Lord Barry's Dream House (14 page)

On the walls was the fantastic sculpting that the Italians had done. Exotic birds vied with leaves and flowers in great profusion around the niches and mirrors and above the doors. The contrast between the elegant simplicity of the outside and the exotic interior was utterly charming, Juliana decided. She only hoped Lord Barry would think so as well.

It was a touch of Chinese art that she hoped to increase by the addition of a Chinese fountain. In fact, she mused, it might be interesting to design that conservatory Lord Barry had requested in a Chinese style. A number of books in the library contained lovely illustrations of Peking gardens and buildings. They had inspired this little building. There should be abundant inspiration for others.

Quite pleased with herself, Juliana turned back toward the house, admiring the view from this direction. As the late Sir Phineas had said, it was in the classical mode, but it was utterly lovely for all that.

It might be nice, she considered, to have one of those elegant garden seats that Mr. Papworth designed. She rather liked the ornate umbrellas that were pegged to the ground to prevent a wind from carrying them away. But then, she reminded herself, it was not to be hers to enjoy. It would be that very, very English wife whom Lord Barry selected to marry who would stroll about these grounds, delight in the wonder of the Chinese dairy, and, perhaps, take the shade on a fanciful bench beneath a Papworth umbrella.

“Well, your lordship,
I
am quite as English as any woman you are likely to meet,” she said to the absent lord. But Juliana also acknowledged that Lord Barry was not likely to look in her direction for marriage. Although—and even he must admit this—he certainly seemed to enjoy kissing her.

Lord Barry was kept from inspecting the Chinese dairy for several days because he devoted a great deal of energy to assisting Peregrine in sorting out all the papers dealing with the estate.

It was fortunate that Sir Phineas had kept his estate in amazingly good order and that Peregrine found he was left with a well-run home and very few debts.

At the conclusion of the third day Edmund rose from the large and most ornate desk in the late baronet’s library to exclaim, “I believe that is the last of the paperwork that required immediate attention. Have your man check the deed to that parcel of land your father purchased last year. It appears irregular, but perhaps things have altered since I last studied the matter.”

“Indeed, I will, my friend. I cannot begin to thank you for all you have done. Now I may face the future with a more confident heart.” Peregrine crossed to the window, then looked back at Edmund. His smile had a heartfelt quality that struck Edmund as being most genuine.

Immediately perceiving the directions of his thinking, Edmund hesitantly asked, “You have a young lady in mind to take for a wife?”

“I do, and what’s more I know she’ll have me, in spite of the fact I made a cake of myself over Lady Rosamund for a time. Kitty is not only forgiving, but understanding. She will make me a good and constant wife and a fine mother of our children. We are close to an understanding, I believe.”

“She hears poorly.” Edmund did not like to raise the topic, but he suspected no one else would attempt it, and Peregrine needed to be reminded.

The wide grin was an answer before a word was spoken. “I care not for that. She can understand me, and that is most important. I will train the servants so they will speak clearly and distinctly for her.”

Edmund was impressed by the younger man’s apparent concern and devotion for Lady Katherine. “Well, you will have six months’ time to mull it over,” he concluded.

That met with a frown quite as mutinous as the one Kitty had displayed had they but known it.

“At least she has never expected a Season in London, unlike Lady Juliana,” Peregrine declared with a curious look at Edmund. “Did you know her work on your house kept her from her Season? Her mother did not forgive her that, you may be sure. And I feel bad, because I suspect that Lady Juliana feared to leave lest my father commit some dreadful deed while she was away. She was determined to see the project through to the end. She is a very loyal woman, demanding of others, but more so of herself,” Peregrine concluded scrupulously.

“
That
was why she failed to have a Season in Town? I do not understand why her mother refuses to grant her one now.” Edmund was incredulous that a mother could be so harsh.

“She prefers to lavish her attention on the daughter who is the most like herself. While Lady Juliana may enjoy pretty clothes, they are not the most important part of her life,” he suggested.

Edmund looked at Sir Peregrine with increased respect. The young fellow revealed a perspicacity Edmund had not expected to find, particularly when Sir Peregrine had not spent all that much time about the house—at least not while Edmund had been around. Or, perhaps that was why he could see things so clearly; he kept his distance.

It was four days after the disaster that Edmund confronted Lady Juliana in the morning room. She was dressed to go to the site, drawing on gloves and about to leave.

“I will join you if I may. After we go over the house, I would like to take a tour of the grounds, inspect the stables and other outbuildings.”

She paled at his words, but kept her chin up as she replied. Her gaze met his briefly before skittering off to stare out of the window before settling on her gloves.

“Of course, I have been waiting for you to have the time for this. It is long overdue, you know. There are still decisions you must make before going to London. And I have a number of questions I would have you answer as well.”

Edmund strongly suspected that the day was going to be vastly revealing to him.

Rather than ride, he elected to join her in the gig this morning. That this clearly disconcerted her pleased him for some odd reason. He folded his arms before him and watched her handle the ribbons with surprising ease.

When they arrived following a drive during which they exchanged no more than mere pleasantries, he assisted her from the gig, then strolled along at her side. He admired the clean lines of his house. His, he thought with fierce pleasure. Soon he would move into this gracious country house and begin his hunt for a wife in earnest.

“The workmen have been clearing away the debris. You can see how the final appearance will be.” She gestured with a broad sweep of her arm across the front aspect of the house. “Once some planting is done, the grass in place, and the gravel down for your drive, it will shine in all its glory.”

“You paint a rosy picture.”

“With all due respect to the dead, now that Sir Phineas is no longer among us to plague us with delays and worse, you will note things move faster.”

“The carpenters seem to have gone,” he observed when they entered the house.

“The plasterers and painter-decorators as well,” she added. “Mr. Maine has nearly completed the carvings for your library. Would you wish to see them now?”

Edmund debated. While he wanted to see those carvings, he wondered if it was a delaying tactic. Was there something she did not wish him to view? Or perhaps dreaded his seeing? Well, they had all day together, for He
nr
y Scott had offered his services to Peregrine today, to help tie up loose ends at the other building site. And, Edmund admitted with an inward smile, he was supremely pleased to have Henry Scott far away from here. “Let us see the carvings, if you please.”

Her sigh of what sounded like relief almost made him smile before he wondered what it was that she had been hiding from him. He would relish putting her on pins and needles for a bit. She deserved it, he had no doubt.

Mr. Maine held up the last of the muses for Edmund to inspect. It was incredible artistry, with exquisite detailing. Urania gracefully posed with her globe to signify the science of astronomy she represented. On a nearby table were, among the other eight goddesses, Calliope with her tablet and stylus to represent epic poetry, and Thalia, the comic mask of comedy dangling from her dainty fingers. He particularly liked the representation of Terpsichore, for he thought he detected the likeness to Juliana in it. He glanced at her to see if she had caught it, but doubted if she did. She looked too calm.

He praised Mr. Maine, then guided Juliana from the little room where the carver had worked these past weeks.

“What next? I have seen the Etruscan room—and note that you will be required to help me find furniture and draperies suitable for there. Is there anything else in the house that I’m unaware of now?”

“We had best proceed to the stables, my lord,” she said with what appeared to be stoic calm.

Edmund would have sworn she was girding herself for a battle, and he found he looked forward to exchanging barbs with her. Or whatever chanced to happen. He could not deny the feelings he knew while with her. It was dangerous to be alone with her, he knew that as well. Were she not so passionate in her innocent response, it would be otherwise, he supposed. But being close to Lady Juliana was like holding a burning candle near the fuse of a cannon.

“I recall there was a problem regarding the stables. It occurred about the time I arrived. I trust it was satisfactorily corrected? I have heard or seen nothing to give me to think otherwise.”

“Sir Phineas hired a man who paid that first group of carpenters to build the stable walls a foot short. Fortunately, I chanced to catch them before the roof went on.” She gave him a wry look while ushering him into the completed stable block. It was extremely large, but then, he intended to have a number of carriages and full complement of horseflesh.

Edmund suspected that other problems had been engendered by this event, but she was remaining silent on them. He approved of what had been accomplished.

“I can see your father’s hand in this.” He strolled along the length of the interior, examining the fine stone stall separations, the brickwork, and lastly the ceiling. It might be a trifle fancy, but good horses deserved a decent place.

Juliana smiled to herself at his almost pompous inspection of the interior. She would not quibble with anything he said, for indeed, her father had designed the stable block, and it had turned out most magnificently.

“Well,” he said, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction, “lead me on to whatever is next to view.”

Juliana’s heart sank to her toes, but she refused to quail in the face of what was ahead of her. Surely he was in such a good mood he would not take umbrage at the rest of the buildings? “Come this way, my lord.”

Acting as demure as could be, Juliana led the way from the stable block and along the path to where other garden buildings were eventually slated to be—if his lordship approved. She had been a trifle precipitate in building the Chinese dairy, but she had been so very proud of her design and longed to see the structure built. It had not been terribly costly, except for the plasterers. They had created the scagli
ola floor, which was most economical when one thought of the cost of marble.

“Here we are,” she said as they walked up the winding path to the little rise to where the Chinese dairy sat in early morning splendor. The sun gently blessed the columns and enhanced the tile roof, causing it to gleam brightly.

“And what is this, pray tell?”

His voice was dangerously quiet. She couldn’t tell a thing from his expression. How best to explain all this, she wondered.

“Well ’tis a Chinese dairy, my lord,” she said patiently. “Actually, it is not a dairy, but a garden building where one may enjoy the sounds and scents of the garden about you. That it is called a dairy is but a silly conceit.”

He marched up to the building, wordlessly studying the columns of which Juliana felt justifiably proud, then the interior with the delicate Chinese decorations around the mirrors and windows. It was an exquisite gem of architecture, and she could only hope he recognized it as such. And yet he said nothing.

Finally, after a silence that seemed to stretch forever, he turned to face her. His frown was not encouraging in the least.

“I ought to have been told about this long ago. Never say you intended this as a surprise for me? A gift, perhaps?”

Juliana thought of the cost involved and reckoned it would take her a while to pay off the expense of building this place.

“No, my lord, it was not intended as a gift. It is customary now to create garden structures such as this. I suppose I assumed you would wish to do as everyone else is doing nowadays. The Marquess of Titchfield has ordered an entire Chinese garden to be built on his land—a dairy such as this, a temple, a fountain, ever so many things. You would not want to be considered behind times—old-fashioned, would you?” She thought her argument most reasonable.

“And what is wrong with the past?” he growled, turning to face her. “I admire the past very much.”

“Well, then, we will build you a nice Doric temple on that other little rise over there. It will be quite lovely.” She came to stand before him, her hands clasped before her and chin
tilted, not quite defying him, but allowing him to see that she would not be intimidated.

“You are humoring me, aren’t you?” he said, the tone of his voice causing Juliana to take a step back from him.

She swallowed carefully, then shook her head. “No, that is not it in the least. I want to please you.”

His expression changed, and she did not know what to make of it.

Of a sudden, she found herself swept into his arms and kissed with a thoroughness that put previous attempts in the pale. Worse yet, she made no effort to escape. She reveled in that kiss, more’s the pity.

When he released her, he growled again, but more softly. “You do please me. Too much for my own good.” Then he stepped away from her, but holding her gaze with his, his eyes blazing. “But let me tell you here and now that if you ever construct another bloody building on this land without my permission, I’ll make you wish you had never thought of it.” His gaze seemed to sear her lips, and Juliana felt weak at the thought of what form his retribution might take.