Theresa Romain - Season for Temptation

Drat. She hadn’t meant to draw everyone’s attention to herself.

Just perhaps one particular person’s.

Since everyone was already staring at her, she tried to fix the situation. She’d never yet found a conversation that couldn’t be diverted if you threw enough words into its flow. Since her sister still looked embarrassed, she began with compliments.

“Louisa’s read more than anyone I can think of, and she’s the smartest person I know. I know for a fact she’s read every book in the library here. Even the dull old books of sermons our grandfather collected.”

Perhaps this wasn’t quite the right thing to say, since it might make James think Louisa prosy. Or worse yet, it might offend him if he happened to be the sort of person who liked reading books of sermons.

Somehow, though, Julia didn’t think James made a habit of reading sermons. That twinkle she kept seeing in his eye was a bit too roguish and shrewd. In fact, it was so knowing that Julia wondered if he suspected she’d been trying to steer the conversation away from his proposal.

Louisa cast her eyes down again, but a smile lit her face at last. Louisa did like to have people appreciate her breadth of knowledge, especially since many of their Kentish neighbors regarded such a love of books in a female as eccentricity. And perhaps, too, she was relieved to have the topic shifted from her courtship, since the hot color of her cheeks at last began to fade.

Julia was so pleased at her success that the knot in her chest hardly came back at all when James replied.

“I can well believe what you say about her keen mind. She has always impressed me with her intelligence, and I was intrigued by her boldness, too.”

“Boldness?” Lady Oliver looked surprised. “Louisa?”

James nodded. “It was certainly the first time I’d been put in my place like that by a young lady, especially since I inherited my title. I don’t mean to sing my own praises by any means; it is just that matchmaking mamas and determined daughters are usually very effusive.”

“Anyway, that’s that,” Louisa said, still looking down at her plate. “It all happened very quickly, and as you gave your permission to the engagement, Papa, here we are.”

She must have been more agitated than her smooth speech indicated, because she took a serving of the undesirable trout and raised a forkful to her lips. It was only once she placed the bite in her mouth that she realized what she’d done.

Julia watched, fascinated, as her sister’s expression changed from distant to horrified. In Louisa’s place, she would simply have spat the bite into her napkin, but Louisa had always had better manners. She reached for her wineglass, only to find it almost empty.

“Take mine,” Julia whispered.

And with Louisa’s look of gratitude as she swallowed away the terrible taste, Julia felt the knot in her chest dissolve completely.

James awoke the next morning feeling much more at ease than he had the night before. A good night’s sleep had refreshed him, and he looked forward with eager anticipation to whatever unusual greetings the Olivers might have in store for him today.

Would he be treated to a discussion of pig breeding? Or perhaps invited to consume a live chicken, personally captured by his lordship that morning?

Or perhaps. . he let his thoughts wander. Perhaps, in such an unconventional household, the young ladies were regularly left unsupervised. Perhaps he’d be left alone with. .

What was he thinking? With Louisa, of course. Certainly. Why shouldn’t he be allowed to be alone with his fiancée?

He looked out his bedchamber window at the clear sky of a sunny morning, and his tangled thoughts straightened into a semblance of peacefulness at the pleasant sight of the bright day and the orderly grounds.

With a bit of help from his fastidious manservant, Delaney, he attired himself nattily — if not exactly with attention to his pastoral surroundings — in blue coat, pale yellow pantaloons, mirror-bright Hessians, and crisp white linens. He quickly messed his light brown hair into place, accompanied by the pained groans of the manservant, for whose tastes he tended not to be fashionable enough.

But James hardly noticed; he was looking forward with impatience to the first full day he had ever spent with his fiancée’s family. The cloudless blue sky and his well-rested body lifted his spirits, and he practically hummed with satisfaction as he thundered down the main staircase and into the breakfast parlor, thinking of steak and eggs.

And found that there was no one there. And no food.

Bewildered, James blinked, stared into all corners of the parlor, and checked the room’s dainty timepiece. It was only just now ten o’clock — what was going on here? He had heard of country hours, but this — well, this was ridiculous!

Now that he noticed, the whole house was like a tomb. Where were all the servants? Where were all those little children? Where was Louisa? And where was Julia?

He was just wondering.

He was less than surprised, then, when the door behind him slammed open, light footsteps hurried in and skittered to a stop, and a feminine voice muttered, “Hell’s bells.”

That could only be one person. Without turning around, he said, “Good morning, Julia.”

She gasped. “Oh, no, not again.”

He turned, unable to keep a teasing smile from his lips. “What am I to make of that greeting? That’s hardly hospitable, is it?”

She reddened and smoothed her hair back from where it threatened to tumble out of its pins. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

She added primly, “It is just that it seems as though every time we meet I am running into a room and swearing. Which I really do not do very often, I promise. At least, not every time I run into a room. It’s just the unusual excitement surrounding your arrival. We are all turned on our heads a bit.”

Julia gasped again and added, “Oh, Lord, and I was rude again, wasn’t I? I mean, good morning. I mean, I should have said that first before I explained myself. Or even before I came in and said ‘he—’”

“Yes, thank you, I’ll consider myself properly greeted.” James cut her off before she could utter the improper phrase again. It seemed as if Julia wanted to retort, but she took a deep breath, snapped her mouth shut, and nodded.

“Well.” James changed the subject. “We keep meeting over meals, don’t we?” As if on cue, he felt his stomach growl. “Although there doesn’t seem to be any food this time.”

The redness of Julia’s face had faded, but she still looked chagrined. “Right, I’m sorry about that. Believe it or not, we meant this as politeness. You see, we all eat breakfast around eight or so, but we knew a town gentleman would never want to keep those hours. So I had the servants clear the food and they were to make new when you got up.”

“And the — ah, bells of the underworld that you mentioned?”

“I didn’t think they would clear everything, so understand my surprise when I saw a bare and gleaming tabletop. And the upper housemaid had just told me you were almost ready and on your way down, and I thought—”

Puzzled, James cut her off again. “Upper housemaid? I didn’t see anyone about.”

She blew air out of the corner of her mouth and looked at him with pitying tolerance, her embarrassment finally gone. “You’re not supposed to. They’re servants. Good servants are unobtrusive, especially with guests. She did excellently to notice and come tell me — only apparently our other servants are good, too, or at least feeling energetic this morning, because I’ve never seen them clear so quickly. Perhaps they’re trying to impress you?”

James gave a bark of laughter.

“But they are working on making your food, I swear it,” Julia said in a soothing voice.

She then flung herself down into a chair, and James followed her lead in a more sedate manner. “Honestly,” she added, “please don’t take this the wrong way, but haven’t you run a house before? Don’t you know how servants act?”

“Honestly,” he echoed her, “no, I haven’t ever run a house. Nicholls, my own country estate, is a recent inheritance, but I’ve never lived there. All I’ve ever had since attaining my majority are my bachelor lodgings in town. And a single valet.”

“Oh, I beg your pardon.”

“No, that’s quite all right. I ought to learn these things or my wife and servants will think I’m a fool. Which is much worse than merely having one’s future sister think one a fool.” As her mouth opened in protest, he raised a hand to quiet her. “It’s only fair. I am, at least in this respect. Repeat that at a ton party, though, and I’ll have your hide.”

She covered her mouth quickly, but a giggle crept between her fingers.

The gnawing in his stomach lessened at the sound of her laugh. She distracted him, and he felt the urge to talk on, to prolong their conversation again.

He explained further. “You see, I never came to the country as a child, and I never visited my own estate until I inherited it. For both of my parents, there was simply nothing outside London. And since my father passed on, my mother has continued to live in Matheson House in town and run it to her own liking. So I now find myself in the position of having a title and no idea what to do with it.”

“You have a secretary, don’t you? And a steward?”

“Yes, and they’re damned capable — if you’ll excuse my language.”

“Absolutely,” she replied promptly. “Anytime. Say whatever you like.”