Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) (30 page)

The dowager duchess looked at Lavender. "The Westfield men have always admired strong women. The fact that Julian chose you proves my point."

"If it had not been for the baby, I do not think he chose me, Grandmama. I am sure he has regretted many times his folly in marrying me."

"Poppycock. My grandson is so fascinated by you, he can hardly attend to business."

Lavender did not want to dispute the dowager's word, so she led the conversation in a different direction. "What kind of business does Julian have to attend to?"

"My dear, you have married a very wealthy man. He has interests in gold and silver mines. He has houses, plantations, and estates in different parts of the world, and the most precious jewel of them all, Mannington."

Lavender stared out the window to watch the first snowflakes of winter float earthward. A chill surrounded her heart, and it had nothing to do with the weather. Why had such a wealthy, influential duke married her? Surely he could not care so much about the baby?

Closing her eyes, her head lolled from side to side, in spite of the well-sprung coach. The sound of the horses' hooves echoed in her mind, drumming the words over and over. He will destroy you... he will destroy you . . .

20

Lavender's journey to Mannington had been delayed because of the three-day storm that caused ice-packed roads, and the blinding snow that made it impossible for the coachman to see where he was going. Much to the dowager duchess's dismay they had been forced to put up at a country inn. Today, however, the coachman had assured the dowager duchess and Lavender that they could continue their journey without fear of being stranded. Julian's grandmother told Lavender that they would be at Mannington before nightfall.

All day they traveled, and Lavender was beginning to think they would never reach their destination. Late in the afternoon, they passed through a village, and the coachman slowed the horses to a walk. Suddenly the coach was surrounded with laughing children, who ran to keep even with them. The children's cheeks were rosy from the cold, and their eyes sparkled with health. It was very apparent that they knew the dowager duchess. With a happy smile, Julian's grandmother removed a box she had stored under the seat.

"Hold out your hand, Lavender," she said, her eyes dancing with elation. When Lavender complied, she filled her hand with hard candies. "The children always welcome me home, knowing I will throw candy out the window to them," she explained. "It is a ritual I have performed for over fifty years, and one I always look forward to."

Lavender sat forward, looking about with new interest, "Are we home?"

"Indeed we are. If you will look out the left side of the coach, you will see Mannington."

Lavender inhaled with a gasp, and let her breath out slowly. There, situated on a hill, majestically overlooking the whole valley, was a huge redbrick structure. "It's ... so big! No one told me it was a . . . castle!"

The dowager duchess glanced at Mannington. "Of course it's a castle." Her attention was drawn back to the children, and she lowered the window and tossed a handful of candies into eager, waiting hands. "Throw your candy, dear," the dowager duchess reminded Lavender.

Lavender's teeth were chattering as she tossed the candy through the window, but she did not know if it was from the icy wind that came through the open window or her fear of the unknown.

The coach moved past the village, and the coachman urged the horses into a trot, leaving the joyous sound of children's laughter behind. Lavender fixed her eyes on their imposing destination, feeling as if it were a prison from which there would be no escape.

The horses' hooves clopped on the cobblestone roadway as they pulled the coach up the hill. When they moved through the brick, arched entryway past the gatehouse, snow began to fall again. Heavy flakes drifted from the sky, turning the countryside to a winter-white scene.

The dowager duchess pointed to the bell turret, where a charming house sat apart from the stately castle. "That is the Dowager House where I live, my dear." The dowager was bubbling with happiness. "I must say it is so good to be home. I don't know why I ever leave." She smiled at Lavender. "Although you cannot see it now, there was once a moat around all of this. It is said when it was drained over a hundred years ago, rusted armor, lances, and other interesting objects were found. Now, of course, there are flowers and grass where the moat once was."

Lavender swallowed a lump in her throat. "Must I stay in the . . . in that. . . castle? Can I not stay with you?"

The dowager duchess saw the fear in Lavender's eyes, and wanted to assure her that everything would soon be made right, but she knew Lavender would not believe her. "Julian was very adamant about you living in the apartment he uses." She smiled understandingly. "I will never be far away, and we can visit every day. I will not go to my house until I know you have been comfortably settled in. And I shall return to sup with you tonight. Will that make you feel better?"

Lavender nodded, knowing she did not feel one bit better. Seldom had she ever felt so misplaced.

The main entrance now rose out of the swirling snow, gigantic, exquisite, and, most of all, overwhelming. Yes, she thought, looking at the four-story structure with gables and turrets, this was where Julian belonged. It was from great houses like this that past dukes and barons had ruled England with a powerful hand. It was easy to see why Julian loved Mannington, because Lavender thought she had never seen anything so beautiful.

The coach stopped before the doors, and, as with the house in London, an army of servants came out to welcome them, regardless of the fact that it was snowing and bitterly cold. As the carriage door was opened, Lavender laid her hand on the footman's arm, and he helped her alight.

"Have a care with her," the dowager duchess cautioned. "I do not want her to slip and fall."

Lavender was amazed that there were no steps leading up to the main entrance. Indeed, the huge structure stood on ground level. Many pairs of curious eyes watched her move inside the doorway. With awesome wonder, Lavender stared at the tremendous entry room with its wide, ornate, gesso ceilings.

Seeing where Lavender's attention was drawn, Julian's grandmother indicated the painted scenes on the ceiling. "The sixteenth-century artist depicted much of the early history of the family. In other rooms you will find later generations likewise depicted."

"It's magnificent," Lavender said, pulling her fur-lined cape about her for warmth. She could have added that it was frightening to live in a museum, but good manners forbade such a statement.

Lavender was delighted when Mrs. Forsythe stepped forward. "Shall I show Your Grace to your chambers?" she asked, smiling happily. "I have a nice fire going, and your things are all laid out."

"Yes, take the child upstairs and make her comfortable," the dowager duchess stated with authority. "See that she has everything she needs."

"Very good, Your Grace," the housekeeper said.

As Lavender followed the housekeeper up the grand staircase, she glanced back at the door to find that the servants were still lined up and watching her progress. She watched Julian's grandmother pass among them, asking questions about their health, family members, and calling them each by name. Lavender decided that was the way a duchess should behave toward her hirelings, gracious and caring about their welfare.

As they moved down a long gallery with brilliant, colored glass inset in mullioned windows and priceless tapestries hung from the walls, Lavender could not help but ask, "How many rooms are there here at Mannington?"

"I'm not right sure anyone has ever counted them, Your Grace. Perhaps His Grace will know."

"Has there been any word of His Grace?" Lavender inquired as she stopped to catch her breath.

"Why, yes. He arrived only this morning. He found out, after arriving, that he had passed the inn where we were staying without knowing we were there."

Lavender drew in a deep breath, while her heart sang. For whatever the reason, her beloved was here. Her footsteps were a little lighter as she followed Mrs. Forsythe into the bedchamber.

The room was smaller than Lavender thought it would be, but lovelier than she could have imagined. The bed coverings, canopy, valances, and curtains were all made of lemon cut velvet on a cream satin background. Thick white rugs were scattered about the polished wood floor, and a warm fire crackled in the wide fireplace. She was inundated with the strangest feeling that she had just come home.

"His Grace has asked to see you as soon as you are rested and have changed for dinner."

"I do not need to rest, and it will not take long to change," she answered, wishing she could run to Julian at that moment. "How will I ever find my way around, Mrs. Forsythe? Everything is so confusing."

"You will discover, after you have been here a while, Your Grace, that the house was laid out very simply. In no time at all it will become familiar to you. I will return to take you to His Grace when you are ready." The housekeeper walked over to the bell pull. "All you have to do is ring, and I will come to you at once."

Mrs. Forsythe left Lavender at the open door of the huge study, telling her that His Grace was expecting her. When the young duchess moved across the room, her footsteps were noiseless as her shoes sank into the thick red carpet. Dark paneling and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls. Green leather couches and chairs were placed around the room. The smell of leather and old books filled the air. It was very apparent that this was a man's room, and Lavender felt like an intruder.

Julian sat at a huge mahogany desk, and apparently had not heard Lavender come in. His black velvet coat fell open to reveal his cravat was untied and his snowy white shirt was open at the neck. As she studied him, he did not look up, but continued to write. She glanced down at the ice-blue gown, hoping he would like the way she looked. Knowing he liked her to wear her hair down, she had pulled it away from her face with a blue velvet ribbon.

She stood undecided, unwilling to disturb him at his work, yet feeling awkward just standing there. His dark head came up, and for one brief moment, she thought she saw pleasure in his eyes, but she could not be sure, since the expression quickly disappeared.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked in a clipped tone.

"I only just came in, and did not want to interrupt you."

He stood up and moved around the desk, helping her into a chair. "I have no experience in such matters, but 1 am sure in your condition you are weary from your journey."

"No, I am not tired, but then I am very strong."

He smiled. "Yes, I recall several instances where you proved that point. Nonetheless, from now until the baby is born, I want you to take the greatest care of yourself. The family doctor has moved onto the same floor with you, so he will be able to attend you at a moment's notice."

"But why?"

"Let us just say that we will be prepared in case any difficulty should arise."

Lavender was finding out that Julian was a man who left nothing to chance. "I can find no fault with your reasoning," she admitted.

His dark eyes moved across her face. "This must be a day for miracles. You gave in so easily, have you decided to be reasonable and stop opposing me at every turn?"

She gazed into his face, feeling as if he had just stolen her breath. "I would not go that far, Julian, but 1 can be reasonable at times."

He looked at her doubtfully, then shrugged his shoulders. "I wanted to tell you that we are having guests tonight. Do you think you are up to entertaining?"

"I suppose so." Her eyes sought his. "It isn't the prince, is it?"

He laughed. "No, Lavender, it is not the prince. It is the Marquess of Waltham and his sister, Lady Georgia, two very good friends of mine who live in a neighboring shire."

"What if I should make a mistake?" she asked earnestly. "I would not want to embarrass you."

"You underestimate your obvious good breeding and natural charm. You never have to worry about not doing the right thing." His eyes danced with humor. "Except at those times when you choose to singe someone's wings. Will you remember to play the devoted wife tonight instead of the ardent rebel?"

"I will remember to pretend to be the devoted wife," she remarked pointedly. "And—I am a patriot, not a rebel."

He sat on the edge of the desk, observing her through thick lashes. "What do you think of Mannington, little patriot?"

"It is magnificent," she admitted. "I get such a sense of history here, a feeling that little has changed within these walls in hundreds of years."

"That is not quite realistic. While much of the furnishings are original, each generation has added its own touch to the house. My great-grandfather installed bathing closets with white marble baths near each bedchamber. My grandfather had water piped in from a pure, seemingly never-ending supply of underground springs." He cross his arms and smiled warmly. It was evident that he enjoyed talking about Mannington.

"What was your contribution?"

"Less than that of my grandfather. I enlarged the stables, and laid out a garden that stretches to the Shannon River."

"Is the river a very long way?"

"Yes, and therefore the gardens are quite extensive. I have had several persons get lost in the maze."

"I will be anxious to see the gardens," she said politely.

"Did Forsythe tell you that the rooms you occupy are called the Queen's Rooms?"

"No, she did not mention it to me." She warmed to the subject. "Which English queen has slept there?"

"Actually five queens, including Anne Boleyn and her daughter, Queen Elizabeth."

Lavender became increasingly aware that Julian's eyes were moving over her with slow deliberation, and her face flamed with pleasure.

"Are you unhappy, Lavender?" he asked.

"No, not all the time."

"But sometimes you are?"

"Yes," she admitted.

He looked past her to the door, and a smile of pleasure tugged at his lips. "It seems we will have to finish this conversation later. Our guests have arrived."

Lavender watched the man and woman advance toward them. The woman was coldly beautiful. Her complexion was flawless, and her red hair was unpowdered. She wore a green gown that was in the height of fashion and brought out the color of her green eyes. She swept past Lavender, and attached herself to Julian, throwing her arms around him and kissing him on the mouth.