Chapter 13 #2
“I suspect my opinion is irrelevant, sir. Mrs. Mountjoy knows her best.”
Carenza was pleased to see the younger woman betrayed no agitation at Julian’s appearance.
In truth, she appeared as disinterested as ever.
Was that what made her appealing to Julian?
Her lack of interest in a man who was normally surrounded by women who doted on him?
To her surprise, the idea of his marrying Miss Cartwright did not appeal.
“Perhaps I might interview Bridget, ma’am?” Carenza suggested. “And then you could bring her to Tavistock Square to see how she likes it.”
“That’s an excellent suggestion,” Mrs. Mountjoy said.
“And, in the meantime, if Miss Cartwright doesn’t object, I could take her home in my carriage,” Julian said. “It is starting to rain quite heavily.”
Miss Cartwright took a letter out of her reticule and handed it to Mrs. Mountjoy. “I only came to deliver this, ma’am. If Mr. Laurent is willing to drive me home, I will gratefully accept.”
She stood up to leave. Before Julian escorted her to the door, he looked over at Carenza, his eyebrows raised in an intimidating manner.
Obviously, he expected her to remain at Mrs. Mountjoy’s until he returned, but her frustration at the way matters had turned out left her reluctant to offer him that reassurance, so she ignored him.
Mrs. Mountjoy waited until the door closed behind two of her guests before sitting down quite heavily on the couch. “That was worthy of a Drury Lane farce. The look on Mr. Laurent’s face when he first came in …”
“I quite agree,” Carenza said. “You handled it very well, ma’am.”
“As the wife of a physician, I am used to dealing with difficult moments, Lady Carenza.” Mrs. Mountjoy poured Carenza a second cup of tea. “You don’t have to interview Bridget. She has no idea that I’m looking for a position for her.”
“We do have a vacancy in the summer,” Carenza said. “If you truly think she would suit, I’d be more than willing to speak to her about the position.”
“Then I’ll go and fetch her.” Mrs. Mountjoy gave Carenza an approving smile. “I suspect she’ll be thrilled.”
Julian seated himself opposite Miss Cartwright and waited until she settled her skirts before telling his coachman to proceed. He made no effort to initiate any conversation until it dawned on him that if he didn’t speak, she’d be happy to pass the entire journey in silence.
“Mrs. Mountjoy is an estimable woman,” he said.
“Yes, indeed.”
“I remember her husband very well.”
She nodded and continued to look out the window, her hands clasped tightly together on her lap.
“I do so admire women who do good works,” Julian persevered.
“I admire anyone who lives by their Bible, sir.”
He smiled. “If you know my reputation, you must consider me something of a sinner, then, Miss Cartwright.”
“With respect, I have no knowledge of you outside your work with our school, where you perform an exemplary job.”
“And, I assume, you have no desire to know more about me.”
She looked him right in the eye. “Not at all, sir.”
“I see.”
She returned her gaze to the window. “We’re almost there. You don’t need to come in with me, Mr. Laurent. I’m perfectly capable.”
“I’m well aware of that, Miss Cartwright.” He thumped on the roof as they came alongside the high walls of the institution and the coachman stopped. “Do you require an umbrella?”
“I have one.” She brandished it like a weapon as she struggled with the latch on the door.
“Be careful—” Julian made the mistake of leaning forward to help her just as his coachman released the latch from the outside. With a gasp, Miss Cartwright fell out into his servant’s arms, and Julian’s forehead received a blow from the sharp end of the umbrella.
Miss Cartwright and his coachman didn’t appear to notice as they sorted themselves out and shut the carriage door.
Julian sat alone in the silence, one hand pressed to his temple.
When he drew it away, his fingers were covered in blood.
With a curse, he found his handkerchief and pressed it over the throbbing wound.
He sat back as a vague dizzy feeling engulfed him and ordered himself sternly not to faint.
He realized they were back at Mrs. Mountjoy’s only when his coachman opened the door and gawped at him.
“What happened to you, sir?”
“Umbrella,” Julian said as he got out. “You can go home, Bert.”
“But what about your head?”
“I’ll ask Mrs. Mountjoy to help me,” Julian said. “Now, please go.” He headed toward Mrs. Mountjoy’s front door.
Bridget opened the door to him and immediately started screeching, which wasn’t helpful. “Mrs. Mountjoy! He’s bloody bleeding!”
There was a flurry of activity in the hall behind her, and Carenza and Mrs. Mountjoy appeared.
“Well, don’t let him drip blood over my newly cleaned doorstep!” Mrs. Mountjoy said. “Let him in. Take him to the kitchen, and I’ll fetch my supplies.”
Julian blinked as he took an unsteady step forward. “There’s no need to fuss.”
“What happened?” Carenza demanded as she took his arm and marched him down the hall toward the kitchen.
“What do you think?”
She made him sit on a chair. “Were you attacked?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Were you robbed?”
“Only of my dignity.”
Carenza placed her hands on either arm of the chair and stared into his eyes. “What. Happened?”
“I had an unfortunate collision with an umbrella.”
Her expression changed. “Someone hit you? Not Miss Cartwright.”
He looked at her.
“You didn’t attempt to—”
“Damnation, Carenza! What do you take me for?”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I don’t go around forcing myself on innocents!” He briefly closed his eyes, but that made things even worse. “As she got out of the carriage, the end of her umbrella caught my head.”
“That doesn’t make much more sense than your first answer, but I’ll allow it because you are obviously suffering.” Carenza gently raised his chin, angling his face toward the light. “Head wounds always look worse than they are because of the blood.”
“That’s correct.” Mrs. Mountjoy spoke as she came to look down at Julian. “I’ll clean out the wound, and then we’ll see if we need to call a physician.” She washed her hands and rolled up her sleeves in a rather ominous fashion.
“You are a physician,” Julian grumbled.
“Not according to the law,” Mrs. Mountjoy said. “Women aren’t supposed to be capable of such advanced thinking.”
His breath hissed out as she cleaned the wound with rather too much vigor for his liking.
“It’s a remarkably small cut,” she announced.
“You sound disappointed, ma’am.”
“I was quite enjoying the thought of stitching the wound. I’ve not had much practice recently.”
“That’s hardly a good advertisement for your skills, Mrs. Mountjoy,” Julian grumbled. “I have a terrible headache.”
“I’m not surprised.” Carenza gently stroked his hair. “Perhaps I should take him home in my carriage?”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Mrs. Mountjoy said. “And make sure you put him straight to bed.”
Twenty minutes later, Carenza descended from her carriage and approached the front door of Julian’s town house.
She’d visited the house only once, when he’d first moved in and held a party to celebrate.
Even though she was a widow, it still wasn’t acceptable for ladies to visit unmarried men at home without a chaperone.
She knocked on the door and waited until the butler opened it.
“May I help you, Lady Smythe-Harding? If you are after Mr. Laurent, I regret to inform you that he isn’t home.”
“I know exactly where he is,” Carenza pointed at her carriage. “He’s in there. I’ll just go and fetch him.”
The butler followed her to the carriage and peered inside. Julian was propped in the corner, his eyes half-closed, his clothes ruined.
“Mr. Laurent! What happened!”
He opened one eye fully and regarded his butler. “Don’t shout. I’m perfectly fine. I just had a little run in with an umbrella.”
“Can you get out of the carriage yourself, Mr. Laurent, or do you require our assistance?” Carenza asked.
“I’m perfectly capable,” Julian said as he levered himself out of the seat. “A change of clothes and a short nap will cure all my ills.”
He staggered slightly as his booted feet hit the cobbled street, and Carenza and the butler rushed to steady him. His frosty glare persuaded the butler to stand back, but Carenza wasn’t deterred.
“Lean on me, sir.” She glanced over at the butler. “Can you direct me to Mr. Laurent’s bedchamber? I will make sure he is settled and relay the physician’s instructions to you.”
“Yes, my lady.” The butler hovered behind them as they went up the stairs. “I’ll go and find Mr. Proctor, sir.”
Carenza went into Julian’s bedchamber and found it just as elegant as she’d imagined. She steered him toward a chair beside the marble fireplace, made sure he was seated, and stood back.
“I wish you could undress me and put me to bed,” he murmured as he looked up at her.
“And scandalize your staff?” She raised her eyebrows. “I thought we were all about discretion.”
“You could kiss everything better.”
Carenza snorted. “In your current state you are of no use to me at all, Mr. Laurent.”
He sighed. “I fear you are right.”
She glanced around before bending to kiss him very carefully on the mouth. “I do want you.”
“Don’t say that.”
“But it’s the truth.” She smiled at him. “I’ll have to find another way to satisfy my … needs.”
He scowled at her and then winced. “Don’t you dare.”
“I wasn’t thinking of taking another lover,” she said. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“Carenza … you are driving me mad.”
“Good.” She kissed him again. “And now I must go before I scandalize your entire street by leaving my carriage outside your door. Let me know when you have recovered sufficiently to be visited.”
He caught hold of her hand. “You don’t seriously believe I behaved badly with Miss Cartwright, do you?”
“Of course not. My annoyance at your injury is purely selfish.”
A tall, thin man in a black coat came into the room and drew a sharp breath. “Mr. Laurent! Your cravat and shirt are ruined.”
“I’m glad to see you getting your priorities in order, Proctor.” Julian looked at Carenza. “Note how he doesn’t bemoan my horrific injuries first.”
“The bandage Mrs. Mountjoy put on you masks your wounds,” Carenza said. “And you’re still upright and talking.” She smiled at the valet. “May I suggest you get Mr. Laurent into bed as soon as possible, give him some laudanum, and let him sleep until he feels more the thing?”
“Yes, my lady.” Proctor bowed. “I’ll keep an eye on him, don’t you worry.”
Carenza left the room, her anxiety for Julian assuaged by the obvious competency of his staff. She paused in the hall to reissue Mrs. Mountjoy’s instructions to the butler as to when to call his physician if things got worse, and then returned to her carriage.
Carenza sat back and blew out her breath.
Her day had not proceeded quite as she had anticipated, and now she would have to wait until Julian was well enough to continue their liaison.
A smile curved her lips. Who would’ve imagined that the process of acquiring a lover—and actually managing to have sex—would be so complicated?