Edith Layton (13 page)

The names of kings’ famous plasterers and woodcarvers, esteemed architects and artists had been dropped as the baronet pointed out chimneypieces, ceilings, friezes, screens and moldings, columns and bas-reliefs. And those were only some of the major architectural features. Lectures about them had been interspersed with discussions about tinier treasures in
every room. Julianne had gazed at important boxes, plates, mirrors, and urns, spoons, thimbles, and presentation cases, and more that she’d forgotten. She was numbed by the splendor and her own ignorance.

But each thing the baronet showed them was beautiful, or at least interesting the way he described it. He clearly loved many of them. That could be heard in the unusual warmth in his voice and the tender way he handled each item. And though Julianne knew she was unimportant in his scheme of things, Sir Maurice had been kind enough to take the time to see that she saw and understood each piece. The old gentleman looked forbidding, but he had impeccable manners. From the first he’d treated her with courtly grace.

True, the others’ reactions to his lectures weren’t encouraging, and so Julianne could understand the baronet ignoring them. Sophie was wide-eyed and mute, and, like her parents, seemed so staggered by the magnificence of the treasures and in awe of Sir Maurice that she didn’t say a word. Hammond looked fascinated, but didn’t seem to know what to ask. Christian did. And he asked often. But since he managed to remain at Julianne’s side throughout the tour, Sir Maurice had to look at her in order not to speak to him.

She’d seen so much that all she could do was to keep nodding and smiling—very like the tiny Chinese mandarins embroidered on the hanging he was showing her.

And they’d only gotten through a dozen rooms. Dozens more awaited.

The baronet picked up a miniature enamel box and
held it on his palm to show his audience. “This charming bibelot is recent, Limoges, and only from the last century but…” He looked at Julianne, and hesitated. Then he glanced out the window, put down the box, and exclaimed, “I’m afraid I got carried away. Only see where the sun is. It’s time for tea. I believe we should leave our tour for now.”

Julianne ducked her head, embarrassed. He must have seen the glazed look in her eyes.

“Thank you,” Christian said. “That was informative.”

“Yes, thank you,” Hammond said quickly. “I wish I’d brought paper and pencil. I won’t remember half of it.”

“You must hire an antiquarian and have the whole of it cataloged,” Sir Maurice told him, as they walked toward the salon where tea was waiting. “I begged the previous earls to do so, in turn. And each put it off. You see the folly in that, I hope.”

Hammond, walking at Sir Maurice’s side, nodded. “Yes, certainly. Would you do the cataloging, sir?”

The baronet laughed. “Me? Oh, no. You must hire a professional antiquarian for that. It’s merely my hobby.”

Julianne, trailing behind them and the others, frowned. Her eyes glowed with repressed emotion.

“What is it?” Christian, still beside her, asked.

“That’s wrong!” she murmured, unable to stop herself. “He’s only speaking to Hammond, and Hammond hasn’t been named the heir. And if it isn’t wrong, it’s rude!”

“I’m used to it,” Christian said softly. “Both the wrongness and the rudeness. But I’m not used to anyone here defending me. Thank you again.”

“Again?” she asked, looking at him directly.

He smiled. “Good. I was beginning to think you were taking your cue from Sir Maurice.”

Her eyebrows swooped in a frown.

“You haven’t looked me in the eye all morning either,” he explained.

She bit her lip. She couldn’t possibly tell him he affected her too strongly; she didn’t dare look into his eyes for fear she’d be lost in them. Anyway, she suspected he knew it.

He smiled. “Although,” he went on, “in Sir Maurice’s case, I could understand it. A gentleman who’s courting a young lady should keep his eyes on hers every minute. It convinces her that he’s smitten, and that way he can see if she’s eyeing any other fellows.”

“The baronet—and me? Ridiculous!” she snapped. She stopped, and glanced around. Then, seeing no one had heard, lowered her voice even further, and added, “He was just being polite.”

“No, he refuses to acknowledge my existence,” Christian said blithely. “And you are prettier. But he could have looked at any of the others. In fact, he should have if he wanted to avoid me, because I made sure to walk with you. But he couldn’t take his eyes from you, even though you aren’t an ‘item of antiquity,’” he added in a perfect mimicry of the baronet’s dry tones.

She’d imagined she’d be too embarrassed by her wanton behavior earlier that morning to talk normally to him ever again. But once they’d begun, their conversation seemed as natural as breathing. “Be serious,” she said. “What are you going to do about the
way he’s treating Hammond, as though the thing was already decided?”

“I am serious, and it’s not decided, and I’m not going to do a thing about it,” he said. “The lawyers are doing it for me. I’ve already hired someone to catalog the treasures of Egremont. I hope he can get to it soon, because I’m beginning to think Sir Maurice might be tempted to slip a spoon or a patch box up his sleeve before he leaves. He has every chance to. He runs tame here.”

“Sir Maurice?” she squeaked, appalled, and then covered her mouth with her hand. “How can you say such a thing?” she whispered.

“I’ve seen the work of those who covet before. And my old cousin has the look of a prime coveter, believe me.”

“He doesn’t need to take anything from here,” she scoffed. “He has a treasure house himself.”

“A collector never has enough. He wants to possess everything rare and beautiful. Did you see how he held that Meissen jug? A man could get himself arrested for looking at a woman that way. He looks at you that way, too, by the way. Beware, Julie. Be careful that he doesn’t try to steal you away, too.”

“Don’t be silly!” she said, both flattered and amused by his warning. “He’s just a mannerly gentleman. And lecturing on art isn’t wooing.”

“It is to some men,” he said seriously. “Especially those who have little else to offer—at least to a women who isn’t ready to fall in love with their money or title. And anyone can see you aren’t.”

“Oh, nonsense,” she said with a laugh. “I mean, of
course I’m not interested in that, and he’s not interested in me.”

But then she couldn’t say anything else to him. They’d reached the salon where tea was ready to be served, and the squire’s wife made sure Julianne was seated next to her and Sophie, far from Christian.

“That,” Sophie told the baronet, as the company rose to leave Egremont House, “was delightful.”

That
, Julianne thought as she got up from her chair,
was an ordeal
.

Sir Maurice had held court all through tea. The things he said were intelligent. But he didn’t let anyone else speak. There wasn’t even a chance to whisper a word to someone else, not with his eyes on everyone. She’d wanted to ask Sophie if everything was all right between her and her fiancé. The hostility her cousin showed toward Hammond was so obvious now that Julianne felt
not
asking about it would be rude. But it would have been like having a conversation with your neighbor in church during a sermon, at a funeral, when you sat in the front row, next to the bereaved, and right under the minister’s nose.

The baronet dominated the conversation. He
was
the conversation, prosing on about art and art history. Even Hammond, who hung on his every word, looked relieved when tea was over. Julianne hadn’t paid much attention to what the baronet had actually been saying. She couldn’t. She’d been too embarrassed by the way Sir Maurice had concentrated on her. Or at least, since Christian had mentioned it, the way she thought he had been.

She looked well enough in her saffron gown, she knew, with her hair done the way Sophie’s maid had showed her. But she knew very well that she wasn’t a raving beauty. Nor was she a titled lady. So there was no reason for Sir Maurice’s interest in her, though she wracked her brain to find one. He couldn’t be courting her goodwill to find out any information she could give him about Christian. He didn’t even want her consorting with Christian, the way her cousins did. And she seriously doubted if dry old Sir Maurice was even capable of romantic feelings toward a female. It certainly bordered on obscene to imagine the dignified gentleman harboring any lustful ones.

Still, it did seem like he was always addressing her, even though he was talking to everyone. Probably because she looked like an attentive student, she decided. Or had been. Since Christian had planted the worm of doubt in her mind, she found Sir Maurice’s observation of her discomforting. And every time she’d looked away from his gaze, she’d seen Christian’s calm, amused eyes on her. So she’d ended up staring at her plate until she was sure she’d be seeing tiny puce roses in her dreams.

“When can you tell us about the rest of the treasures?” Hammond asked Sir Maurice, as they prepared to leave.

“Soon,” the baronet said. “When everyone is free.” He smiled at Julianne. “Perhaps in a day or so? Would Saturday suit?”

“I hope not,” Christian said.

It was the first time he’d spoken since they were served tea. They all turned to look at him.

“There will be a fair in the village, it’s all the talk at the inn,” he went on. “I’d thought we’d go again, Julianne, for old times’ sake. Miss Lowell, her brother, and I, went to a fair years ago,” he told the company. “We both have fond memories of it. Would you like to come with me again, Julie?” he asked gently. “We could try to dig up some more memories there.”

“Are you talking about the fair where you saw the falling rope walker?” Sophie asked. “Julianne was
so
impressed that you remembered him,” she told Christian spitefully, “until I told her that particular fellow fell from his wire at every fair in the area for years. It was part of his performance.”

“Was it?” Christian said, unperturbed. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. It bothered me for years. I was afraid he’d cracked his head and didn’t know he’d done it until afterward. Come to think of it, he had to be a crackbrain to do that for a living. Shall we see if he’s still at it?” he asked Julianne.

The squire, his wife, and Sophie, looked at each other, clearly torn. Sir Maurice obviously hated Christian, and they didn’t want to displease him, but if anyone could find out anything more about the fellow, it was Julianne. Hammond frowned. And Sir Maurice stood rigid and still as he waited for Julianne’s answer.

She’d been asked to choose between being entertained by a titled and respected gentleman in one of the finest manor houses in England, or go with a possibly dangerous criminal to traipse through a country fair. Her answer came easily, for it was the simplest thing she’d had to say all day.

“Oh, yes,” Julianne told Christian. “I’d love to!”

“D
on’t pretend you’re asleep,” Julianne whispered to the doorknob as she rattled it. “If you don’t open this door, Sophie, I’m going to pack and go home tomorrow, instead of to the fair, because I’ll see that’s what you really want me to do.”

She waited, shifting from foot to foot. It was late, the corridor was dark, but there was a glow of light showing from under Sophie’s door—the door that hadn’t moved since she’d knocked on it and called to it long moments before. Julianne heard nothing stirring behind it either. But she knew she had her cousin’s attention, she’d swear the silence was a listening one. “You’ve avoided me for two whole days now,” she went on, “and I won’t have any more of it. Either talk to me now, or off I go!”

She waited. “Very well,” she finally said, her voice firm but her heart sinking, “so be it. I’ll be leaving first thing in the morning. You can explain it to your parents and Hammond and Sir Maurice. I choose to avoid embarrassing moments. After all, what does it matter? I’ll never see any of you again.”

She turned, biting her lip. Now she’d done it. She had to go, and she didn’t want to.

“Who’ll tell that villain who calls himself Christian?” Sophie asked. She stood in her doorway in her night wrapper, glaring at Julianne.

“Oh, Christian?” Julianne said as lightly as she could. She marveled at how easy it was to be an actress once she’d decided that her whole role here was a charade. “No need to worry, I’ll tell him.”

“I’m sure you would,” Sophie said with a sneer. “Come in. No sense letting the whole household hear.”

“Hear what?” Julianne asked as she went into her cousin’s room and the door was shut firmly behind her. “All I want to do is talk to you about why you don’t want to talk to me. Although all I originally wanted was to find out what was happening between you and Hammond. You were April and May when I arrived, and now you don’t even talk to each other.”

“Yes!” Sophie said triumphantly, spinning around to confront her. “You want to know if the way is clear for you, don’t you? Well, I can tell you that it is. If you want him, and he wants you, you can be sure I won’t stand between you anymore.”

Julianne had been absently admiring the new coverlet on her cousin’s high bed, but that made her turn to stare at Sophie. “What are you talking about?”

“The fact that he defends you like a…mother tiger. ‘Don’t send her to Egremont to meet with the fellow,’ he says. ‘Don’t send her to be a cat’s-paw.’ That’s all he ever says these days. And then today, I come down to find you deep in private conversation
again. If you want him, you may have him with my good wishes and best of luck to him with you, too. Although why he’d want a female who flirts with everything in breeches, I do
not
know.”

“What?” Julianne exclaimed. “What in blazes are you talking about?”

“I’ve said too much already,” Sophie said piously, and plumped herself down in a chair by her vanity table. She snatched up a brush and began stroking her hair with it, forgetting that her hair was up in a night braid. Her grimace of pain as the brush caught in the braid brought tears to her eyes, but she kept on.

“I don’t want Hammond,” Julianne protested. “He doesn’t want me. We talk about events, nothing more. And what’s this about me flirting with everything in breeches? Who am I going to flirt with here? The butler? The footmen? Your
father
?” She fell still, the ludicrousness of that last making her speechless for a minute.

“Hammond. Sir Maurice. And that fellow who calls himself Christian Sauvage,” Sophie said, tears now trailing down her cheeks.

Julianne paused. “Well, you asked me to get into Christian’s good graces,” she said feebly, and added with more conviction, “and since I begin to think he may be my old friend, of course I enjoy being with him. But Hammond? He’s a very nice young man, but I don’t feel a thing for him that way—even if I did—which I certainly do not,” she added hastily, “he’s yours, and anyone with half an eye can see it. He adores you. If he’s trying to protect me from possible danger, that’s only a masculine response to the situa
tion, I think. Because he must feel inadequate about this whole matter of the inheritance. He can’t do anything but rely on lawyers and Bow Street. He certainly can’t do what I do with Christian…”

Her voice trailed off. Her cheeks felt hot just thinking of what she did with Christian. So she went on quickly, “As for Sir Maurice! Really, Cousin! He’s old enough to be my grandfather, and he’s been nothing but kind and gallant, as gentlemen of his generation were taught to be toward females. He’s nice to me because I’m a guest here, and if not of his class, then acceptable to it. And as for your
father
…Me flirt with him? Sophie, have you run mad?”

She saw her cousin’s mouth begin to turn up at the corners. Their eyes met. Julianne couldn’t hold in her giggles, and soon Sophie was joining her. “Oh, Lud!” Julianne said, wiping her eyes. “Can you just see it? Can you imagine what your father would do if I so much as winked at him?”

It took a while for them to stop laughing. When they did, Julianne grew serious again. “Sophie, please tell me I’m not the cause of your problems with Hammond. And don’t tell me there are no problems, because anyone can see it. I’ll leave here instantly if I am,” she added, and felt sick, because as she said it she knew she meant it.

Sophie put down her hairbrush and cast down her gaze. “No,” she said in a small voice, “No, you’re not.” When she looked up again, there were new tears in her eyes. “I might as well be honest,” she said dolefully. “I’ve been trying to be that with myself. What am I going to do? Most of my friends are already
married; but I was holding out for a prince, a fellow of worth and means and charm. I didn’t find anyone like that in London, but I wasn’t on the shelf yet, so I waited…maybe too long. At any rate, I was going to return to London this spring. I’d be there right now, in fact, if Hammond hadn’t come along.”

Her eyes grew a dreamy distant look as she went on. “He was like a prince out of a fairy tale. He came riding up on a fine horse to introduce himself to my father as his new neighbor: the new earl, heir to Egremont. Egremont! The place has dominated our thoughts forever. We wondered who the new earl would be, and here was Hammond: young, handsome in his way, and clearly taken with me. Father told him he could stay with us until he took possession of Egremont. And so he did, and in the meanwhile, he took possession of my hand and heart.

“We walked together and talked together for hours,” she said dreamily. “In no time he asked me to be his countess. I was thrilled. I said yes. But now…” She lifted tear-dewed eyes to Julianne, her face pale. “It isn’t you, Julianne. I know he’s not interested in anyone but me. But as for me? Now I don’t know. If he isn’t the new earl…The truth is I don’t know if I want him without the title and Egremont. I’m not superficial or mercenary, I’m not! I could have married wealthy men. It’s just that I never
thought
of Hammond without Egremont. Why should I have? The inheritance and the man were one; it’s hard to separate them even now. What shall I do?”

“Oh, Sophie,” Julianne said, falling to her knees beside her cousin and taking her cold hand in both of
hers. She’d never liked her half so much as she did at that moment. “I think you should wait and see. There’s no point in breaking off with him now.”

“Yes, there is,” Sophie said, sniffling. “That way it doesn’t look like I’m casting him off because he isn’t the heir. That would look dreadful!”

Julianne let go of her cousin’s hand. “Well, yes, but if it turns out that he is, there might be some difficultly mending matters.”

“With Hammond? Never,” Sophie said, reaching for a handkerchief and blowing her little nose. “He’s smitten.”

Julianne rose to her feet. “Then I guess you’ll have to do what everyone else is doing: wait on events. But in the meanwhile, why be mad at Hammond? It only makes everyone uncomfortable.”

“Everyone sees it, do they?” Sophie asked.

“You hardly speak to him, you treat him even worse than you do Christian.”

“The man who calls himself Christian,” Sophie corrected her. She glanced at Julianne, then away. “As for that fellow…What does he think of me?” she asked in a carefully neutral voice. “He’s always polite, he answers my anger with jokes. But he conceals his emotions. Does he see that Hammond and I are at odds now? Does he blame himself for it?”

“Why no, we don’t discuss it. Do you want me to…? Sophie,” Julianne said, her eyes widening as a sudden notion came to her, “you’re not thinking of breaking it off with Hammond now so you can be free to make a match with the new earl, are you?”

Sophie turned her head and looked at herself in her
mirror, suddenly fascinated by a nonexistent spot on her cheek. “Of course not. Odds are the man is a thief or worse. But one never knows what the future holds, does one? After all, you seem to believe he is who he says he is. But isn’t he the most attractive man?” she asked eagerly, swinging around to face her cousin directly. “And he has excellent manners, wherever he got them. If he is the heir, his years in prison mean nothing; in fact, it will make him even more glamorous to the
ton
. He’ll be accepted everywhere. You’re right; I’ve been horrid to him.

“That will change!” she said with decision. “I’ll try to be civil, starting tomorrow, at the fair. We’re going too, you know—as if we’d let you ride off with him alone. Sir Maurice would
slay
us if we did.”

She looked at Julianne’s dumbfounded expression. “So, you see? There’s no reason for you to be upset. It will all work out. Don’t worry about me and Ham. He’ll take me back in a minute if things should turn out differently.”

Julianne found herself with nothing to say. But she forced herself to say all she could. “Oh, I see,” she murmured. “Well, then, Cousin. Good night.”

The morning dawned clear and mild. Julianne wasn’t tired in the least, even though she’d sat up extra hours after her meeting with her cousin. At least, until she’d decided there was nothing she could do about anything but wait and see, and had escaped into sleep.

Now she sat in the small salon at the front of the squire’s house and waited for the rest of their little
party to join her. She’d prepared herself for a day at a country fair as though it was a presentation at court.

She wore her prettiest day gown. Dark gold with pink rosebuds, and low at the neck, it gave her both color and a certain elegance, she thought. She’d put on a pair of soft kid half boots, because the fair was on the green, and she remembered how she’d romped through it last time. She had a rose-colored shawl to wear over her shoulders and a parasol to match. Her hair was drawn up like a sophisticated lady’s, but tied by a ribbon and left to hang down in back like a schoolgirl’s, which was fitting since she felt caught between childhood and maturity. In all, she decided she looked as good as she could.

Still, she knew brown hair didn’t glow in the sunlight like flaxen curls did. Nor did doe brown eyes sparkle in the light like azure ones could. And a gentleman’s farmer’s daughter didn’t hold a candle to a squire’s in any light.

If this Christian were a false one, he’d prefer a squire’s daughter as an ally because of the influence such a connection could provide him. He might prefer Sophie anyway, Julianne thought sadly, even if he were really Christian Sauvage. She’d find out today. She’d primped and worried, fussed and fretted. Now all she had to do was wait and see. She heard footsteps and looked up.

Sir Maurice stood in the doorway, neatly dressed all in gray. “Ah, good,” he said, “I have a chance to speak with you alone. I asked the servants to let me know when you left your chamber and asked my cousins to wait until we’d spoken. My dear,” he said
as he came into the room, leaning on his walking stick, “I hope you know you don’t have to go out today with this charlatan. Not for your cousins’ sakes, no matter that they brought you here for that purpose.”

Julianne began to protest that it was not why she was going, but he held up his hand to silence her. “I know you’re a good, dutiful girl, but I want you to know there’s no longer any need to jeopardize yourself on their behalf now that I’m here. You can let me, and Bow Street, do the work now. We can continue the investigation.”

It would pain Julianne to lie to the old gentleman. He’d shown her nothing but grace and decency. But she found she didn’t have to. “I’m not doing this for my cousins anymore,” she said truthfully. “I need to know for myself. I’m not interested in Egremont or its treasure, sir, beyond the appreciation for great art, of course. My interest is personal.” Her eyes begged him to know what she said for truth. “If there’s any chance the man is Christian Sauvage, I must know. It will be like having a part of my brother back again.”

A gentle smile lent tenderness to that austere face as he looked down at her. He was a tall man, she realized, but it also seemed that he looked at everyone from a great height. “Innocence herself, she is,” he murmured. “A face that would credit Raphael, and the soul of an angel he might have painted. You aren’t acquisitive, are you? Astonishing. You’re a little treasure yourself, you know. I wish my son had met you years ago.” He paused and closed his eyes for a moment. “But there’s no sense grieving over what can’t be changed, is there?”

“That’s what you must learn, too, my dear,” he said, looking at her again. “Then go and see for yourself, but don’t get your hopes up. I’ve every expectation of proving who the imposter is, and soon. I become surer every day that whoever this fellow turns out to be, it will not be your old friend and playmate. But go on to the fair. I’d come, too, were I young. Hammond will be there, and I’m also sending a footman. And it is broad daylight, after all. You can’t come to harm.”

Julianne lowered her gaze. He had no idea of the harm she could come to, and she didn’t want him to see it, or her shameful longing for it, in her eyes.

Sophie wore a cherry red gown, a dashing straw bonnet, and a warm and welcoming smile for Christian as he stepped out of the carriage in the drive. Sophie’s unstinted smile made his eyes narrow, fractionally, for a moment. Julianne knew, she was watching that closely. It made Hammond look miserable—she didn’t have to look closely to see that. And it made Julianne herself blink and swallow hard.