The Heart of a Duke (13 page)

“Julia, wait,” he called, leaping to his feet. He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I apologize. Please, if I promise to behave and keep my distance, please stay.”

She could not. They had crossed over the boundary between them. If she stayed, she questioned her ability to redraw it, or Daniel’s ability to remain on his side of it. “I cannot. I have to go. Good-bye, Daniel.”

She left her fishing rod and hurried down the path and up the hill to where she had tethered Constance, not daring to look back to see if Daniel followed. Untying the horse, she guided her to a mounting perch on the stone wall.

“Julia.”

Face flaming, she glanced over her shoulder from her seat on Constance. Daniel stood a few yards from her, his cravat askew and his thick hair attractively tousled. He looked so heart-wrenchingly handsome that her pulse gave a traitorous leap.

“We discussed why I had left, but the more important issue is why I returned.” The intensity in his gaze had her bracing herself for his next words. “I think I was meant to return for you. To help you.” He opened his mouth to say something more, but then closed it. “And I promise to do so.”

Her lips parted, her heart hammering against her chest. The silence grew until she gave Constance a gentle nudge with her heel, urging her toward Taunton Court.

I think I was meant to come home for you.

A wave of anguish had her nearly crumbling, for she had waited forever to hear such words. But from Edmund. Edmund should have been there for her. But he had never been—or not as Daniel had managed to be over the last week. Daniel had made her feel beautiful, like the woman she wished she were. He made her feel intelligent and desired. He made her smile. He made her laugh. And she hadn’t had much to laugh about in a long, long time.

The tears pooling in her eyes were nearly blinding. She cursed Daniel, for she had always been sure of herself, and he made her uncertain. She had always known what she wanted, and he was making her question that.

Worse, he had her wondering if perhaps . . . perhaps she wanted something different.

Something she could never have.

T
HE
grand entrance of Bedford Hall, with its spacious fifty-foot-high ceiling, was a portrait in palatial splendor and opulence. A marble staircase climbed to the second-story balcony where the molding was of gilded bronze with decorative leaves and fruit, and elaborate fleur-de-lis punctuating the corners. A dazzling chandelier hung suspended beneath a Rubenesque oil painting of voluptuous angels, hovering over them as if poised to swoop down and bless all visitors.

Edmund had added the painting after his father’s death to highlight the baroque architecture of the house that was built in the sixteenth century. When her father had seen Edmund’s addition, he had quoted Shakespeare’s
King John
, commenting for once that the misguided king had gotten it right. “To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw perfume on the violet, . . . is wasteful and ridiculous excess.” Julia had wisely withheld judgment, for it was to be her home. She hoped to rein in Edmund’s excesses as her mother had done with her father. The estate might be making a profit, but it was too high a price to pay if used to cover such ostentatious displays.

Upon her arrival, the coaches lining the drive had surprised her, for she had believed it to be an intimate dinner party with her family and Edmund in attendance. She should have guessed that was not to be the case. Like his decorating, Edmund never did anything on a small scale. His idea of an intimate party would be limiting the guest list to a mere hundred.

She followed Emily into the formal drawing room. Three enormous chandeliers cast flickering highlights over the burgundy furnishings, crystal decanters, and Oriental rug. Six alabaster columns lined the room, and guests clustered in scattered groups. The women’s pastel gowns created a mosaic of color, their jewels catching in the dancing light, while the gentlemen provided a sharp contrast in their formal black.

Many of the faces were familiar, and all appeared to be members of the peerage. Her gaze swept the room, searching for Edmund, while struggling to tamp down the unfamiliar nerves that flapped like large bats, rather than genteel butterflies, in her belly. She neatened the satin skirts of her rose-colored gown, pressing an unsteady hand to her stomach to settle her nerves.

“I thought it was to be just the family,” Emily murmured.

She caught the dismay in her sister’s voice and slipped her arm around Emily’s waist, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Emily was improving with crowds, but made limited appearances at large gatherings of the ton. “As did I. I am sorry, Emily.”

“Regrets already? We cannot have that. Please, forgive me for not greeting you immediately and allow me to make it up to you.”

Julia whirled, her heart hammering at the sight of Edmund in all his formal attire standing before her. He looked a picture of refined elegance and so incredibly handsome, he stole her breath as he gave her a blinding smile, dipping into a low bow.

He caught her hand and raised it to his lips, his eyes shining into hers. “My lovely fiancée, it has been too long. I had forgotten how beautiful you are, and how fortunate I am.” He pressed his lips to her gloved hand. “I am so glad you are here to remind me.”

It was disconcerting to see this mirror image of Daniel, yet with subtle differences. Like looking through an altered reflection of him.

Edmund was heavier set and thicker in the neck. His hair was the same rich dark brown, but worn slightly shorter, and he stared at her with Daniel’s beautiful, moss green eyes. His black jacket and waistcoat were pristine, no foppish pins marring his muslin cravat. He looked every inch the regal duke, and she found herself responding to the title, rather than the man. “Welcome home, Your Grace.”

He arched a brow. “Your Grace, is it? I have clearly been remiss in my affections if we have returned to formalities. Please, it is Edmund, and now
you
have something to remember.”

“Edmund.” She smiled, feeling the familiar jump in her pulse rate, and was glad of it.

He greeted her sister. “Emily, it is an honor to have you joining us and looking as lovely as always.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Emily replied, dropping into a curtsy.

“And where is your father? Ah, here is the earl now. Taunton, welcome to my humble estate.” Edmund dipped in another bow.

“Hmph,” her father grunted. “Nothing humble about you, Edmund. Never has been. I was admiring the odd statue on your front portico. It has two heads.”

Edmund looked pleased. “You had the honor of meeting Janus, the god of new beginnings. He usually stands sentry at doorways and gates. Two headed so he can look to the future and past. I carried him home from Rome in the hopes that he will keep an eye on mine.” His eyes strayed to Julia, his voice like a soft caress. “Particularly my future, as I have bright hopes for it.”

Her eyes widened. Wait until she told Daniel that.

She shook her head at the stray thought. Janus would have to look out for Daniel, for he was firmly in her past.

Her father looked wary. “I cannot boast to knowing much about Roman gods, but I cannot say I trust one with two heads. I like to meet a man eye-to-eye, and how am I suppose to do that if he has four of them?”

“Fair point, sir. I had not considered that, but will do so.” Edmund’s response was solemn, but Julia caught the slight twitch to his lips.

“While you contemplate the matter, I see the Belhams over there,” Emily intervened. “Why don’t we say hello to them. Father? You enjoy Lord Belham, don’t you?”

“I do, he has a fine stable. Should have one, considering he filled it with half of Tanner’s prime stock. Bought a mare I had my eye on,” he grumbled.

“All the more reason to speak to him. Perhaps you can persuade him to sell.” Emily glanced at Julia, sharing a discreet eye roll with her. “Your Grace.” She curtsied, looped her arm through their father’s, and led him away.

“I apologize for any aspersions my father cast on your new acquisition,” Julia said.

“No apologies needed. He gave me something to mull over when the vicar is droning on and I run out of daydreaming material.” He grinned. “Now then, I have been remiss as a host. We must get you some punch and catch up where we left off the last time we were together. As I said, it has been too long.”

And whose fault is that?
Julia’s smile wavered as the annoying voice piped up.

Edmund lifted his arm, and she curled hers through it. The thick, masculine strength of it reminded her of another, and she bit her lip. She forced her attention to Edmund, who was speaking.

“You look worried. Don’t. I promise you, Janus will be fine. He is sculpted of granite, so his hide better withstand the elements as well as a few verbal slings, or I will have paid a fortune for a fake.”

He was charming and witty,
her Beautiful Bedford
. “Now that will be a true misfortune, for it would be twofold, being an attack on both your pride and your purse.”

Edmund laughed. “Too true.”

At the sound of his laughter, heads turned their way. Like Janus, everyone had too many eyes and they all were locked on her. Since her engagement, a hum of voices followed her, like a tune the orchestra played upon her entrance. It was always the same melody, with the same snippets of gossip. Thus Julia was able to ignore their audience.

At the refreshment table, sterling silver trays were loaded with crystal goblets, and in the center of the table sat an enormous crystal bowl of ruby-colored punch. Sundry fruits bobbed like buoys over its surface.

Edmund filled a glass, handing it to her. “Alas there is no liquor in it, but I am sure we will have no need of it this evening.” His eyes dipped to hers and lingered as he sipped.

Her hopes climbed as well, the bats in her stomach having settled and the annoying commentary silenced. She sipped her punch. “You were in Italy last spring, were you not?”

“I was. With the exception of Janus, this trip was more wine tasting than the pursuit of Roman antiquities. Tuscan vineyards have the finest wines in the world. I find them superior to the French, which is a grave insult to them. All the more reason to voice my opinion of this whenever I can.” He grinned, unabashed, and swept a stray tendril of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “I look forward to visiting some of the vineyards with you. We could go to Montepulciano.” The Italian pronunciation of the town rolled effortlessly off his tongue.

The punch must have alcohol in it, for her head spun.
Italy
. She had always wanted to travel.

He looped her arm through his and escorted her deeper into the room. “Would you like to visit Italy? Amble through the vineyards, drinking wine, sitting at outdoor cafes and following in the footsteps of Caesar and Augustus.”

She had to moisten her lips before she could respond, for she was salivating at the picture he painted. “It sounds lovely.” And relaxing. She would like to relax, to have no responsibilities.

But who would oversee the estate?

The voice had returned, but she refused to heed it. She would enjoy this lovely Italian fantasy for one damn minute.

But there are so many issues that need to be addressed.
Again the voice. Well, she would be drinking in Italy, so someone else would have to address them. She could not be expected to handle everything all the time.

She stopped and withdrew her arm to face Edmund. “You are able to get away again so soon after your return?” She kept her voice light.

Edmund winked at her. “That is the benefit of being a duke. I can do what I want, when I want. My dear Julia, I am well aware of how much you have had to handle over the past few years. It is past time you joined me in doing what
you
want. Don’t you think you have earned a much-deserved trip abroad? Or rather honeymoon?” He smiled into her eyes.

A honeymoon
. Yes, she certainly deserved that. And he was right; she had earned it after the past five years. She had a lot of drinking in vineyards and ambling in Roman ruins to do to make up for those lost years. “I do,” she laughed. “I will speak to Father, see when he can best handle matters without my . . .” Edmund’s laughter interrupted her. “What is so amusing?”

He shook his head. “This will not do.”

“What will not do?” She stared at him baffled.

“This.” His finger drew a whisper-soft line along her forehead, laughing when her eyes rose as if she could follow his touch. “Your brow is furrowed. It is my responsibility as your future husband to erase these lines to ensure that your beautiful skin is not so marred.” His arm dropped. “The last few years have given you cause to worry. Let me speak to your father. I have never allowed for business to bother any beautiful woman, so I assure you that I am not going to allow it to distress my own wife.”

Was he being patronizing or kind
? She was surprised at how desperately she wanted to believe it was the latter.

“Perhaps you are right, and I have been used to handling everything myself.” Hadn’t Daniel said she needed a faithful squire? She took a sip of the punch and managed a smile. “A honeymoon in Italy sounds wonderful.”

“I am glad we agree. Let us hope this is the first time of many.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but a gentleman begged their pardon, requesting a brief word with Edmund. She frowned as she noted the beads of sweat lining the man’s brow, and the look of quiet desperation clouding his dark eyes.

“In a minute, Richards.”

“Of course.” Richards dipped his head and quickly retreated.

Edmund gave her an apologetic look. “Poor Richards. I won a trinket from him in a game of cards and he seeks to redeem it.”

“Nothing too valuable I hope?”

“I found it a rather vulgar piece, but apparently it is a prized family heirloom that was to go to his fiancée,” he explained.

“Oh dear. Perhaps he can offer you another item in fair exchange for it?”

“Oh, I think not,” Edmund drawled, looking amused. “He is old enough to pay the price for his follies, and the ring should bring a pretty penny. Besides, I am doing him a favor. The girl’s a horsey-mouthed thing and her father is in trade. Richards believes himself in love, but I know better.” His eyes swept the room, oblivious to her sharp intake of breath. His smile faded. “I do not see your sister. Perhaps you should find out where she is?”

“Emily?” Something cold curdled in her stomach.

“Come now, Julia.” His voice lowered with an edge of strained patience. “We do not want a repeat performance of the last time she was here. Her gliding about like mad Ophelia, collecting flowers from the centerpieces to place on dear Jason’s grave. You must understand that could be damaging to both of us.”

“No, we cannot have that,” she murmured, the blood draining from her head. It might tarnish his esteemed stature to have his fiancée’s family tainted with a strain of madness. The punch of pain stole her breath.

Not Emily.
Skewering Richards’s poor homely fiancée was in poor taste. But Emily, maligning Emily was . . . unforgivable.

“I am glad you understand.” His smile returned, and with a finger beneath her punch glass, he prodded it toward her. “Drink, it will relax you.” And with a stiff bow, he was gone.