Mysterious Miss Channing (Ranford Book 3)

by Nadine Millard

  Apart from a brief lunch where they all sat down together, he hadn’t seen her.

  He itched to search her out. In such a short space of time, his arms felt empty without her, his mind was constantly on her, his heart beat faster whenever she was around.

  A sharp rap on the study door had Charles calling a very wary “Come in.” He breathed a sigh of relief when Tom strode into the room.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, taking a seat at the large mahogany desk.

  “Working.”

  “Hiding.”

  “That too,” Charles confirmed with a wry grin. “Brandy?” he offered, holding up the bottle.

  “Always.” Tom leaned back and studied Charles.

  Charles pretended not to notice.

  “Your mama sent me to find you. Then Caroline sent me to find you. Then Rebecca threatened to — er, let’s just say she has a creative way of words and an alarming knowledge of the male anatomy,” he said with a wince. “Well, anyway, she sent me to find you too. Why are you hiding? Don’t you know that people have started to arrive for the ball?”

  “Yes, I’ve seen them. And you know what I’ve seen? Girls. Lots of young, silly, frilly girls. I’m not going out there until the place fills up a bit. Or until Ju—”He drew to an abrupt halt.

  Tom grinned.

  “Do you think any of us are unaware of your feelings for Julia, man? For God’s sake, ‘tis practically stamped on your forehead.”

  Charles handed Tom his drink before taking a sip of his own.

  His immediate reaction to Tom’s words was denial but really, why bother? If he had his way, they would be engaged by the end of the night.

  “So,” Tom continued, sitting back. “When are you going to propose?”

  Charles could feel himself grinning like a fool, but he couldn’t help himself.

  “Tonight, if I get the chance. I have barely seen her today.”

  “Ah, yes. Well, I haven’t seen my own wife today. And I’m not happy about it. So come, let us find the ladies and enjoy their company.” He stood, downing the rest of his drink and placing the empty tumbler on the desk.

  “Tom, you see Caro all day, every day. Don’t you think you can survive a bit of a separation?”

  “I’m sure I could. But I have no desire to. I would infinitely prefer to be gazing at my wife’s beautiful face than yours, Charles.”

  “I’ll have you know I am considered quite the handsome man,” sniffed Charles, but he followed Tom out of the room regardless.

  “I am aware. However, you don’t exactly have the equipment that I find attractive. Now, your sister—”

  “For God’s sake, I don’t know why you and Edward get such enjoyment out of speaking so. It’s not bloody funny to speak about my sisters like that in front of me.”

  Tom merely chuckled and walked toward where the rest of the family were standing, receiving people. Rebecca had been excused since she was tiring more easily these days. Edward had been positively elated to cry off, Tom informed him with a scowl.

  The countess frowned at Charles as he came and took his place beside her.

  “Where are you been, Charles? Guests have already begun arriving.”

  “Apologies, Mother,” he said in a most unapologetic tone. “I had some business to attend to.”

  “Hmm,” she answered with a raised brow. “The business of shirking your duties.”

  “No, I—”

  “Dearest, do not bother lying to me. I am your mother. I know.”

  Her eyes glinted in the way that mothers could, so Charles duly shut up and concentrated on greeting the array of guests coming up the steps of the house.

  He found himself completely unable to concentrate, however, and soon enough, it just became a blur of satin, giggling, predatory mamas, and bored looking gentlemen.

  His attention was caught briefly by the entrance of two men, neither of whom he’d ever seen. One was significantly older than Charles, the other a younger man but just as unfamiliar.

  He turned to ask his mother who they were, when his attention was caught by a flash of green on the stairs.

  It felt as though time stood still.

  Julia.

  Charles felt the rest of the room melt away until it was just her, and his desperate heart pounded with every step she took.

  He took his time as he gazed at every part of her coming down the stairs. Her feet were shod in dainty ivory slippers. Her slender arms encased in ivory gloves. But the dress. Dear God, the dress.

  Charles swallowed convulsively as he took her in. The first thing he noticed was that the dress was almost the exact colour of her eyes; a rich, seductive green. The second that the satin hugged her curves so much that he was jealous of it, jealous of a piece of material. The neckline gave him a delicious glimpse of her smooth, creamy skin; enough to drive him slowly insane.

  Charles had never thought of himself as having an eye for or an interest in women’s fashion, but right then he was so interested it felt as though his life depended on it. He was interested in how smooth the satin would feel beneath his fingertips; he was interested in the ivory lace that overlaid the green, falling open to the floor.

  He didn’t know what she’d done to her hair; all he knew was that the pile of soft curls made his hands itch to run his fingers through it, removing the pins and letting it fall like a river of red down her back, across his pillows.

  He swallowed again.

  Perhaps, he thought, he shouldn’t marry her. Surely, if he saw her like this every evening, his heart would give out.

  Julia looked up at that moment, and her eyes locked with his own.

  The flare of emotion that he saw in her face had him prowling toward her without even realising it.

  “Good evening, Charles,” she said with a smile as he stopped in front of her.

  “You are breathtaking,” he said in response.

  Julia laughed, a happy grin splitting her face. “Not exactly ‘good evening,’ but I think I prefer it,” she said.

  “Come dance with me” was Charles’s only response, his eyes still devouring her.

  Julia felt her skin sizzle with the heat of his look. “Don’t you have to receive your guests?”

  “I don’t give a—”

  “CHARLES.”

  Julia watched in amusement as Charles threw his eyes to heaven and prayed for deliverance before turning to face the formidable figure of his sister Caroline.

  “Forgotten your guests, have you?” she asked with an icy stare.

  “No, I just don’t give a damn about them,” he quipped with a mutinous set to his jaw.

  Julia loved that jaw, she thought distractedly. She loved everything about him. And she loved that his reaction to seeing her had been everything she’d wished for and more. Why, he looked as though he might devour her right there in full view of all of his distinguished guests. And, shockingly, she didn’t think she would mind.

  “Don’t you agree, Julia?”

  Caroline’s question brought Julia’s mind back from her rather inappropriate thoughts.

  “Er, yes, of course,” she stammered, figuring that it was safer to agree with Caroline since that lady was rarely if ever wrong and certainly wasn’t to be argued with if one could help it.

  She frowned at Charles’s wounded look.

  “There you have it. Even Julia thinks you should come back and do your duty. Now, be a good little earl and get back to the receiving line.”

  Julia felt a pang of disappointment as she realised why Charles was looking like a puppy who’d been kicked. She shot him an apologetic look as Caroline smirked triumphantly then marched away.

  “I can’t believe you fed me to the wolves,” he said.

  “I wasn’t listening to her,” Julia confessed with a blush.

  She watched as his ice blue eyes darkened, taking in the pink of her cheeks and the guilty expression she felt was on her face.

  “Oh really?” He raised his brows, and
his tone went from sulky to seductive. “And where was that mind of yours, hmm?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  He grinned then, and she caught her breath at the beauty of it.

  “Why, you little harlot,” he said teasingly. “All this time I’ve been calling you angelic, and here you are, thinking of violating me.”

  “What?” She felt her cheeks flame even more. “I was not. You can’t say such things in front of people.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind. I rather like the thought of you violating me.”

  “Charles, please,” she whimpered, acutely embarrassed and very much aware of the mill of people surrounding them.

  He chuckled softly, moving his hand to tuck an errant curl back from her brow.

  “Did you pick this dress with the sole purpose of torturing me?” he asked now, his expression going from teasing to intense in the blink of an eye.

  Julia’s heart stuttered.

  “I had hoped that you would like it,” she answered, biting her lip.

  “Like it?” he asked with a strangled sounding laugh. “I more than like it. In fact, I think I and that dress should become much, much better acquainted.” He growled, stepping closer, much closer than he should be in company.

  “Oh, Charles.” Caroline’s voice thrilled over the murmur of conversation.

  Charles grimaced and uttered a quiet oath.

  “You should go,” said Julia with a smile. “I shall be quite all right without you.”

  “You might,” he answered. “But I won’t.”

  Julia swallowed over a sudden lump and stared at him. When he said such things, when he looked at her as he was looking at her now, she could believe that he loved her as she loved him.

  “It won’t be long, I’m sure, until all the guests have arrived.”

  “With any luck they’ll stop arriving,” he said dryly. “I want to speak with you later. Privately.”

  His eyes glowed, and Julia felt a burst of hope. Could it be? Could he truly want her as she wanted him?

  “Of course,” she answered breathlessly.

  “Julia. You know, don’t you? You know that I—”

  The words seemed to have gotten stuck in his throat, but Julia’s heart burst with joy.

  “I do too,” she breathed, not certain of what he was going to say but hoping with all her might that it was that he loved her. Otherwise, she’d look more than a little ridiculous.

  He grinned once, beautifully and swiftly, before nodding his head and turning toward the dwindling stream of guests.

  Julia watched Charles walk away then turned to take in her surroundings. She felt as though she must be positively glowing, but nobody seemed to think she looked any different. But she was different. Her feelings for Charles had changed her; she was no longer afraid to deal with her past, no longer afraid of her father and his dastardly friend, Lord Larsden.

  She would find out from Caroline’s man if her father was still alive. And regardless of whether he was or he wasn’t, she would confess all to Charles and pray that the knowledge did not change his opinion of her.

  Julia sighed happily and glanced around the room. This time last year she never would have believed where she’d be. Mixing with families like Ranford and Hartridge, being in love with an earl, suspecting that he felt the same way and, possibly most pleasantly surprising of all, no longer in fear of the shadow of her father.

  Rebecca and Edward were in the corner, and Julia watched them for a moment, her eyes taking in Rebecca’s adoring gaze and the way Edward’s body seemed to shield her, automatically protective.

  Julia’s gaze then turned to Tom and Caroline, who had managed to get out of having to welcome guests, and who were now engaged in quiet conversation, their heads close to each other, Tom’s hand trailing up and down Caroline’s arm.

  She wished that she and Charles could be as open in public as Edward and Rebecca and Tom and Caroline. Maybe soon.

  A bark of laughter caught her attention, and she saw, with no small amount of relief, that Mr. Trent was speaking to the young daughter of the local surgeon and seemed much taken with her. She did wonder if Mr. Trent would be able to get over his bizarre snobbery and actually care for the girl, but she was happy that his attention had been caught regardless.

  It was beginning to be a little boring, standing here, waiting for Charles to finish his duties so that they could talk. And it certainly didn’t seem as though the line would be dispersing any time soon.

  With a sigh, Julia made her way toward the ladies’ powder room. It would be infinitely more comfortable to wait in there where she could sit and hug her secret love to herself, rather than catch the eye of someone who wanted to make small talk.

  She had just stepped out of the ballroom when a cold, calloused hand grabbed her upper arm and pulled her round.

  “What in the—”Julia started indignantly before she looked up, and horror robbed her of the words.

  “Hello, my dear. Long time no see.”

  Julia felt paralyzed as a mixture of shock and fear seized her.

  “What? Not even a hello for your own father? Tut, tut. Larsden, you shall have to put some manners on her when she’s yours.”

  His words penetrated the haze of terror, and Julia glanced behind the hated and familiar face to see another just as unwelcome.

  Lord Larsden stepped forward, the grin that had haunted her nightmares spreading across his face.

  “Oh, it will be my pleasure.”

  “MOTHER, PLEASE MAY I go?” Charles knew he was whining like a petulant brat, but the last thing he wanted to do was stand there pretending to like people when Julia was waiting for him. When that dress was waiting for him.

  “Why are you in such a rush to disappear?” his mother asked quietly, the perfect-society-hostess smile still planted firmly on her face.

  “Because,” he started, exasperated, desperately racking his brains for a good excuse. “Because I wanted to mingle, make sure that all our guests are comfortable and being attended to,” he lied.

  “Ah, a pity. If you had said that you wanted to see Julia I would have been more than happy to send you on your way.”

  “Wh—”

  “Really, Charles. Do you think I am blind?”

  She turned to him then and offered him a real smile, clasping his hand in her own.

  “I am very pleased, dear. She is a darling, and I would love to have her as a daughter.”

  Charles was feeling a little dazed, but he couldn’t deny the dart of pleasure at his mother’s approval.

  He grinned and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

  “So I can go?”

  His mother laughed softly.

  “Yes you can go,” she said before tightening her grip. “But Charles — be careful with her. She is — delicate.”

  At his mother’s cryptic remark, the mystery of Julia’s past, the doubts about the woman in Dublin, the lack of information about who and where she was before her meeting with Caroline all came flooding back.

  Charles had been so caught up in his feelings for her that he’d decided none of it mattered, but it niggled at the back of his mind then.

  He’d been burned by a dishonest woman before, and he still bore the scars. But this was Julia, his Julia. His angel. He had to trust her, had to believe that whatever she was keeping from him wasn’t enough to tear them apart.

  He reassured his mother as best he could and then set off to find her.

  Entering the ballroom, Charles scanned the room. There was Edward and Rebecca, their actions enough to give him a sore head, and Tom and Caroline, their actions enough to make him want to get a shotgun.

  But they were in luck this evening, for as much their behaviour caused him to age prematurely, he was too focused on finding Julia and finally asking for her hand to pay them too much attention.

  A quick scan of the ballroom revealed that she was not in attendance. He frowned slightly. He supposed she could be in the powder room, bu
t he didn’t fancy hanging around outside it like a lap dog until she came out.

  He stood for all of five seconds before deciding that lap dogs were underrated creatures, and there were worse things to be compared to.

  Setting off in the direction of the ladies’ room, he studiously ignored any and all fluttering eyelashes and pointedly snubbed any attempts at conversation.

  A glimpse of green satin caught his eye, and he increased his speed, slowing only when he came to the threshold of the ballroom.

  His world seemed to skid to a halt as he took in the scene that met him.

  Two men, both of whom he towered over, he noticed to satisfaction, had Julia cornered, the elder of the two gripping her arm so hard that his knuckles were white.

  Charles’s immediate thought was to grab hold of the man and throttle him with his bare hands, but something made him hesitate.

  Julia looked horrified, even scared, but she wasn’t reacting the way he would have thought. In fact, she wasn’t reacting at all, staring mute and white-lipped at the man.

  Could she know him?

  Charles stepped closer, treading softly now so as not to be heard.

  “How did you find me?” he heard her whisper, and his stomach dropped. She did know him.

  “Why, I’ve been visiting Mrs. Birch, of course. Imagine my delight when she told me she’d stumbled across my daughter, living as some earl’s doxy.”

  Julia gasped, turning even more ashen, but Charles’s attention was caught more with the man’s first words than his insult: my daughter.

  “I am not living as—”Julia started, but her voice trembled, catching as she spoke, and that tiny show of terror spurred Charles into action.

  He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he wasn’t about to stand there and watch her be assaulted.

  “Get your hands off her,” he spoke quietly, allowing the rage he felt to consume him.

  Both men whipped around at the sound of his voice, and Charles was stunned by the features of the older gentleman. His eyes were the exact same startling green as Julia’s.

  “Ah, Lord Ranford, I presume,” the man said, a cold, hard smile not quite reaching his eyes.