A Dangerous Courtship (To Woo an Heiress, Book 3)

by Randall, Lindsay

  "Curious? You could have opened the door and found out."

  Veronica sent him a withering look.

  Julian laughed. "Ah, my lady is in no mood for guessing, no? Very well, I'll tell. The boot boy came along. He had some dice in his pocket and time on his hands, so he challenged me to a few rolls; if he lost I'd get my boots shined, free of charge." He glanced at the road ahead of them.

  "And?" Veronica demanded when Julian seemed done with talking.

  He nodded toward his newly polished boots. "And I'd say he did a bang-up job."

  Veronica was in no mood to play at small talk or endure Julian's newfound good humor.

  Eyes narrowing, she said, "You appear to have planked the gap with my coachman. Do you care to explain that, sir?"

  "What's to explain?" he asked with a shrug of his broad shoulders. "I simply informed the fellow I'd be your guard during the journey back to London. Given the fact you raced north to Yorkshire with no footman, I s'pose the chap was glad enough to have another man along for the ride."

  "I find that difficult to believe. Shelton's ego concerning his ability to watch over anyone aboard the carriage he drives knows no bounds. No, it is quite clear to me the two of you have some train in motion and are quite possibly in cahoots."

  "Surely you are imagining things."

  "I think not," Veronica insisted. "The two of you appear as thick as thieves, even taking your meals together and—"

  "Would you rather I took my meals with you?" Julian asked, a ghost of a grin playing on his lips—a grin very much like the one he'd given her that night at the inn.

  "Certainly not," Veronica replied quickly, surprised at how much his smile could stir her senses. During their many miles of travel he'd seemed to have tamed the wild nature within him where she was concerned, but here now, in his grin, was proof that the same still lingered. For some absurd reason, this pleased Veronica. "It—it would not be proper," she added, more to her own self than to Julian.

  "Precisely. In the event you haven't noted, my lady, may I point out I am doing my best to be a proper employee?"

  Oh, she had noticed all right. Since leaving Ripon he'd not once addressed her by her given name and had made great pains not to be alone with her. He'd taken seriously his duties as guard, surveying for himself her rented rooms when they'd taken lodging, standing as sentinel while she dined, and riding ahead of or behind the carriage, ever watchful for any signs of trouble.

  "That—that is another thing I wished to speak with you about," Veronica said. "Your change in behavior."

  "I thought it would please you."

  "Please me? I simply find it suspect. In fact, I think it is one more indication you've something afoot. Tell me," she demanded. "What has Shelton put you up to? Have you perhaps fashioned some sort of bargain with the man?"

  "Bargain? Such as what, my lady?"

  "Such as," Veronica said, deciding to just be blunt, "going before my father and informing him of all that transpired at Fountains. Doubtless my coachman would delight in placing before the earl a person who could give a firsthand account of my doings."

  Julian slanted a glance at her. "To which 'doings' are you referring? When you allowed me to lead you away from your coachman... or when I touched you and kissed you—and you returned those kisses with a sweet ardor that would have made even the abbey's white-robed Cistercian monks of old rethink their vows?"

  Veronica's cheeks pinked. Oh, yes. That dangerous, bold, and daring stranger she'd met at Fountains still resided within him.

  "Certainly not that, "she snapped, looking quickly away. "Besides, you—you'd be a fool to do so. Trust me, my father's reaction should he be informed of the liberties you took would be most unpleasant—for both you and me."

  Liberties she'd allowed to be taken, Veronica reminded herself sharply, feeling the heat of shame suffuse her.

  But on the heels of that shame, blast it all, came a whirling surge of excitement washing through her as she remembered, once again and in full detail, the kisses she and Julian had shared at the ruins.

  "Then you must, of course," Julian said quietly, cutting into her thoughts, "be referring to your Venus Mission and the package."

  Veronica brought her mind back to the present, nodding curtly.

  "That is precisely what I am referring to." She looked at him. "Will you be sharing what you know with my father?"

  "Do you actually believe I would do that?"

  "For a high enough price, I think any man would do that," she said.

  "Then I do believe, my lady, your opinion of the male species needs altering." He led his mount a tad closer to her own. "Tell me, is there no man you trust?"

  Julian's attention on her was keen and Veronica had a strong sensation that her answer to his question was very important to him, though she could not fathom why it should be so.

  "There—there is one man," she finally admitted, thinking of Sidney, Pamela's youngest brother. Sid would have come with her to Fountains to help retrieve the package if she'd but asked, but he'd had business in Hampshire and had been gone from London for several days. She'd not had the opportunity to wait for him and so had been forced to go the journey alone with just her maid and her judgmental coachman.

  "He—he is a very dear friend of mine in Town," she added, thinking fondly of Sid with his angelic face, bright blue eyes, wheat-gold hair, and easy temperament.

  "And is he the very one for whom you sought the packet?" Julian demanded, his tone of voice suddenly turning from casually chatty to threatening.

  "And if he is?" Veronica challenged, and simply did so because she did not like the change in his accents.

  "Then I'd say you are trusting the wrong man. I took a beating at Fountains that would have likely fallen to you had you been the one to find the bundle. By all rights it should have been this friend reaching for that bloody thing."

  Veronica grimaced, still feeling sick inside at how banged up Julian had gotten that night. She would always feel miserable about what had happened. His face still looked gruesome, his eye just this day reaching what appeared to be the height of its swelling—at least she hoped it had reached its ugly apex and would not become any worse.

  "You—you know I feel dreadful about what happened, Julian," she said, her voice going soft, "and that I am truly sorry."

  "Aye. The question is, are you sorry enough to pay heed when I tell you it is not your coachman or myself whom you should be suspecting?"

  Veronica's back straightened at mention of Shelton. She turned her gaze abruptly to the road ahead. "I've never had any reason to trust that man. He is nothing more than the long arm of my father."

  "Then trust me, Veronica."

  She blinked, taken aback by both his suggestion and his use of her given name. Slowly she returned her gaze to his, his words repeating themselves in her brain.

  Then trust me.

  But she had. Did he not realize how much? She'd trusted him at Fountains when she'd taken his hand and allowed him to lead her away from Shelton... and she had trusted him even before that—when she'd let him touch her, and kiss her, and make her yearn for things not even she could fully comprehend. He'd made her hungry for the private things a man and a woman could share, for what took place in the marriage bed between a husband and a wife... and for what her own parents had never shared in their marriage.

  More than that, though, he'd made her yearn for someone to have and to hold and to always turn to, for a safe embrace and a shelter through every storm or sweet sunset life had to offer.

  Blast him, did he truly not comprehend how very much she'd already trusted him?

  "Your coachman," he continued, "offered me no bargain, Veronica. No matter what you think, we simply came to an understanding, an acceptance of each other, if you will. I tell you true, I'll not be going before your father to tell him about the packet or your mission... and I won't be telling him—or anyone else—what you and I shared at Fountains."

  Veronica
believed him. "Thank you," she murmured, not certain she wouldn't cry.

  "But there is still the matter of that Pandora's box of a bundle that has stirred up so much trouble. Even though I'll not be going to your father with any tales or truths, I will be living under your roof once we get to London. And I will make it my business to shadow your every step."

  Veronica's threat of tears suddenly vanished. He'd done it again. He had made her feel weak-kneed and tenderhearted, then pulled the earth out from under her by becoming overbearing and forceful. "There is no need," she shot back. "No one is even following us."

  "How can you be so certain?"

  "Because of your vigilance. You—you've seen no signs of anyone. We've had no trouble."

  "True. But that doesn't mean those river rats aren't keeping a careful distance. They could be biding their time until we reach London... until they see where this carriage finally stops."

  Veronica swallowed heavily, but lifted her chin all the same. "Once again you are purposely trying to frighten me."

  "Aye. I'd rather I did the deed then someone else. If I frighten you enough into being careful, Veronica, you just might live to see this Venus Mission of yours to an end."

  "Speaking of which, where is the bundle? Do you even have it?"

  He patted his saddle with one hand. "Right here," he replied, "and here it will stay until we reach London and you send word to your 'dear friend.' When that person comes for the package, I'll hand it over."

  "And then?" she demanded.

  "Then, my lady?"

  Veronica tamped down the urge the gnash her back teeth together. "Your self-imposed duties as my guard should be finished at such a time, yes?"

  "That all depends."

  "Depends on what?"

  "On whether or not I decide if this 'friend' is worthy of you."

  "Somehow, I've the feeling you've already formed your opinion."

  He said nothing in reply. Veronica was glad enough for his silence.

  They moved along at an easy pace, the carriage following behind.

  The sun was bright, and the sound of the horses' hooves and the carriage wheels on the road seemed somehow satisfying to Veronica. Though she dreaded the too-near future of opening the sheepskin bundle with Pamela and what might come of it, and though she wondered if her father had returned from Bath to find her gone, she was, at the moment, enjoying the freedom of the open road and the warmth of the June sunshine.

  After a long measure, Julian asked, "Will you tell me a little about your life in London? Since I will be a part of it for however brief or long a time I should know a bit, don't you think?"

  "You'll only be involved as much as a guard would be," she reminded him.

  "Of course. Only as much as that," he agreed, a shade too easily, she thought.

  Veronica was quiet for a moment, trying to decide how much or how little to share. But it seemed the summery day held a magic of its own, one that lulled her into a less cautious frame of mind. "My family resides in Grosvenor Square," she said. "There is my sister, Lily, a year older than myself at three-and-twenty, and our father."

  "And too many servants," he added, gazing at her.

  "Yes, and too many servants."

  "Do you like London?"

  "No," she said simply, not even having to think about her answer. "I do not. I've lived at many of my father's estates. But I spent the bulk of my childhood in Devonshire, and I would have been perfectly content to remain there. But I've vowed to stay in the city until my sister chooses a husband and is safely wed."

  "'Safely wed?' You make it sound as though the road to the altar is a treacherous path."

  "For Lily it could be just that." Veronica frowned, deciding she might just as well be totally honest with Julian since he would be hovering near her all the while once they reached London—and the truth of the matter was, he might just prove to be helpful in watching over Lily's welfare as well as her own.

  "There is something you should know about my sister. Lady Lily... she is not like most other people."

  "How do you mean?" Julian asked quietly.

  "She—she has a difficult time in learning things, in comprehending. When she was introduced to Society, people thought her charmingly naive—and they still do—but unfortunately it goes much deeper than that. She has the mind of someone younger than her years, and always will."

  "So you've always watched over her," he guessed.

  Veronica nodded. "My father—he's never shown much interest in his family. My mother, when she was alive, soon lost patience with Lily, glad enough to leave us in the care of some aged governess who had not the slightest idea how to go about teaching my sister. When Lily was very young she needed to be gently coaxed in her learning, to have one repeat and repeat her lessons."

  "Which you did."

  "Yes. Helping her to learn her letters was a very long process; but as she grew older, and our lessons focused more on social graces, she truly blossomed. As you will soon see for yourself, Julian, my sister is—she is a very beautiful woman. Given that, and the fact she is the daughter of a very wealthy earl, she does not lack for suitors. Unfortunately, Lily... is—is rather in love with the notion of being in love, and while she may not possess a sharp, mental intellect she does harbor a huge and generous heart—one, I am afraid, she tends to give away far too often."

  "And her sister?" Julian asked. "Has she, too, perhaps given her heart to someone?"

  Veronica glanced at him."'Tis a bold question, sir."

  "Aye," he acknowledged, making no apology. "Will you answer it?"

  Veronica drew in a small breath at how intensely his gaze focused on her, remembering once again the words of Shelton's guide when he'd claimed that The Riverkeep could look at people and read what was in their souls.

  Was Julian doing so now? Could he possibly see in her how much his presence moved her, how his touches and his kisses had branded their stamp upon her soul, forever altering her? She felt suddenly naked, her entire being laid bare for him and him alone.

  Veronica moistened her suddenly dry lips, saying, "I-I've no interest in finding a husband."

  But the words—the very ones she'd said so often to herself, silently—suddenly rang hollow in her ears. She was no longer the same person she'd been when she'd first traveled this road to Ripon and Fountains. She felt, somehow, as if she'd traveled to the stars and back and not simply just north to Yorkshire.

  "So there is no special someone in your life, my lady?" Julian asked quietly.

  There is you in my life, Veronica thought.

  She was amazed at how quickly those words came winging into her brain... and amazed even more by the fact she could suddenly not recall just exactly what her life had been before a dangerous stranger lifted her up from the jaws of some wild dogs and then bore her away to safety in that ruinous abbey.

  Veronica shook her head, trying to clear her mind of all the man could make her feel and think and do.

  "As usual, Julian, our—our conversation has threaded into areas a lady ought not be discussing with—"

  "With her personal guard?"

  "With any man."

  "So there is no special other?"

  "I didn't say that."

  "No. You didn't." He sighed, tipped back the brim of his hat, resettled himself atop his saddle, and said, "Very well. I'll not press."

  Was that disappointment etched on his brow? Veronica wondered. Could he perhaps be truly interested in whether or not there was a serious suitor in her life?

  But what did it matter? she thought in the next instant, for surely it did not signify. The two of them were from opposite worlds. Clearly something, some horrible happening, had driven Julian to Fountains—either something he'd done, or something that had been done to him.

  Whatever it was, he was now going to London with her only because of the beating he'd taken at the hands of those ruffians. Once the mystery of Rathbone's packet was solved, Julian would slip out of her life just
as quickly as he'd entered it, returning to God only knew where to do God only knew what....

  And Veronica would continue on with her Venus Missions, would watch over Lily until she was safely wed to a man who would marry her for love and love only, and then...?

  Ah, then, Veronica would do as she'd always planned to do. She would wait until her next natal day—which was not so far off—when she could claim the inheritance left her by her maternal grandmother, and she would announce to the earl she had no intentions of marrying or of even remaining beneath his roof. Then she would travel, as she'd always longed to do, and she would become an eccentric, independent spinster, but she would not care. She would be alone, but she would not care about that either. After all, it had been the dream of one day claiming her independence that had kept her sane throughout her young adulthood.

  But she was fooling herself, Veronica knew. For suddenly, beneath this bright, June sun, that dream—the one she'd always held close—seemed empty, lacking. What had once seemed a grand plan now appeared plain to her, to be but a shell of an existence.

  Veronica glanced at Julian from beneath the brim of her hat, knowing he was the very one who'd fanned to life in her a spark better left untouched... a spark that now needed to be fed by something Veronica had long avoided: love.

  Chapter 12

  Shelton brought the carriage to a halt in front of the huge, austere manor in Grosvenor Square that was Wrothram House.

  Julian dropped down off his saddle, gazing up at the place that, while grand, appeared void of any welcoming warmth or cheeriness.

  Just as Shelton moved off his bench to let down the iron rungs and assist Lady Veronica to the pavement, the door of the house opened and a butler emerged.

  A tall, thin man with a powdered bagwig and an immutable frown, he hurried forward to stand before the carriage door, ignoring Shelton and giving Julian an up-and-down glance followed by a look of pure disdain.

  Julian considered tipping his hat and giving the uppity man a jaunty grin, but thought better of it.