The Earl I Adore (2 page)

“J
ulia! What on earth are you doing here?” John Fairfax, Earl of Evansleigh—otherwise known as Evan to all but his mother—gaped in surprise at the road-dusted apparition of his sister standing in the doorway of the townhouse's study. “Is something the matter with Mother? The estate?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” she said, her tone casual in a way that belied the fact that she had traveled more than sixty miles from Ledbury to Bath without so much as a hint of her intent for doing so. Smiling breezily, she tugged off her gloves, sending motes of dust into the shaft of early-afternoon sunlight streaming through the window. “It simply occurred to me that the festival wasn't any kind of bloated London event, filled with the sorts of people I'm meant to avoid. This is a music festival, and is therefore perfectly suited to my interests and tastes.”

She said it as one states one's mild preference for a particular fruit. Evan blinked a few times, then ran a hand over his hair. “Perfectly suited . . . Julia, are you mad? You can't go traipsing across the country alone without a single word as to your intentions.”

As heads of families went, he was hardly strict or
censorious when it came to his sister, but this little stunt showed unbelievably poor judgment. She lived a fairly sheltered life, but she was ignorant of neither propriety nor common sense when it came to safety. Or so he had thought.

“What, are we afraid of highwaymen and scurrilous knaves who may or may not accost a lady's carriage?” Her lighthearted laughter brought a scowl to his face.

“That, or worse.”

She waved her hand, the dangling gloves swinging with the movement. “Oh, Evan, don't be so dramatic. And I wasn't alone—I had my maid, a footman, the coachmen, and a groom along to keep me safe. I daresay I was better protected than you on your own journey.” One burnished-gold eyebrow rose in challenge.

“That's different and you know it. You're a single female—”

“Who is five-and-twenty and quite capable of taking care of herself, thank you.”

It was Evan's turn to raise a brow. “That remains to be seen,” he said, though without much heat to his tone. Where had this boldness come from? For years his sister had always been one to follow her own drum, but never before had that drum led her so far from home. Something must have happened for her to leave the haven of their estate and travel here without preamble.

He blew out a breath and regarded her for a moment, his fists resting on his hips. There was no use arguing at the moment. Might as well wait until she'd settled in and cleaned up. “Well, you are here now. Why don't you tidy up and join me in the drawing room in half an hour?”

“Perfect,” she said, her smile wholly angelic. She thought she'd gotten her way, but he wasn't through with her yet.

She turned, revealing a lurking Higgins in the corridor behind her. “See? I told you he wouldn't mind the interruption. Now, do be so kind as to show me to my room.”

The servant shot Evan a look, half indignant, half in search of his approval. Poor man. Here was his chance to prove himself a proper butler and Julia had bullied her way past him like a stampeding steer. “The suite adjacent to mine is fine, Higgins. And arrange for refreshments to be sent to the drawing room in half an hour, if you will.”

“As you wish, my lord.” He bowed and started to back out of the room.

“Oh, and Higgins?”

The man paused, his dense black eyebrows raised in question. “My lord?”

“When it comes to my sister, you needn't ever worry that I'll be bothered. Julia is and always shall be my first priority.”

No matter how grown-up she got, his protectiveness toward her would never waver. It'd been the two of them against the world since their father's death a dozen years ago. Yes, their mother was alive, but she'd been distant their whole lives, even before the old earl had met an early grave.

Higgins's expression relaxed. “Very good, my lord.”

Precisely twenty-eight minutes later, Julia glided into the salon, as fresh as a spring daisy. Her dark honey-colored hair was brushed and neatly coiled at the base of her neck, her face and hands scrubbed clean, and a crisp white gown draped her slender frame. “Oh, good. I was hoping you'd have biscuits.” She immediately lifted one from the tray Cook had sent up and popped it in her mouth.

Evan sipped his coffee as he waited for her to take a seat. It was brewed exactly right—strong and bitter—despite the fact that the kitchen staff acted as though it constituted treason every time he requested it. When his sister had settled onto the opposing chair and prepared a cup of tea, he finally spoke. “Let's have it, then. What has you showing up on my doorstep like a thief in the night?”

Her hazel eyes, exactly the same hue as their mother's, narrowed in obvious displeasure. “A thief doesn't use the front door and isn't greeted—warmly, I may add—by the butler.”

“Stop avoiding the question.” He tilted his head and added, “And, for the record, I sincerely doubt Higgins's reception was at all warm.”

She gave a dismissive little shrug before lifting the cup to her lips. “I'm not avoiding it. I'm merely pointing out that I am not exactly stealing through the night by visiting.” She took a small sip before continuing. “You've only yourself to blame, I'm afraid. Your last letter made Bath sound so very delightful. The festival is not a society event, so to speak, so I saw no harm in coming.”

“Unannounced.” He set his cup down and pinned her with his most authoritative look. She'd hardly left the county for a decade, for God's sake. He wasn't about to let her act as though this wasn't a highly unusual circumstance.

“Well, I could have sent the groom ahead of me, but it wouldn't be fair to have the man rush ahead when apparently there are highwaymen and knaves on the loose.” She gave him an arch look before taking another dainty sip of her tea.

“Julia,” he said, his patience wearing thin, “if you truly wanted to come to the festival, you need only have asked
and I would have made the arrangements.” He leaned forward, watching her carefully. “What happened to compel you to do such a foolhardy thing as to dash across the country on a whim?”

Something flickered in her eyes, but she looked away before he could decipher it. She set her cup down and plucked an invisible piece of lint from her gown. “You're reading far too much into the decision. I knew the festival would last only another month, and I didn't wish to waste another two weeks corresponding back and forth with the details of planning a trip that I am perfectly capable of doing myself.”

Right, so he looked as though he was born yesterday. He didn't know what she was trying to keep from him, but she obviously had no plans to share the reason for her journey with him just yet. Fine, he could be patient. They were far too close for her to ever keep anything from him for long. Lord knew she was the only true confidante he had, and vice versa.

Changing tactics, he purposely relaxed his posture and settled back against the stiff padding of the sofa. “Very well, what's done is done. And now that you are here, what are your plans?”

She eyed him suspiciously for a moment, as though trying to determine if he was really giving up that easily. “I'm not sure,” she said slowly. “I'd hoped you wouldn't mind escorting me to your existing engagements until I've had a chance to look over the festival itinerary. After all, I can't imagine I'd know anyone else in town.”

“No, I suppose not. Very well, you may accompany me starting tomorrow. I'm sure you'll wish to rest for the remainder of today.” It was a good idea to keep her close. Until he knew what kind of breeze she was raising, it was best not to leave her to her own devices.

“Oh, but I'm feeling most refreshed, and I'm much too excited to laze about my chambers tonight.” She scooted forward in her chair, eager to prove her claim. “Please, can we do something this evening? What did you originally have planned?”

“I don't think it wise. I was planning to attend a ball this evening at the Assembly Rooms. It's open to the public, and as a result can be quite tiresome. Tomorrow is soon enough.”

A bit of the forced enthusiasm dropped away, and she looked him straight in the eye. “Evan, I need distraction. It's why I'm here. I've been stuffed away in Ledbury my whole life, and I need to live for a change. Please don't make me languish for another moment.”

God's teeth, where had
that
come from? He looked at her, aghast, trying to understand what was going on here. She had never expressed any interest in having a Season or participating in the social whirl of the
ton
.

He cleared his throat, at a loss as to what to say. There was a hint of desperation clouding her eyes. All teasing and lightheartedness had fallen away, and what he saw in her expression reflected a part of him that he strove to keep at bay. Was that what this was all about? Was she feeling as suffocated by fate and circumstances as he sometimes did?

After a moment, with nothing but the sounds of the busy city and the steady tick of the tall clock in the corner filling the warm air between them, he finally nodded.

“Very well. We can dine at seven, and depart at eight. Have you something appropriate to wear?”

Her relief was palpable as she exhaled a pent-up breath. Regaining her composure, she lifted her chin, pretending to be insulted. “Yes, of course. A woman doesn't
travel cross-country without a proper ball gown in tow. I'll be ready at seven.”

She stood and brushed her hands down her skirts. “Thank you, Evan.” Her voice was determinedly steady, but he knew her well enough to hear past the dam holding her emotions in check. She was relieved, and pleased, and probably a thousand other different things.

He nodded once and offered her a wry smile. “You say that now, but we'll see what tune you're singing after a week of the organized chaos that is Bath's Summer Serenade in Somerset festival.”

Her laugh was free of the weight that had only moments ago been evident. “I could use a little chaos in my life right about now.”

She bussed a kiss to his cheek before slipping from the room. No matter what front she presented, something was still bothering her. She hadn't come on a whim; of that he was certain. He wished he could take pleasure in the reunion with his only sibling, but this was so very unlike her. He sighed and reached for his coffee. Whatever she was looking for by coming to Bath, he sure as hell hoped he could help her find it.

*   *   *

“I'm doomed, May.
Doomed.
There's simply no way I'll ever be able to accomplish something like this in a fortnight. I don't even know if I could accomplish it in a fort
year.
”

Mei-li Bradford set down her glass of lemonade and shot Sophie a grin that was somehow reproachful and sympathetic at the same time. Sophie had shown up on May's doorstep a little after eleven—entirely too early for a civilized visit, but she couldn't wait another moment before talking to her friend. She needed help, and of everyone she knew, May was by far the most worldly.

“Don't be silly, Sophie. Someone of your loveliness could accomplish this in a fort
hour
, were she so inclined. You merely need to decide that it will happen, and go about making it so.”

A warm breeze ruffled the leaves of the potted lemon trees that surrounded the little seating area set up on May's aunt's terrace. It was blessedly private despite being located in the heart of Bath. The house was Lady Stanwix's permanent residence, so the gardens were lush and beautifully tended, creating a living screen from any prying eyes.

Thank goodness. Sophie needed an oasis right about then.

Blowing out a hopeless breath, she wilted against the cushions of her chair. “Easily said when one has the look of a blond goddess,” she said with a wink. “We lesser mortals have to be more realistic. Not that I think everything is easy for you, just that I imagine them to be
easier
, although I am quite sure it wasn't exactly a walk in the park to move halfway around the globe on your father's whim.” Sophie cringed and threw an apologetic look to her friend. “Don't mind me. If you thought me loquacious when happy, that's nothing compared to when I'm upset.”

“Deep breaths, my dear.” May demonstrated, her long, graceful hands lifting as she filled her lungs, then sweeping back down as she exhaled. “And remember, you are beautiful, sweet, and in possession of some very enviable curves. Any man would be lucky to call you his wife.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Surely you must be joking. I'm short, plump, and overly talkative—hardly the stuff of men's matrimonial dreams. If it were, I doubt I'd have made it through two Seasons without a single proposal.”

“Did you
want
a proposal?”

Sophie paused, toying with the silky fringe of her shawl as she considered the question. Her entire first Season had been such an overwhelming experience, she'd simply wanted to soak it all in. The dancing, the fashion, the music—it was all so glorious. And then there were the less than glorious parts: being looked down upon for her family's modest funds, feeling the sting of the
ton
's sometimes viperous tongues, nearly falling down the stairs at her first ball. Choosing a husband in the whirlwind had seemed ludicrous.

And then she had met Lord Evansleigh.

A fresh swell of nerves assaulted her stomach and she sat up straight again. “Yes and no, I suppose. It seemed mad to meet a man, dance with him and see a play or two together, and suddenly decide that he would be the perfect person to face across the breakfast table for the rest of my life. It seemed even more so when I met a man who made my pulse race, and I could hardly put together a coherent sentence in front of him. If I couldn't inquire about his feelings on the weather, how on earth was I to inquire about our suitability in marriage?”