Before they had walked very far, Mister Gruger greeted the women again. His smiling face reminded her of the gaiety he always brought with him even as a child and Julia found herself smiling back at him in spite of herself. When Cedric learned that the women were enjoying the gardens after dinner, he said he would escort them, giving a running commentary to the entire group on the different roses the Pratts cultivated in their garden. He offered Julia his arm and she took it, feeling some of the comradery they had as children. They did find a bench near the main thoroughfare, where some of the dowagers were already sitting. Mister Gruger paused to greet them and they tittered like young girls. They liked him, Julia thought. Everyone seemed to like Cedric Gruger.
They passed a beautiful place near a pool, and paused to watch the carp coming to the top of the water. Their golden scales were lovely and Julia thought this would be a wonderful place to paint. She had never painted fish before. The water would be a challenge. Perhaps she would ask Lady Pratt’s permission to paint here. They walked around the pool and Julia considered how the sun would hit the water in the morning.
Julia’s friends, Lady Charity and Miss Grant were still nearby along with some of Jane’s friends. They had walked a bit in front of Cedric and Julia while Cedric regaled Julia with tales of their childhood and she felt as if she had gone back in time. Here was the Cedric she had known as a child. Here was the Cedric whose company she enjoyed. She laughed at his antics and his bright eyes sparkled as he reminded her of a pond on the Gruger lands.
“I remember it,” Julia said.
Cedric regaled her with a tale of pushing some bully into that pool.
“Who?” she asked, and he shrugged.
“I don’t remember.”
“Did you get a scolding?”
“Didn’t I always?” Cedric said.
“I do remember some of these escapades,” she said, “although I do not remember them being such fun. I was telling Lord Fawkland…”
“Oh let us not speak of Godwin,” Cedric said, placing a finger against her lips. “What else to you remember?”
“I remember a lot of scolding,” she said.
“Ah, yes,” Cedric said. “There was scolding. Now that must have been my brother.” He laughed.
“I thought we were not speaking of him,” Julia said in a flurry of relevant wit. She was quite proud of herself when Cedric smiled at her, but the moment was lost as Cedric brushed the curls from the nape of her neck and she froze in place. He stood a little behind her, and shifted her so that she was nearly leaning against him, the heat of him soaking into her skin as he held her, close. She felt the touch of his fingers on her bare neck, just beneath her hair.
She tried to say, he was too close and this was unseemly, but the words would not come. The scent of him muddled her mind, and she could not speak. Where had everyone else gone? When had she and Cedric wandered so far away?
Cedric’s lips followed his fingers a moment later, pressing a feather-soft kiss behind her ear. This could not be happening. He could not kiss her. This would ruin her. She must speak. She tried to make a sound. It came out as a little squeak.
“We are alone now, and it is too dark for anyone to see,” Cedric said.
When had it grown so dark? She wondered. She had spent the whole afternoon, first with Lord Fawkland, and then his brother…his brother. Whatever she thought, she was his brother’s betrothed. Cedric’s breath tickled her neck as he pulled the comb loose from Julia’s hair and her elaborate updo collapsed. All Jacqueline’s hard work destroyed in a moment; precious pins rained down, lost in the grass.
She wanted to scramble to pick them up. She wanted to pull away. She never wanted to move. Her body made the decision for her, refusing to budge as if her limbs were filled with lead. His lips felt hot on her skin and she shivered. Such kisses were reserved for married couples. She should stop him, but for the life of her, she could not think how to accomplish this. He tipped her head up; his thumb ran along her lower lip. She felt frozen. He was no longer a child and neither was she.
The thought of Lord Fawkland seeing her like this snapped her back to reality. She thought suddenly of the blueberry pie and his words earlier this afternoon, Everything I have, my brother wants…everything I have. No, her father had chosen the elder brother. Not the younger. Not this.
Julia stepped away and spun around.
“This is not… appropriate,” she said, breathless. She was proud of herself for speaking, but he did not let her go.
Cedric caught her hand with both of his. The comb was on her palm reminding her that he had pulled it from her hair. She must look a wild thing, with her hair all streaming down. She knew her eyes were wide with surprise. “Unhand me!”
He did not release her.
“Come now, Julia, it is just us here, alone. I will not tell a soul about us. I know you can keep a secret.” Cedric said as he moved in closer again, his hand on her waist, he pulled her close, his lips inches from her own.
“You have joined me in so many explorations, Julia. I know your spirit of adventure is alive and well. I only must help you find it again.”
She must have made a sound. A squeak of protest.
“Shh,” he warned. “I know that you are not like other girls, stuffy and cold, unwilling to share their affections,” His words were whispered against her lips. He brought his other hand up to her cheek.
Was he truly hoping to romance her by reminding her that she was not truly a member of the Ton? By telling her she was not like the other young women?
Julia’s body went from melted chocolate to iron fury in a flash. She swung her hand at Cedric, catching him off guard. Her hand connected with his cheek, though not as solidly as she would have wished, and he let loose a curse and released her. Before he could respond, she ran. She knew he could catch her if he wanted to, but he did not come. Julia did not look back to see if he followed, or if anyone had noticed their altercation. She did not stop running until she had left the party far behind.
~.~
Chapter Four
Julia soon found herself back on the familiar cobblestone streets, far from the Pratt residence and the garden, but closer to her own home. Jane would be horrified. It was then she remembered she had left behind Jane’s silver hair comb, and the pins all through the grass.
Would Cedric deliver the comb; tell Jane what had happened? Though she did not know how, Julia knew she must have led Cedric on in some manner. She had no idea what she had done. Or had he just assumed, knowing what he did of her mother, that she would be welcoming to those sorts of advances? She felt her face fire with a blush and put her cool hands against her flaming cheeks. The truth was she had welcomed it. She had not moved when he first kissed her. She had not reprimanded him. She had said nothing. She had even leaned into his hand when he touched her lips with his thumb. She had leaned into his kiss. She groaned and covered her face with her hands.
Cedric was known to everyone as a good man. No, the fault was in her. Julia ran her hands through her hair and pulled out all of the remaining stray pins used to hold her updo in place. She may as well look as wild as she was. Her curls tumbled down to her waist and people passing by stared, but she ignored them, hoping the darkness was enough for anonymity.
If the Ton found out what happened, no one would ever marry her and then Jane would fault herself. Anger came more naturally than tears and Julia lashed out, kicking a lamppost as she passed it. The kick made her toes momentarily numb and then the pain blossomed sharp and overpowering. She grabbed her toes and held them for a moment trying not to scream. She held the throbbing digits in her hand until the pain eased. At last she started to walk again. Her foot ached from the sudden shock but the throbbing was less than it was a moment ago. She kept walking, keeping the weight on her heels and flexing her hands into fists to keep from striking out again. She had gone from frightened to furious and back again in a moment.
She wondered if she should go back to the picn
ic and try to find Jane, but she couldn’t be seen like this. Instead, she walked in the direction of home until she found herself in front of the Grand Pump Room. People dressed in their finest, bustled in and out of the wide doors, faces pink and damp. Coifs somewhat wilted in the heat, but none as bedraggled as she. Although the sun had sunk behind the hills, the air still held the warmth of summer. The noise of the orchestra followed them out as the doors opened, and cut off when they closed. None of the patrons spared her a glance. Julia could smell the minerals in the moist air, the scent of the water said to cure any ailment. Could it cure what was wrong with her? Could it cure the fire in her that flamed with an attractive man’s attention? Perhaps if she asked Jane, they could go together to take the waters.
“I will not be a burden on Jane to deal with her entire life. I will not be the odd spinster sister she must always fret about, never free to enjoy her own life like she could if I were normal,” said Julia, staring up at the building. The women passing by glanced at her then broke into titters. She stepped aside and hastily braided the wild thatch of hair that hung down her back. Although most had their hair done up, some of the younger girls wore plaits. If she were smaller, she may have been able to pass herself off as a child. As it was, no one was fooled. Anyone who saw her; saw a wanton.
Had her father known? Did he understand? Is that why he arranged her marriage? Had he known she could not choose for herself? Did he know she would choose wrong? Tomorrow she would come back. She would take the waters. Once her wantonness was healed she would marry. She would find a husband who was not a Gruger, and she would marry him before she could do any more damage to the Bellevue reputation. She didn’t care about the house. She would find another place. The thought of giving up her attic study shot a pain through her heart, but there was no help for it. She would paint outside if she must. She had a plan, and now that Julia had a plan she did not feel so hopeless. Her anger faded, but she could not return to the picnic with her hair in such a state.
She would send a servant back to search for Jane and tell her sister that she had returned home. Yes, that was a plan.
Julia’s foot throbbed each time she stepped on it. Her walking became a hobble. Eventually she stopped and pulled off her slipper, for the foot had swollen past the point of being comfortable trapped in the shoe. There was blood on her stocking. She rubbed the toe gingerly, and then gasped as she hit the nail and pain sparked through her.
“Done with the picnic already?” Lord Fawkland appeared in the shadows of the townhouses and easily caught up with her. “Are you all right?”
He straightened, taking in her shoeless foot and the state of hair. Another Gruger thinking she was unhinged; just what she needed.
“I am fine, thank you. My home is just up there,” Julia said, limping past him. She could not bear to put the shoe back on. Instead she carried it and walked in her stocking feet, and holding her dress out of the dirt.
“No, you are not fine, Miss Bellevue. You are hurt, let me help you,” he said. His face said that refusal was not an option, but she was done with overbearing men tonight. She stared him down. He ran a hand over his rather crumpled cravat and looked at her. She felt him taking in every bit of her own rumpled appearance. He could as easily force himself on her as his brother had done, but he did nothing. He waited and finally said again, very softly, “Let me help you.” He simply waited until at last she gave a reluctant nod. He stepped up next to her. He offered her an arm to steady her, and she took it. They began walking slowly at her pace.
She could smell the pungent pipe smoke on Lord Fawkland’s clothes and could even catch the faint scent of spicy sandalwood soap on his skin beneath cherry pipe tobacco. His arm was so warm under hers and she shifted nervously, feeling a flutter that began in her chest, settled deep in her heart. She should move away from him; she thought and leaned suddenly on his arm as she stumbled at bit.
He stopped, one hand tightening on hers to steady her. “I should carry you,” he said.
“No,” she said horrified.
“It would be the most expedient way to get you home,” he said reasonably, but she did not feel reasonable. His suggestion made her feel giddy. Her heart beat faster. Carried in his arms…she couldn’t speak for a moment with the thought of it. He could do it, she thought. He was large enough to pick her up and carry her. For just a moment she imagined herself nestled against his chest. A wave of delight washed through her. She was a big girl. She never thought to be carried again since she had outgrown the practice as a child and perhaps she wanted someone to comfort her tonight.
When she at last gained her voice she spoke much more confidently than she felt.
“You would not dare,” she said. She believed his brother would do so no matter how she protested, but Lord Fawkland was not his brother.
“I’m worried for you,” he said in a gentle voice. “You are going to damage your foot more than it already is with walking on it. Let me carry you.”
She pulled away from him. “You needn’t worry for me,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”
“I see,” he replied.
She took a hobbling step away, and he offered his arm again. She took it.
After a moment, Godwin said. “This betrothal. This…business I contracted with your father…We find ourselves in an untenable position, betrothed and yet virtually strangers. I did not plan it that way.” He paused “We should speak of it,” he said softly, but then he said no more.
She supposed he expected her opinion, but she did not know her own mind. If she spoke, she would only make things worse. She always did. She only knew his arm felt good under her hand. She only knew she had inherited her mother’s hoyden blood and if he knew, he would not want her any longer. She thought about the rumors about him and the thought of her husband with another woman…she gritted her teeth with sudden anger. She shook her head. These thoughts had to stop.
He stopped walking.
Why had he stopped? She looked up at him.
“This is your house is it not?” he asked and she realized they were in front of her home.
Her home, for she thought of it as hers, did not look much different from the other townhouses in the row although the curtains in the windows were yellow like sunshine, and her neighbors all had white. The stairs were going to be much more difficult than the street.
“May I carry you?” he asked again, gesturing to the front steps, but when she shook her head stubbornly, he did not insist. He helped her up the steps one at a time, with him holding her arm and letting her lean heavily on him. The task was a laborious, and meant she had to put weight on her big toe with each step. After two steps she would have asked him to carry her up the next set, but she could see no way to ask without seeming forward as well as indecisive. Well, she supposed she was both. She blinked away her tears and continued; she refused to cry.
“This is fine,” she said as they reached the top step. She really didn’t want anyone to know he had accompanied her home unchaperoned, especially since the day was moving quickly into twilight. The gossip would never stop. She could only hope no one had seen them; or no one recognized them. It was a vain hope, but she held onto it.
“As you wish,” he said and gave her a little bow in front of her door.
“Thank you,” said Julia. The moment hung, and she had the feeling he wanted to say something more. Was he as tongue-tied as she was? Were they so much the same? It was too strange a thought to think. Would he ask to call upon her? It did not seem such a burden as it had been earlier today. “Good evening, Lord Fawkland” she said.
“Good evening, Miss Bellevue” he repeated. He turned, and then turned back. “Kick a bush next time,” he said. “It will break before your foot does…a small bush,” he amended.
He opened the door for her and then trotted down the front steps. She turned to watch him, and realized that if he saw her kick the lamppost, he must have been watching her with his brother. The thought could have
been uncomfortable, but right now, she was glad he had been watching. She felt protected, and then she realized how it must have looked to him; her betrothed. She had let his brother kiss her! Oh, he must think she was awful.
“There you are,” said Jane as Julia hobbled into the sitting room. She wrapped Julia in a hug. “Are you alright? I was worried sick when I couldn’t find you at the picnic. Why did you leave without saying anything? If you were tired of it we could have taken the carriage back together.”
Cedric had not told anyone yet, then. Julia breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps he wouldn’t. Perhaps he would be a gentleman.
“I am sorry, Jane, I just could not stand to be there a moment longer.” It was not a lie, at least.
“Did someone upset you? What happened to your hair?”
“You know my hair never stays in its pins,” Julia said avoiding the question.
Jane’s eyes narrowed. “Did you walk home? Alone?”
She blushed. “No. Lord Fawkland accompanied me.”
Jane raised an eyebrow. “Oh Julia! I wish he had not done that. It would not do for you to be seen with him, not with his reputation.”
“I am his betrothed,” Julia said as she bent and pulled off her other slipper and limped from the entryway. “Or have you forgotten?”
Jane appeared not to hear her. “Good heavens! Your foot looks as though a horse stepped on it,” said Jane kneeling down to get a better look. She touched the toe and Julia winced. Jane gave her the most pointed of looks. “Julia, what on earth happened?” she asked.
“I stubbed it on a stone; that is all,” Julia lied.
“A stone,” Jane repeated.
It would not do for Jane to know Julia had so little control over her temper. She wasn’t sure how to begin to explain this evening. She limped off to the sitting room sofa and put her foot up. Jane followed her into the room and turned to the windows. She began shutting the draperies.
The Baron in Bath - Miss Julia Bellevue: A Regency Romance Novel (Heart of a Gentleman Book 4) Page 9
