Chapter 19
19
A fter galloping back to Mayfair at breakneck speed, Martin carried Lady Julia up the steps to the town house while Giles opened the door. “Send for a physician at once!” Dunscaby demanded, marching through the vestibule. “Is Her Grace still here? I need the Rose Bedchamber readied before I reach the top of the stairs!”
“Straightaway, Your Grace.” Giles traipsed along in Martin’s wake. “I’m afraid to report your mother has departed for Northbourne Seminary for Young Ladies with Lady Modesty and Lady Grace. However, as always, the Rose Bedchamber is prepared.”
“Then why are you following me?” Martin barked over his shoulder. “Fetch the bloody doctor and send Lady Charity to me at once.”
“Aye, sir.”
Lady Julia pushed her palm against his chest, proving quite powerful for such a petite woman. “Forgive me, but I cannot remain here. I-I really must prepare for my journey to Brixham on the morrow.”
“I doubt you’ll be going anywhere, at least not until my physician pronounces it safe to do so.” A maelstrom of conflicting emotions roiled inside him, making his chest tight. Damnation, a lady should never be expected to travel to London alone to dispatch her father’s affairs. Aye, the Earl of Brixham may be ill, but how the devil could the man have gambled his livelihood away and forced this sweet, charming, witty woman to do his bidding? Had the earl no scruples whatsoever?
Her eyes rolled back but with her blink they regained focus. “Please, it was merely a fall.”
“I beg your pardon?” Martin asked, doing his best to ignore the fact that his fingers were presently sinking into the softest, most feminine bottom he’d ever had the honor of touching. “You were thrown from a carriage. Have you any idea how many people die from carriage accidents every year? Just last week the Gazette posted a study done by Oxford University detailing the causes of carriage accidents, citing over fifteen hundred deaths per year and thrice as many serious injuries. Your fall, my lady, is nothing to be ignored.”
The lass seemed to settle and, after they reached the third floor, he strode to the Rose Bedchamber and pushed open the door. “I’m sorry to say my mother and younger sisters are traveling to the Cotswolds to visit a finishing school. Lady Grace is emphatic about attending seminary in England.”
“Is she?” Lady Julia mumbled, the inflection of her voice sounding as if the topic interested her. “I’m sure your mother will be delighted.”
“Indeed. At least Her Grace will have one child educated in what she considers to be the more civilized southern half of Britain,” said Martin rather absently while he strode to the bed and rested Her Ladyship atop the mattress. “You ought to be comfortable here. I’ve sent for my sister who will oversee your care whilst you’re here.”
“Marty?” Charity asked from the doorway as if on cue. “Whatever has happened?”
Though he’d left the door ajar, Martin immediately straightened. Once the gossipmongers figured out who had been riding with him, Lady Julia absolutely must not be in a situation where her reputation might be besmirched. She was already suffering the misery of a precarious situation, and he was determined not to cause the woman any undue hardship. He gestured from one lass to the other. “Lady Julia St. Vincent, allow me to introduce Lady Charity MacGalloway.”
He could have sworn Charity’s eyes popped wider than he’d ever seen them. Had there been a hint of recognition? Lady Julia was a good deal older than his sister. Had their paths crossed? But then again, he’d never brought any woman home before and Charity had heard him declare his affinity for bachelorhood many, many times. It most likely came as a shock to see him doting over a lady now. Quickly schooling her features into a pleasant smile, his sister curtsied. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, m’lady.”
“It is lovely to meet you as well, my lady,” said Lady Julia, leaning forward as if she intended to stand, then thought the better of it and pressed a hand to her forehead. “However, I apologize for our introduction to be under such awkward circumstances.”
“Not at all. It is an honor to have you here,” Martin said, gently tapping Her Ladyship’s shoulder with the tips of his fingers and urging her to recline against the pillows. He then addressed his sister who was gaping at their guest with the most peculiar expression. “Lady Julia and I were taking the lads out to stretch their legs in the park when a careless rogue drove his team so near, the cad spooked my horses, throwing Her Ladyship from the phaeton’s seat.”
“Och, nay.” Charity rushed inside, clapping a hand over her heart. “And the bench of your sporty carriage is ever so far off the ground. Are you badly injured, m’lady?”
“Please, there is no need for such formality. And I am perfectly able to take my leave.” Julia pushed up with one hand but her arm seemed to collapse with the pressure. And she grabbed it with a wince. “Ow…goodness, I fear I’ve injured my wrist.”
“Allow me to have a look at that.” Martin caught Julia’s eye as he took her hand. “May I?”
Lowering her lashes as if she’d been caught gazing his way, she gave a bashful nod. He carefully pushed up her sleeve, revealing a swollen wrist the size of a cricket ball.
“Oh dear,” said Charity, peering over his shoulder. “That does appear more than a wee bit awful.”
Julia drew her hand away and cradled the wrist against her chest. “It isn’t bad, really. I’m sure with a bit of rest I’ll feel no pain whatsoever.”
Martin didn’t believe it for a minute. “The doctor shall be here anon and conduct his examination.” He turned to his sister. “Her Ladyship also struck her head hard enough to lose consciousness.”
“Only for a moment,” Julia objected.
He understood her reluctance. Just this morning she had been planning to return home and now Lady Julia most likely felt as if she were imposing, which she definitely was not. Furthermore, he needed to convince her to stay and hoped the doctor would agree.
Moving to the washstand, he filled the bowl with water and doused a cloth. “By the dried blood in your hair and across your forehead, I deign to disagree.”
The lass gasped. “Goodness, I must look a fright.” She clapped her hands to her head. “A-and I’ve lost my bonnet.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “From what I saw, it ended up mangled beyond compare. Forgive me, but after a wind did away with it, I made a ducal decision and deemed it more important to see to your care. I give you my word, your bonnet will be aptly replaced.”
Martin returned to the bedside but Charity took the cloth from his grasp. “Allow me, dear brother.”
Though it was only right for his sister to tend to Julia, Martin watched intently while Charity used utmost care to cleanse away the blood. “Does it hurt?” he asked.
“A bit.”
“Ahem.” Giles cleared his throat from where he appeared in the corridor. “Dr. James, Your Grace.”
Martin saw the doctor out while Julia remained sitting up in bed, completely mortified as she stared down at her arm resting in a sling. How, for all her horrid luck, had she been so unfortunate as to have awakened this morning rather than succumbing to an ague, or consumption, or any manner of deathly ills? Not only had she endured a vile encounter with Mr. Skinner, Julia’s worst fears had been realized when Dunscaby had caught her sneaking back into the mews. It was nothing short of a miracle that the duke hadn’t recognized her. And she couldn’t deny that riding alongside him atop his magnificent phaeton had been delightfully thrilling, their banter amusing…until the horses spooked, of course. For the love of Moses, she’d been thrown from the carriage.
And by the way her head ached, she must have landed atop it. Or perhaps it was her sprained wrist that had unfortunately spared her from certain death. Moreover, the dratted physician had insisted she keep her sprained arm in a sling until the swelling went down.
How long will that take?
Worse, she wasn’t to travel for at least a fortnight, a fact which she highly suspected Dr. James would relay to the duke.
Blast, drat, and curses!
Dunscaby would be seeking an audience with Jules Smallwood soon. Julia needed to flee from this bed and somehow slip into her rooms without being seen and without allowing anyone to notice her injury. Except Lady Charity had been ordered by His Grace to remain at Julia’s side. Fortunately, Dunscaby had waited in the corridor while Dr. James conducted his examination, else Julia would have likely melted into a muddle of complete and utter humiliation.
Lady Charity remained as chaperone as was proper. But the eldest MacGalloway sister had been fidgeting all afternoon. For ages, Her Ladyship paced back and forth along the side of the bed. She was about to wear a hole in the lovely rose and ivory carpet when Julia could take no more. “I sense your unease, my lady.”
“Charity,” she said rather curtly, stopping and thrusting her fists onto her hips. “Did we not agree to dispense with formalities between us?”
“Yes we did.” Julia looked to the door. “You must know, I am quite well, and ought to be going. There is no need for you to?—”
“Going? Exactly where do you intend to go, Mr. Smallwood?”
The room spun.
Stunned, shocked, and mortified, Julia froze, completely unable to take a breath.
Holy.
Unbelievable.
Help.
This is the end of my life.
Her secret had been discovered and she was about to be cast out on her ear. Not only was her heart thundering out of rhythm, she would be ruined. She’d have to take a transport to Australia, and she barely had a farthing to her name. How could she leave the country without any money…and what about her father?
Is he well enough to travel?
Perhaps a captain would be so kind as to allow her some sort of employment on his ship while she and Papa sailed to purgatory.
“Oh,” was all Julia managed before her throat closed.
“You’ve been trying to make excuses to take your leave ever since Martin brought you into this bedchamber.” After moving forward, Charity brushed the back of her skirts and sat on the bed at Julia’s side. “The first time I met you, I considered you to be a rather odd little chap. And I always wondered how you kept your face so free of whiskers. Even when we traveled to London your chin showed nary a shadow. Tell me without delay, why in heaven’s name are you posing as the steward to a duke?”
Though Julia’s chest felt as though she’d been skewered by a dagger, she forced herself to look the lass in the eyes. “Would you believe me if I told you I had no choice?”
Huffing an enormous sigh, Martin’s sister wrung her hands. “Everyone has a choice.”
“Not when facing debtor’s court and watching an ailing father fall into demise…”
Charity covered Julia’s hand and squeezed, her expression not one of anger, but reflected deep curiosity. “Explain your story, lass. I absolutely must hear every detail.” Martin’s sister tilted up her chin and raised a finger, looking quite a bit like her mother. “And not a false word. Mind you, I ken a tall tale when I hear it.”
After closing her eyes and gathering her thoughts, Julia began. She shared it all—the work as a steward she’d done for her father which was the basis for her qualifications to apply for the position in the first place. Papa’s fall into a sea of debt and subsequent illness. How she couldn’t sit idly by and allow a scourge like Silas Skinner to evict her and Papa from the only home she’d ever known. How she traveled via mail coach to Newhailes with not much more than a few pennies in her father’s great coat.
She mentioned the trunk Willaby had sent with the hidden compartment (which Charity had helped her move) and how she’d changed in the old sedan chair in the mews. Julia left nothing out, explaining about how Sophie had found her and insisted she attend the masquerade because Julia loved to dance. That fact earned a howling laugh from Her Ladyship because Smallwood was forever making missteps and foibles, not because he was a bad dancer, but due to the fact he had never practiced the man’s part.
Of course, she omitted the kiss on the stairs leading to Northampton’s gardens, then skipped to Dunscaby’s seemingly insatiable urge to find her afterward.
As Julia revealed her story, the sharp pain in her chest slowly eased, replaced by a floating sensation. True, she knew she was ruined beyond any reparation, but holding forth with the unabashed truth and admitting to all the humiliating details was incredibly liberating as if she’d been akin to a canary locked in a cage and suddenly set free.
Except now she was truly doomed.
“Dunscaby has been such a capital employer,” she added at the end of her discourse. “Though I cannot believe His Grace didn’t recognize my identity before you did.”
Charity gave a knowing nod, while a sly grin spread across her lips. “That’s because he is smitten.”
“Oh, please, his interest is merely drawn to a woman who was dressed as the goddess of love at a masquerade. I’ll wager when he escorts you to the next ball, His Grace will find someone else more enticing than me.”
“No. Martin has never once brought a woman home.” Charity soothed her fingers over the damask coverlet. “And when I first stepped into this chamber, I’d never seen him so afraid.”
“Afraid?”
“He was clearly worried, even though you repeatedly said you were not badly injured. Did you not notice Marty hovering over you like a mother hen until Dr. James escorted him out of the chamber?”
“He did hover a tad, did he not?” Julia cringed. “But none of that matters now. My ruse is foiled and I will be booted out of this wonderful family and cast away in shame.”
“I dunna ken. Martin is so blinded by your beauty, I reckon he merely thinks you and Mr. Smallwood resemble each other. You said yourself that you had concocted a ruse that you are second cousins. Obviously, my brother has assumed you look similar because you are kin.”
“Yes, and I thought I was managing the situation fairly well.” Julia leaned forward, covering her eyes with the uninjured hand. She did not want to cry in front of Her Ladyship. “I have no idea what I’m going to do.”
“Not to fret, lass, because I might,” Charity said, her eyes sparkling with a bit of Scottish mischief.
Splaying her fingers, Julia regarded the Her Ladyship through prison-bar-like gaps. “I beg your pardon?”
“Do you have any idea how marvelous it is to see Marty a wee bit smitten? Call me a hopeless romantic, but I think he deserves a chance to court you.”
“Right. Did you not hear what I said? You do know His Grace has a reputation of being one of Britain’s most notorious rakes. Only yesterday he staunchly admitted that he is not remotely ready to marry—and a courtship is…well…it is one step closer to the altar.”
“All men say they cherish their bachelorhood and then something snaps and they fall madly in love.”
Julia snorted. “Now I know you are a hopeless romantic. Highborn marriages are rarely the result from the basis of love.”
“But they should, do you not agree?”
Cradling her injured hand, Julia hummed a sigh. “If only we lived in an ideal world.”
“Aye, but never mind that. I’ve gone off on a tangent and must shift this little tête-à-tête back to the matter at hand.” Grinning, Charity steepled her fingers and pressed them to her lips. “Though I thought you an odd little man, I came to like you, and it is not very often one finds amenable friends when one is the daughter of a duke. The same stands for Marty in a way. From my observations, he quite enjoys your company as Mr. Smallwood, which is why I believe you shall need some help if you intend to continue to perform your duties as steward by day and, perhaps, Lady Julia by night. Though I do think carriage rides in the middle of the day when you are supposed to be conducting your business as steward ought to be out of the question. From what you said about the moneylender, you canna forgo your wages.”
Julia gaped, then, after what seemed to be an inordinately long pause, she blinked. Dare she hope? Yes, she loved Martin. She adored Martin. The greatest truth of all? Every waking hour in his presence, she had yearned to act as herself. At night her dreams tortured her with the unlikely circumstance of being courted by the dashing Scot. “Did you say I would need help ?”
“Well aye. If you keep dressing in the sedan chair, sooner or later someone will find you. Besides, you mentioned that Willaby only sent two dresses and that blue frock you’re wearing is all but ruined.”
Julia couldn’t seem to move past her shock. “Are you saying you will keep my secret?”
“Aye.” Charity patted her chest in rapid succession. “Hopeless romantic, here. Besides, I believe helping you constitutes a good deed.”
“But Mr. Smallwood cannot exactly traipse above stairs and slip into your bedchamber to transform into Lady Julia without the entire serving staff noticing.”
“That’s why I’ve decided to have Tearlach move a trunk of this and that to the attic.”
“This and that?”
“You ken, last season’s theater gown, a frilly pink ball gown, a promenade dress, all the matching accoutrements, and more. Mind you, the items to which I am referring have not gone out of fashion, nor have most of them been worn more than once.” Charity drummed the tips of her fingers together as if plotting like a highwayman. “I’ve a pelisse that ought to fit you nicely, though everything will need a bit of hemming. And dunna fret, I’m quite skilled with a needle and thread.”
Julia’s mind raced. How was she to manage to slip from her rooms on the first floor all the way up to the attic on the fourth without being seen? Of course, there were the servant’s stairs, which she could use when the majority of the staff was at dinner—aside from the lady’s maids who were usually busy at that time of evening, especially if the family were going out, which happened nearly every night, given this was the height of the Season.
What if she agreed with Her Ladyship’s hairbrained plan? At last, she’d be able to be with Martin as a woman. She was already in love with him. Of course, it was unlikely the duke would ever fall in love with her.
Nonetheless, a few nights out with Martin MacGalloway would provide the most splendid memories in her inordinately dull life. What she would give to be in his arms and kiss him once more.
“Perhaps…” she mused, considering the possibilities. “Lady Julia could request that all correspondence be dispatched through her second cousin because she would be bereft if His Grace saw her shameful living quarters.”
Charity tapped her fingers together as if she were eminently enjoying their scheming. “Now you’re onto something. I say, such a request is verra plausible.”
“I cannot believe you have chosen not to expose me.” If only Julia were as close to Charity as she was to Sophie, she would hop out of the bed this instant and wrap her in an embrace.
“I can only imagine the hardship Mama and my sisters would have endured had my father left us penniless.”
“And destitute,” Julia added in a haunted whisper. Taking a deep breath, she gave the lass a grateful smile. “When you referred to me as Mr. Smallwood, I thought my life had ended. But I shouldn’t have.”
“Aye?” Charity asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I knew when I first met you, had I still been myself, I would have cherished your friendship.” Julia placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Thank you ever so much for your understanding and trust. I do believe I should like to experience being courted at least once in my life.”
Charity threw her arms around Julia’s shoulders and hugged her fiercely. “Och, we shall turn you into a woman my brother cannot resist.”
“A woman he admires is quite enough.”
Julia closed her eyes and prayed the debt for Mr. Skinner’s silence would soon be repaid.