She was filling her mind with these trifles so she wouldn’t think about the interview with the earl, which had shredded her nerves so badly. She might have thought she was up to that confrontation, but she’d known how easy it would have been to slip up and say the wrong thing. She wasn’t certain that Milton had been completely convinced by their charade, despite his giving his permission for the wedding, which was why she’d started trembling as soon as she left his study.
For a man who had wanted this wedding to happen for most of her life, he didn’t seem the least bit delighted that it was finally taking place. At least not yet. He obviously had some reservations—or needed more proof that she and Richard were sincere. Such as an actual wedding.
She started to laugh hysterically at that thought, but cut it off abruptly when the door opened again and Richard stepped inside.
She shot off the bed, stirring up another cloud of dust that she tried to wave away as she said testily, “You need to figure out how to knock.”
He closed the door softly behind him. “We’re soon to be married, no knocking.”
She raised a brow. “That doesn’t give you privileges.” Then dropping her voice to a whisper, she added, “Even if we were getting married.”
He just grinned at her before he glanced at the deplorable condition of the room and said with a wince, “I was really hoping your room would be in better shape than mine, but obviously not. Willow Woods really has fallen into a miserable state.”
“Just one more thing to prove how desperate your father should be for us to marry.”
“He’s always been greedy, but desperate might be more accurate now. The gambling debts I left him with would have pinched his pockets even more. Apparently, he had to borrow from Charles’s father-in-law to pay them off.”
“You like to gamble?”
“Not really. Those were deliberate losses to get him to disown me back then. It didn’t work, so I left instead.”
She really knew so little about Richard anymore. But the snob was gone. Had snobbery ever really been there? Or had his rage over the situation caused that nastiness she remembered? And today, he’d been remarkable.
Recalling his performance, she said, “You were amazing downstairs. How did you do that? You mask your emotions so well! You even had me believing you!”
He blushed slightly. “Sorry for embarrassing you, but my father has a suspicious nature. If anything deviates from the norm he wants to know why. And what we’re attempting here is about as far from normal as it gets.”
“Do you think he believed us?”
“It’s hard to say at this point. I don’t really know him anymore. Nine years ago when I left, he wouldn’t have done something as horrendous as what he just did to me. But he had slowly been heading in that direction, his punishments growing steadily more harsh. If he didn’t believe us, he still can’t afford to not go along. The boon we’re offering is too great for him to risk losing it. If he does believe us, well, it would be my guess that he’s simply forgotten how to be gracious anymore.”
“I don’t recall him ever being gracious.”
That wasn’t really true. When she’d been young, the earl had seemed like any other grown-up she’d met. His belligerence had only shown up when the situation had begun to turn sour and her father had tried to end the relationship between their families.
She suddenly realized she hadn’t been whispering any more than Richard was, and she ran to the door, opened it, looked both ways down the hall, then closed the door with a sigh. “We’re really going to have to be more careful around here. We can’t afford to be overhead.”
“Why don’t we go outside and enjoy some of this fine weather?” he suggested. “And give the servants a chance to clean these rooms.”
Julia thought that was a splendid idea, especially since they could talk freely outdoors with no one nearby. She grabbed her bonnet and opened the door, but paused to dust off the back of her skirt a little. She had left the outline of her body on top of the bedcover, it was so dirty.
“Wait!” Richard exclaimed, staying her hand. “Let me do that for you.”
She glanced back to see the roguish glint in his eye and his reaching for her skirt. She swung around to face him. “No, I don’t think so.”
He was grinning widely now. “Ah, come on, love, what better opportunity than a little dust!”
“Really, you’re not putting your hands on my arse.” She tried to sound stern, but his teasing humor was contagious.
“Be a sport,” he cajoled, and reached for her again.
She laughed and quickly backed her way out the door with a firm “No.”
He ignored her denial and leapt forward. She shrieked and ran down the corridor. Giggling now, she half turned to make sure he wasn’t getting too close … and bumped into his father.
Her blush was hot! “Beg pardon,” she got out, and hurried down the stairs in embarrassment.
“You sure know how to put a damper on things, old man,” she heard Richard complain before he bounded down the stairs after her.
Chapter Thirty-six
WITH THAT BIT OF silliness upstairs, the last of Julia’s nervousness vanished. She was amazed at herself for being drawn into those childish antics with Richard, though she reasoned she’d needed an outlet of some sort, and laughter was a potent cure for dour emotions. Temporarily at least. But even her embarrassment over Richard’s father witnessing some of it went away quickly once the afternoon sun touched her cheeks. She even removed her bonnet so she could feel more of the sun’s warmth, hooking the tied ribbon over her wrist.
She told her maid, who was standing beside the coaches, that she could direct the luggage inside now and unpack. There had been no point in doing so sooner when their welcome had been in question.
“That was brilliant,” Richard said as he closed the front door and joined her at the bottom of the entrance steps.
She gave him a curious look. “Did you do that on purpose so you could chase me around the house?”
“What do you think?”
She didn’t know what to think, but since he seemed so triumphant over it, she simply said, “Give me warning next time.”
He shook his head with a grin. “Spontaneity plays out better.”
In that he was likely accurate if it produced the desired effect, but that silliness could have gone either way. Considering their past and her nervous state, she could just as easily have railed at him for not being serious, and Milton would have walked in on a fight.
“Did you suspect he’d be up there to witness our antics?” she asked.
“I suspect he’ll be watching us like a hawk. But he also has to be full of questions, so, yes, I had a feeling he’d track me down within the hour.”
Richard put an arm around her waist to lead her. The long drive stretched before them lined with trees in full bloom, the sun peaking through the treetops. But not taking this picturesque path, he led them around the house instead. The large terrace back there ran along a good portion of the house, with doors leading to it from the parlor, the formal dining room, even the breakfast room. The place didn’t bring up fond memories for Julia, and the lake was back there, too—even worse memories.
She tried not to think of them and blurted out instead, “Did you start the search yet? I don’t want to stay here a moment longer than we have to.”
He rolled his eyes at her, making her blush with the realization of how illogical her question was. “Our baggage hasn’t even been brought in yet,” he pointed out. “But allow me to spend a few days with my brother and nephew, who I haven’t even met yet. When we do leave here, I’ll be returning to the Caribbean.”
“Where?”
“The Caribbean. It’s where I’ve made my home.”
“Not France?” Then she immediately hit her forehead. “No, of course not France. How silly of me. That was just your fake identity.”
His brow formed a slight frown. “I probably shouldn’t
have mentioned that, so keep it to yourself. I do not want Father to know where to find me when this is over.”
“You don’t think he’s going to ask where you’ve been all these years?”
“Certainly he will, but I wouldn’t feel obliged to answer him even if I was delightfully in love as we’re pretending to be.”
Delightfully? What an odd way to put it. It almost sounded as if he wanted to be in love. Actually, he was in love with someone else, or had that just been a silly infatuation with a beautiful, unavailable woman? Actually, the adventure-loving, charming Richard that Gabrielle had described was the kind of man who probably fell in love easily with a lot of women. She didn’t like that thought any better.
“What about you?” Richard asked. “What are you going to do when this is over?”
She raised a brow at him. “You heard me discuss it with my father. I’m going to get on with my life—finally.”
“Which means?”
“Marriage. Children. I’m going to find a man who’s perfect for me, a man like Harry Roberts.”
Richard abruptly stopped walking and frowned. “You’ve already picked out your husband?”
She chuckled at him. “Harry’s my best friend’s husband. I was just making the comparison because he’s quite perfect. He adores his wife, Carol. He doesn’t treat her like a glorified housekeeper, as so many man treat their wives. It never comes down to ‘do it my way or else’ in their marriage. He always takes Carol’s opinions seriously. They compromise, sort of like partners in a business relationship—actually, that describes it very well. Believe it or not, he treats her like an equal partner, and she loves him all the more because of it. And that’s what I want, a man I can share my life with, not one who tries to dictate how I live it. And of course he can’t object that I’m going to continue to help manage the family businesses.”
“That’s a tall order,” Richard said, but he was grinning again as he continued their walk. “Considering how wealthy your family is, you aren’t worried about fortune hunters telling you exactly what you want to hear, then reverting to form right after the wedding?”
She stiffened. “You think my family’s wealth is the only thing a man will find attractive about me?”
“No indeed, but it’s still something you’ll need to consider.”
She’d never get married if she had to take that into account, too. How many men out there were like Richard, who didn’t give a damn about her money? She was surprised he didn’t point that out, too.
How quickly a mood could turn sour. She was about to turn around and head back to the house, preferably alone, when he said, “Watch your step, Jewels. This slope has a few uneven spots.”
She gritted out, “Would you stop calling me that tacky name you gave me when we were children?”
He didn’t take note of her harsh tone, didn’t even glance down at her. He was staring reflectively at the lake as he said, “A ship I sailed on was named The Crusty Jewel. You can’t imagine how much I laughed every time that name made me think of you. No, Jewels it is and Jewels it will always be. Admit it, it’s a pretty name—at least when it’s not modified by the word crusty.”
She’d admit nothing of the sort. But she did realize she’d just got testy for no good reason.
For the sake of their joint effort, she changed the subject. “The lake is man-made, isn’t it? The slope might be gradual on this side of it, but it’s rather steep on the other sides, making it appear unnatural.”
“Yes, the first Earl of Manford started digging the lake in the early 1700s.”
“Ah, a time that favored long hair like yours. Do you wish you’d been born back then? Your hair is as long as mine, you know.”
He chuckled at her. “No, it isn’t.”
“It is.”
“Let yours down and show me.”
She took out a few pins, shook her head, and her coiffure fell, her hair tumbling down her back. She then turned around to show him, but glanced back at him over her shoulder. “What do you think?”
“Damn” was all he said before he whipped her around and kissed her.
His kiss had no gentle persuasion, was instantaneously passionate, and she was easily swept away by it. So unexpected, and all the more potent for the suddenness of it. God, he tasted so good, he dazzled her senses to new realms of temptation. She couldn’t get near him without feeling spurts of unusual giddiness. Just the sight of him did that to her. But being pressed to his hard body magnified that tenfold, a burst of sensual pleasure that spread from her core, heightening all her senses.
Abruptly he stopped kissing her. Apparently Richard had enough presence of mind not to tumble them right there on the lawn. She didn’t. She wouldn’t have protested at all, couldn’t really think yet, could only pant and regret that those wonderful feelings were cooling down.
He was no longer pressing her tightly against him, not that that changed their position much when she was still holding on to him. But his hands came to her shoulders, his forehead touched hers, his warm breath steamed against her face.
“Don’t move for a moment,” he said in a whisper.
A laugh almost bubbled out of her. She didn’t think she could move if she tried.
“Did you do that deliberately?” he added.
She didn’t know what he was talking about, but his tone had just turned accusing, which made her stiffen. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He sighed. “No, I suppose you don’t.”
One of his hands moved down her arm so slowly it was a caress that actually made her shiver and think they weren’t quite done with kissing yet. But he was only after her bonnet, which he removed from her wrist—and set on her head rather roughly.
“You’ve got beautiful hair, Jewels. Keep it contained,” he said a little too sharply.
She gasped and tried to pull away from him, but his hands were back on her shoulders and he wasn’t letting go. “Don’t get huffy on me, we’re not done with this demonstration. The tyrant is watching us from the house. So be still and put your hand on my cheek.”
She did, though she replied tartly, “Or he’s not watching a’tall.”
“I brought us to the back lawn because it can be viewed from more rooms, including his bedroom, than can the front of the house. He’s watching. I can almost feel the malevolence coming from that house.”
“You’re probably feeling what’s coming from me!”
He glanced down at her, then started to laugh. That could so easily have set off her temper to explosive levels. But she realized he wasn’t mocking her, he was genuinely amused, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. Here he was making every effort to help her rid their lives of the marriage contract, and she was being difficult, argumentative, and defensive. When they’d been doing so well at getting along!
“Maybe we should talk about the lake again,” she offered sheepishly.
“Good God, yes! Let’s do that.”
He was chuckling as he took her arm and led her down the gentle slope to the water’s edge. It wasn’t big enough to be considered a lake, it was really a large pond, but she knew that it was deep, even near the edges, which was probably why the Allens called it a lake.
“The aristocracy was quite frivolous back then in their clothes, their wigs, in their spending,” he told her. “They say the first Earl of Manford employed an entire village to dig this hole. When he ran out of funds, it was left unfinished for years, a great gaping hole in the backyard. Unfortunately, rain never collected there, it just seeped into the ground. Snow sometimes filled it in the winter, but once it melted, it never succeeded in leaving more’n a mud puddle come spring that would dry up by summer.”
“So who finished it?”
“The next earl married well, but his wife wasn’t a generous person. Whenever she replaced her wardrobe, which was a yearly event, of course, she wouldn’t donate her old clothes to the poor, she simply had them thrown away. And she decided her first year at Willow
Woods that the huge, ugly hole in the backyard would serve very well as a place where she could discard things, including her clothes. Of course, the earl’s gardeners couldn’t allow a rubbish heap on the property. The solution was to cover the pile of clothes with dirt. But servants, being naturally efficient since the sooner they got a job done the more time they would have to themselves, spread out that enormous pile of clothes so only a few shovelfuls of dirt here and there were needed to cover them sufficiently. Come springtime that year, the muddy puddle formed as usual, but this time, it stayed there and got deeper whenever it rained.”
Julia laughed. “So without figuring out how to finish that lake properly, they did it by accident?”
“Exactly. A generation later fish were brought in to spawn and the little dock was built.”
They were standing on that dock now. Julia impulsively confided, “I was very jealous of your fishing prowess. My mother didn’t think it was an appropriate activity for me, so of course that made me want to try it even more. My father finally gave in and took me fishing without her knowing. It was our little secret. But seeing those poor worms stuck on hooks that day quite cured me of my infatuation with fishing.”
He chuckled. “Did you ever learn to swim?”
She glanced at him sharply. How unkind of him to mention that, and yet, no, he didn’t seem to be gloating over his adolescent attempt to drown her. He astonished her when he added, “You scared the hell out of me that day. You were only supposed to get wet, not sink.”
Her eyes flared wide. You were only supposed to get wet, not sink? How many other things had she been wrong about back then? Should she give him her interpretation of his actions that day?
She turned to him, but he’d moved behind her, rather close. She had to crane her neck to look up at him, only to find that teasing glint in his eyes, and then she was suddenly in the water.