My Fair Groom (The Sons of the Aristocracy)

by Linda Rae Sande

  Julia seemed surprised by the information. “Do you still dance with her?” she wondered, hoping the question would help draw out more information about the groom.

  “Of course,” Alistair answered and suddenly realized he couldn’t very well tell Julia he had danced with his mother at a ton ball. It had been several years ago, though. “But not in a long time,” he added, hoping she wouldn’t ask how long.

  She asked.

  “Three years, I suppose,” he allowed, his smile replaced with a look of disappointment.

  “So, she doesn’t live here in town?” Julia half-asked, thinking the woman was probably in a cottage somewhere in Sussex.

  “Oh, she does. Just a few … miles from here,” Alistair responded, suddenly realizing he couldn’t admit that his mother lived within walking distance of Harrington House.

  Julia nodded in the middle of doing another turn. “Do you see her then? On your days off, I mean?” she asked, briefly wondering if the woman she had seen kiss him on the cheek might be his mother. Only if she gave birth to him when she was five, Julia realized just as quickly. The woman from yesterday was far too young to be his mother.

  “I haven’t seen her in some time, actually,” Alistair admitted, making a complete turn and deciding he could tell her a bit more. “But I sent her a note a few days ago.”

  Grinning, because she was glad to learn he kept in contact with his mother, Julia completed her turn and faced him once again. “Your mother, but not your father?” she murmured as they started the next set.

  Alistair did his very best to keep an impassive expression on his face. “My last meeting with the man may be our last in life,” he said, the planes of his face suddenly hard. My own stubbornness is at least as strong as my father’s, he admitted to himself, wondering how he would ever arrange a meeting with his mother so that his father wouldn’t be present.

  The harsh words caught Julia off-guard, and she nearly stumbled in the middle of a turn. Alistair broke formation to catch her by the waist and ensure she had her feet beneath her. Julia inhaled sharply at his sudden touch, her eyes widening. She dared a glance at her mother, sure Lady Mayfield would be on her feet and halfway to where they stood with the intent of scolding the groom for his impropriety. Instead, her mother continued to play the piano-forté as if nothing untoward had happened! It was apparent she had seen Alistair’s inappropriate move, though, when Julia caught the woman giving Alistair a raised eyebrow, as if she was amused by what had happened!

  Monsieur Girard waved a hand. “Continue, please,” he said as if he was merely annoyed by Julia’s brief misstep.

  “Are you well?” Alistair wondered, finding his position and continuing the dance as if nothing had happened.

  “Yes, of course,” Julia replied curtly, embarrassed by having stumbled and even more embarrassed at having the groom lift her back into place.

  Julia was reminded of how he had lifted her onto her horse in the park. He didn’t ask permission or even consider how inappropriate it was for him to be … touching her like that. Making her feel as if she had a fever. Making her insides tumble about in a most unexpected manner. Making her face blush with too much color.

  Or could she blame her reddened face on the dance?

  She couldn’t think of that right now. What about the woman she had seen kissing the groom in the Seven Dials yesterday? How could she determine the woman’s relationship to him without asking outright?

  “I just caught my heel on the hem of my gown,” she murmured with a shake of her head.

  “Ah,” Alistair said with a nod. They took a few more steps before turning again. “I believe you were about to ask me something before your hem interfered,” he said with a glint in his eye.

  Is he teasing me? she wondered, thinking she should be offended at this remark. But his manner didn’t suggest he was humored by her stumble. “I was wondering, Mr. Comber, if there is more to your family than your mother and father,” Julia asked carefully, surprised he would give her such as easy entry back into the conversation.

  “There is, Lady Julia,” he responded lightly, not aware that she referred to a wife and children rather than an older brother. When Julia stumbled again, he was quick to cover for her, surprising her as well as Monsieur Girard. “Besides my parents, who are both living here in London,” he said lightly, “My older brother is practicing his abilities at persuasion on the daughters of the …” He stopped suddenly, realizing what he was about to say – ton. It wouldn’t do to give away his station in life through idle conversation. “The servants that work in my father’s house,” he managed to get out, hoping he wasn’t elevating his status by admitting his father had a house with servants.

  Julia nodded, a bit amused that the groom would allow such information about his brother to come to light.

  “And what of your … wife?” Julia asked, her voice indicating a bit of impatience.

  Alistair was about to deny having a wife when Girard called a halt to the dance. “Lady Julia, you’ve fallen a bit behind,” he called out.

  Alistair glanced at Monsieur Girard, stunned that he wasn’t the object of the dance master’s attention.

  “My apologies,” Julia said as she stepped a bit closer to Alistair for the next part of the dance.

  “No need for apologies,” Alistair stated as he began the next set with a turn. “Now, where were we when we were so rudely interrupted?” he asked, sotto voce.

  Julia dared a glance up at him then. “Your wife, Mr. Comber,” she stated, one brow arching up.

  Alistair stumbled, his nearness to Julia forcing her to take an extra step back to avoid having him collide with her.

  “Mr. Comber, really,” Monsieur Girard said with more than a hint of derision. “Concentrate!”

  Alistair managed a nod in the dance master’s direction before turning his attention back to Julia. He was about to begin the next set of the dance – Lady Mayfield was still playing as she sported a brilliant smile – when he realized Julia was fuming. “My lady?” he whispered, wondering what he could have done to earn such a stern stare.

  “How many children do you have, Mr. Comber?” Julia asked then, not bothering to line up to continue the dance.

  Stunned by the question, Alistair frowned. What had her so upset? “None, my lady,” he said with a shake of his head.

  Julia took an involuntary step back. “None?” she repeated, as if she didn’t believe him.

  “I have none,” he repeated with a shrug. “Of that, I am quite sure,” he reiterated, knowing he had been most careful with those he had been intimate over the years.

  Taking a deep breath, her heart suddenly beating in her ears, Julia stared at him. “And your wife?” she whispered.

  Alistair’s eyebrows furrowed, wondering why she would have thought he had a wife. I kissed her. I wouldn’t have kissed her if I was married. “I don’t have one of those, either, my lady,” he said with a shake of his head. His brows still furrowed, he added in a whisper, “I would never have kissed you if I were married.”

  Julia stared at Alistair, her eyes wide and her mouth open in surprise. “Then, who … who was the woman that kissed you?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

  The music suddenly stopped as Lady Mayfield turned on the piano bench and regarded the couple as they engaged in a quiet discussion in the middle of the dance floor. When she caught Monsieur Girard about to interrupt, she held up a staying hand and gave him a stern shake of her head.

  Confused, Girard took a step back and pretended not to watch his pupils as they spoke with their heads mere inches from one another.

  Alistair reeled at Julia’s question. Kissed me? You did! he almost said. “No one kissed ..,” he started to say, and then stopped.

  Mrs. Regan had kissed him, on the cheek, yesterday. After he’d given her the purse with the fifteen pounds to cover the lease on her meager apartment.

  But if Julia knew about that kiss, then … “You were in the old coach,” Al
istair said suddenly, one finger coming up to wave at her. “With that chit who I caught watching me from an upstairs window,” he added, his voice becoming a bit louder with the accusation.

  Julia’s face flushed a deep red. “I was,” she admitted with a nod, straightening herself so she stood as tall as possible, ready to defend her reason for being in the slums of London. “Lady Samantha and I were on an afternoon ride when we came upon you,” she stated, as if that explained why she was spying on him.

  One of Alistair’s brows cocked up. “It’s a wonder that coach got you home!” he countered. “The wheels looked as if they could have come off at any time, leaving you and Lady … Lady … ”

  “Samantha,” Julia finished for him.

  “Lady Samantha stranded in one of the most dangerous parts of London!” he accused. Lady Samantha?

  Julia gave a toss of her head. “But they didn’t. I made it home without incident,” she said, pushing her chest out toward him so that the snug bosom of her gown was even more snug.

  Struggling to keep his eyes on hers and not on her tight gown, Alistair shook his head. “You followed me,” he accused suddenly.

  Julia crossed her arms, causing her bosom to become even more apparent. “Only a man with your ego could believe that,” she countered with an arched eyebrow. Her eyes were blazing, her face was flushed in a most becoming manner, and she was about to burst out of her gown. It took all of Alistair’s resolve not to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless right then and there.

  “And only a chit would jump to such a ridiculous conclusion that I would have a wife when, in fact, the woman who kissed my cheek,” he said in clipped tones, “Was the widow of one of the men who served with me in the war. I was giving her money to pay her rent,” he stated loud enough so that both Lady Mayfield and Monsieur Girard could hear.

  Julia stood with her mouth open, her eyes wide, staring at the groom. “Widow?” she repeated in a small voice. I didn’t figure on any explanation like this, she considered as she felt a bit light-headed.

  “Michael Regan and I were serving in Belgium when he died. I promised him I would see to his widow,” Alistair murmured in a quieter voice, his eyes no longer on Julia. “And his children,” he whispered with a shrug.

  Julia swayed, her breathing shallow as a gray cloud covered her sight. “Oh,” she managed to get out before she suddenly swayed and then fainted.

  Alistair caught Julia before she had made it halfway to the floor. Lifting her into his arms, Alistair dared a glance at her face and wondered at the look of relief that seemed to appear just before she passed out.

  From her vantage at the piano-forté, Lady Mayfield had paid witness to the entire exchange, at once amused by her daughter’s behavior and appalled that Julia would apparently follow Alistair Comber into the Seven Dials. She slowly rose from the bench and made her way to Alistair, who stood staring at the woman he held in his arms.

  “She is a bit headstrong,” Temperance Harrington said in a quiet voice. “But, well, you two seem to suit one another quite well, don’t you agree?” she said hopefully.

  Alistair’s head turned as he regarded the lady of the house. “My lady?” he said with a bit of confusion.

  Lady Mayfield merely smiled. “Let’s take her up to her bedchamber, shall we?” she said as she made her way to the ballroom doors. “Good day, Monsieur Girard,” she said as she gave the dance master a half-curtsy and made her way out of the ballroom, her words a clear dismissal of the dance master.

  Surprised by Lady Mayfield’s comments, Alistair gave a nod in the dance master’s direction and followed Lady Mayfield as he carried Lady Julia up the curved staircase to the second floor.

  “My lady, I do not know what I said to cause Lady Julia’s distress,” Alistair whispered as they reached the top of the stairs.

  Lady Mayfield gave him a smile as she glided down the hall and paused in front an ornately carved door. “I rather doubt it was anything you said,” she replied lightly as she opened the door. “But rather how tightly her maid tied her corset strings.”

  Alistair’s head popped up – he’d been gazing at Julia since they reached the top of the stairs – and his face displayed a sudden flush of red. Had Lady Mayfield caught him admiring Julia’s décolletage? Her collarbones? The hollow of her throat? Her full lips, pale and slightly apart and looking ever so kissable?

  “Put her on the bed and hold her up, won’t you? I’ll see to loosening her corset,” Lady Mayfield stated as she moved to the other side of the bed.

  Alistair stood holding Julia, not quite sure if he had heard her instructions correctly. “My lady?” he whispered hoarsely.

  Lady Mayfield planted both of her fists on her hips. “Really, Mr. Comber. I’m sure you must have some experience with undressing young ladies,” she said with a glint in her eye.

  His mouth dropping open, Alistair shook his head. “I am most sure I do not,” he countered, thinking he hadn’t even undressed the widow he bedded before leaving for the Continent. But seeing Lady Mayfield’s impatience, he moved to place Julia onto her bed.

  He was about to pull his arm from behind Julia’s head when Lady Mayfield said, “Now sit her up, won’t you?”

  Alistair complied, which required him to sit on the edge of the bed whilst he held Julia’s head against his shoulder. When Lady Mayfield leaned over and began undoing the buttons down the back of Julia’s gown, Alistair looked away, but not before he caught a whiff of lilies. Inhaling, he turned his head so his nose was mere inches from her hair. The scent filled his nostrils, reminding him of their time in the stables, when Julia had come to kiss him. He had to resist the urge to take a deep breath. What if Julia woke up this instant? he wondered. Would she be appalled to find her head nestled into the small of his shoulder? She would probably gasp and scream and pound her fists against his chest.

  Or, perhaps she wouldn’t.

  For some reason, the thought of her pounding her fists against his chest brought a smile to his face. He rather doubted she had the strength to do him any harm. And what would her response be when he simply grasped her small hands in his and stilled them? If she were to put voice to her protest, he could simply lower his lips to hers and silence her with a kiss.

  Closing his eyes, he imagined what it would be like to have her in his arms whenever he wanted her there. In the morning, when the sun was just barely above the horizon, or in the early afternoon, should they retire to a bedchamber for a nap, or in the evening, when the only light came from the moon and stars.

  “You can put her down now.”

  Alistair jerked his head up from where it had come to rest on Julia’s. Lady Mayfield stood watching him from the other side of the bed, her head cocked to one side and an expression of sadness on her face. “She’ll come out of it in a moment,” she said quietly.

  “Yes, my lady,” Alistair replied as he nodded and moved to place Julia’s head on her pillow. Lady Mayfield had obviously loosened the strings of Julia’s corset and even refastened her gown, but Alistair had been unaware of her doing so. And she’d obviously seen him with his eye closed as his head settled onto Julia’s. Although, she probably thought I closed them so I wouldn’t see anything I wasn’t supposed to, he reasoned. He could only hope that was the case.

  Alistair gave a nod to Lady Mayfield. “I do hope she recovers,” he said quietly. As he moved toward the door, he added, “I must be getting back to the stables, my lady.”

  “Of course, Alistair,” Lady Mayfield replied with a nod as she watched the earl’s son give her a leg and then take his leave of the room.

  She allowed herself the satisfaction of a smile as she remembered the look on the groom’s face when she had ordered him to hold up her daughter on the bed. The way he had gingerly sat on the edge of the bed and then pulled Julia up, the way he had cradled Julia’s head against his shoulder, the way he had closed his eyes as if he might see something he wasn’t supposed to – it had all been so innocent, so
touching, and yet so … inappropriate.

  How much longer until he asks for her hand? she wondered as she turned her attention back to Julia. To have her settled with the earl’s son would be a dream come true, although she didn’t know if Julia shared that same dream … yet. Open your eyes, the countess almost said aloud. She was sure Julia was awake.

  Julia dared to take a deeper breath, hoping her mother wouldn’t notice. Her eyes still closed, she thought of how it had felt to be in the groom’s arms. She was sure she could still smell his slight scent of musk, feel the warmth of his arms as they held her up, revel in the thought that her cheek was pressed against his shoulder and hope that he was the one who had undone the buttons down the back of her gown. But since her mother was in the room, she rather doubted Mr. Comber would have been allowed the honor. And, yet, she allowed him to hold me, she realized with a bit of surprise.

  And why did I faint in the first place? Julia wondered suddenly. The image of her lady’s maid in the cheval mirror came to mind. Mary had tightened her corset that morning the same way she always did, except when Julia mentioned she had a dance lesson with the groom, Mary suddenly tugged the strings tighter.

  Too tight, Julia realized. No wonder I had such a time keeping up with the dance. I could barely breathe.

  “Open your eyes.”

  Julia opened her eyes and found her mother staring down at her. “My corset,” she started to say.

  “Has been loosened,” Temperance finished for her. “You’ll want to remind Mary that you need to breathe, my darling,” she said with an arched eyebrow. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”