Lord Barry's Dream House (7 page)

“But you do so charmingly at charades, Lady Rosamund,” Algernon inserted, quickly seconded by Peregrine Forsythe. Both Algernon and Peregrine knew they hadn’t the slightest chance of winning the hand of the neighborhood beauty. This did not prevent them from worshiping at her feet.

Rosamund was not proof against these pleasing words. While she might not consider either of the young men as a husband, they were all very well to practice upon.

Edmund graciously joined the group, even if he felt ages older than the Forsythe and Plunket heirs. These were to be his neighbors. Joining with them in a bit of entertainment would be useful in understanding them as well as acquiring a better acquaintanceship with them. Both were important. He’d not want to be thought high in the instep by any of them.

Kitty ignored the cattish remark by Lady Rosamund, quite accustomed, it seemed, to her little digs. Kitty quickly suggested that they play hidden proverbs instead of the despised charades. Rosamund was elected to be the first victim.

While she was out of the room, Peregrine offered, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

“Capital!” Algernon chimed in, not surprisingly in view of his admiration of the fair Rosamund.

Edmund watched as the victim returned and tried to guess the proverb. Each word was stressed in turn in a sentence that was supposedly to give a clue. Rosamund pretended not to be clever, but she reached the correct resolution in an amazingly short time.

When it came to be Edmund’s turn, he was amused to find his proverb turned out to be “A barking dog never bites.” He was not certain what that meant, but suspected—from the twinkle in Lady Juliana’s eyes—that she had suggested it.

When Juliana gracefully accepted her turn, Edmund was quick to offer, “Every man is the architect of his own fortune.”

“You read Sallust?” Peregrine inquired in surprise.

“I came across the quote somewhere,” Edmund said by way of denial. “It is a common enough saying.”

“True.” It was clear that Edmund had slid a trifle in the estimation of the evidently bookish Peregrine.

“
Every
person will be pleased when you guess this one,” Kitty said once Juliana had returned.

“Each
man
is supreme in his chosen task,” Rosamund followed, smug she could stress the masculine with Juliana.

“It
is
always time to be prudent,” Henry inserted with a frowning look at Lady Rosamund.

“
The
rose is known for its thorns,” Barbara said, looking annoyed with Rosamund, not for the first time.

“The fate of an
architect
is the strangest of all. How often he expends his whole soul, his whole heart and passion, to produce buildings into which he may never enter,” Edmund said, offering far more than he ought for the solution of the proverb. But the words had come to him, something he had read somewhere, sometime, and he thought them fitting.

Juliana quickly completed the proverb and then suggested they try a bit of dancing, begging Lady Plunket to play for them as she often did. Juliana’s pale face did not reveal what she thought of Lord Barry’s clue.

Henry quickly came to solicit Juliana’s hand. “That seemed a trifle harsh, I must say.”

“He certainly made it evident that I shall not be on his guest list, at any rate,” she concluded with a faint bitterness to her tone. “But you must admit, he has the right to select his guests, and quite often the feelings between architect and patron become strained by the completion of the structure. I have heard of situations in which they refuse to speak at all.”

This did not appear to distress Henry in the least.

Well, Juliana thought as she accepted Henry’s hand, once she completed the house, she would take herself off to southern England—after allowing herself the luxury of that trip to the mantuamaker. She would patronize the premier mantua
-
maker of London. She had earned it.

Lady Plunket played a tune for a country dance, a sprightly thing that kept the younger people bobbing and spinning about. Juliana skipped down the line with Henry, carefully averting her gaze from Lord Barry. It seemed to her that he was more than a little displeased with her, and she did not look forward to their next clash, for clash it would be.

Rosamund was clearly in her element. At first Algernon and Peregrine had vied for her hand. Lord Barry had swept them aside and claimed right to partner her by way. of being the guest of honor this evening. Lady Rosamund decreed he had the right of it.

Lady Barbara soothed Algernon’s sensibilities with her pretty charm. It must be admitted that with her sweet nature Lady Barbara was the prettier of the two girls—if one considered behavior as well as looks when measuring.

Kitty welcomed Peregrine as a partner, cheerfully ignoring his lack of enthusiasm. It had been understood by the family that Kitty would not be given a Season; they felt that her difficulty in hearing would be too great a detriment to overcome. Kitty had accepted this, but she dearly loved music and dancing and grasped any chance that came her way to participate in such. Soon her ability brought a smile to Peregrine’s face.

A second dance brought about a change of partners. Juliana found her hand being removed from Henry’s light clasp and taken by none other than Lord Barry. Henry looked as though he would gladly punch Lord Barry in the nose for his remark about architects. Juliana gave him a warning look, then went off with his lordship.

“I have the oddest feeling that your Henry does not care overmuch for me,” Edmund murmured most discreetly to his partner in a barely heard aside.

Juliana did not quibble at Henry being called hers, for he belonged to the family, albeit the extended family. “Pay no attention, my lord,” she admonished when she faced Lord Barry in the opening steps.
“Henry
is inclined to be a trifle protective of me.” It would be clear that she quite understood his little quote on architects not entering the buildings they complete.

“Scott looks gloomy, as though worried about something.” If he caught her meaning, he gave no sign.

“He has many responsibilities, and he elects to be very conscientious in his duties.” They were separated in the pattern of the dance, and Juliana had no further opportunity of defending Henry, not that he truly needed it. Henry was quite capable of defending himself if needs be.

Lady Titchfield watched the dancers with a sharp gaze, checking to see who solicited her daughter’s hand and not
in
g
that Lord Barry had cut the others out for the first dance. A viscount was not to be considered as a husband for her precious girl, even one who had wealth. But she was pleased to see that Rosamund had first claim on the highest-ranking of the younger gentlemen, as was only proper.

When the dance concluded, her ladyship rose from the chair where she had dominated the conversation. “It is time that we return home, my dear.”

Lady Rosamund, who was ever conscious of what her mother had taught her regarding her position in life, quickly assented.

That effectively broke up the party. Lady Cowell would share a carriage with the Plunkets. She glanced coyly at the widowed Sir Phineas, then accepted with wry resignation.

Sir Phineas had no opportunity to put forth his notions regarding the Gothic style—much to his annoyance. Thus Lord Barry and those around him were spared a lecture on the advancements in the development of the fashionable Gothic.

“Next time, Rosamund can play the harp for you,” Lady Titchfield boomed, to her daughter’s slight discomfiture. “She is doing better every day and bodes well to becoming most gifted at it.”

Lord Titchfield said nothing, but from the expression on his face, Juliana guessed that he was not in total agreement with his wife.

When all were departed and Lady Hamilton had gone upstairs, chatting with Barbara about the evening, Juliana strolled back into the drawing room with Henry.

“Where is his elegant lordship?” Henry quietly demanded.

“I suppose he has gone to his rooms. I care not about him at the moment. I should like very much to know what is troubling you. All evening you have looked as though you were on your way to your own hanging. What is it, my friend?” Juliana picked up a fan that Barbara had left behind and toyed with it while she waited for Henry to offer an explanation for his behavior.

“You will not like what I say,” he prophesied.

“Do not spare me the bad news, for I can see that something has happened.”

“Just before I left the house, I found out that the carpenters are not returning tomorrow.”

Juliana groped for a chair, then slowly sank down in a complete daze. “All of them?”

“Most,” Henry replied. “I shan’t even ask you to guess who has hired them away by offering more generous wages to work at his building site.”

“Sir Phineas. I wondered about that smirk he wore this evening when he took Barbara into dinner. That man!” she fumed. “How does he have the effrontery to attend a dinner at our home after doing such a dastardly thing? I do not understand.”

“If you were a man, he would not dare commit such acts. Because you are a woman, anything is possible in his eyes. You rate no consideration.” Henry took one of Juliana’s hands in his and offered comfort. “Cheer up; I shall be off come morning to find other carpenters—even if I have to go as far as Oxford.”

“His lordship will not like this,” Juliana said, exchanging a worried look with Henry.

“How charming,” Lord Barry drawled from the doorway, a book in his hand testifying to a pause in the library. “Who will not like this? Your brother, Lady Juliana?”

With a worried glance at Henry, Juliana freed her hand, then rose to face her patron. “There has been some bad news, my lord.”

His expression altered immediately, and he crossed the room to join them. “Regarding the house?”

Juliana nodded silently.

Henry spoke, his words bitter. “The carpenters have been lured away by another builder who has offered them higher wages.”

“What shall you do?”

There was not a flicker of reaction on Lord Barry’s face, which surprised Juliana greatly. She had fully expected him to issue a cutting diatribe on the folly of having a woman in charge of anything like a building.

“Come first light I shall be off to a hiring hall. I may have to go as far as Oxford to find good carpenters.”

“And most likely offer a higher wage?”

“Possibly.” Henry gave his lordship a steady look.

“I suppose you will attempt to blame this on Sir Phineas.” Lord Barry’s gaze was icy, his voice utter frost.

“I have no need.” Juliana thought she was prepared for anything, but she found herself ill-prepared for his look of disdain. “I know.”

Lord Barry gazed at her for a moment, then turned to leave the room, pausing at the door to look back at the pair, who stared after him. “I expect my house to be completed with all possible speed. See that it is done, no matter what is necessary! Oh, and Scott, I suggest you confine yourself to business. I very much doubt if Lady Juliana’s brother would appreciate your sentiments toward her.”

Chapter
Six

“Kitty, t
hat man is not a monster; he is far worse than that,” Juliana declared upon entering her sister’s room. Advancing across the room to where her sister was curled up in her bed, apparently reluctant to rise and greet the day, Juliana declared, “He defends me at one moment, then out of the blue accuses me of dalliance with Henry, of all people. It is the outside of enough, I tell you. Saying that my brother would not appreciate Henry’s sentiments toward me! The very idea. I scarce slept a wink last night for thinking about how unjust his accusations are.” Juliana paced back and forth beyond the end of the bed, looking utterly furious. To accuse her of such a thing with her cousin, who seemed more like her brother was not only an insult, it was ridiculous.

“Goodness! What happened after I went upstairs?” Kitty sat up in bed, wrapping her arms about her knees while watching her eldest sister with shrewd eyes.

“Henry revealed that the carpenters have been lured away by another builder and other men must be found. He will most likely have to go as far as Oxford before he can hire sufficiently skilled carpenters. Someday I shall do violence to Sir Phineas, I swear it, for we know he is responsible for this. It is
his
project that took
our
men.”

“Oh, dear,” Kitty murmured, quite sympathetic.

“Then, Lord Barry—in a perfectly odious manner—came into the room and near as like accused Henry
of ...
oh, I can scarce believe he truly said that. He said, in a rather snide way, that he supposed I would place the blame for this on Sir Phineas—which, of course, I will. We know the men have gone to work on that Gothic monstrosity Sir Phineas is in charge of building several miles from here.” Juliana sank down on the edge of the bed, looking vastly discouraged at the turn of events.

“I was chatting with Peregrine last evening while the rest of you were talking. He is very concerned about his father. He thinks that Sir Phineas is using materials that are not all they ought to be. And from what else he said, I suspect Sir Phineas has been charging for higher quality goods and pocketing the difference.”

“Peregrine has always been taken with you,” Juliana said musingly. “It is not surprising he confides such dangerous information to your sympathetic ears.”

Kitty blushed and said, “Well, he never is annoyed if I do not hear precisely what he says, and he does try to speak slowly and clearly. I appreciate that.”

“Best not repeat what he said to anyone else. I may not like Sir Phineas, but I would not repeat unproved tales about the man.”

“Your problem is that you are too fair and honest.” Kitty grinned at the face her sister made at that remark.

“I do not see that as a problem,” Juliana said with a laugh, then added, “besides, what about Lord Barry? I fear he would not agree with you. I have concealed a number of things from him, remember?”

“All for good cause. And you must admit, it was to prevent that pernicious Sir Phineas from purloining your building.”

“Pernicious Sir Phineas purloining? You must have been dipping into a Minerva novel,” Juliana teased, again laughing at Kitty. “Oh, you are good for me, for you can always make me laugh.”

“That is what Peregrine says, too,” Kitty confessed with another blush. “I like to see the happier side of things.”

“He is so serious, so very unlike his father, that it is hard to see they are related.” Juliana watched her sister carefully to see what reaction this remark might bring.

“He adores Rosamund, you know. She is like a shining star for him.” Kitty exchanged a look with Juliana that revealed how aware she was of this and more.

“And just as unattainable. Never fear, I am a great believer that things work out for the best if we give them half a chance.” Juliana rose from where she had perched on the bed and strolled to the window.

“So what will you do regarding the carpenters?”

“Hope that Henry will find a goodly crew of men. He will probably find them in Oxford. It means housing the men when they arrive here. I had best consult with Dalston; he is knowledgeable about so many things.” She turned and walked to the door. There, she paused and looked back at her sister. “You are all right this morning, are you not? No ailments, or anything amiss?”

“Nothing you need worry about,” Kitty said quietly.

“I see,” Juliana said, leaving the room and thoughtfully walking down the stairs in her hunt for Dalston the butler who had served the family for so many years. Poor Kitty, to be attracted to one who was so beneath her. Yet what did that truly matter? If she was not to have a Season in London and their mother refused to allow Kitty to go about in Society, how was she to meet a man who would suit her—and their mother’s exalted sense of what was proper? Of course, to have the man you liked infatuated with the local reigning beauty was a bit of a problem.

“Lady Juliana, may I have a word with you?” Dalston said in an unusually quiet voice, stepping forward from near the bottom of the stairs where it appeared he had been waiting for her.

“Of course. I was just coming to seek you out, for I need your help,” she said in an equally soft undertone.

“Mr. Henry said you would be needing housing for some carpenters, my lady,” Dalston said, casting a wary eye around the hallway.

“Precisely. How like Henry to forewarn you. Have you anything in mind, for that is what I wished to discuss with you.” She drew him along down the hall into the morning room, where they would not be disturbed or overheard.

“There is a building that has been used in the past when needed for extra harvesting help or other men your father used from time to time. With a bit of work, I venture to say it could be made most habitable. I doubt the men will bring their families along.” He stood most correctly at Juliana’s side, hesitantly offering his help, yet not being the least officious. It was something she had always liked in the elderly man, his precise balance of attitude.

“Splendid. That appears to be just the thing. When Smithers returns, pass along that request from me, will you? I imagine I will be long gone by then.” She shared a look with the butler, for they were both well aware how Smithers, the estate manager, tended to dawdle in the morning. However, he knew his job well and compensated for his late start in the day by working twice as fast once there.

The butler murmured his assurances and left the room, leaving the door open behind him.

“So there you are,” Lord Barry said, strolling into the morning room without so much as a by-your-leave.

“Indeed, sir.” Juliana clasped her hands behind her, unwilling that he see how nervous he made her. She gave him a look of dislike, then dropped her gaze, wishing to appear demure. “Is there anything I might do for you?”

“Yes. Join me on a ride to my house. I still have questions that remain unanswered. Your works supervisor, the esteemed Scott, left very early this morning.”

“I trust he did not disturb you?” Juliana flashed a curious look at his lordship. Why had
he
risen so early?

“I was unable to sleep,” he said as though in reply to her unasked question. “I noted that he rode out at an early hour after pausing here a few moments.”

“He had a message to leave for me regarding the carpenters,” she reluctantly revealed.

“Housing, I expect.” He remained by the door, looking at Juliana expectantly. “Shall we go? You are dressed for a ride, I see.”

Juliana had hoped to have a brisk canter before attacking the problems of the day. That apparently was not to be.

She passed him, compelled to brush against him as she went through the narrow door into the hall. Drat the man, his very proximity gave her nervous palpitations. What an excellent thing it was that he couldn’t know it! Or perhaps he did and deliberately set out to disconcert her.

Beauty was waiting along with Lord Barry’s horse, Firefly. Once mounted, Juliana led the way from the stables, heading in the general direction of Lord Barry’s home.

The morning was exceptionally lovely. Juliana suspected that the day would be most tiresome, given Lord Barry’s attitude toward her. Why shouldn’t she enjoy a tearing ride
—
even if it was a short one? With an impish glance at his lofty lordship, she nudged Beauty, who needed no additional urging. In moments Juliana, seated securely on Beauty, was flying across the fields. She glanced back to see that Lord Barry followed right behind her. She had to give him full marks for swift response.

They dashed across the Hamilton lands until they reached the boundary that defined Lord Barry’s property. The fences needed mending and the fields had a ragged look to them. Yet it was lovely land, good soil, with an excellent prospect from the high ground. She detected a look of satisfaction on his face when she glanced over at him. If only that gratification would remain with him for a time, long enough to cast a glow on what was going on in the house.

When she reined in before the building site, she was pink with pleasure and unable to refrain from a broad smile. No matter what followed, she’d had a bit of joy this day. Not even Sir Phineas could snatch this from her.

She slid from her mount and faced his lordship, her sparkling eyes having not a little mischief in them. “That will dismiss any fidgets,” she said.

“Are you given to fidgets?” Edmund inquired of the girl who faced him quite fearlessly. Any other woman he could think of would have been trembling with apprehension for doing such a bird-witted thing.

“Not really,” she replied with a tilt of her chin.

“That was not well done of you,” he began. He fully intended to give her a piece of his mind.

“I know,” she admitted. “It was simply too beautiful to plod along at a sedate pace. Come—confess, did you not enjoy the race over the fields?”

She had him there, for he had enjoyed the run, especially across his own land. He could see that it needed work, and the challenge that faced him made him long to be settled in his home instead of a mere visitor.

“I would have my home completed so I might ride my lands at will,” he stated.

The light went out in her eyes, and she turned away to hand over her horse to a young fellow who had come dashing to assist her. Edmund observed, not for the first time, how the men all jumped to do her bidding. He could see from the look in their eyes that they admired her—perhaps more than admired her. She seemed quite unconscious of the emotions she stirred.

“Thank you, Bert. Are there any workers around at all?” She knew the carpenters were gone, but sure Sir Phineas had not managed to hire everyone away.

“The pipe fitters are here, and the painter-decorators are busy inside. Best be on your guard, milady, they be a messy sort.” He took Beauty and Firefly, intending to lead them off to a spot of grass and trees nearby.

Lady Juliana graciously—if somewhat absently—acknowledged the information, then made her way to the house. Edmund followed her closely, for he had seen that expression on her face before. She was about to try to cozen him into something. He could tell by that evasive shift of her eyes, that tilt to her chin. She would not wrap him around her pretty finger. He might have yielded on the matter of the shower bath, but only because he became convinced of the practicality. The same could be said regarding the hot and cold running water.

As he had admitted to himself, he liked his creature comforts. But he strongly resented having a woman best him in an argument. And it seemed to him that Lady Juliana managed to do that more than he liked.

Juliana cautiously stepped over a pile of lumber that had been stacked just outside the entrance to the building, then marched along to the rear of the house where she suspected the pipe fitters would be at work. The confrontation over the shower bath had been settled yesterday. The matter of hot-air heating had not. As to the hot and cold running water, he had
seemed bemused by it, perhaps a trifle annoyed at not having been consulted over it, but did not appear to deny it. The final test would come today.

“Lord Barry, it is as well you were not here when the house was nothing but a carcase, before the floors were laid, the lath and plastering work done. Now you have a far better notion of how the finished place will look.” She gestured to the walls that had acquired a coat of primer, the first coloring of the plaster. Pausing by what was to be the breakfast room, she added, “This room is to have India paper on the walls in a cheerful green and white print.”

“I do not recall approving India paper for any walls,” Lord Barry said, returning to his familiar ominous tone of voice,
one that she was coming to recognize all too well.

“All the best houses have India paper in some of the rooms,” she argued. “The hand-painting is charming, and the Oriental designs lend themselves to traditional furniture extremely well, you know.” That ought to please him, as old
-
fashioned he seemed to be in his tastes.

He halted, touching her arm lightly. Juliana turned to face him, willing herself to be reasonable and calm.

“I was unaware that your duties extended to decorating the house.” He wore that superior look again, the one with raised brows and a cool mien. How Juliana disliked it.

She gave him an exceedingly cautious look. “It is customary for the architect to design, not only the building, but the interior scheme, furniture, and in some instances, to work on the garden plans.”

“That is something I want to set in motion as soon as possible. Grass, and a great deal of it,” he concluded with a sweep of his arm. “But as to the other, what assurance do I have that I will like your ideas? Will they also be revolutionary—the latest thing?”

“Indeed, I hope not,” she denied, even as guilt nudged the back of her mind regarding the Etruscan room. He’d probably hate it, no matter how exquisite it proved to be. And then there was the Chinese dairy as well. One of these days she would have to admit to the existence of the place when he checked over the outbuildings.

“Where did you order the paper?” he said, quite out of the blue.

“The finest is Robson Hale and Company. They do—”

“All the best houses,” he concluded with a wry grimace. “Is that your criteria? That the article or whatever must also be found in the best houses?”

“It does settle a goodly number of arguments,” she replied, that impish gleam returning to her eyes for a few moments.

“I believe we were going to consult with the pipe fitters,” he prompted “I hear noises.”

Something crashed with a loud bang, and Juliana jumped. Her nerves were not strong today. She blamed all her troubles on the man at her side—at least the nerve-related ones. All else could be laid at the feet of Sir Phineas, who sought to undermine her authority by any means he could. Between the two men it would be small wonder if she didn’t develop palpitations!