"No! Not neglect," Julia rushed to reassure him, terrified of destroying the newly laid foundation of their friendship by again offending him. "No one could be a better brother than you, or do more for their siblings. It is just that Bliss needs to feel as if she is a part of your life ... an important enough one that she can feel safe in the knowledge that you care too much for her to ever abandon her. But how is she to feel that way if you never pay her special notice? As I said, Bethany believes that her tantrums and abominable behavior are nothing more than bids for your attention."
"And you truly think that a bit of special notice from me will help cure all that?"
Julia nodded. "It might also help cure the resentment she feels toward me. After all, she can no longer blame me for driving you away from her if you are here and lavishing attention on her."
He seemed to consider what she had said, then nodded back. "All right then. I will do it and with pleasure. However, please be advised that I intend to take equal pains in lavishing attention on you as well. As with Bliss, I have been derelict in my notice of you for far too long." The warmth had crept back into his voice.
"And I shall enjoy the attention every bit as much as Bliss will," she retorted with a smile. And she would.
He smiled back, visibly pleased by her response. "Now that that is settled, I suppose that we should decide what to do about this business with the needlework frame."
"We must start by punishing Bliss," Julia replied decisively. "It is high time she learns that there are consequences to her wicked actions. She must also be made to finish her sampler. Otherwise we will have given in to her tantrum, and I refuse to reward her bad behavior."
"I agree, and I promise to mete out an appropriate punishment. However, I do not think that it will be possible for her to finish this particular sampler." He carried the frame over to Julia so she could see the cloth it held. "Between the dunking it took in the lake and the servants' efforts to clean it, I fear that it is indeed quite ruined."
Julia had to agree. It was ruined. She sighed. "I suppose that I will just have to draw her a new one."
Gideon contemplated the spoiled sampler for several moments, smoothing the sodden fabric with his palm as if trying to discern its design. At length he replied, "With your permission, I would like to help with the drawing."
"You would?" she ejected in surprise, thrilled by the prospect of his continued company.
He looked up, a playful smile lurking at the corners of his lips. "Yes. I have an idea that just might solve all of our problems with Bliss."
Chapter 18
"Shiva cut off his head? Truly?" Bliss gaped up at Gideon, her gray eyes wide and her mouth forming an exaggerated O at the gory turn the story he was telling had just taken.
"In one stroke, whiz-splat." He drew the edge of his hand across her throat, illustrating the murderous action.
She chortled her delight. "O-o-o! I bet Parvati was mad enough to spit when she found out what Shiva had done!"
"Perhaps a bit," he replied, visibly amused by her bloodthirsty glee, "but I daresay that she was more sad. After all she was Ganesha's mother, and it is the saddest thing in the world for a mother to lose her child."
"His mother?" She drew back, tipping her head to fix him with an incredulous stare. "Why'd you call her his mother?"
"Well, did she not make him from the scurf of her body and give him life by sprinkling him with water from the Ganges River?"
Bliss nodded.
Gideon nodded back. "And is that not what mothers do when they give birth, create children from their body and give them life?"
Bliss grew very still, her eyes narrowing and her frown deepening as she contemplated his theory. At length she slowly conceded. "Hmmm. Perhaps she was his mother after all." She granted him a conciliatory smile and nod.
"So what did she do when she found him with his head chopped off?"
"As I said, she was very sad. So sad, that she could not be comforted. When Shiva saw how much his action had grieved his beautiful wife, he sent his messengers to find Ganesha a new head. The first beast they found was an elephant sleeping by the Ganges River, so they lopped off its head, whiz-splat"-another decapitating motion-"and brought it back to Parvati. She planted it on her son's shoulders, which promptly restored his life. And that is why Ganesha has an elephant's head."
Bliss stared at him in saucer-eyed silence for several moments, as if visualizing the scene in her mind, which no doubt she was, given her vivid imagination. Then she glanced back down at the sampler before them and demanded to know, "But why does he have four arms and only one tusk?"
Julia, who had paused on her way to Bethany's chamber to observe the pair through the open library door, smiled at the picture they made. They sat on a comfortable, fan-shaped Italian sofa, Bliss with her feet tucked beneath her and her slight form snuggled against Gideon, while Gideon lounged with his long legs stretched out before him and his arm resting casually on her shoulders. Bliss could not have looked happier, nor Gideon more relaxed. Both were so caught up in the story that neither noticed her standing there.
The tale Gideon recounted was the Indian myth about Ganesha, the Hindu god of prudence and wisdom, a deity traditionally portrayed as short and pot-bellied with yellow skin, four arms, and an elephant's head with one tusk. The odd being was only one of the many equally strange creatures that Gideon had chosen to incorporate into the sampler design he had created for Bliss. And oh, what a wonderful design it was!
Unlike most samplers, which were comprised of an alphabet, a proverb, or a verse, and a pastoral scene that often included the family members of the child stitching it, Gideon's sampler was a whimsically illustrated map of India, bordered by scenes portraying fantastical beings from Indian mythology. To Julia's delight, he had narrated each scene as he sketched it, enchanting her not only with his exotic tales, but with his wry wit and easy charm. He had also outlined his idea for resolving their troubles with Bliss.
His plan was a simple one. He would deliver the new sampler to his sister with the expected command that she stitch it, coupled with an unexpected promise to tell her the stories the scenes depicted as each was embroidered to his and Julia's satisfaction. Since Indian deities had a penchant for rainbow-hued flesh, and were often depicted as a bewildering hodgepodge of human and animal parts, Bliss would be required to consult with him on a daily basis so that he could determine the proper colors of silk to be used for each figure. Doing all of this, he had explained, would not only ensure that Bliss learned her needlework, but it would also allow him to pay her special notice without arousing her suspicion at his sudden interest.
Though neither of them had voiced the fact, they both knew that the stories and floss selection would serve another, more important purpose: It would foster conversation between him and Bliss, giving them something to talk about until such a time that they became well enough acquainted to chatter easily about everything and anything, or nothing at all, as was the way with close siblings.
And so Gideon had presented the sampler to Bliss the following day. As he had hoped, she had been intrigued enough by his promise of stories that she had consented to stitch it-an agreement that Julia had to admit the girl had more than honored thus far. Indeed, she had taken to stitching with such care and diligence that not a day passed that Gideon had not praised her progress, a prize that seemed to please her even more than her story rewards.
Oh, that was not to say that Bliss did not genuinely enjoy Gideon's tales. It was clear from her enthusiastic questions and interjections during their telling that she indeed did. However, Julia doubted if she would have found them nearly so thrilling or expressed half as much interest in them had they been told by anyone other than the brother she so obviously adored.
A month had now passed since the inauguration of the sampler experiment, and Julia had to acknowledge that it was a resounding success. Not only did Bliss seem happier and more at peace, but her tantrums had dwindled to an occas
ional foot stamp and pout, and she had started to treat Julia with a tentative yet sincere cordiality that promised to someday blossom into friendship. Much of that last could, of course, be directly attributed to Gideon's change in demeanor toward their marriage.
Smiling at the thought of that change, Julia shifted her gaze from Bliss to her husband, her heart fluttering in her breast at how handsome he looked as he threw back his head and laughed at something his sister said. True to his word, he had begun to lavish attention on her as well, and not a day had passed since he made the promise that she had not discovered something new and wonderful about him while in his company.
An invisible warmth embraced Julia at the thought of those times, and she was suddenly moved by a deep, almost irresistible longing to draw nearer to where he sat. Checking the impulse out of courtesy to Bliss, who she knew cherished her moments with Gideon as much as she did, she forced herself to remain where she was and be satisfied with simply contemplating him from afar.
He was such an exciting man, so strong and vital, and almost intimidating in his intelligence. Everything about him spoke of absolute confidence . . . the directness of his gaze, his regal yet relaxed posture, the sovereignty in his voice. He wore it with the ease of a man who had set out to conquer the world and had won, projecting a quiet sense of power and authority that instantly commanded other men's respect.
Oh, how he thrilled her!
He also charmed and delighted her as no man had ever done, especially during those moments when he spoke of his childhood in Yorkshire. Never in her life had she laughed so hard as when he recounted his youthful pranks, never had she been so very moved as when he spoke of his love for his parents, his voice growing reverent and his eyes glittering with the intensity of his emotions. Unlike most people of her acquaintance, who drifted through life in search of love, never quite certain how to give it or whether they had truly found it, Gideon had experienced love from the cradle, which enabled him to recognize and understand it. Secretly Julia suspected that it was that ability that made him the man he was today: A man of unfailing kindness and generosity; a caring, loyal, and compassionate man. A man so utterly magnificent that she could not help feeling as if she were somehow a better person simply by being allowed to be his friend.
And they truly were friends now, good ones, and growing closer every day. Of late he had even begun to confide in her and seek her counsel, soliciting her advice on matters that ranged from the kinds of wine they should purchase to stock their cellar, to how his newly formed cloth guild could best cater to the ton's textile needs. In doing so he made her feel important. Necessary. A much wanted and appreciated part of his life. And for the first time ever, she felt pride in herself. True pride. The kind that had nothing to do with her noble blood or place in society, and everything to do with the fact that someone as admirable and highly regarded as Gideon found her worthy of his respect.
Gideon Harwood respected her. Her! Not who she was or what she stood for, as most people did, but for what was inside her, what she thought and felt. Gideon viewed her as capable and intelligent, sensible and strong.
And she loved him for it.
She loved him? Julia rocked back on her heels, pressing her hand to her throat in her astonishment. Good heavens! Could it be true? Had she fallen in love with her husband? Thunderstruck by the very notion, she refocused her eyes on the man before her, who at the moment was laughing at his sister's attempts to tickle him, searching her heart for the answer.
Did she love him?
She let her gaze sweep him from head to toe, unable to resist lingering here and there. That she found him attractive was undeniable, just as she could not deny that she liked and respected him. She also could not deny that of late she had begun to feel other things as well: strange, unfamiliar sensations that overwhelmed her every time he was near.
There was the way her heart turned over whenever his gray eyes touched hers, and how the warm sound of his laughter sent shivers rippling up her spine. And then there were his smiles, those beautiful, arresting smiles. The way his firm lips curved over his even white teeth, slowly and with an almost sinful languor . . . They seemed to beckon to her, promising a pleasure that made her long for the courage to abandon her fear of his passion and sample the sweetness he offered. As for his voice . . .
She closed her eyes to listen as he bantered with Bliss, letting the deep, rich tones of his voice roll over her, to caress and embrace her senses. Something deep inside her seemed to melt at the sound, its fevered heat seeping through her veins like liquid fire, making her feel hot and flushed and weak all over. Everything about him was so compelling, so magnetic and deliriously disturbing . . .
Oh, what he did to her! She thought about him constantly, craving him when they were apart and hungering for him when they were together. She was utterly and completely undone by him.
So, did that mean she loved him?
Slowly she opened her eyes to again consider him, her fingers twitching at the sight of him, aching to touch him.
Did she love him?
Her heart gave a hard, painful lurch in reply.
She did. She, Lady Julia, loved Gideon Harwood.
She must have gasped aloud in her shock, because both Gideon and Bliss looked up. Gideon's lips promptly curved into one of his irresistible smiles, while Bliss regarded her with an expression of polite query.
Compelled to say something to explain being caught lurking in the doorway, she smiled, albeit a bit unsteadily, and somehow managed to babble, "I wanted to tell you that I will be in Bethany's chamber, should either of you need me." Without awaiting their response, she turned on her heel and fled.
Though Julia wanted nothing more at that moment than to be alone, to ponder her startling discovery in peace, Bethany had begged her help in putting away the garments she had made for her lost baby, and Julia did not have the heart to leave the woman alone in her sad task. And so she made her way up to Bethany's chamber, her confusion and dismay at her feelings for her husband growing with every step she took.
She loved Gideon, sweetly and profoundly, and to such blissful distraction that it now seemed impossible that she had not recognized her feelings for him right away. Then again, how could she be expected to do so when it should have been impossible for her to feel them for him at all? After the way he'd threatened her family with ruin and blackmailed her into marriage . . .
But she no longer cared about any of that. And no matter how hard she tried to do so, no matter how many times she told herself that it was foolish to entrust her heart to a man capable of such villainy, she simply could not force herself to believe that loving him was wrong. How could she when he treated her with such kindness, with such honor and gallantry? Truth be told, she was finding it increasingly difficult to reconcile the admirable gentleman Gideon had proved to be with the blackguard her father claimed him to be. So much so. that had his accuser been anyone but her father, she would never have believed the charges.
But, of course, she had no choice except to believe them. For not only was it her duty to believe her sire, but Gideon had not denied his charges when she had voiced them that day in the park. And surely a man free of guilt would have protested his innocence?
But again, she could not bring herself to care. Besides, she had already decided that his crimes were forgivable, since they had been committed out of love for his siblings. Yes, and then there was the fact that his actions had caused no real harm to her or anyone else. So ... So ...
So why torture herself over things that no longer mattered, and would never again matter, at least to her? Julia turned down the corridor where Bethany's chamber lay, nodding her satisfaction at the logic of her reasoning. She could twist the facts any way she pleased and examine them from every angle, but the only thing that would matter in the end was that she loved Gideon Harwood. And truly, where was the wrong in that? He was her husband. She had wed him for better or worse, so why not choose better? Why not follow her he
art and love him, as was her right and duty as his wife? Of course, in order to truly love him as a wife loved a husband, she must submit to the marriage act.
A whisper of fear wound through her at the mere thought of doing so. For all that Gideon had promised that she would find the act pleasurable, she could not quite bring herself to believe that it was true.
Oh, it was not that she suspected him of deliberately trying to mislead her. She was quite certain that he believed what he said, that he genuinely thought that he had brought pleasure to the women he bedded. But those women had no doubt been mistresses and other wanton creatures, whose business it was to please a man. And Helene's mother had said that such women only pretended to enjoy the act in order to gratify the men paying for their services. Besides that, Julia could not imagine how any woman could enjoy having a man stick his male part in that tender place between her legs, especially when she had found it so very uncomfortable when he had stuck his finger in there on their wedding night.
Then again, Amy had read . . .
Oh! If only she knew a woman experienced in such things with whom she could discuss the matter, one who would speak frankly to her about the marriage act, and whom she could trust to tell her the truth. At least then she would know what to expect and could prepare herself accordingly.
By now she had reached Bethany's door. Forcibly shoving her thoughts aside to mull over later, she knocked, entering the room in the next instant at Bethany's bidding. As with everything else in regard to his sisters, Gideon had spared no expense in furnishing the chamber.
The walls were covered with a magnificent flowers and fruit wall paper in muted shades of rose, white, and crimson, and the room was elegant yet cozy, the formality of its furnishings made homely by their casual arrangement.
Against one wall stood a dainty, pink-satin-festooned bed with a gilded canopy and domed cupola, flanked on one side by a comfortable gold and white damask bergere, in which Julia had spent countless hours sitting during her visits to Bethany's sickbed. Situated on the facing wall was a gold-veined white marble fireplace, before which sat a pair of armchairs, a needlework stand, and a small table scattered with books. The wall to the right featured a matching pair of tapestry settees and a row of crimson-velvet-draped casement windows; the one on the left boasted an exquisite floral marquetry secretary, at which Bethany currently sat writing.
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