by Meara Platt
The weather grew warmer as the coach jogged southward. Every now and then, Douglas caught the scent of a sea breeze. At twilight, they reached Eastbourne’s imposing entry gate. Even Julia seemed impressed by its black iron spikes crowned with golden points that thrust skyward to meet the fiery, fading sun.
Julia turned to Douglas, a soft, fragile look in her eyes.
Her glance sent his own body into fiery torment.
Would the girl always have this effect on him?
“Will you look at that!” Charlie marveled, poking his head out of the coach window. The salty wind whipped his chestnut curls over his little brow. The boy laughed and brushed them back. “Is that Eastbourne?” he asked, pointing to the manor house now coming into view. “Oh, Julia! I’m so happy! We’re finally home.”
“Yes, my little love,” she replied, taking his hand and giving it a light squeeze.
She glanced at Douglas.
He smiled back.
“Yes, my little love,” she repeated softly, “it appears you are.”
An assortment of butlers and maids stood in a neat row by the front stairs waiting to greet them.
Douglas stepped out of the coach, helped Julia down, then ordered the coachman to hand down Charlie’s push chair. Homer had stepped out by then to assist the coachman, giving Douglas a moment to observe the expressions on the faces of those in his employment. He ought to have sent word to his housekeeper and head butler of the boy’s condition, allowing them to prepare his staff, he realized, silently chiding himself for his neglect.
But he needn’t have worried, for Charlie’s joy and unbridled enthusiasm quickly captured everyone’s heart. Even the crotchety head butler, Jameson, cracked a rare smile when Douglas introduced him to the boy.
“I distinctly heard the corners of your mouth creak as they turned upward,” Douglas teased his long-time retainer.
Jameson, his expression once more dour, blinked his eyes. “Did you, m’lord?”
“Indeed, I did. Prepare yourself, Jameson, for my nephew will accept nothing less than two smiles and a hearty laugh from you each day. He’s much like my brother was in that way.”
Jameson nodded. “I shall endeavor to do my best.”
Douglas then introduced Julia to his staff, though that introduction did not proceed quite as smoothly as he’d hoped. They understood she was Charlie’s cousin and that she was welcome here for as long as she wished. But when he instructed the housekeeper to settle Julia in their finest guest quarters, she became visibly ruffled. “Is there a problem, Mrs. Collins?”
“No, m’lord. I shall apologize to Lady Eastbourne for my error in carrying out her instructions.”
“Hers?”
“Aye, m’lord. Her letter arrived shortly after yours. I mistakenly prepared the wrong chamber for Miss Marsden. My apologies. I’ll correct my error at once.”
“Ah,” he said, struggling to tamp down his anger at his mother’s latest slight. She must have countered his instruction and told Mrs. Collins to ready the governess’ quarters for Julia. That could be the only interpretation of the supposed “mistake”.
He ought to have expected this nonsense from his mother. The cold-hearted dowager had made his life miserable and fully intended to do the same for Julia and Charlie. “Miss Marsden and I shall take our meals in the small salon for now.”
“And when Lady Eastbourne and her party arrive at the end of the week? Shall I ready the formal dining hall?”
“How many in her party?” Once again, Douglas tried to suppress his mounting fury. Did his mother truly believe he’d stand idly by while she destroyed Julia and Charlie for sport in front of a gallery of spectators?
“About thirty guests, m’lord.” She slipped the letter from her pocket and handed it to him to peruse.
He read it, handed it back to her, then turned to Jameson. “Come to me within the hour. I have letters that must go out this evening.” After ordering their bags delivered to the proper quarters, he dismissed the staff, then offered Julia, Charlie, and Homer a tour of the grand, but loveless, residence.
*
Julia had visited Eastbourne years ago when Charlie first fell ill.
The magnificent stone manor house was large enough to fit the entire population of Borrowdale under its massive roof. The entry hall was much as she remembered it, black and white marble tiled floor, soaring painted ceiling, polished round table in the hall’s center upon which stood a large urn containing fresh cut flowers. Back then, she’d made it no farther than the visitor’s salon, a rectangular room immediately off the entry hall furnished with red silk cushioned chairs and matching red silk settees. The old Lord Eastbourne had soundly rejected her plea and ordered the butler to boot her out.
Had it been Jameson? she wondered.
If so, did he recognize her?
“Will you look at that!” Charlie cried again, his mouth agape and eyes wide as he gawked at the ceiling in the formal dining hall. It was an expression he often repeated as they strolled from room to room. “Look, up there! Uncle Douglas, why do you have those naked babies painted on the ceiling?”
He laughed. “They’re a variety of angel, called cherubs.”
“I saw them in the ballroom, too.”
“They were a popular decoration in the day.”
“What day?”
He ruffled Charlie’s hair. “Oh, a long time ago. Over a hundred years ago.”
“Do you have anything here that’s over a thousand years old?”
“Jameson,” he said in jest.
Charlie giggled. “No, really. What’s the oldest thing in this house?”
Lord Eastbourne led them down the portrait hall to his library. Since the floors were polished to an even smoothness, Julia had little trouble pushing Charlie’s chair from one spectacular room to the next.
When they entered the library, Lord Eastbourne pointed to a parchment protected in glass that hung on the far wall. “Our royal grant,” he said with noticeable pride. “The title was invested in the first earl about seven hundred years ago. Of course, it was lost and regained several times over the course of the centuries. The portraits we passed in the adjoining gallery are those of the later earls of Eastbourne.”
“Your father and grandfather, and great grandfather, and great, great grandfather, and great…” Charlie continued repeating the “great” another dozen times before Julia laughingly pleaded for him to stop.
Lord Eastbourne knelt beside Charlie and quietly said, “They’re your family, too.”
That silenced the boy for a moment, long enough for the earl to rise, take the push chair from Julia, and lead them back into the portrait gallery. “Here’s a painting that should hold your interest. Recognize anyone?”
Charlie stared at the canvas displaying an older man and two boys. “That one’s you, Uncle Douglas!”
“That’s right. Who does the older boy look like?”
“Me,” Charlie said in an awed whisper.
Julia took the boy’s hand. “That’s your father at about your age. He has the same twinkle in his eyes as you do.”
“Why isn’t he smiling?”
“We weren’t allowed,” the earl explained. “One’s portrait is a serious matter, so we were warned never to laugh while the artist was at work. Of course, your father couldn’t help himself. He’d look at me, I’d wiggle my nose, and he’d burst into gales of laughter. He could never win a staring contest against me.”
“Try it with me, Uncle Douglas.”
He turned to Charlie and stared at him.
Charlie burst into laughter.
“See, just like your father. And I didn’t even wiggle my nose at you.”
“Julia,” Charlie said, still giggling as he spoke, “can you beat Uncle Douglas? You’re as serious as anyone I’ve ever met. I’ll bet he laughs first.”
She cast the earl a mirthful wink. “If I had a glove in hand, I’d toss it down as a gauntlet for the challenge.”
; The earl shook his head. “Very well, glove or no, I accept the challenge. Prepare to be defeated.”
“Oh, we’ll see about that,” she said, squaring her shoulders and turning to face him. His eyes were a warm, dark green and beheld her with a devastating gentleness.
Her heart lurched.
This was the man she’d surrendered to last night, the man who’d conquered her body and claimed her heart while leading her on a journey of exquisite pleasure.
This was the man who vowed to protect her forever.
This was the man she loved.
“Julia, whatever you do, don’t smile,” the earl said, his voice smooth and seductive.
“Not fair!” She suppressed the ache in her heart, resolving to banish all worry about the future and think only of the joy on Charlie’s beaming face. It took her to the count of three to smile and the count of four to burst into trills of laughter.
Charlie took her hand.
Lord Eastbourne took her other.
For one magical moment, she felt as though she belonged. In her heart she knew she didn’t and never would.
*
Douglas assigned Homer the governess quarters to keep him close to Charlie who was now settled in the children’s rooms. These were in the opposite wing of the house from Douglas’ own suite of rooms and the many guest bedchambers. He’d intended to settle all of them in the formal guest chambers, but his mother’s imminent arrival had forced him to change plans. Charlie would be safer kept out of the way of the dowager and her Society friends.
“If Homer’s here, then where am I to stay?” Julia asked, casting him a wary glance.
“I’ll show you.” He waited until Julia finished fussing over Charlie, then led her down the long hall to the more elegant bedchambers.
“But this is nowhere near Charlie!” she protested as they crossed into the other wing of the house.
“It can’t be helped, Julia. I won’t have you sleeping in the children’s quarters. You’re not his governess, nor are you a servant.”
“But–”
“My staff will regard you as no better than genteel help and treat you as brusquely as my mother intends to treat you. No, you can’t sleep there. We’ll change things around in time. Just not now.” He stopped in front of their finest guest chamber, the one reserved for their highest ranking visitors. No doubt it was the one his mother intended for Cynthia St. Giles, who would be among the thirty guests arriving within the next few days.
Damn, what a mess!
“Here, this is yours,” he grumbled, flinging open the door. “I hope you like it.”
She stepped in and came to a sudden halt. “My lord, this is too—”
“Douglas. My name is Douglas,” he shot back, annoyed that she insisted on maintaining a distance between them. Hadn’t last night changed anything?
“Of course, it is,” she replied, her eyes wide and mouth agape. “I merely wished to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For your generosity,” she said in a shaky voice. “In all my life I’ve never seen a more beautiful room.”
“You may see Charlie whenever you like, spend as much time with him as you desire,” he said, his tension easing as her protest stopped. “But this is your bedchamber and you must return here each night. You’re a lady, Julia, as fine as any I’ve ever known. Never let anyone treat you otherwise.”
She laughed and shook her head. “To think, we started off as enemies.”
“I hope you think a little better of me now.”
A blush swept up her neck and stained her cheeks. “You know I do.”
“Julia,” he murmured with a hint of pride, recalling her response to his touch last night. He was about to say more when he heard Jameson at the door.
“My lord,” the old man said, clearing his throat, “you asked to see me within the hour.”
Startled and obviously embarrassed, Julia darted from his side.
Douglas smothered his disappointment. “Ah, good man. Prompt as ever. Miss Marsden, supper is at eight. I’ll escort you down –” He was barely out the door before Julia shut it firmly behind him, almost catching his coat in her haste.
“Well, Jameson? What are you looking at?”
His butler arched a gray eyebrow. “Trouble brewing, I should think.”
Douglas shook his head and sighed. “You don’t know the half of it.”
He’d made love to Julia to save her from the clutches of a faerie king determined to steal her and Charlie. In doing so, he had certainly ruined Julia’s chances of ever marrying a reputable man, assuming she survived the faerie king’s next attack. His cold-hearted mother would arrive shortly, dragging with her Cynthia St. Giles, the young woman everyone expected him to marry, the young woman who believed he was the rightful earl.
Julia believed it as well. She trusted him, thought him wonderful, if that soft gleam in her eyes was any indication.
She wouldn’t consider him so wonderful after he told her the truth about Charlie.
He had to tell her tonight. He’d promised.
“Jameson,” he said, turning to his butler as they strode into his quarters, “set out my ink and paper.” Douglas spent the next hour issuing detailed instructions to counter his mother’s insidious plans.
It was a little past eight o’clock when he knocked at Julia’s door.
She opened it herself, though he’d assigned a ladies’ maid to attend her. “Good evening, my lord,” she said, stepping out into the hall and casting him a smile that stole his breath away. Her hair was done up in a fashionable chignon and adorned with her favorite butterfly pins. She had on one of the new gowns ordered in London, a charming pale blue satin concoction.
“Well, well,” he said, offering his arm. “Are you hungry?”
“Ravenous,” she admitted.
So was he.
But it wasn’t for food.
“Are we to dine alone?” Julia asked, noticing the table in the small salon was elaborately set for two, the silver candelabra and crystal glasses sparkling against the red glow of firelight.
“I thought it best.” He’d purposely left Charlie in Homer’s care, preferring to break the news about Charlie’s true situation to Julia first.
She would be angry that he’d held it back these past few days.
Could she find it in her heart to forgive him?
They chatted quietly about ordinary matters as servants bustled in and out with the various courses of their light repast, a steaming broth, a finely sliced cold ham, and artichoke hearts in a lemon and butter sauce. Finally, as their supper drew to an end, Douglas dismissed his staff and led Julia into his library, shutting the door behind them. “It’s time to speak of secrets,” he said, turning to face her.
She nodded uncertainly, casting him that lovely, glowing smile that he found irresistible.
Douglas took her hand and held it lightly in his. “You believed Charlie was ignored by my brother–”
“We’ve been through this before.” She tried to draw her hand away, but he kept an insistent hold. “I’m sure your brother was very dear to you, but you cannot deny that he abandoned my cousin.”
“I will deny it.”
“My lord, must we quibble about this? Had he been honorable, he would have done his duty and married Laura, not left her on her own to carry his child.”
“He did.”
She shook her head, obviously exasperated. “I know he left her alone to–”
“No, Julia. He married her.”
She opened her mouth to protest, then abruptly shut it as the import of his words struck home. “He married Laura?”
“In a private ceremony that took place about the same time Charlie was conceived. By the dates in question, I believe Charlie was conceived on their wedding night or shortly thereafter.”
“No, no,” she said, the blood draining from her face as she struggled to accept the news. “She would have told me.”
“I’m sure L
aura wanted to, but my brother asked her to keep their marriage a secret from everyone until he’d obtained our father’s blessing.”
Julia frowned. “A blessing never given.”
Douglas shook his head. “It doesn’t change the fact that he loved Laura or that their child was conceived in wedlock.”
Tears welled in Julia’s eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do.”
She paused a long moment, then nodded. “Charlie is their legitimate child. Oh, I do hate that word. It casts blame on the innocent. If he’s legitimate, then…” Her eyes rounded in surprise.
“Yes, he’s the rightful earl, though it isn’t as simple as that. My father disinherited Charles and his children to the extent permitted by law, leaving me to inherit the unentailed estate which accounts for most of the Eastbourne wealth. Charlie is the rightful earl, but an impoverished one.”
She spread her hands out to encompass the manor house and Eastbourne estate. “Is this estate his?”
“Yes, it’s his. The manor house and its surrounding grounds are entailed and descend to Charlie. The bulk of the holdings are mine, but Eastbourne is a pretty piece of property. With a little work, it can return sufficient profit. I loved my brother,” he insisted, “and I love Charlie. He’ll never want for anything.”
He paused a brief moment and then continued. “I want to tell you more about my brother. He died too soon, an ugly death, so easily avoided. He rode off in a blinding rainstorm after a fight with our parents. The fight was about his marriage to Laura and how best to quickly end it. He was enraged, rode out recklessly and fell from his horse, but it wasn’t a clean fall. His foot caught in the stirrup and he was dragged a good distance. A local farmer found his mangled body two days later in his field. Shortly afterwards, my parents found out that Laura carried his child. They did nothing to help her during her term, and did nothing for Charlie when she died. They had an orphaned grandchild, and they continued to do nothing even after receiving your letter years later.”
