Chapter Eleven
Of all the women Julian might have expected to see at Myddleton House, she would not have been one of them.
The sight of her instantly transported him back to that unforgettable day in London when he’d gazed into the depths of her eyes.
And her eyes weren’t the only things about her that came to mind.
Of course, Her Grace, the Duchess of Rothbury, looked as lovely as ever.
Unlike her portrayal in oils, however, she was elegantly dressed, gloriously bejeweled, and perfectly coiffed, none of which was of any consequence to Julian.
With little effort on his part, her clothing melted away before his eyes, replaced by a translucent piece of fabric that left little to the imagination.
Her splendid hair, meanwhile, freed itself from its pins to tumble down over her breasts.
Overall, a detailed recollection, and unquestionably inappropriate, given that the lady was currently deep in conversation with Julian’s aunt.
Still, he couldn’t help himself, nor was it his fault. He blamed Josiah entirely.
“I should think she’s praying he’ll wait till he returns to Wiltshire before breathing his last.”
Julian regarded his father, who had come to stand beside him. “His Grace, you mean?”
“Yes,” Aldous replied. “They arrived not a half-hour ago, but he has yet to make it up the stairs. He’s currently taking a noisy nap in the library.”
“Noisy?”
“Snoring impressively.” Aldous grimaced. “Poor old chap. I really mustn’t be so ungracious. I’m surprised he made the effort to come to Myddleton, given his frailty. They’re here a day early to give him time to recover from the journey.”
“He likes to keep an eye on his wife,” Julian said, shifting his attention back to the duchess. “He enjoys her popularity.”
“Yes, so I’ve noticed,” Aldous replied. “How are you feeling, Julian?”
Julian gave him a sideways glance. “I’m feeling fine, Papa. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” He cleared his throat. “I assume you’re looking forward to seeing Miss Aitkin?”
“Yes,” he replied, and not without honesty, “I am.”
Aldous nodded. “Glad to hear it.”
Julian didn’t answer. He guessed there was more to come. Sure enough, after a few moments of silence, his father cleared his throat again. “What of this other young lady who has caught your eye?”
Julian, knowing full well his mother was behind this mild inquisition, and that his father was acting under protest, smothered a sympathetic smile.
“What of her? I have no idea where she is, Papa. I’ve already made that clear.
” He swallowed against what felt like a mild but unwelcome sense of despair.
“I only met her the one time, and it’s highly unlikely I’ll ever meet her again. ”
“So, you’re still considering a possible engagement to Miss Aitken?”
“I believe I’ve made that clear as well,” he replied. “Though, as you yourself said, these things should not be rushed.”
“No, in my opinion, they should not.” Aldous narrowed his gaze slightly. “On the other hand, over-delaying might lead to irrevocable disappointment.”
Julian stifled a sigh. “What do you consider over-delaying, Papa? Thus far, Miss Aitken and I have barely spent a week together. A very enjoyable week, I might add. And I’m sure these next few days will allow us to get to know each other even better.”
“No doubt,” his father replied. “It’s the existence of this mystery woman that has your mother in a bit of a dither, that’s all.”
“Yes, I’ve gathered that.” Julian tamped down a touch of frustration.
“But if I am delaying my decision about an engagement to Miss Aitken, it’s for no other reason than I’d like a little more time to get to know her.
If, in the meantime, she has a change of heart, then so be it. But I will not be rushed.”
Aldous parted with a sigh. “Which is what I told your mother, but you know how she is. I’ll just wander back to the parlor and tell her again, I suppose. Want to come with me?”
Julian laughed. “No, thank you, Papa, I’ll leave you to it. Think I’ll take a walk before luncheon, actually. Where are the twins, by the way? I haven’t seen either of them or Arthur this morning.”
“I believe they’re in the conservatory. No idea where Arthur is. The games room, probably.” Aldous gestured toward a rain-spattered window. “You’ll need an umbrella.”
“No, I’ll just take a turn indoors.” Julian gave his father’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll see you and Mama at luncheon.”
Throwing another quick glance at the duchess, who was still conversing with his aunt, Julian wandered out into the hallway where he paused to gather himself.
Despite what he’d told his father, he was actually contemplating a serious proposal to Miss Aitken at some point over the next couple of days.
Why wait, after all? It would put an end to the speculation and pressure from eager parents.
Besides, he could think of no profound or justifiable reason to refuse the union.
They got along very nicely. Viola Aitken was a beautiful woman; intelligent, sweet natured, and handsomely placed in society.
Quite the prize, to quote Josiah. Yet a small measure of doubt remained in Julian’s heart.
A stubborn impediment that refused to capitulate to the faultless reasoning of his brain.
And, if he were to be totally honest with himself, he knew the reason for it, which meant he’d just been less than honest with his father.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
“Am I interrupting, Mr. Northcott?”
At the sound of the soft, female voice, he spun round and found himself gazing in a pair of familiar eyes. Authentic, this time. Not replicated on virgin canvas by the touch of an artist’s brush.
“Your Grace.” Julian inclined his head. “Forgive me. I didn’t realize you were there.”
The duchess waved a dismissive hand. “My fault entirely for sneaking up on you. You wandered off just as I was about to suggest to your aunt we be introduced, so I excused myself and followed you. It’s about time we met, I think, especially since I’ve heard so much about you.”
Julian flinched. “All good, I hope.”
“Mostly.” A twinkle came to those eyes. “So, am I? Interrupting you, that is?”
“Not at all, Duchess,” Julian replied. “Since the weather is disagreeable, I was about to take a turn indoors. Would you care to join me?”
“I would indeed, Mr. Northcott. Thank you.”
Julian presented an elbow. “Mostly?”
She laughed—a musical, unforced sound—and tucked her hand into the crook of Julian’s arm as they set off. “The way your wonderful aunt sings your praises, I can’t understand why there isn’t a halo permanently circling your head.”
Julian chuckled. “Lady Hutton is my godmother, so she might be a little biased.”
“Possibly,” the duchess replied. “Your brother, however, while also complimentary in his descriptions of you, is perhaps a little more realistic.”
“Er…” Julian almost gave himself away. “My brother?”
The duchess tutted. “It’s very sweet of you to feign ignorance, Mr. Northcott, but not necessary.
Actually, may I call you Julian? At least, when we’re alone together.
All this formality seems rather superfluous, don’t you think?
I mean, given that I know that you know.
Or rather, I know how much of me you know. ”
Since it appeared Josiah and the duchess were still enjoying each other’s company, Julian set all pretense aside.
“Point taken, Duchess,” he replied, breathing in subtle hints of flora and citrus that surrounded her.
“You may call me Julian, of course, but I’d prefer to address you in the appropriate manner, if you have no objection. ”
“Josiah said you were a stickler for the rules.” Head cocked, she regarded him, a blatantly mischievous expression on her face. “So, tell me, Julian, what did you think of it?”
“It?” Of course, Julian knew exactly to what she referred, but his brain stumbled over an appropriate response. It didn’t help that the image of Her Grace, reclining near-naked on a red chaise-longue, arose in his mind.
“My portrait.”
“Ah.” Julian cleared his throat. “Well, first of all, I should assure you that I have not spoken a word ab—”
She tutted again. “I don’t doubt your discretion, silly boy, I’m simply curious to know what you thought.”
He allowed himself a very genuine smile. “I think it is beautiful. Remarkable, in fact.”
“Thank you.” Smiling also, she nodded. “That pleases me.”
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“I love it.” A fleeting expression crossed her face, there and gone in the blink of an eye, too quick for Julian to identify. She glanced away. “He’s very talented, your brother.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Free-spirited.”
“Indeed. Always has been.”
“I envy him that.” There followed a few moments of silence, then, “I’m extremely fond of him, Julian.”
Julian didn’t respond, simply because there was nothing of value to be said.
He understood fully what the duchess meant.
He also understood why her declaration had an air of sadness about it.
No one would argue she had gained much by wedding the old duke; status, untold wealth, a life free from hardship.
Yet she had also become the embodiment of a bird in a gilded cage, allowed out now and then to stretch her wings, but always obliged to return to the one who owned her.
At least, till death parted them. Then again, he mused, she had made her choice, and willingly.
Did Josiah know of what lay in her heart, he wondered?
“I haven’t told him, nor do I intend to,” the duchess said, as if reading Julian’s thoughts.
“And neither will you. Oh, is that lemon brandy?” This last referred to a passing footman carrying a tray of drinks, who nodded and paused.
The duchess let go of Julian’s arm, helped herself to a glass, and arched a brow at him.
“I trust I’ll not be drinking alone, sir. ”