blame you.” She glanced away and bit her lip. “We have no place to go, but if you cannot find it in your heart to forgive me, we shall remove ourselves from your sight this very afternoon.”
“Oh, don’t talk fustian, Diana,” Julian begged. “I am in no mood for you to turn a simple misunderstanding into a playhouse tragedy. I am partly to blame—I should have read the bloody note. I’m sure that I would have put a different interpretation on Elizabeth’s words and would not have gone tearing off into the teeth of a storm. We are both to blame for me spending a deucedly uncomfortable night. I forgive you. I am not angry with you. I understand your emotion. So I beg you, let us put it behind us.”
“T-t-that’s very h-h-handsome of you,” Lady Wyndham stammered. A dazed expression on her face, she sank back down in her chair.
Elizabeth had taken the chair next to her mother. Holding Lady Wyndham’s hand in hers, she asked, “What is it that you wanted to tell us? You said that you had an announcement to make.”
The room suddenly felt stuffy and Julian was aware of a hollow feeling in his chest. Both women were staring expectantly at him and he cravenly considered postponing the moment. To what avail? he asked himself. There was no answer. He cleared his throat. “I am to be married,” he said baldly. “To Eleanor Anslowe. On Wednesday next.”
“What?” shrieked Lady Wyndham, jumping to her feet. “Surely my ears have deceived me? You could not possibly have said that you are going to be married and to-to-to Eleanor Anslowe.”
“Married, Julian? You?” demanded Elizabeth, staring at him big-eyed. “I did not know you were contemplating marriage. And to Miss Anslowe? I didn’t know that you had even met her.”
“Oh, I have met her, all right,” Julian admitted. “And it is true that until, er, very, very recently I had never considered marrying again.” He glanced at Lady Wyndham’s stunned features. He was not fond of lying, but he saw no reason for the ladies of his household to know the whole truth of his decision to marry. In fact, for the success of his marriage and Miss Anslowe’s comfort, he could think of several very good reasons why they should not be told the truth. Yet, they had to be told something. Inspiration struck and he added, “Actually, it was your mother’s idea.”
“My idea?” Lady Wyndham exclaimed, her eyes nearly starting from her head. “Have you gone mad? It is true that I mentioned the possibility of marriage to you, but it was my godchild, Georgette, I put forth as a suitable bride, not a woman who has been on the shelf for years—and a cripple in the bargain.”
“I would not,” Julian said gently, but the expression in his jade green eyes gave Lady Wyndham pause, “refer to my bride-to-be as a ‘cripple’ again. She pleases me and that is all you have to know.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth said quickly. “You must forgive Mama—it is a shock.”
“Yes, yes, a great shock,” repeated Lady Wyndham, following her daughter’s lead. Curiosity rampant in her voice, she asked, “But how did this come about? You have never given a clue to anyone that you were thinking of marriage again.”
Julian had often thought that spying for the Duke of Roxbury had been dangerous. He had frequently been in situations where he had been forced to think on his feet if he wished to escape with his life, but he had never felt so exposed to sudden death as he did during the next half hour. The ladies had numerous questions and he fielded them as best as he was able. He stuck to the premise that he’d taken Lady Wyndham’s words to heart that he should marry. And that at his age, he had not wanted a very young bride. He had met Miss Anslowe several times over the years, he said mendaciously, and had been much struck by her calm, good sense and, er, deportment. When Lady Wyndham protested, he trotted forth the indisputable facts that the Anslowes were an old and respected family and that Miss Anslowe was an heiress.
By the time he escaped the interrogation and fled to his rooms, the worst was behind him. Lady Wyndham was resigned; Elizabeth, who had met Miss Anslowe several times and had liked her, was intrigued and, from the gleam in her eyes, he suspected, suspicious of his glib story. But Lizzie was a good sort and she wasn’t likely to throw a rub his way, he thought, as he sank into a tub of hot water. Besides, his story of meeting up with the Anslowes last night and of the four of them being stranded in the storm together at the abandoned toll house had been a brilliant stroke. It was true that it differed somewhat from the tale he had told the Humphries, but it held together, and he expected that there would be several versions of the story all over London in a matter of days. One more would not hurt anything and the main facts were the same: he and Nell were to be married and he and the Anslowes had been found together in the abandoned toll house.
Of course, Lady Wyndham and Elizabeth had to have an expanded version and he had gone on to explain how impressed he had been by Miss Anslowe’s uncomplaining nature and nobility throughout the night. Lady Wyndham’s words had come back to him and it had suddenly occurred to him that Miss Anslowe would make the perfect bride for him. Before he knew what had happened he had declared himself and been accepted. That story differed slightly as well, but it satisfied the ladies.
Slumped bonelessly in the deep copper tub Julian groaned pleasurably as the heated water gradually worked its magic on his exhausted body. Bliss. Sipping a goblet of warmed wine, tenderly handed him by his butler, Dibble, he decided that he might live after all. And perhaps, after a meal and a few hours of rest, he might be able to flesh out his original story. He shook his head as he recalled the tale he had spun out. Elizabeth might be suspicious, but she had thought it all very romantic and that, he thought with a grin, might be enough to keep her from asking more questions.
Despite the weariness that dragged at him, Julian was pleased with the outcome. He had gotten over the heavy ground as lightly as possible and he had stuck to the truth, or at least, the truth that would be ladled out for public consumption. The facts of his story melded well with what the Humphries had seen. There was going to be gossip and speculation aplenty, but no one could prove that he or the Anslowes were lying. Once he and Miss Anslowe were married no one would dare question the circumstances. His mouth tightened. Not unless they wished to face him on the dueling field. And he was very, very good when it came to duels.
His thoughts strayed to Tynedale. Tynedale must be livid that the heiress had slipped through his fingers. And he would be even more infuriated when he discovered into whose hands she had fallen. Julian smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. Thwarting Tynedale was reason enough to marry Miss Anslowe, but then there was his own unexpected fascination with her. With a jolt, it dawned on him that he would have offered to marry her even without the pleasure of causing Tynedale fury.
He frowned into his wine. He would have to be careful there. He would marry her, but surely, he would not be fool enough to commit the greatest folly of all and fall in love? With his own wife? Nay.
Chapter 5
“Papa, are you very sure that I must marry him?” Nell asked quietly.
It was midmorning on Tuesday and the pair of them were in the library where Sir Edward had retreated to read his newspaper and savor the news that it contained. The earl, he noted with approval, had not wasted a moment and had managed to insert the announcement of his impending marriage to Miss Eleanor Anslowe in time for today’s edition.
“Eh? What’s that, my dear?” Sir Edward asked, the pleased glow that Nell’s future was settled apparent in his face.
Nell sighed. She hated disappointing her father, and her brothers, for that matter, and it was clear that they were all cock-a-whoop at the turn of events. Upon their arrival home, Sir Edward had dispatched a servant to
