Lord Barry's Dream House (16 page)

“I agree with you,” he declared suddenly and almost smiled when she expelled a breath she’d been holding.

“Once you put in a pretty walk, and perhaps a picturesque bridge, and assuredly a fountain or two, you will be most pleased with your prospect, my lord.”

She edged away from him, seeming intent on something she had observed from the window. Perhaps she was envisioning the scene as it might be. There were a goodly number of fine trees on site that would offer an excellent beginning for his planting.

Edmund found his enthusiasm rising with the image she painted for him, instilling a sense of excitement.

“I had no idea that you harbored such ambitions for my grounds.” He offered her the book, which she accepted and clutched against her as though she wished a barrier.

“An architect does not stop his mind with the creation of a building. You imagine it softened by greenery to enhance the frame of the house—various shades of green, improved with blooming shrubs and beds of flowers.” She stopped suddenly, looking a trifle embarrassed at her eagerness for a project that she would no longer guide.

“Hullo! Is anyone about? I would see my brother-in-law’s final creation.” Augusta’s voice echoed from below, a warning of sorts.

Before Juliana walked more than a few steps, Aunt
Tibbles
entered the room, her face beaming with good-natured pleasure.

“Well, if it don’t beat the Dutch,” she said with great admiration evident in her voice. “And how much of this is your contribution, missy?” she said, turning to Juliana.

“Would you excuse us, my lord?” Juliana said with sudden formality. “I wish to show my aunt about the house—if you do not mind, that is.”

“Be my guest,” he replied, then left the room. His steps could be heard going down the stairs and fading away.

Juliana reflected that it would be the one time she might be counted a guest, if what he had said was true.

“You were here alone?” Aunt
Tibbles
observed, without any accusation in her manner.

“Lady Rosamund was here when I arrived. I suspect Uncle George wanted me to be present lest she contrive to compromise his lordship. After she left, we spent some time watching the man who is laying the floor in the next room. Hardly the stuff for compromise,” Juliana concluded with a chuckle. Truth be told, she was beginning to believe she needed to be chaperoned by Aunt
Tibbles
!

“Good,” her aunt said briskly. “Now, I wish to see one of those water-closets I have heard about, then after that the hot
-
air furnace. I declare, what’s the world coming to with all these new-fashioned things!”

“You must see the range we installed in the kitchen. There is a nice tiled scullery as well, and a marvelous cellar for storage of fruits and vegetables, not to mention a perfectly splendid buffet in the dining room. And,” Juliana added,
“I
believe you will like the Chinese dairy I designed.”

“Whatever would you want with a Chinese dairy? Seems to me that a good English one is perfectly acceptable,” Aunt
Tibbles
avowed, frowning in perplexity.

“It is not precisely a true dairy; more a pretty little garden building, a place to rest and relax away from the house, particularly on a summer day,” Juliana explained while trying not to giggle. Her dearest aunt had a way of cutting to the heart of a matter. “It is the very latest thing. I admire innovation, you know.” She cast a sidelong look at her aunt as she inspected the first of the water-closets, operating it with a touch of her fingers.

“My, oh, my,” Aunt
Tibbles
said in wonderment. “Next?”

Juliana dutifully led her through the house from top to bottom and finally gave vent to mirth when Aunt
Tibbles
viewed the Etruscan room.

“I am not a prude, Juliana. You must know that. However, I would find all these undraped and scantily clad women right at eye level a trifle much first thing in the morning. Tis one thing to have them on the ceiling, and quite another to find them under your nose.”

When Juliana recovered from her fit of giggles, she said, “Lady Rosamund said something similar. I cannot see a problem, unless Lord Barry marries Lady Rosamund. Perhaps he will have to hire a painter to cover the more imprudent ladies?” Then, the idea of a gentleman having to carefully paint drapery over every exposed bosom and thigh caused her to giggle anew. “One accepts a certain amount of revealed skin in paintings of antiquity, Auntie.” This time, Juliana did not blush.

“I daresay your mother has not seen these, unless I miss my guess.” Aunt
Tibbles
took Juliana by the arm and guided her along the hall and down the stairs to the entry. “It is a fine house, my dear, and you should rightly be proud of it. Is there no chance that you might grace these halls as a wife?” Aunt
Tibbles
toyed with her reticule while staring at the decorations on the ceiling.

“Not unless the man I might eventually marry buys it from Lord Barry,” Juliana replied, honestly facing the reality of her situation.

“There are more fools in this world than can be counted,” Aunt observed. “When do we leave for London?”

“Finished so soon?” Lord Barry said as he entered from a side room where it seemed he’d been looking at pattern books.

“Aunt was just inquiring as to when we will depart for London,” Juliana said, disregarding the fluttering that arose in her stomach at the thought of traveling with this particular man all the way to the city.

“How soon could you be ready to leave?” he countered, looking from one to the other.

“I daresay we would be prepared in two days,” Juliana said after exchanging a look with her aunt.

“Then in two days we shall be on our way to the city. I trust you have lists and names of manufactories and the like you wish to visit?” he inquired in an afterthought.

“Indeed, sir. Several pages, and samples of paint and marble as well. I have tried to think of everything.”

He gave her a smile that excluded Aunt
Tibbles
completely. This was so brief that later she wondered if she had imagined it.

Her aunt seemed to notice nothing out of the ordinary, but accepted Lord Barry’s arm to leave the building, chatting amiably while they walked down the steps.

“I shall drive back with you, Juliana,” Aunt
Tibbles
announced. “I sent the carriage that brought me home again. No sense in having a groom lingering about here. We will no doubt see you later, my lord.” She climbed into the gig and put up her parasol, ready to brave the drive back to Beechwood Hall with perfect aplomb.

“Until later, my lord,” Juliana murmured politely. She had told him that she tried to think of everything. That was not quite true, however. She had not considered what it would be like to be in his company day in and day out, all day long. How could she arm herself against his charm, for she had grown to quite admire his sharp wit and suave appeal. Most likely they would be daggers drawn by the conclusion of their visit. It would make it far easier for her if it happened that way.

Perhaps, once in the city, he would chance to see a lady such as he desired to grace his home. The mere thought of such an event put Juliana into the doldrums all the way to Beechwood and into the house.

“I should like to visit a mantuamaker while in the City,” Aunt
Tibbles
ventured to say, then studied her niece with a candid gaze. “It would not harm you to order a few things, for although I should not opine on your wardrobe, it is sadly lacking in style, my dear.”

Juliana nodded her agreement. “Perhaps we can manage to convince his lordship to visit a club while we conduct our pressing business?”

“Quite so,” Aunt
Tibbles
agreed, then went off to her room to assist her maid in packing for London. Her help mostly consisted of contributing little things that were apt to be left behind. Juliana found Kitty in the stillroom, working at compounding a formula of rose essence. “Mrs. Dalston usually does this.” She gave her sister a questioning look.

“I must learn to do these things if I am to assume control of Peregrine’s household. Mrs. Dalston has agreed to tutor me in all things helpful. I would not waste a moment of time.” Kitty peered at a measuring vial, then added its contents to a bowl.

“You have all of six months, my dear. When I return from London, perhaps I can go with you to your future home to help with inventory of the linens? I will be well up on the latest in furniture and draperies, so I could bring you up to date on the very latest thing.”

Kitty flashed her an arrested look, then smiled. “Perhaps you could, at that. I should like to alter what I might, for I would remove as much of Sir Phineas from the house as possible.” She stirred her compound, then glanced at Juliana again. “Where will you stay while in London? At the family residence? I trust our dear brother will not mind in the least. He is so busy in Kent, I believe he scarce recalls the house is there.”

“That is our plan.”

“And what about Lord Barry? Where will he stay?”

“I have not a clue,” Juliana replied. “I expect he will stay at a hotel, perhaps Grillon’s? It is fashionable, I understand.”

“I had not thought him to be concerned with what is fashionable. He seems to prefer the solid and familiar.”

Juliana accepted this remark, took note that her little sister did very well at her compounding, then left to head for her room. On the way she observed her trunk disappearing around the
corner
to her room. Aunt
Tibbles
had been busy on her behalf, it seemed.
Before she plunged into preparing to leave for London, Juliana paused to hope that her sister would continue in her excellent show of patience. Surely six months would not seem so very onerous. Why, were she to have the same to look forward to with regard to a certain gentleman, she would—and Juliana sank down on her bed, utterly dismayed. She would
not
have a great deal of patience were she to have to wait a long time to wed one she loved. Oh, dear.

Chapter F
ourtee
n

W
hat with one thing and another Juliana did not have
another chance for that conversation with Kitty regarding the need for patience. Once Aunt
Tibbles
set things in motion, Juliana found herself swept up in her wake.

The third morning following the decision to leave discovered Juliana standing in the entryway with her aunt, checking over the list that had been handed to her and feeling slightly breathless.

“Patterns—in the event of rain—umbrellas and parasols
—
your books, my lists and samples, my books of designs, the sketches for furniture—everything is packed in the traveling coach,” she assured Miss
Tibbles
at last.

“All we need now is his lordship,” Aunt
Tibbles
said with a faint sniff in her tone. “I find it best to have an early start of a morning, then stop early in the day so one can have the best chambers available.”

“Surely we will not need to stop overnight? I had not thought the journey so long.”

“One must always be prepared,” Aunt
Tibbles
said, turning to study the man who ran lightly down the stairs to join them. He was followed by George—at a much slower pace.

“Good morning,” his lordship said with a bow to Aunt
Tibbles
. “I must apologize for keeping you waiting. I discovered that I had left some important papers in my room and could not leave until I found them.”

He didn’t explain what they were, nor would Juliana dream of prying, although she’d admit to being curious.

“Now you two,” George inserted, “understand what to do about the bills you incur?” At Juliana’s nod of assurance, he added, “Don’t let that plaguey Hilsom raise those beetle brows of his at you,” he admonished, referring to the butler who ruled the London town house. “You are to have first-rate care, and if you do not receive it, let me know.”

He bestowed a handshake on his sister and accepted Juliana’s fond hug with no more than a sniff and a gruff goodbye.

Naturally Lady Hamilton was not in sight, nor was Barbara. Both preferred to sleep as late as possible. Kitty stood by the front door, wrapped in a warm shawl against the early morning chill. Her forlorn little smile and wave cut Juliana to the quick.

“I worry about Kitty, Aunt,” she said quietly once they settled on their forward-facing seat. “I do hope she will have the fortitude to wait patiently for what she desires.” She leaned out of the window to wave at her sister and her uncle before the avenue curved and they were lost to view.

“You believe there is danger she might do something foolish?” Aunt said in an undertone as the coach turned off the avenue that led to Beechwood Hall and bowled along the road that went to the turnpike.

“I do not know, but she had a determined tilt to her chin when last I spoke with her about the matter.”

“Oh, dear me,” Aunt
Tibbles
murmured.

“Is there a problem?” Lord Barry said, glancing up from a sheaf of papers he checked over.

“No,” Juliana hastened to assure him. “At least I hope not,” she muttered in an aside to her aunt.

The carriage was remarkably well-sprung and the roads dry, with no deep ruts, so they made excellent time. Juliana ventured that his lordship’s team of four matched grays were capable of at least ten miles an hour, and she relished the swiftness as they left the Hall far behind.

She found her gaze straying to the man who sat across from them far more than was likely proper. He made her heart beat that peculiar tattoo when he chanced to gaze at her. And as to those forbidden kisses he had taken without her permission, well, those would most assuredly not be repeated. She would make certain of it.

It was easy to understand why a chaperon was so necessary for a young lady of quality. A girl could be compromised
—
indeed, swept off her silly feet—far too readily with very little effort on the part of a man like Lord Barry. She gathered that was what seduction was all about, catching a girl off her guard and rendering her incapable of rational thought. She would be on
her
guard, no matter how dull that sounded. Dull had to be better than a broken heart, surely?

The pause at the first stage for a change of horses was accomplished with all due speed, as were the subsequent changes, until Lord Barry consulted his watch and declared, “I believe we had best stop soon for a light repast. Would that be agreeable? We will shortly be about halfway to London, and there is an excellent inn, I’ve been told, at High Wycombe where we can trust the food to be palatable.”

“Lovely,” Aunt
Tibbles
said, clearly impressed with his planning and foresight. As one who believed in sensible living, she could applaud his intelligence.

Juliana left the coach gratefully, for even a well-sprung vehicle grew most tiresome after a few hours. When Lord Barry offered his hand to assist her, she met his gaze and decided that she best write her sister a letter, begging her to have patience, for it was easier and easier to see how she might effortlessly be convinced to impropriety.

The meal was not leisurely, but not rushed, either. In an effort to be pleasant—for Lord Barry had studied his papers most of the way, leaving Juliana to converse with her aunt
—
she inquired as to what his precise plans were while in London.

“Why, my first order of business is to visit my tailor. I find I need particular items. I suppose you two will be off to the mantuamaker first thing?” He gave Aunt
Tibbles
a significant look that made Juliana wonder if he had schemed with that wily creature.

“Indeed, sir. I intend to have Juliana order as many pretty clothes as I am able, you may be certain.” Her tone implied that she would do what her sister had failed to do—outfit Juliana in the latest styles.

“Sir Peregrine requested that I obtain a number of things for Kitty as well,” Juliana added thoughtfully. “She tends to be neglected, being the youngest of us. My mother has been much occupied with the local dressmaker,” she explained. “There has been no time to spare for Kitty, what with all of Barbara’s clothes to make. Kitty has grown this past year, so really does need a fair number of things.”

“You thought to buy for her and not yourself?” he said with an odd glint to those dark eyes.

“Oh, no,” she replied with a vehement shake of her head. “I have intended for some time now to obtain a new wardrobe first chance I could. I am a vain creature, to be wishing the latest in fashion.” She smiled wryly, then rose to leave the table, not waiting to see if he disapproved of her folly.

“We shall arrive in London in three hours. Amazing how the road has improved this past year. Ladies?” He gestured to the door.

Aunt
Tibbles
sailed forth first, in search of a necessary. Juliana quickly followed, convinced she dare not be missish about such a mundane thing.

While they had been at their meal, the coach had been cleaned on the outside. Now it gleamed. The mulberry color was a good background for his lordship’s crest painted in gold on the door. His neatly maroon-liveried groom had joined the valet on the high seat that rose in the back of the coach. The coachman, his tall hat at a jaunty angle, stood by the leader, patting and talking to the horse. As soon as he caught sight of the women, he hastened to open the door for them.

Lord Barry stood off to one side, chatting with a gentleman who had just arrived for a change of horses. His gaze had followed the women while they entered the coach, but he’d not cut short his conversation as yet.

“This is a nice way to travel,” Aunt
Tibbles
observed, smoothing her hand over the petit-point upholstery.

“Indeed,” Juliana prosaically. Not that she was bored, but it would have been nice had Lord Barry conversed with them a trifle. She studied the vehicle with appreciation for the comfort wealth could buy. No doubt her mother would hire a nice post chaise when she took Barbara to London, sending all their belongings ahead by wagon.

“Well, we proceed,” Lord Barry declared upon entering.
“The road ahead is in good repair, so I’m told, and we shall make our goal if nothing untoward occurs.”

Juliana thought of all the disasters that had befallen her since taking over the management and responsibility of building Lord Barry’s house, and grimaced. “That has a familiar ring to it, sir.”

“I take it you refer to my house?” he said, instantly aware of her train of thought. “Well, since the most that might happen is behind us, surely the coming days will bring us a pleasant change.” He placed his papers into a leather satchel he had brought along and proceeded to chat with Aunt
Tibbles
, utterly charming her.

He persuaded her to talk about times past until they reached Uxbridge, when she broke off to peer from the coach window. “I have a charming acquaintance who lives not far from here. Lady Jersey, daughter of an old friend of mine. I believe there are a few more Wednesdays at Almack’s remaining to the Season. Why do I not request vouchers for us, Juliana? Would you enjoy that?”

Juliana nodded, but was unsure just how she would enjoy such a snobbish place. Perhaps it might be interesting to see what it was like and report to Barbara. Her sister would be utterly pea green to know that Juliana had attended the assembly before her.

The coach swept through Notting Hill Gate at a fresh pace with a goodly team before them, and before they knew it, they were on the street where the Hamilton house stood.

Aunt
Tibbles
reached the ground with a thankful expression on her face. She said all that was polite, inviting Lord Barry to join them for a late—by country standards—dinner, but not seeming surprised when he said he would take a meal at his hotel and see them on the morrow to discuss a schedule.

“Oh, I trust you have suitable attire for the opera as well as Almack’s. I thought to purchase tickets. Have you attended the opera, Lady Juliana?”

“Neither the opera nor Almack’s.” How unsophisticated she felt to admit she’d not attended anything a fashionable young woman her age would accept as common.

“It seems this will be a notable trip for you in that event.” He saw them into the house, glancing about to see that all was in readiness for them. Evidence that it might have been a hurried preparation could be seen, but that was to be expected, he supposed. He exchanged a cool look with Hilsom, then turned to leave. “On the morrow, ladies.”

“We shall have a great deal to do tomorrow,” Aunt
Tibbles
said loudly enough for the butler to overhear, her words echoing about the pleasant entry hall. “I propose we have a light repast and go straight to our beds.” Then she turned to the rotund gentleman who had supervised the unloading with admirable dispatch and said, “We wish a meal in thirty minutes’ time—something simple will do.”

Assured that all would be as she wished—for the staff were well acquainted with Miss
Tibbles
from past visits—Aunt led the way up the stairs and along to Juliana’s room.

“Thirty minutes, mind you,” she admonished.

And so it was. They dined, then slept on excellent beds, managing to ignore the noise from beyond the windows.

Come morning, Aunt
Tibbles
, armed with list in hand, guided Juliana along to the finest mantuamaker in London, so Aunt proclaimed.

Juliana was awed at the discreet dove gray interior with trim painted white and detailed in gilt. Before long her aunt had commanded the amazing Madame Clotilde with her improbable red hair to do precisely as wished.

“I vow, I am vastly pleased that she had two perfectly lovely gowns for your immediate wear,” Aunt said after they had left the salon. “How fortunate some other woman could not claim them because of a pinch in her pocket.”

Pleased with her own orders, the things chosen for Kitty, and the prospect of the opera and Almack’s, Juliana could only nod while succumbing to the lure of a splendid bonnet in a shop window. London was a far cry from the provincial store where she and Kitty shopped.

“Ladies, how fortuitous,” Lord Barry declared, strolling up to greet them quite as though he had not traveled—mostly in silence—all the way to London with them the day before.

“Yes, is it not,” Aunt agreed with a wry twist of her mouth. “Our gowns are ordered, and now we seek a selection of bonnets to go with them.”

“Aunt
Tibbles
,” Juliana whispered urgently, “I feel certain Lord Barry has pressing business to attend.”

“My business for the morning is done. I suggest I oversee the purchase of a few bonnets, then join you for a nuncheon. Shopping is tiring work.” His smile took any sting from his words.

“Particularly if you are with Aunt
Tibbles
,” Juliana said with a chuckle. “She has a way about her that sees things are done, and promptly.”

The splendid bonnet displayed in the window found favor, as did a satin straw that tied prettily under the chin and sported a small plume of ostrich feathers. An evening cap of lace and several other hats done in satin, twilled sarcenet, or fine straw also found favor in Lord Barry’s sight. Needless to say, Aunt
Tibbles
agreed. Juliana accepted the bounty without a protest. Was this not what she had wished for when she came to London?

“I shall join you if that is agreeable,” Lord Barry announced. “You may buy gloves, shoes, and the rest of the folderol tomorrow,” he said to Juliana, then assisted them into the carriage he summoned, not waiting to see if Juliana had other ideas about her shopping.

“How fortunate we shan’t go barefoot nor gloveless until then,” Juliana riposted. Goodness, but the man was a dictator. He was ever worse than Aunt
Tibbles
! The thought of pining for a man like him faded rapidly. And—he seemed far too well acquainted with the shopping needs for a lady, to please Juliana.

Once they had reached the house again, Lord Barry strolled right inside as though he had been there a dozen times. Odious creature, Juliana thought. Just who did he think he was? Her patron, came the voice in the back of her head. One who was to pay her a goodly sum for overseeing the completion of his house, not to mention guide him through the pitfalls of furnishing the same.

“Now, we shall plan our attack. May I see the list you have compiled, Lady Juliana?”

She put her main list into his outstretched hand and waited for the expected explosion.

“What? This seems most excessive. There is a great deal of furniture and more on this list, my lady.” He glared at her in the most disagreeable way possible.

“Unless you have furniture or carpets that I know nothing about stashed away somewhere, that is the basic shopping list for your house, my lord,” she said, feeling quite breathless at her assertion. He had drawn close to her side, staring down at her with those dark and flirtatious eyes. Only there was no hint of flirting in them now. “And there are bed linens as well,” she added for no good reason.

“We shall see.” He stared down at her, then cleared his throat, resuming his study of the list.

“I brought a copy of the floor plan of your house and have sketched precisely where I would suggest the furniture be placed. Once you study it, perhaps you may have a better notion as to what actually is needed and what may be postponed, if you so wish.”

That seemed to mollify him some. He perused the list again, then said, “Perhaps I could see what you have done?”

“Gladly, my lord,” Juliana replied politely, reminding herself again that he was her patron. If she wished to pay for all her shopping without resorting to the solicitor who held the purse strings, she had better be on her best behavior.

She unrolled the sheet of paper that contained her drawing of the floor plans for the entire house.

“The kitchen table is being crafted by one of the carpenters,” she explained, “as are the table and chairs for the servants’ use, so there is no need to purchase anything for them, other than a few chests. Beds are simple to make; a chest, even a small one, takes greater skill.”

“Proceed,” he said in the most bland manner. She had no clue as to what he thought of her presumptuous ordering of the furniture destined for the servants’ hall. It was customary, but how was he to know that? For that matter, it was not unusual for the architect to design all of the furniture for the house. Her father had maintained that architects were by far the best designers of furniture, having a better understanding of the house, the people who were to reside therein, not to mention a better sense of proportion.

“Well, you may concentrate on the necessary,” she said, “important things like your table and chairs and your bed.”

“First thing in the morning we shall begin the rounds of the furniture makers. I would see what is available before I commit myself.” He rolled up the paper that had the floor plans sketched on it, and tucking it under his arm, he ignored Juliana’s soft sound of protest.

She wondered if he applied this philosophy to the selection of a wife, looking about Almack’s and the opera to see what was on the marriage market before settling on a likely choice.

It was a relief to see him depart, promising to return early in the morning.

“Arrogant creature,” Juliana murmured, knowing that deep in her heart she did not actually believe it to be true.

After an afternoon of purchasing reticules, slippers, and other items necessary to a London wardrobe, Aunt
Tibbles
and Juliana spent the evening discussing the trends in furniture design, and where they would be most apt to find the best pieces.

“Do you suppose he has the least notion of what is wanted?” Aunt
Tibbles
wondered aloud. “What a pity he does not have a wife to assist him, for I have yet to see a man who can choose the proper bed and chest and wardrobe that will go well together in a room.”

“You must help me persuade him that what I suggest will be the best for him,” Juliana said earnestly, then made a face. “What an audacious and utterly pushing creature I must seem. ’Tis only that I have studied the matter to some length, and I doubt if he has purchased so much as a chair in his lifetime.”

“Perhaps he is one of those rare individuals who truly knows his mind as to what he likes,” Aunt
Tibbles
replied, sounding a bit dubious about the possibility.

Come morning, the ladies were neatly—and most practically—garbed, and awaited Lord Barry over the morning papers.

“Ah,” he said briskly when he joined them in the morning room, “precisely what I appreciate, ladies who understand the value of time.” He stood politely by the door while they set aside papers and rose from their chairs with a swiftness any man must admire.

Edmund watched both women, wondering what was in store for him today. He had studied a few pattern books, gone over that floor plan, and had to confess that Lady Juliana most likely was right. He would have to spring for the entire list, were he to have a home and not an empty ba
rn
. But he intended to have chairs that were comfortable and not like the ponderous things he’d seen in a recent issue of
Ackermann’s Repository
. If a chap wanted to move one of those, it would take two men and a boy to do so.

“Where do we begin?” he asked. “I rather liked a few of the Hepplewhite chairs, and there is a Sheraton design I must admit appeals to me.”

Lady Juliana wore the sort of expression he expected he did when presented with something he was sure to detest. Well, he had a fair idea of the type of furniture he wished, and just because she was a delectable young woman who disturbed him far more than she ought, he’d not yield an inch to her.

Once they were seated comfortably in the coach, he opened the pattern books to the correct pages. Her sigh of apparent relief was almost comical.

“These will do nicely, my lord. Quite nicely, indeed.”

At Gillows he felt as though he had found an ally in the gentleman who met them at the door, prepared to assist in any way he might. Edmund presented his needs, pulled out the crisp copy of his house plans, and smiled a trifle wryly at the altered expression on the clerk’s face.

This was not a casual purchase; it meant enormous profit, unless Edmund missed his guess. However, also knowing that profit was what gave incentive, he began his discussion, quite forgetting Lady Juliana in the process.

The clerk looked over at her once or twice, then totally dismissed her.