“He was not my companion,” she said quickly. “He hopes to be my, or rather my great-grandmother’s, publisher.”
“How interesting.” They started toward the park gate. “And this well-planned rendezvous was his way of trying to convince you to sell him the memoirs?”
“Rendezvous?” She laughed. “Goodness, my lord, you do have a unique way of looking at things.”
“I simply saw how he was looking at you.” He shook his head in a solemn manner. “It was not the look of a publisher interested only in a book.”
“He did ask to call on me,” she said, in an offhand manner.
He nearly stumbled. Not merely at her words but at the mildly smug note in her voice. Still, why shouldn’t she be smug? She was a lovely—no, beautiful—woman who, from everything Veronica said, deserved to be courted and wooed and won. Not, however by a man whose ulterior motives were questionable. His own motives weren’t the least bit questionable. He’d been very straightforward. He wanted the memoirs and he wanted her friendship. If one helped him achieve the other, well, there was nothing wrong with that. Not really. He ignored the voice in the back of his head that said just maybe there was. Still, Julia knew exactly what his intentions were. Could the same be said for Cadwallender? And even an intelligent woman could lose her head over romantic nonsense and a handsome face and, God help them all, breakfast in the park.
“And?” she prompted.
“And what?” He stared at her.
She sighed. “I didn’t think you were paying attention. My lord, if you truly wish to be friends, the very least you can do is listen to what I am saying. It’s not a great deal to expect from one’s friends.”
“My apologies,” he said smoothly. “I was swept away by the mellifluous nature of your voice and the poetry of your words which naturally distracted me.”
“Poetry?”
He nodded. “Poetry.”
“You don’t like poetry.”
“Unless it comes from your lips.”
She laughed. “You needn’t try so hard to be … whatever it is you’re trying to be.”
“Charming.” He shrugged in a offhand manner. “Thoughtful. Attentive.”
“Thus far, you’re not doing well in terms of attentive. Although, the roses were most thoughtful and I thank you.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“I asked you about your dog.”
“What dog?”
“The dog you said you were going to acquire.” She glanced at him, amusement in her eyes. “Unless of course that was simply something else you said in the interest of being charming.”
“Not at all.” Indignation rang in his voice. “I have every intention of getting a dog, any day now.”
“Of course you do.” She smiled as if she didn’t believe him for a minute.
“If I recall, I advised you to get a dog as well. As a matter of safety,” he added.
“I am perfectly safe.” She cast him a sidelong glance. “Why, the most eventful thing that has ever happened to me in the park was being invited to breakfast al fresco.”
“About that.” They paused in front of a house, small for Mayfair but respectable. He drew his brows together. “Why are we stopping?”
“This is my house.”
“Oh.” He glanced around. “This is still Mayfair?”
“This is not your end of Mayfair but mine.” She gazed up at the house. “This was a wedding gift from my late husband’s family.” She scoffed. “The only thing they couldn’t take back. All I have left.”
He studied her. The look in her eye was thoughtful, without remorse. What kind of woman wasn’t angry over the unfair turns her life had taken? Admiration washed through him.
“And there are bills to be paid.” She cast him a wry smile. “And memoirs to be sold.”
“Yes, of course.” It was on the tip of his tongue to mention his new offer but he caught himself. Now was not the right time. It might not be the right time to mention another matter that had been on his mind since he had spoken with Ellsworth. Still, he was compelled to say something. “Lady Winterset.” He chose his words with care. “You should consider that gentlemen who are aware of, or interested, in the memoirs, well, you should be cautious.” He paused. “They might think you are exactly like your great-grandmother.”
She choked. “What?”
“There is the possibility that—”
“Like my great-grandmother?”
“Yes, well, in terms of character and so forth.”
“Character?”
“She was …”
“What?”
“Free with her favors.” He drew a deep breath. “A tart.”
“And you think Mr. Cadwallender asked to call on me because he thinks I am likely to follow in Hermione’s footsteps?”
“I didn’t say that,” he said quickly. In truth, he was thinking of Ellsworth. “I just think it’s something you should keep in mind.”
“Because a gentleman would not be interested in calling on me otherwise?”
“Don’t be absurd.” He scoffed. “You know as well as I do that’s ridiculous. You know full well how incredibly compelling and damn near irresistible you are.”
She gasped. “I know nothing of the sort. What utter nonsense.”
He ignored her. “And as your friend, it is my responsibility to, well, protect you.”
Her eyes widened. “To do what?”
“To protect you. I know you won’t take this well—”
“I have been protecting myself for three years.”
“I know. Still”—he looked her directly in the eye—“one can always use help from a friend.”
She stared at him in shock. “Do you really want to be my friend?”
“I do.”
“This is not just part of your plan to get the memoirs?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I am not abandoning that but it has nothing to do with our friendship.”
“You are as confusing as you are annoying.”
“To no one as much as to myself,” he said under his breath.
“Very well.” She drew a deep breath. “I shall quite value your friendship, Harrison.”
“And I yours, Julia.” He took her hand in his.
“And as we are friends, do tell, how did you get rid of Mr. Cadwallender?”
He stared directly into her eyes and knew from the moment the words were out of his mouth, she didn’t believe him. “I didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t think so.” She turned to go into the house then turned back. “And as for being just like Hermione. The more I read about her life, the more I get to know her. Why, I often feel that she is actually speaking to me.”
He stared.
“And the more I get to know her, the more I like her. The more I admire her courage and her strength. She lived her own life in her own way without undue apology and without regrets.” She leaned closer and met his gaze. “As for being like her, perhaps not in the past but I do hope so in the future.”
With that, she turned and strode into her house. Harrison stared after her. He had no idea if that had gone well or very, very bad. Still …
He grinned, turned on his heel, and strode toward his end of Mayfair. She had called him Harrison.
… and then he professed his love and of course, I reciprocated. In that moment, in that time and place, I did indeed love him. And why wouldn’t I? He was charming and handsome and even his brief moments of needless jealousy were most endearing. Did I promise to love him forever? What an absurd idea. I knew myself better than that and more, I knew him.
Love is at once remarkable and confusing, Dear Reader. I have always firmly believed the more love there is to be had, the better we all are. But it can, as well, be a weapon and it can, unfortunately, also be a lie. And while I don’t believe one can love too often and certainly never too well, one should always be cautious when a declaration of love comes too soon. The words themselves are entirely too
easy to say …
from The Perfect Mistress,
the Memoirs of Lady Hermione Middlebury
Chapter Nine
Julia paced the width of her parlor and tried not to scream out of sheer frustration. As she had paced and controlled herself for the last hour. How dare he suggest that Benjamin, or any man for that matter, would only be interested in her because they assumed she would be as easy in her virtue as Hermione had been. Was he being a protective friend or did he think that of her as well?
“That was most impressive. I must say I wasn’t sure that you were up to the challenge.”
Julia uttered a small scream.
“Well, that was rude.”
Julia glared, yanked open the door, and yelled to her servants who would no doubt come running at her scream. “There was a mouse. Nothing to worry about, it’s gone.” She slammed the door behind her. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to give you the courage of your convictions,” Hermione said in a lofty manner.
“But you only come out at night.”
“My dear child, I do not come out like a debutante in her first season.” She scoffed. “I appear. Thus far I have chosen only to appear at night.”
“Nonetheless, I would prefer that you not appear when I least expect you! And I expect you at night when ghosts are supposed to appear.”
“Goodness, Julia, it’s not as if there were rules for this sort of thing. There is no guidebook to the hereafter.” She lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “One simply gets in the carriage and goes. Admittedly, it would be nice to know if there was an end to the journey, but on the other hand, to continue to exist at all is not unpleasant.” Her voice softened. “You should not allow a mere man to upset you like this, my dear.”
Julia drew a deep breath. “I don’t know what to make of him.”
“Him being Mr. Cadwallender or him being Harrison?”
“Harrison.” She shook her head. “I don’t trust him.”
“But?”
“But …” She sighed. “I want to.”
Hermione nodded. “There is something irresistible about a man who wishes to take care of you.”
She cast her a sharp glance. “I don’t need to be taken care of.”
“Nonsense, darling. Even the most capable woman needs someone to take care of her. As does the most competent man.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That makes no sense at all.”
“Of course it does. I’m not talking about physical need but rather …” She thought for a moment. “Needs of the heart as it were.”
Julia arched a brow. “Love?”
“Yes.” She shrugged, “Love, affection, friendship. One often leads to the other.”
“Are you saying that Harrison might, well, that love might be involved?”
“I’m not saying anything of the sort.” She paused. “At least not yet. But his feelings toward you are very strong.” She studied the younger woman thoughtfully. “As are yours for him.”
“Indeed they are,” she snapped. “Feelings of annoyance, irritation, anger.”
“Fine line, my dear,” Hermione murmured.
“Did you hear what he said? Of course you heard what he said.” She resumed pacing. “He said gentlemen who know about you might think I am exactly like you.”
Hermione chuckled.
Julia huffed. “It’s not the least bit funny.”
“Nonsense, it’s most amusing. And it is your legacy, I’m afraid.”
Julia stared. “But I’m not like you. At least not when it comes to your adventures. I would like to be more like you, you know, in other ways. Your strength, your courage, your independence.”
“My dear child.” Hermione cast her a loving smile. “You already are like me.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m not. I am too cautious and quite cowardly.”
“You don’t see it but I do.” Hermione paused for a moment. “You have weathered the death of a husband, not an easy thing to do. You took the loss of your income in stride and found a way to finance your future.”
“Thanks to you,” she said pointedly.
“Rubbish.” Hermione shrugged. “The memoirs give you the means, nothing more than that. You could have hidden them away or destroyed them yourself. Instead, you’ve chosen to use them to your benefit.” She shook her head. “You know full well they will be viewed as scandalous. It takes a great deal of courage to flaunt convention.”
“But it’s not my scandal.”
“It will be.”
“Yes, I suppose.” Julia sighed. “Still, I don’t have a choice.”
“Certainly, you do. You did not accept Harrison’s first offer nor Benjamin’s for that matter. Someone lacking strength would have accepted either at once and been grateful to have been done with it.” She pinned Julia with a firm look. “It’s not easy to do what one needs to do and I am proud of you.”
Julia smiled wryly. “A moment ago you said you weren’t sure if I was up to the challenge.”
“I didn’t mean the challenge presented by my book or even of doing what you have to do. You’re well up to that.” Her eyes twinkled. “I meant the challenge of resisting the urge to strangle Harrison with your bare hands.”
“It wasn’t easy.” She shook her head. “He drives me mad and makes me want nothing more than to box his ears and yet …”
“Yet, there is something about him.”
“Yes, there is.” She drew her brows together. “What is going to happen next?”
“Goodness, how would I know?”
“Well, I assumed—”
“I’m dead, darling, which does not mean I can see into the future.” She sniffed. “I do not do parlor tricks and I do not tell fortunes.”
“Pity.”
“You cannot imagine my own disappointment. One would have thought death would bestow substantially greater benefits as so much has been lost. I do manage to see a great deal of what is currently happening but not everything. And I cannot say what will happen. Still”—she grinned—“I can try. Nothing ventured, you know.” She tilted her head up, closed her eyes, stretched her arms out, palms facing toward the heavens.
Julia choked back a laugh. “You look ridiculous. What are you doing?”
“Trying to see into the future as you requested.”
“I did no such thing.” Julia crossed her arms over her chest and watched in amusement. “Are you seeing anything?”
“One moment, if you please. These things take time. Ah, yes.” Her brow furrowed. “I see … I see …”
Julia laughed. “What do you see?”
“You are going from famine to feast, my dear. In addition to Harrison and Benjamin, there will soon be one more gentleman on your doorstep.”
“I thought you couldn’t see into the future.”
“I can’t.” She dropped her arms and opened her eyes. “There is a gentleman coming up your front walk.”
Julia’s eyes widened. “Now?”
“This very moment.” She glanced at the clock. “And I must be off. Other matters to attend to.”
“What other matters?”
“You’d be surprised.” She laughed and vanished.
“That’s most unnerving, you know,” Julia called, addressing nothing but air. “I do hope you don’t plan to make a habit of this.”
Hermione’s laughter lingered in the room. A knock sounded at the door and Julia jumped.
“Yes?”
Daniels opened the door and glanced around as if looking for someone. She sighed. Good Lord, her servants were soon going to think she was as mad as everyone had thought her grandmother to be.
“A Mr. Ellsworth is here, my lady,” Daniels said in his usual cool manner.
“Mr. Ellsworth?” Her brows rose in surprise. “Show him in.”
“Yes, my lady.” Daniels glanced around once again.
“And you had best have someone set some traps,” she said weakly. “The mice, you know.”
“Yes, my lady, at once.”
A moment later he showed Mr. Ellsworth into the parlor.
“Good day, Lady Winterset.” The author strode across the room to take her hands in his. “How delightful it is to see you again.”
He was unquestionably most attractive with a slight gleam of delightful wickedness in his hazel eyes. Add to that his potent air of confidence and she could understand why the celebrated author was as well known for his amorous adventures as he was for his literary endeavors.
“It’s nice to see you too, Mr. Ellsworth. And most surprising.” She pulled her hands from his.
He raised a brow. “Too much?”
She smiled. “Entirely too much.”
“My apologies.” He grinned. “I could not resist.”
“Well, do try your best,” she said wryly.
He chuckled. “It will be difficult.”
She stepped away and chose to sit on a chair then gestured at the sofa. “Please sit down and tell me why you’re here.”
“Why, I wish to further the acquaintance of a beautiful woman, of course.” He sat on the end of the sofa closest to her chair and leaned forward. “And you are quite lovely, Lady Winterset.”
“And you are entirely too charming. Furthermore, I don’t believe you for a moment.”
“Really?” He chuckled. “Most women do.”
“I am not most women,” she said primly.
“Exactly why you are so appealing.”
Despite his forward, most improper manner, or perhaps because of it, there was something undeniably charming about the man and she smiled in spite of herself. “Why are you here, Mr. Ellsworth?”
“Do I need a reason? It’s not enough that you have captured my heart?”
She laughed. “What utter nonsense. Although I do say you live up to your reputation.”
He grinned. “It is well earned.”
“I have no doubt of that. But I seriously doubt, on the basis of a few words at dinner, that I have captured your heart.”
“A heart has been captured by far less.”
“Not mine and I doubt yours either,” she said firmly. “Furthermore, I have no desire to become one of your string of conquests.”
The Perfect Mistress Page 14
