Chapter 31
31
A fter his frantic dash to Huntly Manor, finding Julia being accosted by that ill-begotten scoundrel, fighting for her, followed by a night of the most passionate lovemaking he’d ever experienced, Martin opened his eyes after a long, much needed sleep. When he slid his hand across the linens, he wasn’t surprised to find Julia’s side of the bed cold to the touch, but it was a shock to see the hour hand on the mantle clock pointed at one in the afternoon.
With a grunt, he flung the bedclothes aside and made quick work of washing at the basin and dressing. When Martin stepped into the corridor, he scarcely remembered ascending the two flights of stairs that Julia had led him up with lust-filled eyes. Before he headed downward, he opened doors and peeked into a few chambers, finding the furniture within covered with dust cloths. One room had dozens of streaks ruining the wallpaper where the roof had sprung a leak.
Martin continued on, looking into rooms as he passed them and gaining an appreciation for the size of the manor. Though it was in sore need of updating, it was clearly once a grand house befitting the station of earl. Eventually along his circuitous journey, he ended up in the library where he found his fiancée at a writing table. She looked a tad like Jules Smallwood stooped over a ledger, aside from the curls framing the side of her face, and the black mourning gown, its bodice hugging the shapely breasts he would never tire of worshiping. Goodness, Julia must have had a dickens of a time wrapping those lovelies every morn.
Stilling her quill, she glanced up from her work and gave him a coy smile. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “It is rather late, is it not?”
“Yes, but I thought you might sleep the day though, given how long you went without rest.”
“Never.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
She gestured to a table with a teapot and a loaf of bread on a cutting board. “I’m afraid we haven’t much aside from bread and eggs. Fortunately, the hens are still laying. The eggs are quite good poached, shall I prepare a couple for you?”
“You?”
“I’m quite skilled in the kitchen, I’ll have you know. Besides, Mrs. May has moved on.”
Martin sliced himself a bit of bread and slathered it with butter. “This will do for now.”
Julia picked up her quill. “Very well.”
“What are you working on?” he asked, pouring himself a cup of tea. If the lass truly intended to turn the manor into a home for desolate ladies, she needed a great many servants, starting with a cook and an overseer able to bring in a host of laborers to repair the roof, paint, hang wallpaper, tend to the overgrown garden, and Lord knew what else.
She held up the slip of paper, which looked as if there might be a letter on the reverse side. “I’m compiling a list of repairs for Huntly in order of importance.”
He craned his neck and read the salutation on the letter side. “It looks as if you’re working on a piece of correspondence.”
“I am in a way. I used the last sheet of blank paper to list the household effects for the auctioneer, and now all there is left to use is the back side of old letters.”
After washing a bite of bread down with a sip of tea, Martin moved to Julia’s side, bent down, and whispered in her ear. “Perhaps we ought to appoint a caretaker at once, someone who can oversee the improvements whilst I abscond with you to Scotland.”
As he nibbled her long, slender neck, her shoulders shook with a playful giggle. “Scotland?”
“Unless you’d prefer I send for a special license this verra day. But I thought Stack Castle might be?—”
“I beg your pardon, my lady, Your Grace,” said Willaby, stepping into the library and bowing. “The Dowager Duchess of Dunscaby, Lady Charity, Lady Grace, and Lady Modesty are in the vestibule. Might I add their carriage was followed by two more containing a multitudinous number of servants. Truth be told, it reminds me of the old days when the earl and countess were in residence.”
“Bless Mama.” Martin straightened as the butler’s words hit a chord. “ Dowager did you say?”
“Yes, sir. Your mother was quite emphatic that I place a great deal of emphasis on the title.”
“Well do not delay,” said Julia, standing and brushing out the skirts of the same mourning dress she’d worn the day before, the sleeves worn and almost sheer at the elbows. “Show them in at once.”
“And send a wagon into town for food.” Martin shoved the rest of his breakfast into his mouth. “We canna feed a family let alone two carriages full of servants on bread and eggs.”
Willaby bowed. “Straightaway, Your Grace.”
The rustle of skirts and the tapping of heels echoed through the corridor before Mama waltzed through the doorway wearing lavender and smiling from ear to ear. “Oh, my dear son, as soon as Charity told me the story of how the daughter of the Earl of Brixham had won your heart, I knew we could not delay.”
“No?” Martin asked, gesturing to a settee and eyeing his eldest sister while Mama led the lassies like a goose leading her goslings.
“Of course not.” Mama grasped Julia’s hands and kissed each cheek while Grace and Modesty sat. “I say, you are far more fetching as a woman, my dear.”
“Thank you?” Julia posed her reply as a question, looking most uncertain.
But uncertainty had never dissuaded Martin’s mother. “And please do accept our sincerest condolences for your loss.”
Julia offered a somber nod, glancing down to her dated mourning dress.
“My daughter explained the deplorable circumstances you have been facing. And now that we have arrived, I truly commiserate with how difficult things must have been for you, my dear.”
Cringing, Julia looked to Martin. “We were just discussing some of the more urgent repairs needed.”
“Repairs?” Asked Mama moving to the settee with a flourish of silk skirts. “When you have a wedding to plan?”
Julia followed, standing across. “Forgive me for being forward, but I am surprised to learn that you approve.”
“Well, to be honest I’ll admit to suffering more than a few moments of shock, but there has been no mention of the incident at the Pool of London in the papers, and everyone in Town is already raving about what a fine match you two make. Of course, I’m ever so delighted that my son has at last found a woman to marry.” Mama flicked open her fan and cooled her face. “Though I daresay Martin will need to appoint a new steward forthwith.”
Martin eyed his mother, imagining she had suffered far more than a few moments of shock. “Aye, we’ve agreed on that count, though there are other things that must take precedence.”
“When is the wedding?” asked Grace.
Martin held a chair for his fiancée. “I beg your pardon, but how do the lot of you ken I’ve asked Lady Julia to marry me?”
“Because you’d be an unmitigated mutton head if you havena,” said Charity, sending a pithy glance his way and taking a seat beside his betrothed.
Martin’s sister had proven to be wise beyond her years. She was right, of course, and there was no reason to pretend otherwise. “To be honest, we were also discussing?—”
Mama slid her fan into her sleeve. “I’ve already sent word to Stack Castle.”
“You did what?” Martin asked, grasping the post at the back of Julia’s chair. “Prior to this very moment, you couldna have known Her Ladyship agreed to my proposal.”
Affecting an innocent expression, Mama gave a wee shrug. “Come, now son. Time is of the essence is it not? Her Ladyship’s reputation may not yet be ruined, but given everything that has transpired, it is imperative to move quickly and quash any ugly rumors that may arise.”
“And it is tradition for the Duke of Dunscaby or his heir to marry at the castle,” Grace added with her accustomed air of hauteur. “After all every duke has taken his vows there since the first tower was erected after the Norman conquest.”
Julia drew a hand to her chest. “Is that so?”
Charity held up her palms, her gaze shifting across the book-lined walls of the library. “You mentioned you were making a list of necessary repairs. Does that mean you’re planning to keep the manor?”
“Yes,” Julia and Martin said simultaneously.
He bowed to the brown-eyed lassie. “May I?”
His bride-to-be clasped her hands. “By all means.”
“I purchased the house for my future duchess, and she has decided that Huntly Manor should become a home for ladies who, like her before we were betrothed, have no responsible party to support them.”
“Oh, what a wonderful idea,” said Charity, clasping her hands over her heart. “I would love to help.”
“When do you have time for such a venture?” asked Mama.
Charity leaned forward. “I have nothing but time.”
“I beg your pardon,” the Dowager Duchess scoffed. “You must prepare for the next Season.”
“But couldn’t Charity prepare here?” Julia asked. “I think overseeing the affairs of Huntly Manor for a time would give her invaluable experience in running a household and prepare her to be the lady of any manor in Britain.”
“Do you really think so?” Charity’s face lit up as if a ray of sunshine had just landed upon her shoulders.
“I do.” Julia grasped the eldest sister’s hand and squeezed. “I have it on good authority that I will be far too busy as Martin’s wife to take care of Huntly.”
“That is ever so true,” Her Grace agreed.
“I think it is a splendid idea,” Martin added. “After the wedding, with Julia’s tutelage, Charity can return to Huntly and command the household as she sees fit.”
“Absolutely not,” said Mama.
“I beg to differ. I have made my decision and I wholeheartedly agree with Lady Julia.” Martin moved his fists onto his hips and met his mother’s gaze. “It isna as if we’ll abandon the lass here. She will have a host of servants and, since Grace will be attending Northbourne, why not add Modesty and Miss Hay to the mix to keep Charity company? Och, spending time putting this house in order ought to provide your eldest daughter with a great deal of satisfaction not to mention give her an excellent education in the running of a household.”
“And I can help as well,” added Modesty. “I’ll even give the new cook our secret chocolate recipe.”
“Of course, it is your decision.” With a blink, Mama shifted her gaze away and huffed. “But I’ll agree to it only until the Season resumes.”
Martin dropped his hands to his sides, releasing a silent breath. His mother might be an assertive duchess, but she also wanted him to succeed as duke and the final decision on family matters rested upon his shoulders. “Agreed, until the Season resumes.”
“After which, who will run Huntly Manor?” asked Charity.
Julia patted the lassie’s forearm. “Perhaps we ought to task the new steward with appointing someone who is not only capable of running a country estate, but a woman who is sensitive to the plight of ladies who have nowhere else to turn.”
Charity ran her fingers over the worn velvet armrest on her chair. “I rather like it here. The manor has such a homey feel to it.”
“A shabby feel is more apt,” said Grace.
“I beg your pardon, young lady,” Mama clipped. “Never belittle another’s domicile especially when you are a guest. Apologize to Lady Julia at once.”
Grace rolled her eyes to the chipped paint on the ceiling. “Forgive me. I missspoke.”
“Not to worry.” Julia smiled up at Martin, giving a wink. “We all know the place needs a great deal of work before it is fitting for a duke or an earl, for that matter.”
“The existence of Huntly Manor should be by word of mouth,” Julia said, pacing her bedchamber while Charity sat embroidering in the window embrasure with the curtains opened to a cloudless day.
“But how will anyone ever find it?” asked the lass, her brow furrowing.
“Believe me, a whisper in the right parlor will travel for miles.”
Charity stabbed her needle into the Holland cloth held taut by a round hoop. “Who’s parlor would you suggest?”
Julia joined her future sister-in-law on the embrasure bench and glanced out the window to find Martin heading across the back lawn. “Well, I’ve put some thought into it, and have already sent a letter to my dear friend, the Marchioness of Northampton.”
“And you reckon it will work, aye?”
Julia craned her neck to admire his bold stride, the pleats of his kilt slapping the backs of his legs in a steady cadence. Where was he off to? “If I know Sophie, you’ll have boarders just as soon as you return from Scotland.”
Charity pulled her thread up and made a French knot. “I hope so.”
Now that Martin had moved out of sight, Julia sighed, wishing she were with him. Things had been so hectic the past few days as they worked to address Huntly’s most urgent needs. So far they’d hired a cook, a groundskeeper, a roofer, but had yet to find a replacement for Mrs. May. All the while, the Dunscaby serving staff had cleaned every chamber from hearth to ceiling to removing the carpets and beating them with brooms. “And I’d like to venture that it wouldn’t be all that bad to have a sennight or two to yourself.”
“Modesty will be here, mind you.”
“Perhaps, but she’s no trouble, is she?” Julia picked up a skein of pink embroidery thread and shook it under her friend’s nose. “I say, being the lady of the house without Lady Grace and Her Grace’s influence ought to be liberating for you.” In truth, after living with the family for several months, Julia had observed that Grace and Her Grace both could be overbearing and Charity often withheld her opinions.
“I beg your pardon, my lady,” said Georgette, tapping on the door as she entered. “You have a missive.”
“Thank you,” she said, a tad puzzled since the post had already been delivered. As soon as she saw the handwriting on the address, a swarm of fairies started dancing in her stomach.
“Who is it from?” asked Charity, leaning in.
Julia moved the missive aside while she ran her finger under the duke’s wax seal applied with his signet ring. “Who do you think?”
“Does he want a secret rendezvous?” asked Martin’s sister with a saucy shake of her shoulders.
Julia read, making the fairies dance faster. “You are awful.”
“I ken my brother.”
“I’d best answer his summons.”
“You’d best hasten to the altar.”
“Believe me, nothing will stop me from saying ‘I do’,” Julia replied as she pattered out the door and through the overgrown back garden. When the woodshed came into sight, she stopped for a moment and slid her hands over her head.
“Och, m’lady, in your haste I do believe you’ve forgotten a piece of your costume.”
She grinned as Martin peered around the corner of the rickety old shed. “Shame on me, I’ll be all splotchy for the wedding.”
“Never.” He tugged her behind the woodshed and into his arms, his lips sealing over hers, imparting a kiss that was both familiar and filled with passion. “I’ve missed you, lass.”
“Since this morning in the coal cellar?” she asked, smiling at their stolen interlude, nearly interrupted by a scullery maid. Since his mother and sisters had arrived they’d agreed to abstain and wait until the wedding, which was proving to be nearly impossible as well as imposing a myriad of chance meetings in the most unlikely places. “At least black coal matches the color of mourning.”
He flicked the ribbon on her bodice. “I want to see you in bright colors, especially yellow.”
“You’ll be pleased to know your mother has agreed that I should be allowed to go into half-mourning after we arrive at Stack Castle. At least I’ll be able to wear lavender for the wedding.”
“I’d marry you even if you were wearing sackcloth.”
Julia rose up on her toes, adoring how Martin’s long lashes fanned his cheeks as their lips met. She ran her hands up and down the sinewy muscles in his back, losing herself in his languid kiss…
“Oh my goodness! Grace was right. You are kissing behind the woodshed!” exclaimed Modesty, standing not but three feet away with her mouth agape.
Julia leapt from Martin’s embrace. The very reason they had agreed to abstain was because there were innocent ladies in the house and now the most innocent of innocents had just caught them intwined in each other’s arms.
In true ducal form, Martin sternly stared down at his sister, tapping a finger to his lips. “Grace put you up to this?”
“Aye, she saw you head for the woodshed and not long after, Julia followed.”
“That may verra well be, but Grace of all people should be well aware it is poor form to interrupt a couple who are engaged to be married when they are stealing a wee kiss.”
The lass twisted one of the red curls from her pigtails around her finger. “But Grace dared me.”
“That doesna make it right. I bid you apologize to Her Ladyship forthwith.”
“I’m sorry, m’lady.” Modesty curtsied. “I think I liked it better when you were Mr. Smallwood. Your dancing was improving, at least.”
Julia gave a proper bow, one reminiscent of the steward addressing his partner. “Perhaps we can continue to practice, though you’re growing so fast, I daresay you’ll soon be taller than I am.”
Martin clapped his hands. “Back to the house with you and tell your meddlesome sister to mind her own affairs.”
The young lady’s bottom lip jutted out as she gave her brother a woeful look and turned on her heel. “I’ll never accept a dare from Grace again.”
“That is sound reasoning,” Martin replied looking after her.
Julia leaned against the woodshed wall and pressed a hand to her forehead. “Oh dear, that was rather embarrassing.”
“I hope it was more so for the wee lassie. She’s old enough to mind her manners.”
“Even after given a challenge by her dragon-hearted middle sister?”
“Aye, though I’ll be having a word with Grace, mark me.” Martin plucked the bow on her bodice and slowly pulled open the tie. “Now, where were we?”
Julia’s heart thrummed as the ugly black fabric fell open. “You are a naughty duke.”
He nuzzled her neck. “I certainly hope so.”
Sliding away from the wall, Julia took his hand and grinned. “Did you know there were ruins on this property?”
“Nay, I havena seen a crumbling old tower as of yet.”
She started toward the path, hoping it was still there. “Perhaps that’s because it is hidden by the bluff.”
“Intriguing. How many others ken of these ruins?”
“Hmm, Willaby knows of them, but I doubt he’s paid them a mind for a decade or more.”
“I reckon I must see this old fortress without delay.” Martin’s eyes grew dark as he followed. “Ye ken it is driving me mad knowing you are sleeping one floor above whilst I lay awake in the lord’s chamber.”
“Whoever said I was sleeping?” She giggled as she tugged him along, quickening the pace. “You are not the only one lying abed, plotting our next rendezvous.”
She led him through a copse of trees that opened out onto the bluff. With a gesture of her palm, she pointed to the tops of the tower’s ruins below. “See, the old relic is completely hidden from the world.”
Martin wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her close. “Och, why did you not tell me about this before?”
“Between wedding preparations, hiring roofers, a groundskeeper, a cook, and interviewing prospective housekeepers, there hasn’t exactly been much time…aside from a few moments in the coal cellar.”
“Or behind the stables.”
“Or under the writing table in the library.”
“Not to mention the china closet.”
“How can I possibly forget the china closet?” She giggled. “It is amazing we didn’t break a single dish.”
Julia led the way down the steep, zigzagging pathway overgrown with vines, but otherwise still intact. “When I was a little girl, I used to hide from my governess and pretend I was a fairy princess.”
“Do you mean to tell me you werena a perfectly behaved young lady?”
“Far from it, though I will admit to being a bit of a bookworm.” She pulled him across a rickety-looking stone bridge that joined the mainland with the promontory upon which the old fortress had been built. “Here we are.”
They crossed beneath an archway that opened to a blanket of grass, surrounded by four grey walls and a ceiling of blue skies.
Martin swept her into his arms and spun in a circle. “This is a fantastical place.”
Throwing her head back, Julia laughed. “At it is all our own.”
He kissed her, a long kiss imparting a thousand promises, and then he set her down. “What makes me think you’re about to have your way with me, lass?”
Sliding her tongue to the corner of her mouth, she unfastened the brooch at his shoulder. “I’ve become somewhat of a proficient at seducing a duke with a rakish reputation.”
A low chuckle rumbled in his throat as he released his belt and let his tartan drop. “Do no’ tell a soul, but this rake has been completely reformed.”
He spread his plaid on the ground and together they made love with a cool breeze caressing their skin. And though Martin took Julia to the stars, she was ever so happy the next phase of their journey would begin on the morrow, setting out for the northern tip of the mainland of Scotland where they would take their vows as husband and wife.