She shuddered and let out a cry
Her sweet sounds calmed to a lullaby
Then I set her free and let her fly.”
Anthony looked over the room once more before turning to the servants.
“A hundred points for the men!” a maid said breathlessly.
There were some groans and laughter as people began to move around. Maura looked toward the window to see if it were open, because it suddenly felt quite heady in the room.
Someone began to play a merry tune on the pianoforte. The game was quickly forgotten as couples moved toward one another.
She looked for Julius.
“Did you enjoy my poem?”
Maura turned to find Anthony sitting close to her in a place that one of the other ladies had occupied. His gaze was watchful. His eyes were a blue she wasn’t sure existed in nature.
She tried to think of what to say. She couldn’t very well say it was ‘pleasing’ or ‘moving,’ though it had been. She didn’t want him to know how much his words had gotten to her, made her crave things she shouldn’t.
“I’m not sure you know what a butterfly is.”
He smiled and then laughed, the sensual tone touching her where she ached most. “Oh, but isn’t that what makes English so convivial? One could say anything and mean entirely something else.” He leaned closer. “For instance, I could say that I’ve been interested in getting to know your butterfly for quite some time and would enjoy petting it for you. I can promise to be gentle, knowing how delicate it could be, though if you want it rougher, all you have do is ask.”
Maura said nothing. She couldn’t remember how to speak. All she could do was feel everything he’d just said. Would she be wild? How did he know it to be a possibility?
He leaned in further. His arm went around the back of the couch, making him large and imposing. His look was far from passive. “You see, I could say all that and mean something entirely different…”
Maura’s hand was grabbed and, in the next second, she was on her feet and in Julius’s arms.
Her front met his chest, crushing the air from her.
Julius turned to Anthony. “Sorry to interrupt, but Maura begged me to dance with her this evening and I can’t let the lady down.” Then he pulled Maura farther into the room with the other couples, not giving Anthony a chance to respond or Maura a chance to think.
Julius stepped back the required distance for the waltz. “What did he say to you?”
* * *
chapter 8
* * *
“What?” Maura’s eyes were wide and dazed.
Julius narrowed his gaze. Her color was high. He’d seen many of the women have that same expression during and just after Anthony said his passionate poem, but the air in the room had cooled once the music had started up. At least everywhere but where Maura had sat with Anthony.
Her expression said everything Julius needed to know. The man had grown tired of the five courtesans he’d brought to the party and had now turned his eyes toward the only other unattached woman. She’d be nothing more than a conquest for Anthony, and Julius would not allow it.
“I didn’t ask you to dance,” Maura said, coming out of whatever spell Anthony had cast over her. “And I certainly didn’t beg.”
He grinned and pulled her inappropriately close. “Perhaps you should try it. You may well get what it is you truly want.”
Her cheeks blushed again, and he was glad to be the cause. She licked her lips. “I plan to speak to Frank in the morning.”
“Good.” He’d been thinking about the situation with her father for most of the day. It didn’t seem right that he could leave for three years and return with the intentions of hurting her. “Neither of us had the happy childhood we’d have wished for, did we?”
Her gaze softened. “No, I suppose not. I mean, all was well until Albion died.”
“Yes, and the same for me until my father passed,” Julius shared.
“What was he like?” she asked on a turn. “Do you remember him?”
“Vaguely. There are moments when certain things remind me of him. He liked the outdoors, I know. Sometimes, something as simple as waking up and departing the house before sunrise reminds me of him.”
Maura smiled. “My father enjoys outdoors as well. And caves. And temples and old homes that once held vast wealth.”
He took long moments to simply observe her expression. “You actually like your father.”
“I do.”
Julius didn’t.
That must have been clear on his face because she said, “He’s not entirely bad, Julius. He loves me.”
“How does your mother put up with it?” he decided to ask. “The distance. It must be frightful.”
Maura nodded. “It is, but she understood who she was marrying. She rarely regrets her choice. That’s how much she loves him.”
Love was very foreign to Julius. Even with nine of his friends currently in the throes of happiness, he still didn’t understand why someone would willingly risk the pain that came with disappointment. While others would think it cowardly, he thought it made him a reasonable man to never fall in love. Why attach oneself to the issues of others when one clearly had plenty of their own? He had his friends. They would do.
He realized why he’d shared more with her today than he’d done in the past two years and why he’d bothered to ask after her ghost.
If her current plans failed, this could very well be their last dance, their final moments together. That hit him in the most profound manner. He felt ill at the thought. Life without Maura, even if she was quite strange, didn’t seem as enticing as it once was.
The song ended, and he showed her from the floor… and away from Anthony.
Lorena came over and grabbed her cousin. “Maura, we must speak.”
“About?” her cousin asked.
Lorena opened her mouth and then clamped it closed before glaring at Julius. “Men are not allowed in this discussion.”
Julius grinned. “Plot all you want, but we’re winning.”
“We shall see to that in the morning,” Lorena challenged. “Come, Maura.” She dashed away with her cousin, and Julius watched them go.
* * *
chapter 9
* * *
Julius was hardly surprised when he heard Anthony’s voice a moment later. “I propose a trade. I’ll distract Maura and you may have Lady Beech.”
Julius turned to Anthony. Standing at Anthony’s side was his best friend, Lord Allen Blackfall. Allen cut an imposing figure as he scanned the room. He had dark hair and eyes the color of distant mountains, blue and occasionally cold when the solicitor wished.
Julius looked to the group of five women who’d crowded around the buffet table and were inconspicuously slipping linen-wrapped biscuits into their bodices and glancing around to make sure no one saw. Thanks to Anthony, they were all well dressed and a very kind bunch of women if one could look past their occupation. The fact that they’d managed to fool anyone at the party at all was a testament to how far removed the Spinsters and Brotherhood were from the usual members of society. Julius had only known them to be courtesans because they’d come along with Anthony and rarely did his friend attach himself to a woman who could claim she’d been ruined by him later.
“And which one is Lady Beech again?”
Anthony pointed his finger vaguely. “That one.”
“Which one?” Julius moved closer, acting as though he cared to follow the finger while knowing good and well that Anthony had no clue who was pretending to play Lady Beech.
“Her,” Anthony said. “The one with the blond hair.”
There were three blondes. The others had red hair that Julius suspected had been colored with Indian dyes.
Julius turned to his friend. “You don’t honestly believe that anyone thinks them ladies.”
Anthony grinned. “Emmett fell for it.”
Allen chuckled. “He just finished addressing Anthony
for his obscene poem and the light skirts.” He turned to Anthony. “I told you Julius would know the minute they walked into the house.”
Julius’s lips twitched. He had known indeed. “Whatever gave you the idea to name them all after trees? Beech, Juniper, Elder, Ash, and Poplar.”
Anthony shrugged and then smirked, lifted his glass in the air. “It’s better than what I usually call them.”
Julius could easily imagine all the filthy things that came from Anthony’s mouth. Had things been different, Julius could have easily pictured himself closer to Anthony and Allen, Anthony at least. Julius had spent his fair share of years with his hands under one skirt after another. Allen was more selective with his pursuits, but Anthony and Julius were quite alike. It shouldn’t have surprised Julius that Anthony was also attracted to Maura.
“Is Lady Beech boring you already?” Julius asked. “Is that why you wish to give her to me?”
Anthony’s eyes moved to where Maura stood with Lorena. The women had their heads bent together. Their features were as similar as they were different.
Julius had once proposed to Lorena and for many reasons, he was glad she’d chosen Emmett, for he’d never have been able to tease Maura the way he did if he had married. The Brotherhood men were faithful to their wives, an oath they’d made long ago.
“I heard she was mad,” Anthony said. “And I’ve begun to wonder just how that would play out in bed.”
Julius hadn’t considered that… and didn’t appreciate that Anthony had… or the look that Allen was giving Maura at the moment.
“My mother was mad,” he said. “She tried to kill me in my sleep, so you’ll excuse me if I don’t hold the same curiosity as you do.”
Anthony sobered and turned to Julius. “You think Maura capable of killing you in your sleep?”
Julius shrugged and spoke the truth about how he felt. “You never know what a mad woman is capable of. My mother didn’t always wish me dead.” And at the moment, neither did Maura, but things changed.
It was yet another reason to keep his distance and yet he couldn’t quite manage to leave her alone for good.
“That’s a fine point.” Anthony lifted his glass to his lips. “I’ve tried many things in the bedroom, but even I have my limits. Come, Allen, let’s go see how many of our other married friends are upset with my choice of party companions.”
Allen nodded before departing.
His gaze found Maura once more and his lips lifted of their own volition as she laughed. She was one of the gentlest women in the Spinsters. Her kindness, especially working with the broken women who came to the society for aid, could not be denied.
But Julius could easily close his eyes and recall the smile of another woman. A smile that with time had turned cruel and whose touch had turned cold.
Thinking of his mother always made him reasonable once again, helped him the see the truth of his circumstances. At any moment, his world could change, his comfort and happiness pulled from underneath him like a rug, and he’d best be prepared for that.
Seven-year-old Julius cracked open the door to the library and searched the dark for his mother. The fireplace gave enough illumination for him to see her sitting in a chair. The Marchioness of Darvess’s dark head was tilted as her hand held a brush and stroked over the canvas before her.
The thunder and lightning struck and sounded outside. The rain hit the mansion in a steady rhythmic downpour. Julius had always hated the dark, but he hated it even more when he couldn’t see the moon. The world was black outside his window and the howling wind had made it hard for him to set aside his fears to find sleep.
Staring at his mother, he decided he’d sleep right there on the floor in the hall. He could see her, yet she couldn’t see him, which meant she’d never know how frightened he’d been. He did this some nights. Lady Darvess liked to paint in the library so much that she often fell asleep there and Julius would sleep in the hall. Whenever he was caught in the morning, he simply told her he’d been keeping guard and she’d smile, unaware that it was him who needed her.
He began to kneel down on the floor, but another crack of lightning caused him the jump. The door creaked as it was opened farther, and his mother turned her head toward him. With the light set behind her, he couldn’t see her face but knew she could see him.
“Julius. Come.” Her voice was soft. Inviting. She was often like that. She would be the sweetest person in the whole world most days.
But then there were the other times…
Julius smiled, putting aside his worry, and walked farther into the room. She sat on the couch and he settled down beside her. Her arms gathered him. She smelled like jelly and fish, a horrible combination, yet comforting to him in some way. Her scent was always strange to his senses, but that was what made his mother who she was.
“What are you doing up so late?” she asked.
“I knew you were up, so I… wanted to guard you. Just in case.” He smiled up at her.
Her brown eyes wrinkled in the corners as she smiled down at him. “My knight in shining armor. How I love you so.” He touched his cheeks. “What would I ever do without you, Julius?” He kissed his forehead. “You’re everything to me,” she murmured. Then she pulled away and asked, “Would you like to see my painting?”
That question always made him feel special. She never let anyone see her paintings. Not even his father. Only Julius.
She moved over to the canvas and Julius’s eyes caught sight of it.
“It’s beautiful, Mama.” And it was. His mother was the best artist in all the world. The scene before him was a peaceful meadow with a stream that looked so blue and warm and he wished he could jump in it. He decided to say so aloud. “I wish I could swim in that stream.”
She laughed. “Maybe you can!” Bending down, she gathered him into her arm and flung him toward the painting only to reel him back at the last second. Their laughter filled the night, growing louder than the storm until she finally set him down on his feet with a sigh. “You like it?”
He nodded. “You’re the best painter in the whole world, Mama.”
Her eyes softened, and she touched his hair. “And you’re my favorite person in the whole world.”
He liked when she told him that. He knew that every time she did, it was true, unlike when she said mean things. None of that was true. She was only ever mad, because she was having a bad day. It wasn’t her fault.
He settled down on the couch and his mother turned back to the canvas. She began to hum a tune while she filled in the green of the trees in the distance.
He remained silent as she worked. He’d learned to do so a long time ago.
Then his mother turned around and said, “You know, you may not be able to swim in the stream, but the stream can swim in you?”
He’s started to go back to sleep, but at her voice, he opened his eyes. “How?”
She stuck her finger in her blue paint and said, “Open your mouth.”
Julius frowned and shook his head. “Mama, I don’t want to eat paint.” He’d never tried it, but something said it was wrong. He’d never seen anyone else eat paint before.
“Come now,” his mother said, tilting her head. “Eat some, just for me.”
Just for her. He didn’t want her to have a bad day.
He opened his mouth.
The paint tasted worse than he thought it would. His face must have shown it.
She laughed. Her laugh brightened everything. His father had said so on more than one occasion. Her laugh was the reason he’d married her.
Lady Darvess turned back to her canvas. Her finger was still painted a royal blue. She dipped her brush in the black and then began to hum again as she painted over the canvas. Soon, the trees were covered, the stream gone, and then the green hills. Everything was covered in black and the beauty that once was gone forever.
That memory often came to Julius whenever he thought of one of the best nights of his life. It was a twisted me
mory. His mother had been ill, but he’d never known. To him, she’d been nothing but his mother and in his mind, he’d thought all mothers a little eccentric. Natalia’s mother had been very religious, always praying, sometimes weeping. Julius had hadn’t known something was wrong with his mother until he’d met Lady Valdeston.
Francis and Lorena’s mother had been like a breath of fresh air. When he’d gone off to Eton, he’d met his nine other friends and they’d decided to visit one another’s homes during their breaks. The Valdeston home, by everyone’s account, had been the best. Julius knew that no man or woman could ever be considered perfect, but Lord and Lady Valdeston were the definition of love and true happiness.
It hadn’t taken Julius long to discover that something was very wrong at his own home and then he’d been forced to examine every memory he’d made with his mother to realize how dangerous it had been for him to be alone with her.
No one had protected him, and no one had protected her from herself. Lady Darvess belonged in Bedlam, because she’d been a danger to him.
* * *
chapter 10
* * *
Maura watched as Frank read the letter she’d given him. It was a different letter than the one Julius had seen.
She shot her eyes to the marquess, who was sitting in a far corner of the room. He’d demanded to be present this morning and while Maura had wanted to argue, she’d allowed him to remain, as did Frank, so long as he remained silent.
Besides, he already knew what she’d come to discuss. There was no point in hiding it anymore.
Though her stomach turned at the thought of how he’d react. What questions would Frank ask? For a moment, she thought of sending Julius away again. He already occupied vast amounts of her time, nearly always on her mind. Couldn’t she at least have her hour with Frank alone?
But according to Julius, this was a grave matter and so…
She was still upset that he’d read her letter at all, not because of the mention of the ghost, but because her mother had written personal details about her marriage to her father. Although it was reasonable for anyone to assume that Matilda Shaw would feel some pain at her husband’s continued absence, it still hadn’t been right for him to steal it. She thought he deserved to be punished, but since a good idea had yet to come to her, she set it aside and watched as Frank put this previous letter down, one that only spoke of her father’s return to England and Maura’s pending incarceration.
Maura’s Special Spinster’s Society (The Spinster’s Society) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 4
