Scandal

by Heather Cullman

  But, of course, Bliss would never be so very foolish as to do such a thing. To be sure, for all that she was headstrong and undisciplined, she was far too sharp-witted to risk life and limb, simply to win a contest of wills. Or so Julia told herself. But again she was wrong, as she so often was in her estimation of the chit. Bliss did not so much as pause at the edge of the drive.

  "Bliss, no! Stop!" Julia screamed, throwing herself forward to tackle the child, to save her from mindlessly running in front of the horses. But she was not quick enough; Bliss had already darted beyond her reach.

  Splat! Oomph! Julia landed on the graveled edge of the drive with bone-jarring force, brutally knocking the wind from her lungs. Too incapacitated to do anything more, she could only stare in mute horror as Bliss recklessly plunged forward-right into the path of the oncoming horses. In the next instant she disappeared in a blur of flailing legs and pounding hoofs, and the air was rent with a single shrill cry from Bliss, followed by a chaotic din of masculine shouts and horses' screams.

  Unable to watch a second longer, Julia buried her face in her hands, feeling as though she would shatter to pieces.

  Bliss was dead and it was all her fault.

  There was a sudden roaring in her ears, and for a moment she thought she might faint from the grief and horror of what she had witnessed. Then someone grasped her shoulder, reviving her senses. "Julia? Are you hurt?" an urgent voice inquired.

  Julia looked up to find Christian kneeling beside her, his face as drawn and ashen as she knew her own to be. Her head now shaking over and over again in her anguish, she somehow managed to wail, "I am fine, but-oh, Christian! Bliss . . . she ... I tried-" Then her voice failed her, rupturing into a fractured sob.

  "Bliss is fine," Gideon's voice lashed out over the agitated snorts and whinnying of the horses.

  Startled, Julia glanced to where Bliss should have been lying in a bloodied, mangled heap. She was not there, though her torn and crushed chip bonnet was, giving chilling testimony as to what would have happened to Bliss had she not somehow miraculously escaped the horses' hoofs. Her distress now surmounted by bewilderment, she looked up at Gideon to ask after the child, only to have the inquiry die on her lips unspoken when she saw Bliss lying on her belly, draped over Gideon's lap.

  Apparently he had snatched her up and tossed her on his horse, rather like in the trick Julia had seen performed at Astley's Amphitheater. Unlike the Astley's rider. Gideon looked furious.

  His condemning glare now flashing between her and Bliss, who had recovered enough from her scare to begin squirming in protest of her uncomfortable position, he demanded, "What the hell is going on here?" Julia opened her mouth to explain, certain that he blamed her for the near tragedy-and why should he not, since she was responsible for Bliss's welfare?-when he frowned down at his sister and growled, "What have you done this time, Bliss?"

  "Me! Why'd you think I'm to blame?" the brat squealed, her squirming now escalating as she struggled to slip off the horse.

  Gideon flattened his hand against the small of her back, foiling her escape. "And why would I not think it?" he rasped.

  Bliss lifted her head to shoot him a sullen look. "I dunno why you're taking her part." Her lower lip thrust out to create a particularly petulant pout. "You don't even like her. Everyone knows it's true."

  By now the gardeners and grooms had all rushed forward and stood gaping, having witnessed the near-fatal accident from afar. Fitzroy, the elegant Critchley majordomo, along with Mrs. Jobbins, the grandmotherly housekeeper, had dashed out onto the veranda upon hearing the commotion, and they too stood transfixed by the spectacle before them. Only Roger, the youngest stableboy, had retained the sense to take charge of Christian's abandoned horse.

  Gideon slanted Julia a sharp glance, as if thrown off guard by his sister's allegation; then he looked back down at Bliss, shaking his head. "You are wrong, Bliss. I like her very much."

  "Ha!" Bliss scoffed. "If you liked her, you wouldn't always be running away from her."

  "Again, you are mistaken. However, I must admit that I have allowed estate business to take me away from her far more than is proper, a neglect that I fully intend to remedy now that I have settled matters with my tenants." Though the anger in his voice had cooled a degree, he still spoke loud enough for their audience to hear his every word. "Indeed, it is that purpose that brought me home early today. I had thought to spend the afternoon in my wife's charming company." He shifted his attention from his scowling sister to smile at Julia, who Christian was assisting in rising.

  She smiled back, pleased that he would take such a step in furthering their reconciliation. Feeling the need to say something to acknowledge her appreciation of his effort, she nodded and replied, "I cannot think of a more pleasant way to pass an afternoon than in your company, Husband. Now that you have settled your business, we have much to catch up on."

  "Yes, we do, and I must thank you for your understanding, my dear. No new bride should be forced to suffer the neglect you have endured in my preoccupation with my estate. I do hope that you will forgive me and allow me to make amends." His steel-gray eyes locked into hers, the unflinching candor of his gaze bearing testimony to the sincerity of his penitent speech.

  "Of course I forgive you, Gideon. I understand that estate matters must take precedence over coddling me, and that your worry over your tenants has made you gruff of late," Julia replied, touched that he would not only apologize to her, but would also take measures to explain his actions in front of the servants, thus silencing the gossip about their marital discord.

  By now Bliss was struggling so hard that Gideon had to pull her up into a sitting position and clamp her against his chest to keep her from slithering over the side of the horse. Ignoring the brat's yelp of protest, he countered, "You are most gracious. However, you can be certain that I shall-"

  "Let me go, Gideon! I can't breathe," Bliss squawked, tugging at his arm in an attempt to pry it from around her waist.

  "Not until I learn what possessed you to dive in front of my horse," Gideon growled, both his face and voice losing all traces of their former softness as he again directed his attention to his wayward sister.

  "It was all her fault." Bliss tossed Julia a resentful look. "She was chasing me."

  "And why exactly was she chasing you?" Gideon quizzed, looking from Bliss to Julia in search of an answer.

  Bliss opened her mouth to respond, but Julia cut her off before she could speak, not about to engage in an argument with the chit in front of the servants. "Perhaps it would be best if we discussed the matter inside, Gideon. The sun is getting rather hot, and I daresay that Bliss could do with a nap after the fright she has suffered." Turning to the gardeners, who still stood gawking from the edge of the drive, she instructed, "Bliss's needlework stand met with an, um, unfortunate accident by the lake." She slanted a glance at Gideon, who grimaced, easily divining the truth. "Might I impose upon you to rescue it from the water?"

  "Yes, and do be kind enough to have it brought to my study," Gideon added, swinging from his horse with Bliss still in tow.

  Doffing their billycocks, the men hurried off to do as bidden, while the grooms sprang forward to lead Gideon's horse away.

  Christian, who had been observing the proceedings with an odd half smile, turned to Julia and said, "I have brought Bethany a book she expressed a wish to read. If she is receiving, I would very much like to present it to her."

  Julia nodded. "She said something about finishing the watercolor she has been painting of the castle ruins. I am certain she will welcome your company."

  Gideon, who now grasped a glowering Bliss by her upper arm and was practically hauling her along, nodded his approval for Christian to seek his sister. His gaze, however, was on Julia, and he was frowning as if he did not at all care for what he saw. His lips compressing into a taut, angry line, he barked, "Fitzroy, Mrs. Jobbins, please come here this instant."

  Julia stared at him in confusion, mutely see
king an explanation for his sudden displeasure. But he was no longer looking at her. He had transferred his attention to the servants, who rushed down the steps to do his bidding.

  He barely allowed them time to come to a stop before dictating in curt, clipped accents, "Mrs. Jobbins, we will be requiring soap, water, towels, bandages, and whatever else you think might be needed to treat a deep cut. Please see that they are delivered to my study posthaste."

  A fresh wave of distress swept through Julia as the meaning behind his words, and the reason for his anger, instantly hit home. "Oh, Bliss. I did not realize that you are hurt," she cried, making a move to go to the child.

  Gideon halted her. "I said that Bliss is fine, and she is," he bit out, thrusting his struggling sister at the majordomo, who promptly latched on to both her arms, thus shattering any illusions she might hold about escaping him. "Fitzroy, please escort my sister to her chamber, and see that she stays there until I summon her," he commanded. Without sparing either the servant or his sister so much as a second glance, he turned back to Julia. His hard face and sharp tone now softening, he said, "It is not Bliss who is injured, my dear. It is you."

  When she merely looked at him, frowning her incomprehension, he gently lifted her left arm to display an ugly gash and several long abrasions, mementos, no doubt, from her fall at the edge of the drive. A quick glance down at her skirts revealed them to be smeared with blood.

  Though Julia had been too preoccupied to notice the wounds before, now that Gideon pointed them out, they hurt like the devil. Biting her lip to contain her sob at the pain, she mechanically followed Gideon's lead as he escorted her to his study, where he seated her at a table set near an elegant tripartite window. After opening all three window sections, something that did much to relieve the room's heat, he divested himself of his coat, hat, and gloves, and her of her bonnet, then sat in the chair next to hers to again take her wounded arm, this time to examine it.

  As he bent his head over it, angling her arm toward the window in order to view it in the best possible light, Julia focused her attention on his hair, trying to divert her mind in a desperate attempt to keep from bursting into tears.

  He truly did have lovely hair ... so thick and lustrous. It was lighter than it had been during his tenure in society, the chestnut and russet highlights streaking its sable darkness now more pronounced from the hours he had spent riding in the sun these past weeks. He had also allowed it to grow longer, and it now spilled over his collar in a tousle of glossy waves. She was remembering how silky it felt to the touch, when he looked up.

  His face serious, he murmured, "I am afraid that the gash is deeper than I first thought. However, there does not appear to be any gravel in it, for which I am grateful."

  Julia, who had always been able to tend to her sisters' scrapes and bruises without flinching but could never look at her own wounds without feeling ill, just stared at him, suddenly feeling too weak and nauseated to do more. He seemed about to say something more when there was a scratching at the door.

  "Enter," he called out, carefully pressing his clean handkerchief to the gash to staunch the bleeding.

  It was Mrs. Jobbins with a basket containing the requested supplies, followed by her assistant, a tall, rather nondescript woman named Sarah, who bore a large bowl and a pitcher of water.

  "On the table, please," Gideon directed, rising to allow the servants access to the table.

  Signaling for Sarah to follow, the housekeeper bustled across the room. "I brought everything you asked for, sir, as well as a wormwood infusion, just in case her ladyship has bruises in need of treatment." Mrs. Jobbins indicated the earthenware pot she had just pulled from the basket. "I also thought that a needle and thread might be in order."

  "Needle and thread?" Julia squeaked in alarm. The ominous roaring returned to her ears with a vengeance at the thought of what the need for such implements would bode.

  "Just in case your arm requires stitching, my lady," she replied in what Julia thought to be an inappropriately cheerful voice, considering the situation. Then again, the plump, rosy-cheeked housekeeper was known for her unfailing good humor, so perhaps she simply could not help sounding so.

  "Oh my," Julia whispered, the roaring in hers ears now accompanied by a roiling sensation in the pit of her stomach.

  Gideon, who stood behind her chair with one hand still applying pressure to her wound and the other resting on her shoulder, gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Everything will be fine, sweetheart," he murmured. "I shall take excellent care of you. I promise."

  "You, sir?" Mrs. Jobbins paused in arranging the supplies to frown at him in surprise.

  "Yes, me." His hand continued to squeeze Julia's shoulder, lightly kneading and massaging it, soothing and comforting her.

  "But sir, do you not think that you should entrust her ladyship's care to someone such as myself, who is experienced in dealing with wounds?" the housekeeper protested, her brow furrows deepening beneath her face-framing froth of gray curls.

  "Oh, I can assure you that I have had more than my share of experience in tending wounds, Mrs. Jobbins, many of which were quite wicked in nature."

  "But stitching, sir?" the housekeeper exclaimed on a rising note of disbelief.

  Julia, too, wondered at his experience. However, being as that she was his wife, the servants naturally expected her to already know about such details, so she filed away her questions to ask for when she was alone with him.

  "I have stitched more people than I can count, myself included, and I am pleased to report that we all survived without any ill effects," Gideon replied. "Besides, I have yet to ascertain whether or not my wife requires stitching, something that needs to be done without further delay."

  The housekeeper eyed him dubiously. "Perhaps Dr. Horrock-"

  "I passed Dr. Horrock on the road earlier. He was on his way to the Popplewell cottage to assist the midwife in delivering Mrs. Popplewell's baby," Gideon cut in. "It is a breech, which will no doubt keep him there for the remainder of the day."

  Mrs. Jobbins's faded blue eyes widened at the news. "A breech?" She clucked in sympathy. "The poor, poor dear, and this being her first baby and all."

  "Yes, I daresay the woman is in for a rough time," Gideon said. "I thought you might prepare a basket of whatever you think the family will need, and have a footman take it around. Tell him to remain at their service until the baby is born and to contact me promptly should they require anything we can provide."

  "Well ..." The housekeeper hesitated, casting Julia an uncertain look. "If you are sure you can manage matters here."

  "Quite sure," Gideon confirmed.

  "My lady?" she deferred to Julia.

  Though Julia was not nearly as sure of Gideon's medical expertise as he was, she forced herself to smile and nod. After all, it would never do for the servants to think that she placed less than perfect trust in her husband.

  "Then I will prepare the basket straightaway. I must say that it is most kind of you to remember the Popplewells in such a fashion, sir," the housekeeper said, her formerly disapproving face now beaming with approval at her master's charity. Signaling to her assistant, who stood at the opposite side of the table having completed her task of pouring the water and arranging the towels, she crisply directed, "Come along, Sarah. I will need your help in the stillroom." Both women bobbed a curtsy, then hurried off on their mission of mercy.

  Gideon resumed his seat by Julia's side. Drawing the water bowl and towels nearer, he again lifted Julia's injured arm. "I am going to cleanse your wound now. I will be as gentle as I can, but I am afraid that it still might hurt a bit."

  Julia nodded mutely, unable to speak for the dread constricting her throat. Almost as afraid of disgracing herself as she was of the pain she knew awaited her, she braced herself as best she could, focusing on the clear azure sky beyond the window as she frantically prayed, Please, God, please do not let me shame myself by crying or fainting.

  But Gideon
proved to be as good as his word, working quickly yet with a touch so gentle that Julia's fear was soon surpassed by wonder at his skill. Why. aside from the sting of the soap he used to clean

  the gash, she suffered next to no pain at all. Thus, by the time he had finished bathing her arm, she felt strong enough to steal a peek at his face. When she saw his expression, she promptly regretted her impetuous courage.

  He looked grim, clearly displeased by what his cleansing had revealed. Before she could avert her eyes again and hide the fear she knew was reflected in their depths, he glanced up and caught her looking at him. The instant their gazes touched, his face softened and his lips curved into a faint but reassuring smile. "I am sorry, Julia, but the cut is deep and needs to be stitched. Fortunately it is not very long, so it should not take more than five or six stitches to close it."

  Five or six stitches? Julia bit her lip and looked away, feeling herself blanch in horror at the prospect. Though she had never been stitched herself, she had once witnessed a scullery maid who had cut herself while cleaning the knives being stitched. Judging from the way the girl had screamed and cried, it had been an exceedingly torturous ordeal.

  An ordeal that she, herself, was now about to suffer.

  The roaring rushed back into her ears, this time with a deafening volume. Now almost wishing that she would faint, Julia forced herself to again look at Gideon, to face her fate bravely, as befitted her station as a lady.

  His lips were moving and he was gazing at her in query, as if asking a question. She shook her head once to clear the roaring. "Pardon?"

  His expression softened another degree, as if he understood exactly what she was going through and sympathized with her plight. "I asked if you would like some brandy before I begin."

  She shook her head. Though she could have done with the calming effects of brandy, she doubted if her stomach would tolerate it at the moment. And for all that she might end up weeping, she did not want to add to her humiliation by vomiting.