. The murmur of voices halted as she stepped into the room, and she had the sudden urge to turn tail and run.
Her eyes were drawn straight to Charles, and what she saw in his face made her want to run again, except this time she would run to him and not away. And, in fairness, his mother probably shouldn’t be a witness to what she had in mind.
“Julia, you look absolutely beautiful,” exclaimed Caroline as she came forward and grasped Julia’s arm.
“Yes, your hair is so lovely in that style,” agreed Rebecca, flanking her other side.
Julia ran a gamut of sincere but embarrassing compliments before they finally arrived at where a waiting footman was holding a tray of drinks.
“Champagne, I think,” said the dowager. “This is a special occasion, after all.”
“It is?” asked Julia.
“Of course,” said the dowager, handing her a glass with a wink and an indulgent smile. “You’ve finally decided to come out of hiding.”
Julia blushed.
“Your grace, ‘tis the same dress I’ve been wearing for months.”
“Is it? It looks very different.”
“Well, I — uh, I made some adjustments.”
“And I’m very glad you did.”
“As am I.”
The ladies melted away as Julia spun round at the sound of the deep voice behind her, her heart telling her before her eyes that it was Charles.
“And why is that?” she asked flirtatiously, feeling extremely confident in her new look.
His answering grin was explanation enough; he looked as though he should like to devour her. And she wouldn’t mind in the slightest.
“I think you can guess.”
“Perhaps. I should need some clues though.”
“Was last night not clue enough?”
“Charles,” she gasped, eyes darting round to make sure he hadn’t been heard. “You mustn’t say such things, if people heard—”
“What if they did?”
“Well, I would be ruined, for a start.”
“Ah yes, that would be a shame indeed. Of course, we would have to marry to preserve your honour, would we not?”
Julia gaped. There really was no other word for it. He could not mean what he said, could he? And what was he saying in any case? Was he saying that he — he wanted to marry her?
“Dinner is served, your grace.”
The sound of the sycophantic voice addressing Edward brought an abrupt halt to Julia’s conversation with Charles.
And since they were in public, he went to escort the dowager to dinner. Not standing on ceremony there was not an option.
DINNER PASSED WITHOUT INCIDENT, though Julia could not have told anyone what they ate or spoke about. Her emotions flew between total elation that Charles might care enough for her to marry her, to abject despair that he would only consider it if she were compromised beyond help, to furious anger at herself for entertaining such thoughts in the first place.
It was rather tiring, Julia observed, constantly fighting with herself.
THE THEATRE WAS BEAUTIFUL and packed to capacity. Since it wasn’t the Season, a lot of the Irish gentry spent their winter months between their estates and Dublin, and so it was that the countess, in particular, had a large acquaintance here.
Julia was introduced to them all, and the longer she was introduced, the dowdier she felt.
The glow of her new gown and improved hairstyle dimmed significantly in the face of the very real elegance that surrounded her.
Though everyone was pleasant enough, there were some who would have cut her direct if they had been brave enough to do so in front of the Duke of Hartridge.
Julia watched fascinated as word of his presence flew round the theatre.
She had known, of course, that he was a significant member of the Peerage, but it was still a sight to behold. It was almost as though Prinny himself had arrived!
Charles drew plenty of attention too, and even Tom, though his was more because everyone knew he was rich as Croesus and devilishly charming as well.
But Edward was quite the shining star.
Although nobody introduced her as a companion, people seemed to have made an accurate guess since she was rather ignored by the more snobbish set.
Julia tried not to let it bother her, but it was the first time she’d ever felt so isolated from the families that she had come to love as her own.
She slunk away to a corner to gather her composure and give herself a good talking to.
“Are you hiding?” Charles’s voice sounded by her ear, sending a delicious shiver through her body.
“No, merely observing.”
“Liar,” he said, and Julia could have sworn she felt his teeth nip at her lobe.
“My lord, really,” she said astonished.
Charles paused then abruptly turned her to face him, his hands upon her shoulders, bending so that his face was almost level with hers.
“My lord?” he asked, his tone incredulous.
“Well,” she muttered. “We are in public.”
“So?”
Julia huffed out a breath of frustration.
“Whatever do you mean, ‘so’? she asked angrily. “You cannot stand so close, or whisper, or… or do that in public. And with a companion, too.”
“A companion? I hardly think you are a mere companion, angel.”
“Tell that to the rest of them,” she muttered moodily.
“Has someone been rude?” he demanded now, the look on his face fierce and, frankly, gorgeous.
“No, of course not. Who would risk the ire of both Ranford and Hartridge?” she quipped. “But it is rather obvious that I am an outsider amongst you. People will draw their own conclusions.”
“Are you sulking?” he asked, his tone a mixture of incredulity and amusement.
Julia felt her temper rise.
“Of course not,” she countered hotly. “Ladies do not sulk.”
“You are. You’re sulking,” he said, laughing. “It’s adorable.”
Just like that, her anger deflated, but she would admit nothing.
“Do go along and do your duty, my lord” she said stiffly. “I shall come directly.”
Charles didn’t answer but studied her for a moment before finally grasping her hand and pulling it into the crook of his arm.
“What are you doing?”
“Proving that you’re not an outsider.”
“Charles, really.” Julia started pulling away. “I am perfectly happy to stand here quietly. Do not make a scene.”
“Julia,” he said patiently as if speaking to a small child. “If you do not allow me to escort you back into the fray, I shall kiss you right here right now, the way I’ve been wanting to since you left the music room last night. I am no expert on the crazy machinations of the ladies of the ton, but, at a guess, I would say that would create a bigger scene. So what is it to be?”
Julia should have rung a peal over his head for even saying such a thing. But the idea was so tempting she actually hesitated and considered it. Which was completely insane.
Charles’s eyes widened then lit with that blue flame that buckled her knees before he grinned.
“Do not tell me Miss Proper is actually considering it?”
“Of course I’m not” she lied sharply.
Charles merely chuckled and shook his head at her.
“Come,” he said softly.
And she did.
THE CURTAINS CLOSED, AND Charles clapped because everybody e
lse did.
That was his only clue that they had reached the interval of the performance.
He hadn’t been concentrating even a little bit. His entire focus was on Julia, sitting to his right.
He could smell her scent; she smelled like heady summer roses, utterly intoxicating.
He could sense it every time she moved. Her arm would brush his, causing his breath to stutter. Her leg would press against him, causing him to stiffen and pray for deliverance.
She was bewitching, and he wanted more than anything for her to be his.
Telling her of his past hadn’t even been painful, not really. He didn’t relish reliving his embarrassment, but there was no judgement from her, no reprimands, only sympathy and understanding. And he felt a sense of relief that he had shared it all, had opened himself up to her.
Standing now, he quickly offered to go for refreshments. It wasn’t chivalrous. He either needed to slake his desire for Julia then and there, or he needed to get away from her. Plus, he didn’t feel like making idle chitchat with his mother’s cronies or his adoring fans, of whom there were apparently several. He’d noticed the mamas spotting him the second he walked in; he had no doubt there’d be an army of them throwing their daughters at him in a matter of minutes.
“May I join you, Lord Ransford? I should like to stretch my legs.” Charles almost groaned aloud as he heard Julia’s request then immediately began to picture her legs.
But he put a brave face on it and smiled in her direction.
“Of course, angel.”
He saw her jaw drop and her cheeks flame at the endearment. He saw the dowager practically have an apoplexy. He saw everyone else staring in shock. He didn’t give a damn.
“Er — th-thank you,” she muttered, nearly tripping over herself to get out of the box.
Once outside and amongst the crush of visitors and refreshment seekers, she rounded on him.
Oh dear. She looked angry.
“I am furious,” she bit out.
Right. Definitely angry.
“Why’s that?” he asked jovially, hoping to lighten her mood, although she was rather beautiful when she was in a temper.
“Why’s that?” she repeated astounded. “Perhaps because you called me angel in front of your family. And the dowager. You know, the dowager? The lady who employs me?” she hissed.
“I know who she is. And I fail to see what the problem is.”
“Oh, do you?” she asked, her tone dripping sarcasm. “You see no problem in throwing about terms of endearment in front of everyone? What will they think now? Hmm? That you’ve seduced me, probably. That we’re, that you are, that I — well, you know what they will think.”
“Why would they think that?”
“Er, because you’re you.”
Charles was pretty sure that he’d just been insulted, but she was still berating him, and he didn’t want to miss anything in case he misstepped again.
“You have put us in an utterly untenable position. What if they try to force you to marry me? Well, it will serve you right if they do. You must fix this. You must tell them—”
“Would that be so bad?” he blurted out, surprising them both.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Marriage. Would it be so bad?”
Julia stared at him open-mouthed. And since he hadn’t actually intended to say that and, therefore, had no clue what to say next, he stared right back.
It was deuced uncomfortable, Chares discovered, to be just standing and staring at someone for so long. He had quite literally forgotten every word in his vocabulary. His mind was a total blank.
“Julia! Is that you?”
They both turned at the sound of a female voice calling from across the hallway. Charles didn’t know who the lady was, but he could have kissed her for the timely interruption.
He watched Julia as her eyes fell on the lady calling them and was alarmed at her sudden pallor. Why, she looked as though she’d seen a ghost.
“Julia,” the lady called again, moving swiftly toward them. “Julia Berkley. I declare! It is you.”
Julia Berkley? Charles frowned and waited for Julia to correct the woman. To his astonishment, she stayed completely quiet. Even her lips had turned white.
“Angel, are you all right?” he whispered, but she either didn’t hear him or was too stunned to answer.
“Good heavens. Imagine running into you here, after all this time,” said the woman, and as she drew closer, Charles saw that her smile did not reach her eyes.
“Little Julia Berkley. My how you’ve grown.”
Julia remained still as though she were a statue. She was obviously in a state of total shock.
“Er, good evening Miss—” Charles stepped forward, giving Julia a moment to recover.
“Mrs,” answered the woman, her cold amber eyes raking speculatively over him. “Mrs. Birch.”
“Mrs. Birch. An honour, I am—”
“Oh, I know who you are, Your Lordship,” the woman tittered.
The sound grated on his nerves. There was something very off-putting about this woman.
She could not be too old, perhaps in her mid-thirties, yet her face was haggard and drawn. Her gown was expensive but bordering on vulgar, and her hair, he was sure, was not naturally that brassy blond colour.
“And how do you know our Julia?” he asked.
“I could ask you the same thing, my lord,” she answered, probably thinking she was being flirtatious but in reality being insubordinate and irritating.
Charles adopted the haughtiest expression he could muster.
“Yes, you could. But you wouldn’t, would you?”
The lady, at least, had the grace to look contrite.
“Of course not. I, um, well, I haven’t seen dear Julia in years. I knew her father.”
Charles glanced at Julia and watched as she blanched as though she’d just been slapped.
What the hell was going on here? It seemed that she was correct; she did know Julia, yet she did not know her name?
“You knew Sir William?
“Oh, yes. We were very good friends for a time.” Mrs. Birch’s demeanour left no room for doubt as to how good a friend she had been to Sir William. “Miss Berkley always made quite sure we were comfortable.”
“Mrs. Birch, why do you keep calling her Miss Berkley? Her name is—”
“Charles, there you are.”
Julia almost passed out with relief as Charles’s questions were interrupted by the arrival of Caroline.
“Mother is quite parched. Have you gotten the refreshments?”
Caroline came to stand next to them and smiled politely at Mrs. Birch.
“Apologies, Caro. I’m afraid we were distracted by meeting one of Julia’s old friends.”
JULIA GLANCED UP AT him and saw that he was watching her carefully and, to her horror, suspiciously. She could not blame him. He must be thoroughly confused and now, she thought desperately. Mrs. Birch was about to expose her for the liar she truly was.
She thought back to Charles’s speech about her honesty and integrity and felt sick to the stomach. He would be so disappointed. He would hate her.
“Mrs. Birch, please allow me to introduce my sister, Lady Caroline Crawdon. Caroline, Mrs. Birch. A friend of Julia’s father,” Charles said, his voice stiff and formal.
Caroline glanced at Charles curiously, no doubt wondering why he sounded suddenly so angry, before turning with a polite smile to Mrs. Birch.
“My lady,” the other lady was exclaiming fawningly. “It is truly an honour to meet you. Your marriage was quite the on dit around town at one stage.”
There weren’t many in the ton who could give an icy, quelling stare like Caroline Crawdon, and whilst her marriage to Tom had softened her in a lot of ways, she still had it and could pull it out when required.
Mrs. Birch’s smile dimmed dramatically in the face of Caroline’s expression.
And Caro, rather than continue the con
versation, gave the other woman a curt nod before turning to Julia and Charles.
“I suddenly find myself more in need of a drink than ever,” she said her tone freezing while Mrs. Birch’s expression dropped comically. “Julia, do accompany me back to the box. Charles, be a dear and hurry with those refreshments.”
Julia only had time for the quickest of nods in Mrs. Birch’s direction before she was swept away by Caroline.
“Odious creature,” Caro fumed beside her, though her smile remained fixed and false on her face as she responded to called greetings and bows. “Who on earth is she?”
Julia felt positively ill at the question. Her time was up. She was going to have to confess everything.
Caroline glanced at her when she didn’t answer, and what she apparently saw in Julia’s face had her grinding to a halt.
“Julia, dear. What on earth is the matter?”
“I — oh, Caroline, I — I have to tell you, or Charles, or someone.”
“Of course, Julia. You know you can tell me anything. Although, perhaps not here.”
“No, no of course not.”
“Julia has that old dragon upset you? Because if she has I—”
Julia laughed in spite of her dire situation at Caroline’s fierce tone and expression.
“No, nothing like that. It’s just, I need to explain about, about my past.”
Caroline’s eyes widened, but she quickly recovered and offered Julia a reassuring squeeze.
“All right, we’ll talk later. And do not fret, my dear. Nothing can be as bad as all that.”
Caroline swept into the box before her, and Julia felt a surge of hope. She was right, of course. It wouldn’t be as bad as she imagined. And it would be a relief to get everything out in the open.
But her relief was short-lived.
Just as she made to walk in behind Caroline, a hand shot out and grabbed her elbow. As she turned, her eyes clashed with the icy blue of Charles’s.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” he said quietly. “But we will speak of this later.” He looked furious.
And Julia felt her nerves skitter all over again.
Mysterious Miss Channing (Ranford Book 3) Page 16
