She smiled ruefully after reading it. The man was a soldier and protector of a high order. She shouldn’t expect romantic words from him as well. At least this note was a little more personal than the one he wrote the morning he left.
Julia and Mariah had a shopping trip planned for the day. Officially the goal was for Julia to buy some small items she needed, but mostly the trip was for fun. Anthony had set up an account at his bank so Julia now had pin money. She would have access to her full inheritance in a month or two.
Her brother reported that their father was enraged, but Castleton had no legal right to block his daughter’s inheritance. Plus, the family lawyers prudently recognized that the future lay with Lord Stoneleigh, so they didn’t throw spurious roadblocks in the way.
After dressing, she moved into her private parlor. Formerly a bedroom with a connecting door to Randall’s sitting room, the space was now dedicated to Julia’s use. After the bed was removed, Mariah and Julia had raided the attic for furnishings. Her new parlor was a charming room done in shades of cream and rose, and it was slightly larger than Julia’s main living space at the cottage in Hartley.
She sat down at her delicate French writing desk and glanced over her shopping list. Someday she would take money in her purse for granted, but now it was a delicious luxury. If she’d lived her whole life within the aristocratic circles in which she’d been born, she would never have fully realized how lucky she was.
Julia was about to head downstairs for breakfast when sunlight touched her wedding ring, illuminating the swirling Celtic patterns molded into the gold. A thought struck her, so she rang for Gordon.
The valet appeared almost immediately. “Do you have a task for me, my lady?” he asked hopefully. “I’ve had little to do.”
She laughed. “Surely educating Elsa about the household is keeping you busy.”
He smiled. “Yes, but I feel I’m not fulfilling my duty to the major.”
“When he returns, he’ll need you to make him handsome for London society.”
Gordon shook his head. “He needs no help to be handsome. I merely make sure his clothes look good.”
Very true. Randall was amazingly handsome no matter what he wore. Or didn’t wear. Reminding herself to stick to business, Julia said, “I want to buy a ring for my husband. Can you supply me with a ring that the jeweler can use for sizing?”
“I shall get one straight away.” Gordon bowed and withdrew, returning a few minutes later with a gold signet ring.
Julia tucked the ring in her reticule. Randall had done so much for her. She wanted to give him a token of her appreciation in return.
As an Ashton footman took possession of a wrapped bundle of silk stockings, Julia observed, “I’d forgotten how convenient it is to have someone carry everything.”
“And deliver it to our carriage, which is well on its way to being full, I suspect. Not that I haven’t contributed my share to filling it!” Mariah covered a yawn with one hand. “I’m tiring easily these days. Have we reached the end of your shopping list?”
“One last stop. I want to visit a jeweler or goldsmith to order a ring for Randall. One with the same pattern as my wedding ring.” Julia smiled shyly. “I hope he won’t think it’s too dreadfully sentimental of me.”
“What a fine idea. I think Adam would like it if I gave him a matching ring,” Mariah said thoughtfully. “I rather fancy marking him as mine.”
“It seems only just, since women wear rings to mark that they’ve been claimed,” Julia agreed. “Where would be a good place to have the rings done?”
“There’s a goldsmith just around the corner.” Mariah led the way out into Bond Street. “Mr. Rose made my wedding ring, and he knows what size Adam wears.” She pulled off her glove and showed the ring to Julia. “Though this looks like a plain gold band, an Indian pattern that incorporates our initials is engraved inside. I’ll show you when we get to the shop.”
“Perhaps we can start a fashion for matching wedding rings.” Julia gave her friend a teasing smile. “After all, you are the very, very fashionable Golden Duchess.”
Mariah laughed. “That won’t last more than a season or two, but this”—she held up her bare left hand, the golden band as bright as her shining hair—“is forever.”
Naturally Mr. Rose was delighted to welcome two highborn ladies to his shop. Ordering the ring for Adam was simple since Mr. Rose had made Mariah’s, but a ring for Randall was more complicated. The goldsmith examined the gold band carefully. “In order to copy the pattern accurately, I’ll need to keep the ring for a day or two.”
“No!” Julia’s fingers curled around the ring. She smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t had this very long.”
Mr. Rose’s dark eyes twinkled. “I understand, my lady. My wife would feel exactly the same. If you can part with it for a half an hour, I’ll make a wax impression.”
Julia glanced at Mariah, who was looking tired. Interpreting that, Mr. Rose said, “I have a private parlor where you can wait and refresh yourselves.”
“Thank you, that would be lovely.” Julia and Mariah were escorted to a pleasant salon on the floor above. They could watch the ebb and flow of fashionable traffic in the street below in comfort.
After a maid brought in a tray of tea and cakes, Julia asked her friend, “Have you become accustomed to having such service everywhere? After years of being a widow of modest means, I’m finding it strange to be treated with such deference.”
“I’m not used to it yet,” Mariah admitted. She patted her still slim waist. “It’s strange to think how this child and any others Adam and I may have will be raised in such luxury. We’ll have to work hard to ensure that the next generation has a proper sense of perspective. Maybe it will be a little easier for you and Randall since your children won’t be born with titles.”
“There won’t be any children for us,” Julia said quietly. She crumbled an oatcake into small pieces. She had wanted to tell Mariah, but speaking the words was still painful. “I…can’t have them.”
Mariah caught her breath. “I’m so sorry.” After the space of half a dozen heartbeats, she said, “I assume Randall knows.”
Julia nodded. “It’s one of several reasons I gave him to explain why he shouldn’t marry me. He said that didn’t matter.”
“And you worry that he’s not a romantic.” Mariah turned thoughtful. “Though not quite the same as having your own flesh and blood, if you want to raise a child, there are always babies in need of homes. You were wonderful with all the children you met through your work, and you positively doted on Jenny Watson’s daughter Molly.”
Julia frowned. “I hadn’t really thought of that. I’m not sure how Randall would feel about raising a child not his own. But it’s worth considering.”
“Personally, I think it would be splendid to acquire a baby without morning sickness,” Mariah said firmly. “The usual method leaves a lot to be desired!”
Julia laughed. “I promise that you will be amazingly pleased with yourself when you finally hold your baby in your arms.”
“I expect you’re right.” Mariah looked down at her teacup. “When my time comes, will you be with me, Julia? Please?”
“If you want me, of course I’ll be there,” Julia said. “I’m honored.”
“Thank you.” Mariah smiled ruefully. “I think I’m only averagely nervous, but that’s nervous enough.”
Before Julia could offer more reassurance, Mr. Rose entered the room. “Lady Julia, here is your wedding band. The gentlemen’s rings will be ready in a week’s time.”
They thanked him and stepped into the street, where the Ashton footman, Timms, waited. He bowed. “I shall go around the corner and summon the carriage, your grace.”
“We’ll head in that direction and meet you there.” Mariah looked tired, and Julia guessed that the sooner her friend was home and resting, the better. Side by side, they walked along the street after the footman.
�
��Oh, look at that lovely bonnet!” Reviving, Mariah turned to her left to look into the bay window of a very fashionable milliner. “Do you think it would suit Kiri? She’s been so helpful with the ball that I’d like to give her a token of my appreciation.”
Julia joined her, visualizing the bright confection of ribbons and flowers on Lady Kiri’s dark hair. “The style would suit her, but those aren’t quite the right colors, I think. There should be green ribbons to bring out the color of her amazing eyes.”
Mariah considered, then nodded. “You’re right. I’ll bring Kiri here after the ball, and if she likes the style, we can choose the best colors for her.”
As they moved back out onto the sidewalk, Timms’s voice rose in a terrified shout from ahead of them. “My ladies, look out! Behind you!”
Other voices were shouting. Julia spun and looked back the way they’d come. Her heart jumped into her throat when she saw that a runaway carriage had exploded out of control and swerved onto the sidewalk. Only yards away, the wild-eyed horses were crashing toward them at lethal speed.
Mariah was only half-turned and hadn’t yet seen the danger. For Julia, time seemed to slow as it always did when disaster was imminent with her patients.
The milliner’s shop. Two bay windows projecting out over the sidewalk with the door indented between.
Knowing it was their only hope, Julia hurled herself to her right, wrapping an arm around Mariah to pull her along to safety. Julia’s bonnet went flying and they tumbled hard against the shop door an instant before the carriage and pair hammered by.
The carriage sideswiped the bay windows and glass shattered on both sides as Julia and Mariah fell to the ground. The horses were so close Julia could feel the heat of their bodies. The iron-clad carriage wheels were closer yet.
Then the carriage was past. Julia lay stunned for a moment as glass shards tinkled to the sidewalk within inches. Realizing she was sprawled on top of her friend, she cautiously pushed herself to a sitting position. “Mariah, are you all right?”
“Bruised but otherwise well, I think,” her friend said shakily as she levered herself up against the shop door. “Thank heaven you were so quick! I once saw a peddler’s cart crushed by a runaway carriage. One forgets how dangerous streets can be.”
“I’ve lived in the quiet countryside too long, I think,” Julia said ruefully. “Look at my poor bonnet. Today is the first time I wore it, and now it’s crushed and ruined.”
Mariah caught her breath, her face ashen. “There are wheel marks on your skirt! If you’d been any closer to the street…” She shuddered.
Julia stared at the long dark streaks on the dove gray fabric. She’d felt a powerful yank on her skirts as the carriage roared by. The wheels had passed within inches of her legs. She would have been crushed as thoroughly as her pretty bonnet.
The footman, Timms, reached them, his face like chalk. “Your grace, my lady, have you been injured?” He offered his hand. “Look out for the broken glass, my lady.”
Julia winced as the young man helped her up, knowing she’d have major bruises. “I’m fine, thanks to your warning.”
She glanced along the street as Timms helped Mariah to her feet. The carriage had vanished around the corner. “The carriage didn’t crash so the driver must have got his horses under control. Then he kept going so he wouldn’t have to face the consequences of his bad driving.”
“It will cost the milliner a pretty penny to repair those windows,” Mariah agreed. “But thank heaven no one was injured.”
The footman collected Julia’s ruined bonnet and guided both women through the crowd that had gathered. Julia was grateful for his strong hand on her arm since her knees were weak.
Even more upsetting than the accident was the fear that it hadn’t been an accident.
With the efficiency characteristic of Ashton House, by the time Julia and Mariah entered the building, the duke had been informed of the accident. He rushed from his study and met them just inside the door. He caught Mariah up so energetically that her feet were lifted from the floor. “Mariah, you’re all right?”
“Indeed I am, my love,” she said with a laugh, though she didn’t move from his embrace even after her feet were on the ground again. “Thanks to Julia. She got us both out of the way in the nick of time.”
“Thank God!” Ashton wrapped an arm around Julia and hugged her close. Julia clung to him, glad he was strong enough to support two distressed women.
“I hate to think what Randall would do to me if you were damaged while under my roof, Julia,” he said with a crooked smile. “Come into my study and have a brandy.” An arm around each of them, Ashton led the way to his study.
Julia sank into a deep leather-covered sofa while the duke poured three brandies. After handing them out, he sat on the sofa opposite with his arm around his wife.
Julia swallowed a mouthful of brandy. “Your footman, Timms, called a warning. If he hadn’t, we mightn’t have been able to get out of the way of the carriage.”
“I’ll see that he’s rewarded,” Ashton said, his perceptive gaze on Julia’s face. “Something more is troubling you?”
Julia sighed. “I wonder if it was an accident, or a deliberate attempt to run us down. To run me down.”
“I wondered, too,” Mariah said quietly. She stared at her brandy, not drinking. “Runaway horses would be more likely to bolt down the center of the street rather than come so close to buildings.”
The duke’s expression turned grim. “Do you think Daventry tried to kill you?”
Julia thought before shaking her head. “He said he would call off his dogs, and I think he meant it. But maybe his dogs don’t take orders well.”
Ashton frowned, and she remembered how very dangerous he could be. “I shall have the incident investigated,” he said. “There must have been a number of witnesses. Until we know exactly what happened, I suggest you ask merchants to call on you here.”
“An excellent idea.” Mariah’s hand moved unconsciously to her abdomen. “There is too much at risk to be careless.”
Julia agreed. She would be very, very glad when Randall finished his business and returned.
Randall picked up his morning mail with anticipation. Julia had written him a brief note every day, always an amusing description of the trials and tribulations of becoming a grand lady in a handful of days.
Today’s letter described how the modiste had descended with her minions for final ball gown fittings. Julia finished with:
Tomorrow, as a reward to ourselves, Mariah and I are going on a deeply frivolous shopping excursion. Life in London definitely undermines one’s moral character.
He grinned, hearing her voice sparkling through the words, then set the letter aside and turned to the rest of his correspondence. There were a couple of pieces of routine business, but more interesting, a letter from Rob Carmichael.
He broke the seal and read the Bow Street Runner’s terse words.
Haven’t time to write in detail, but I think I found your lost boy near Upton. I wouldn’t leave a dog in his situation. I’ll get him out of there if you’re too busy. Think about how much you’re willing to do for a young cousin you’ve never met. Rob.
Randall frowned at the note. The flat truth was that he wanted nothing to do with any child of Branford’s, but the boy was blood kin. If Rob thought the situation was so bad he was willing to rescue the boy himself, it must be very bad indeed.
Since Rob was difficult to locate at long distance, it was time to return to London.
Chapter 27
Guessing that Randall would return to London the day before the ball, Julia assumed that she must wait three more days until he returned. With a sigh, she settled into the deep hip bath, which was large enough for her to immerse herself entirely. The gently steaming water was redolent with floral scents, courtesy of the shockingly expensive bath oil she’d bought the day before on Bond Street.
Though Ashton was planning to have several luxu
rious bathing rooms installed in the mansion, for now Julia was content with the hip bath. The hot water eased the bruising on her right hip and elbow. So did the goblet of port reposing on a low table within easy reach. She lifted the glass and took a sip, feeling deliciously decadent.
The evening was well advanced and she’d dismissed Elsa for the night. The girl was working out well. Her good nature made her pleasant to have around, and it was useful to have a maid to care for Julia’s rapidly growing wardrobe.
Still, years of being on her own had given Julia a taste for privacy. Since her husband was away, she would indulge herself with peace, water, and wine. She sighed contentedly and savored another swallow of the port’s heady sweetness.
The port was gone and she was half-dozing in the cooling water when the door to the suite opened. She came instantly awake. Neither Gordon nor Elsa would come at this hour unless summoned, and Mariah or Ashton would knock if they came calling.
A few seconds passed, and the door to the bedroom opened. A soft, deep voice said, “Julia?”
Randall! She scrambled from the hip bath, wrapped herself in a large, luxurious bath towel, and darted around the screen. There was only a single lamp lit, but it was enough to show that her husband had shed his boots, probably so he wouldn’t wake her if she was sleeping. In the dim light, his golden hair and lean, broad-shouldered figure reminded her again of a glorious Nordic god.
“I’m so glad you’re back!” Julia went straight into his arms, half-knocking him over in her enthusiasm.
His weary expression vanished. Laughing, he fell back a step to catch his balance, but his arms went around her with satisfying swiftness. “I’ve been gone less than a week, milady. Not that I mind such a welcome.” He buried his face in her damp hair, which she’d pinned to the top of her head. “Mmm…you smell like a bouquet in springtime.”
He smelled like…himself. Safe and familiar and masculine. All her senses were wide open, absorbing his presence thirstily. She tilted her head back and kissed him with unreserved pleasure. His instant of surprise was immediately followed by fierce response. He kissed her back with matching intensity, tugging the pins from her hair so that it tumbled sensuously over her bare shoulders.