Theresa Romain - Season for Temptation

Julia stood, and her relatives echoed her movements at once. Sir Stephen looked doubtfully at them, and then slowly rose himself, as was proper.

Always, what was proper. Julia couldn’t blame the man for being horrified, but honestly. Couldn’t he have given her credit for enough tact not to run to him for a haven after she was publicly condemned for being with another man?

“Thank you for your extremely enlightening message, Sir Stephen,” she replied in a cool voice that fell just short of courtesy. “I assure you I had no intention of pressuring you into a renewal of those proposals you extended to me yesterday. As I mentioned then, and as must be abundantly clear to you now, I care for another.”

Sir Stephen flinched at her chilly reply, and pressed on inexorably, his eyes worried. “I meant no disrespect, Miss Herington. I do feel for you, most sincerely, to be used and cast aside by one whom I had regarded as a friend to us both.” He shook his head in sorrow. “I had thought Matheson would at least act honorably after exposing you to such public condemnation, but I fear I was mistaken in his character.”

“What do you mean?” Lady Irving asked, her eyes narrowing. “Matheson’s offered to marry her. We’ve just received a note from him to that effect.” The lie tripped off her lips smoothly.

The baronet looked taken aback by this statement. “Is that so? I am happy to be wrong, then. Only I just paid him a visit to commiserate on his public misfortune, and he said nothing about it. I was most distressed at his detachment from the whole affair.”

“He was. . at home?” Louisa asked, her eyes wide and startled. She looked quickly from Julia to Lady Irving.

“Why, yes,” Sir Stephen replied. “Very much so. He was taking coffee with his mother when I arrived. They seemed most convivial. His mother was even speaking of plans to attend some type of a musicale with Lord and Lady Alleyneham.”

Lady Irving swiftly moved to the door and opened it for the baronet. “Thank you very much for your call, Sir Stephen. You’ve been most enlightening. We need not keep you any longer.”

Their guest nodded his understanding, and with a last stricken, sorrowful look at Julia, he bowed his farewell.

He had looked genuinely sad for her. For them all. Julia wondered if he had loved her, after all. If so, it must have been a terrible shock for him to read that morning’s scandal sheet.

But she had bigger problems to consider now than the degree of Sir Stephen Saville’s disappointment. Eventually, he would overcome it. But she. . she wasn’t sure she would get over hers.

Because James was at home.

He was home, and he was talking about going out and about publicly with her friend Charissa Bradleigh, while she was here waiting for him to show up and marry her so she wouldn’t be ruined. He must have sent that note — or, if it wasn’t his handwriting, then he must have had someone else send it for him.

She didn’t understand, but she didn’t have to. Waiting around was intolerable, and waiting around with the entire ton ready to pity her, judge her, and give her the cut direct was even worse than intolerable. If there was such a thing.

Julia looked up to meet the eyes of her aunt and sister. They were both staring at her, open-mouthed, stricken, waiting for her reaction to Sir Stephen’s revelations.

“I still don’t believe it,” Louisa insisted quickly, but her eyes were wounded and doubtful. Lady Irving said nothing, only shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter,” Julia said in what she hoped was a calm voice. “Well, that’s not true. Of course it matters. It matters more than anything.”

She choked for a second, and with an effort, held back angry tears to explain. “Whether he wrote that terrible note or not, he’s not here. He didn’t come when I said I needed him.

“Maybe it’s all a misunderstanding; maybe not. I can’t imagine that he wouldn’t marry me after he promised to.” She darted a quick look at Louisa, remembering too late that her sister had, only two days ago, been the lady engaged to the viscount in question. “But I can’t wait around anymore to see what he’ll do, or when. I can’t just do nothing and wait for him to save me. I want to leave; I want to go home. That’s the only thing I can do, unfortunately.”

“I’ll second that,” Louisa said. “I’m ready to leave here for good.”

She wrapped Julia in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe it either. Maybe we can write to him again when we get home,” she suggested.

Lady Irving shook her head. “It’s for him to make it right.” For the first time in Julia’s memory, the countess looked spiritless. Seeing her vivacious, sharp-tongued aunt brought low was, in Julia’s mind, the most shocking development of all. If her aunt no longer believed in James. . maybe that was that, then.

“We’ll leave today,” the countess decided. “As soon as we can be packed.”

“Need we wait for that?” Julia pleaded. “Simone could follow with the trunks, couldn’t she?”

She searched her aunt’s doubtful countenance, begging with her eyes for understanding. Please, please, let us go now. Please let us get out of this terrible situation. Please let us go home.

“Very well,” Lady Irving assented at last, her voice regaining some of its strength. “We’ll go as soon as the carriage can be brought round. I’ll have the knocker removed from the door at once.” She grimaced. “We certainly don’t need anyone else coming by to throw their pity in our face.”

“But what if James comes by?” Julia asked. She couldn’t help wondering, or just a little, still hoping.

“If he comes,” her ladyship said scornfully, “I don’t suppose the simple fact of the knocker being off the door would stop him from finding you.”

Within twenty minutes, they were in the carriage and on their way back to Kent. James had not, after all, come for her.

The family, the servants, and probably even the assorted livestock of Stonemeadows Hall were surprised to see Lady Irving’s crested carriage drive up without any notice late that afternoon. And they were even more surprised to see the carriage disgorge three very harriedlooking and travel-worn women who carried not a single bandbox between them.

Lord Oliver greeted his sister and children warmly, happy as always to see his relatives. He then drifted away, musing aloud to himself about some essential aspect of estate management or cow breeding.

Lady Oliver, however, did not simply take the arrival of the countess and her charges in stride and flutter on with her day. Only the least astute observer (which Lord Oliver decidedly was) could fail to notice that something had gone seriously and suddenly awry.

“What on earth happened?” she asked, plying Lady Irving, Louisa, and Julia with tea and biscuits as soon as they could settle themselves in the drawing room. “Are you all right, all of you?”

Lady Irving opened her mouth to speak, from sheer force of habit, but then seemed to think better of it. She looked at Louisa, Louisa looked at Julia, and Julia looked back blankly at the two of them.

“I don’t know how even to begin to tell her,” Julia admitted. The very thought was too daunting. All through the brief journey home, she had tried to keep her mind away from James, but it had taken all her willpower. Now that they had arrived, she wanted nothing but to sob onto her mother’s shoulder.

If her mother would let her, knowing the truth of what Julia had done.

“Everything is fine, Mama,” Louisa said, easing most of the apprehensive look from Lady Oliver’s face. “At least, we are all unharmed.”

Lady Irving snorted. “Physically, perhaps. But let me tell you, Elise, your girls have had a rough emotional time of it. That viscount doesn’t have the slightest idea how to behave toward persons of quality. He has used both of your daughters extremely ill. And probably he kicks puppies, too,” she added for good measure.

Lady Oliver was taken aback by this outburst. “Puppies?” she asked blankly. “I don’t understand. Did you keep a dog in London?”

Julia shook her head. “Aunt, you are only cluttering the issue with hyperbole.” A memory flashed into her head, of Sir Stephen Saville gravely informing her that she had been “hyperbolic.” Poor man. It seemed as if it had been years ago.

Well, for all the similarity her future life would bear to her life in London, it might as well have been years ago.

She took a deep breath, and looked at Louisa for permission to tell her mother everything. At her sister’s nod, Julia spoke as quickly as she could, trying not to consider her words too deeply for fear that she might choke on them.

“Louisa broke her engagement to James due to unhappiness. I love — loved — him, though, and he loved me in return. We were involved in a scandal and this morning he sent a note saying that he refused to marry me. So we left. And here we are.”

She looked anxiously at her mother, waiting for a reply. Lady Oliver shut her eyes for a few seconds, then opened them, and they were full of sympathy.

“Oh, my dear girls,” she said softly. “My dear sister.” She reached to gather them all in a hug at once, which involved a lot of uncomfortable bending and squishing together as three grown women tried to scoot within the grasp of one.

To Julia, however, this seemed not the smallest bit ridiculous. She felt intense relief that she’d been able to clear the first hurdle of telling her mother without, first of all, crying her head off, and second of all, provoking any type of enraged reaction (Lady Irving’s outburst about the puppy-kicking notwithstanding). True, she’d given only the vaguest outline of what had happened, but it was enough. Her mother wanted to hug her, not boot her out of the house.