Julia started to move away, following her sister, but as she turned she caught her breath and paused. Jane grinned at her. If she had tried to spy on Cedric she could not have gotten a better view. The younger Gruger brother was engaged in a game of cricket and she was to his rear. He was up at bat, crouched in the ready stance; his trousers pulled tight. Julia blinked and looked again, although a lady would have turned away. Cedric looked at ease and prepared, and when the pitch came, his hit was perfect. The ball flew up and in a wide curve. He ran to the other side of the pitch as the ball bounced across the field. A moment before she looked away, he caught her watching him and flashed a smile, too knowing by half. Julia stiffened and turned away. At the last moment, she saw Lord Fawkland. His eyes were upon her. Did he see her observing his brother? She was utterly mortified. She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go.
~.~
Chapter Two
Godwin watched as Miss Bellevue played shuttlecock with her friends. He wanted to speak with her about their betrothal, but he did not want to stand in the way of her fun. He knew she had reservations about their marriage and he wanted her to understand a bit of his character. He would not rule her with an iron hand. He had no wish for a silent and sullen wife. He wanted her to have her friends and her fun. He had always liked her spirit. In fact, her spirit was a large part of her appeal. As soon as the shuttlecock game began he realized that she was truly terrible at the game. He nearly laughed aloud as she sprinted wildly after the shuttlecock only to miss again. He realized that Lady Ebba and Lady Keegain had taken the better side of the field and left the side facing the sun to Miss Grant and Miss Bellevue. The older women were already the better players and the handicap was too much for Miss Bellevue. Her teammate struggled to hold their end; still Miss Bellevue tried valiantly even switching her racket to the other hand. Although her command of the game was awful, he found that he was quite impressed with her mettle. More than ever he was determined to convince her to accept his suit.
As Miss Bellevue was safely playing shuttlecock, Godwin looked for Cedric. He knew his brother would be here at the picnic; creating gossip no doubt. He searched the crowd for his brother’s blond hair. Like himself, Cedric was tall and easily found. Godwin spotted his younger brother busy playing cricket, with a throng of women cheering for him, and decided to have a drink while watching Miss Bellevue’s game, but he was waylaid enroute by Mrs. Thompson. By the time he managed to extricate himself from her questions, the shuttlecock game was finished and the ladies were nowhere in sight. He had a moment of alarm and he looked automatically for Cedric, but he was still safely playing cricket.
Godwin looked for Miss Bellevue’s dark hair above the bevy of blondes. Normally, when he was obliged to attend such events he found a way to avoid them, but somehow the parties, ridottos and gaieties were not so abhorrent when Miss Bellevue was in attendance. He smiled at the thought of talking with her more over dinner. He wanted to know her favorite foods and desserts. He wanted to know everything about her. The more Godwin saw the girl, the more he wanted to protect her. It was uncanny. He searched for her in the crowd. Not that it was difficult. She towered above most of the women and some of the men. She had the carriage of a queen. He grinned as he found her, not amidst the crowd, but walking off by herself, with only her sister headed towards the archery range. He finished his drink and followed her. A prideful voice inside of him urged him to show off for her. He was a crack shot with both bow and musket; a perk from his time in His Majesty’s Service. He would impress her. His brother did not stand a chance.
~.~
Julia and her elder sister wandered over to the archery field. Thankfully, it was deserted, and Julia was glad to leave the crowd behind. Five targets were set up at increasing distance down the lawn. Julia, feeling brave without an audience, pulled a bow from the rack and set up across from the closest target. She and Jane had practiced archery with Father when she had been younger, and she knew her mother was quite a good shot, but it had been quite a while since Julia had shot a bow. She had never been an expert marksman, but it couldn’t be worse than shuttlecock. She had already done embarrassingly poorly at that sport. Archery could be no less appalling. No doubt Jane would best her, but at least archery would keep Jane’s mind off of the marriage mart and Julia could have some peace. The thought gave her some respite but, Jane was looking back towards the other party goers and did not pick up a bow immediately.
“I will take your reluctance to participate as a sign you are frightened I will win.” Julia teased her sister.
Jane shot her a withering look. She rubbed her hands together and marched over to the bow rack. She traded her kid gloves for the more durable shooting gloves as she spoke.
“More that I did not wish to embarrass you in front of your potential suitors, but I see there is a lesson to be taught here,” Jane retorted.
“What suitors?” Julia asked. She chuckled and felt more at ease with just her sister beside her. Perhaps this day would not be an entire travesty. It could not get much worse after the disastrous attempt at shuttlecock.
Jane nocked the arrow and drew with textbook form, smoothly, unerringly. A heartbeat later, Jane released and the arrow flew straight and true, burrowing into the target just a hair off the center mark. She always was Father’s star pupil, but at least challenging her older sister made Julia forget about husbands for just a little while.
Julia tried to copy Jane’s form. She tried to remember Father’s lessons, but even though Julia was the larger of the two women and should have no trouble with the bow, her arm quivered as she drew the bowstring back. Jane had made it look effortless, but the act required more force than Julia had remembered.”
“More quickly,” Jane urged. “Swift and sure. Remember what Father said.”
“Easy for you,” Julia said as she wrestled the bow into place at last, but holding the position was hardly any easier than getting it there in the first place, and she was forced to release before she was steady. The arrow wobbled in the air and landed on the ground five feet from the target. Flat.
“Well, ladies, this hardly seems a fair match.” Julia did not need to turn to know who that deep voice belonged to. Lord Fawkland had returned.
“Hello again, Lord Fawkland,” said Jane. There was no sign of disapproval in Jane’s voice. She did not listen to the talk of the Ton but Julia could not help but remember what she had heard about Lord Fawkland: that he was a rake of the most low regard. Jane was merely too polite to let on.
She reminded herself that Father had trusted Lord Fawkland. Still, rumor laid credence to what Julia knew as a child. She remembered the day she had come into the school room to find her favorite doll trussed up and hung from the ceiling with a hangman’s noose; broken. She had never really discovered which brother had done the deed, but Cedric claimed that Godwin had wanted a ransom. She had always wondered what that ransom had been. It was only a doll, she reminded herself. It was years ago and did not matter.
Her nanny had clucked and said “Boys will be boys,” but the sight of the ruined doll came to Julia now. She looked at Lord Fawkland a little nervously and her heart did flip flops. He was so terribly handsome. He did not look like the sort of a man who would torment a young girl. She shook her head. She would not have her head turned by his manliness. She would remember the cold arrogant child he was, and she would be just as cool. She lifted her chin and looked away.
Julia had expected Lord Fawkland to melt under Jane’s smile like every other man seemed to, but when she glanced over her shoulder Julia found him looking at her instead of Jane. She felt a blush heating her cheeks and her stomach clenched. She looked away again. His cool eyes were so mocking, as if looking for some flaw.
Perhaps he was dismayed that she was so tall. She glanced at him from beneath her lashes.
“Do you shoot, Lord Fawkland?” Jane asked.
Julia thought it was a silly question. Of course he shot. He was a gentleman, but he seemed
unperturbed by the inaneness of the question.
“I do,” Lord Fawkland replied to Jane. “As I remember, you always had a knack for archery, Lady Keegain, but I see it is not a family trait.”
How dare he expose her shortcomings? Julia peeked at him from the corner of her eye. He was looking at her again!
Did he believe the rumors said of her? Had he mentioned family on purpose, supposing that she was not truly a Bellevue? That would be just cruel. But wasn’t he cruel?
She thought about her dolls. She could see no reason why would a twelve-year-old boy do such a thing. Though she had, in the intervening years, learned that people were not kind, and young boys were less so.
She would have taken him to task on his manners, but all the words she had in her head would not leave her mouth as she wished them to. She convinced herself she did not want to spend enough time on him to reprimand his impropriety. She turned away and hoped he would stop making her so nervous. Instead, he took a bow from the rack, larger than either Jane’s or Julia’s, and tested the weight of the draw.
Julia’s felt a trickle of heat run down her spine as he moved closer.
His eyes swept over her. Immediately her hand started to shake as she realized he was looking at her. She gritted her teeth trying to still her disquiet.
“We all have our strengths,” Jane replied. “My sister is a better painter than I am. She has the patience to mix oils to the perfect shade where as I can barely make a proper scene with watercolor, though I have devoted many hours to the study.”
Did Jane think she was making this better? Though her sister could never resist coming to Julia’s defense, Julia glared at Jane. She hadn’t wanted Lord Fawkland to know she had done the paintings back at the townhouse. Oil painting was not a common ladylike pursuit. Jane glared right back as if to say Julia was being silly.
“Julia is the proper artist.” Jane said with finality.
“Your father spoke of it,” Lord Fawkland replied.
He turned to look at Julia and she blushed under his gaze, or her sister’s praise, she was not sure which.
“I’m sure you find the same with your brother,” Jane continued. “There are things you do well and things he does well.”
Julia watched the smile fade from Lord Fawkland’s face. “Humph,” Was all he said by way of reply. It seemed there really was some animosity between the brothers. Julia could almost feel it crackle around Lord Fawkland even at this distance. Her natural curiosity made her want to ask about it, but she held her tongue. Asking questions like that only got her in trouble. The man was entitled to his secrets.
Julia put her concentration on the righting the arrow. She struggled to aim. Lord Fawkland lifted one eyebrow and a shoulder in a half shrug before turning back to Julia. She felt heat pool in her belly and she looked away. She should be looking at the target she reminded herself. She released another poor shot.
“Cedric could never stand for being anything but first. It drives him mad that I was born first and no amount of work or money will overcome it,” said Lord Fawkland. “Everything I have, my brother wants. His jealousy blinds him to what good he holds himself.”
“Surely not,” Julia said. She remembered her gad abouts with the younger brother and felt the need to speak. She had all manner of berating comments running through her head, warring to be spoken, but none of them would actually come out of her mouth. Had she just called the man a liar? Oh bother. She should just pretend to be mute. Yes, a mute woman would have a better chance of making a good impression than she did. Did she want to make a good impression, she wondered. Did it matter if he was a rake? How could she marry such a man?
Fawkland didn’t answer her random attempt at conversation. Perhaps that was because there was nothing to say, and partly because he probably did not want to contradict her, not if he was a gentleman. Of course rumor said that he was not.
Instead of speaking, he unbuttoned his jacket, ran his fingers along the smooth curve of the bow, then set an arrow in place all in one smooth graceful motion. Julia’s gaze was drawn to his hands as he pulled back the bowstring effortlessly. His movements were confident, assured. Was he so assured with everything he did she wondered. A shiver ran down her spine although the day was hot. She saw at once why he had unbuttoned his coat; his muscles flexed and pulled the fabric of his shirt, bunching his jacket around his shoulders, and it may have torn without the extra space. His waistcoat strained across the muscles of his torso. The heat caused the cotton to cling damply. Julia felt a hot blush fill her face. She cleared her throat.
Only his strong fingers moved with his release. The arrow sunk solidly, penetrating the dead center of the target, exactly where he had chosen to put it, the fletching obliterating the small yellow circle from this angle.
"Bravo, Lord Fawkland." Jane applauded. “Oh, here comes Lady Montgomery, looking for me. Excuse me, just a moment.”
No! thought Julia, as Jane began moving away, but the word stuck in her throat.
Lady Montgomery had been a dear friend of Jane’s since their debut. She looked harried now, crossing the lawn with her dress bunched up in her hands, and a look on her face like she had much to tell Jane. The woman could talk for hours. Julia was doomed.
"Of course,” said Lord Fawkland. “As long as your sister can stand to be left on her own with me.” He smiled, and his eyes were warm upon her. Julia panicked. What would they say to one another?
“Julia?” Jane asked. “You don’t mind? I shall only be a moment.”
Julia could not speak and Jane took her silence that as assent. She did mind. She did not want to be left alone with Lord Fawkland, but even she knew it would be rude to say so and she did not want Jane to feel like a nanny, glued to her side every moment of the summer. She did not need such a close chaperone. She didn’t. She only wanted one. She threw a glance at Lord Fawkland. He was so tall, nearly a head taller than she was. Her eyes lingered on the broad expanse of his chest. Jane was already moving away. She could call her sister back. Oh, she was being silly. All of the Ton was just a breath away; it was still daylight and the picnic was in full swing. There was no real privacy. She didn’t need a close chaperone. Still, Julia was nervous. Jane glanced over her shoulder, beamed and hurried off to meet Lady Montgomery. She thought she was doing Julia a favor!
Julia was alone with Lord Fawkland. Well, as alone as one could be in a party of some hundred people, all occupying a single lawn. But it was a very big lawn and no one was paying her any particular attention with the exception of Lord Fawkland who was watching her curiously.
They stood in silence. Julia’s skin was alive with tension. All she could think of was his strong fingers holding the arrow with such precision, and then letting it fly. Her imagination brought those fingers to her skin. She shivered; her face aflame. Her thoughts flew. She should speak. She should say something witty. Her sister would know what to say. Lavinia would know what to say. Even Francesca the littlest Poppy sister, who wasn’t even out for her Season yet would know what to say.
Julia’s tongue felt dry in her mouth, and she cleared her throat. Dear God. She could at least talk about the weather, couldn’t she? Beautiful day isn’t it? She could say that. Of course he could see that it was a beautiful day. It made her sound like a ninny to repeat it. And standing here mute did not make her look like an idiot? She chided herself.
Lord Fawkland had turned from her and she breathed again. He shot an arrow himself, and then another. She watched him mesmerized. Why didn’t he start the conversation? He was surely no gentleman.
“You are a quiet one,” he said his voice soft, like velvet. He had stopped shooting and turned towards Julia again. All of his attention was on her and she wished he would turn back to the targets…and wished he didn’t.
“I’m not,” she said.
“But you do not share your sister’s love of parties, I see. Though you were more boisterous as a child, if I do remember correctly.”
He smil
ed at her awaiting a response. Julia said nothing. She blushed and looked at her shoes, thinking that if she wasn’t looking at him, she could get her bearings and speak. Why did he bring up her childhood? She was no longer a child. She noted the grass stained toe of her shoe. Did he notice? She tucked one foot behind the other self-consciously.
“I will never forget the day you and Cedric stole a berry pie right out from under our cook’s nose and ate it all yourselves. You ran the servants in a merry chase that day.”
“I didn’t,” she said. The words were strangled. It was strange he remembered their childhood quite differently than she did. She had nothing to do with the stealing of the pie. That was Cedric. She did have to admit to sharing it with him though. It was delicious, but Cedric had forgotten to steal spoons and she had stained her pinafore digging in with her fingers after Cedric’s dare. She had been covered with blueberry stains. Her nanny was quite cross with her.
“Cedric was ill that evening, but sill maintained having zero regrets,” Lord Fawkland said with a soft laugh. He sounded wistful. “I was home on a furlough.”
Julia remembered the day. She had not gotten sick but she had been given a scolding. Only Cedric had such fun running from the cook and dodging those who tried to catch him. Later, Cedric had taken her to a secret place and regaled her with the adventure. He told her of the chase and shared his stolen pie. He showed her his treasures: A number of baubles she remembered. It had meant nothing at the time. Now, she wondered what they all were. Those treasures? And why had he hidden them? To whom did they belong?
“I remember those lips covered with sweet blueberries.” Lord Falkland reached out as if to touch her, and she thought again of those hands on her skin and shivered. For just a moment anticipation filled her, and her lips parted, but his fingers stopped a hair’s breadth from her lips. She could see his gentleman’s ring shining in the summer sun. She dare not look at his face. What was she doing?
The Baron in Bath - Miss Julia Bellevue: A Regency Romance Novel (Heart of a Gentleman Book 4) Page 7
