know it’s a terrible situation for you, darling,’ her father had said more gently, just before she went up, reluctantly, to change. ‘But we’re still a family, and that’s what matters in the end. Bricks and mortar, however historic, aren’t that important.’
The trouble was, Julia thought dispiritedly, her father had right on his side. She had been abysmally rude about Alex Constantis. But how could she have known he was lurking about in the study doorway like the Demon King, ready to pop up at just the wrong moment? And if she had known would she honestly have behaved differently? Somehow, she doubted it.
And where rudeness was concerned, honours were about even, she thought. He had snubbed her totally and succinctly, after her father had awkwardly attempted to introduce them, reminding Sir Philip coolly that they were due to visit the Home Farm, and walking off with him without deigning Julia a second look.
But that was all to the good, Julia thought, her mouth suddenly dry. Because if the second look lived up to the first, she might end up permanently singed.
There was little doubt that the evening ahead was going to be an ordeal. Her father had made it clear that he intended to introduce Alex Constantis to their neighbours and friends as the future owner of Ambermere, and Julia wasn’t at all sure she could bear it.
She had almost decided against wearing the new dress, telling herself that it didn’t matter what she looked like—that the oldest rag in the wardrobe would do for a—awake like this evening promised to be.
But her pride had reasserted itself. Her ship might be sinking, but she would nail her full colours to the mast—and she would let no one, but no one know how much she despised and resented Alex Constantis. Her innate realism told her that too many avid eyes would be watching for any sign of grief or distress. Their friends would understand and sympathise, she thought with a sigh, but there were others in the neighbourhood, less well disposed towards the Kendricks, who had been prophesying doom and disaster for years.
And now the doom had come upon them in the unwelcome shape of this—Greek upstart, she thought wretchedly.
Paul Constantis had been philosophical about the enforced change in his circumstances, but Julia had sensed an underlying bitterness. She’d sympathised with him, without feeling too involved, but she was concerned now all right. Because by some incredible, nauseating coincidence, Alex Constantis was going to take Ambermere from her, just as he’d preyed on the Constantis family fortune. He was going to steal her home.
‘Bricks and mortar aren’t important,’ Sir Philip had said.
Not to you, Daddy, Julia thought in aching silence. Never to you—but to me.
She was aware that her love for Ambermere was a local byword, could imagine the shock waves when people realised this would be the last Midsummer party. But no one would pity her tonight—or laugh at her either, she told herself almost savagely, as she lifted her scent spray and misted herself with fragrance before turning resolutely to the door and making her way downstairs.
It was still quite early, and the special guests who had been invited to dinner before the party proper began had not begun to arrive yet, so Julia expected to have the drawing-room to herself for a while.
But to her horror, Alex Constantis was there before her, standing on the hearthrug, staring up at the enormous portrait of the Regency Julia Kendrick which hung above the fireplace. Twentieth-century Julia had never cared for this constant reminder of how her family had acquired Ambermere. She had always been vaguely embarrassed by the pride of place given to a woman who had shamelessly betrayed her husband, and behaved like a tart with Prinny. And she loathed the lighthearted family tradition of drinking a toast to the first Julia as a climax to the Midsummer party. But perhaps, in the circumstances, that particular ritual could be forgone this year.
She hesitated in the doorway, wondering whether she could steal away before he saw her, but the wretched man must have had eyes in the back of his head, because without turning, he said, ‘Come in, thespinis, and tell me about your ancestress.’
Julia came forward with deep unwillingness, strongly tempted to repudiate all knowledge of the flame-haired beauty in her shockingly fashionable transparent draperies.
But before she could speak, he added drily, ‘And do not try to deny the relationship. The family resemblance is there—and the colour of the hair.’ He turned and looked at her fully, the glittering dark gaze sliding with unabashed interest over the untrammelled cling of the midnight dress. ‘And the fact that you both wear so little,’ he ended silkily.
In spite of herself, Julia felt dull colour rise in her face. The cut of the dress demanded a minimum of underwear, but it infuriated her that this stranger—this interloper, should be so immediately aware of the fact—and be graceless enough to refer to it.
At the same time she was forced to acknowledge that his voice was attractive—low-pitched and resonant, with barely a trace of an accent. Not, she thought, what she would have expected from someone of his background.
She said coolly, ‘As you’re a stranger to Britain, Mr Constantis, perhaps I should warn you that sexist remarks are no longer welcomed here.’
‘Sexist?’ Alex Constantis repeated the word as if it were utterly new to him, then shrugged. ‘Yet we are still born male and female, thespinis. The human race does not yet allow for neuters. Nor will it continue for much longer unless a man is able to tell a woman that he finds her desirable.’
To her fury, Julia felt her flush deepen. Did this person actually mean … No, of course he didn’t. He was simply getting his own back by deliberately setting out to embarrass her.
She said crisply, ‘You were asking about the portrait, I believe. She was the wife of the first baronet, and her name was Julia.’
‘You were named for her?’
‘Yes.’ Julia forbore to add ‘unfortunately’, knowing it would involve her in explanations which she didn’t wish to give. Alex Constantis’s grin was far too insolent already.
He glanced back at the portrait. ‘She is very beautiful. To possess such loveliness would be a rare acquisition.’
Again Julia had the uneasy feeling that his remark was a loaded one, intended to needle her. At this rate, she thought crossly, I’ll be spending the entire evening blushing like a schoolgirl!
She forced her voice to remain level. ‘I’m afraid the portrait isn’t for sale, Mr Constantis. You’re buying a house, not a family history.’
He said softly, ‘The past does not concern me, thespinis—only the present—and the future. And it is not altogether certain that I shall buy Ambermere.’
Julia groaned inwardly. Aloud, she said stiffly, ‘If you’re having second thoughts because of anything I’ve said or done, then I’m sorry.’
‘Are you?’ He spoke in the same reflective tone, but Julia felt an inexplicable shiver run down her spine—as if he’d threatened her in some way.
Oh, I’m being ridiculous, she thought with exasperation.
She tried to speak lightly. ‘Perhaps we’d better declare a truce. May I offer you a drink?’
‘Thank you. Do you have Bourbon?’
‘Of course. It’s
