Theresa Romain - Season for Temptation

This newspaper is distressed to report the sudden departure of Viscount M — for his country estate. The ton will certainly be sorry to lose one of its shining stars, especially one who has provided so much recent interest for the clucking tongues of society matrons. One wonders if he intends also to make a visit to the home of Miss H—, the interesting young female so recently involved with the erstwhile viscount?

So. He was back at Nicholls. And Julia could answer quite decisively, if anyone had cared to ask her, that the “erstwhile viscount” had not made a visit to her home.

That meant she would go to his, then. She had already packed her trunk, just in case, and had notified her relatives that she might be leaving again at very short notice. Lady Irving was the only one who had raised any demur to this plan, although after Lady Oliver had taken her aside and talked to her for a solid forty-five minutes, even the countess had finally agreed that Julia might as well “try to bag the rascal” after all. She made Julia promise to take Simone with her if she went anywhere, however, since, she said with a meaningful lift of the eyebrows, it hadn’t gone all that well for Julia the last time she went running off to a man’s house without the supervision of a maid.

Actually, Julia thought, it had gone rather too well, but there was no need to argue with her aunt on this point. She agreed to the company of the French lady’s maid, knowing that Simone would be a sensible and efficient traveling companion.

Louisa offered to come along as well, but Julia declined, not wanting to give rise to the polite world’s most awkward situation since Miss Lettice Hopston’s bosoms had tumbled out of her court dress while curtsying to the queen. Which was to say — since she didn’t know how the meeting was going to go, she thought it would be better to have fewer witnesses, and to have none of those witnesses be the viscount’s former fiancée, even if that lady also happened to be one of her favorite people in the whole world.

Julia and Simone left for Nicholls within an hour of reading the newspaper with the information on James’s location. Lord Oliver was nowhere to be found at the time of departure, and thus had no idea what historic events might be about to take place. But Lady Oliver, Louisa, and Lady Irving all hugged Julia farewell and sent her off with a unique parting message.

“Don’t get married away from home, mind you,” Lady Oliver reminded her daughter. “Have him bring you back here once all is settled between you, and we’ll read the banns in the Stonemeadows church if he hasn’t got a special license.”

“If he hasn’t got a special license,” Lady Irving muttered, “he won’t be a functional male any more after I’m through with him.” She grumbled on for a few minutes, with only the words “scapegrace” and “the honorable thing” audible to Julia’s ears. Finally, with a hard, quick hug, the countess released Julia, adjuring her to return swiftly since she couldn’t get along without Simone.

Louisa simply gave Julia a long hug, her dark eyes shining. “Take care,” she whispered. “I hope all shall be well.”

“It shall be,” Julia assured her, “one way or another.”

She expected that the journey would seem unbearably long, but it passed more quickly than she could ever have hoped. Simone could tell that Julia didn’t wish to speak, and the gentle rocking of the carriage lulled the travelers into a state of quiet contemplation.

What was on Simone’s mind, Julia couldn’t even guess. Her own thoughts spun in circles as she wondered what she would say or do when she saw James. Different scenarios flitted through her mind. Should she be demure and wait for him to apologize? Should she be cold, and allow him to beg her forgiveness? Should she fling herself into his arms? Should she act as if nothing were wrong?

They made only a brief stop at a posting house to change horses and have a quick meal, arriving at Nicholls in early afternoon.

“How do I look?” Julia asked her traveling companion as their carriage pulled into the sweep of the Nicholls drive — which, she noticed vaguely, was now well-graveled and entirely devoid of the terrible ruts that had jostled the carriage on their last visit.

Simone cast appraising eyes up and down Julia’s face and form. Wordlessly, she retrained a few curls, adjusted a few hairpins, and brushed at the fabric of Julia’s dress, then leaned back to examine her charge.

She nodded, approving her work. “It is not so excellent as I would like,” she admitted, “but it cannot be helped after travel. I think you will do very well for your monsieur.”

Julia rolled her eyes and accepted this less than enthusiastic approval. As Louisa had once told her, what seemed like ages ago, her future husband wouldn’t mind what she looked like, even if she were wearing a tomatolike costume.

Besides, she knew James so well that she probably could dress like a tomato, and it wouldn’t affect his response to her. At least, not once he was done laughing.

So. Now it was time to find out what that response would be. She and Simone disembarked from the carriage and were ushered into the house by a butler so correct that he showed absolutely no sign of surprise that two young women, without a bit of baggage, were there to see his lordship. He offered to show them into either the drawing room or into his lordship’s study.

Here the dignified servant’s mask slipped a bit, and he suggested with a significant twinkle in his eye, “Might I show you into the study? It has been recently refurnished and will be much more comfortable for a discussion of any significant length or import.”

Julia gratefully accepted this suggestion, and the butler deposited the two visitors in the room in question, promising to send in some refreshment to them.

Julia sat down blindly on the first seat she saw and buried her face in her hands. She still had no idea what to say to James. Good heavens, she was going to see him in a very few minutes, and the whole course of her future life depended on what she was going to say to him. Her breathing grew shallow and quick. She was taking such a chance here, and what if it should come to nothing?

“If you will excuse me, mademoiselle,” Simone said, tapping Julia on the shoulder to get her attention, “I shall find the salle des bains for use after the journey.” Her face neutral, she added, “I do not perfectly recall where any chambers are in this house. It is very possible that I will wander for much time before I am able to return to you.”

Julia smiled at her implied assurance. Her nervousness didn’t entirely disappear, but this hint from Simone did dissipate most of it. So she was to be left alone with James, was she? That did make things easier. She could talk to him — oh, how she could talk — until everything was understood between them. Until she knew what had happened, and why, and what would come next for them.

It was beginning to feel rather exciting, actually.

“Thank you, Simone,” she replied gravely. “I do hope you don’t get too lost, but I am well aware that this is a very large house.”

With a curtsy of agreement, the maid left her alone. Alone to kick her heels against the chair legs as was her wont, waiting impatiently for James to arrive.

“Why am I always having to wait in some stupid chair for him to come to me?” Julia muttered, and at once rose from the chair to pace around the room.

Once she had worked out a bit of her nervous energy, she began to look at her surroundings.

“Why, this is lovely,” she whispered. Here James had finally been able to make the comfortable home for himself that he had never bothered to do in London; here she could at last see his taste given free rein.

And she liked it. The walls were painted a warm, muted blue, while a deep-piled Aubusson carpet in rich tones covered most of the dark wood floor. Comfortable chairs and a long sofa provided plenty of space to sit. The room was dominated by a mahogany secretaire, the cabinets of which held an assortment of ledgers and volumes, and the desk of which was covered with a litter of notes, bills, crumpled papers, and a sealed letter. The style of it, and the room’s other furnishings, was clean but sturdy, simple, and masculine, with lines lovely to behold.

Rather like their owner, actually.

As Julia was reflecting on this similarity, the door opened behind her. Before Julia could even turn around, arms wrapped around her from behind, and the beloved voice breathed her name in her ear before pressing a kiss onto her neck.

Well. That decided that, she supposed, tilting her head to allow James to kiss her neck again. She need not muck around with some elaborate plan to make him feel guilty, or to trick him into revealing his feelings, since those were abundantly clear.

He was delighted to see her. He must love her.

A breath of relief hissed out of her. She felt as if she’d been holding it for days and could at last relax.

So, she could be dignified and elegant with him. They could discuss the situation calmly and dispassionately, as mature adults.

She whirled furiously about and stomped on James’s foot.

“How could you do that to me?” she demanded, struggling to get out of his embrace. “How could you send me that terrible letter, and then just leave me like that? Didn’t you know what people would think of me? Didn’t you care anything about me at all?”

All right, so much for dignified and elegant. But at least he understood what she really thought.