The Regency Season Collection: Part One. Кэрол Мортимер
had been climbing a low hill and the temple was revealed as a small folly in the classical style overlooking the lake. Julia closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. If she was not so tense and, under the surface, so scared, she would be able to cope with this perfectly adequately. Perhaps he was simply gauche and had no idea how to make conversation, although there had been no sign of that last night.
She mentally smoothed her ruffled feathers and replied with dinner-party graciousness, ‘I am sure it will be a delightful prospect, my lord. And you have no need to explain yourself to me. I must apologise if my nerves are a little...’
‘Frayed?’ he enquired as he brought the pair to a standstill and climbed down. Julia sat tactfully still while he tied the reins to a post and came round to hand her from her seat. ‘Well, I hope I may ravel them up again, a little. I have a proposition for you, Miss Prior.’
Proposition. That was a word with connotations and not all of them good. She closed her teeth on her lower lip to control the questions that wanted to tumble out, took his arm and allowed herself to be guided towards the curved marble seat at the front of the folly. She could at least behave like a lady for today—this was surely the last time a gentleman would offer her his arm. And if he proved not to be a gentleman?
When they were seated side by side Lord Dereham crossed one leg over the other, leaned back and contemplated the view with maddening calm.
Julia attempted ladylike repose at his side, but all that relaxation did was to allow the waking nightmares back into her head. ‘My lord? You said you had a proposition? You have thought of some post I might apply for, perhaps?’
‘Oh no, not...exactly. You, I believe, are in need of some time to recover from your precipitate flight, to rest physically and to collect yourself mentally.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, wary. ‘That would be an agreeable luxury, I must admit.’
‘And I would appreciate the company of someone who is knowledgeable about estate management. I have ideas I would like to talk through. If you would accept my hospitality for, let us say, a week, it would give you breathing space and allow me to think of some respectable employment I might suggest.’
The baron did not look at her as he spoke and she studied his profile as she considered, trying to imagine him with the weight back that he had lost, with colour in that lean, hard face and a gloss on that thick hair. He had been a very attractive man and his character still was. He might have autocratic tendencies, but he seemed understanding, intelligent and his actions, right from the start, had been gentlemanly and protective.
She would be in no danger from this man, she knew. But was it safe to stay, even for a few days? Safer than wandering around with no plan and no money, Julia told herself. ‘Thank you, my lord. I would appreciate that and I will do my utmost to assist you.’
‘Excellent. Shall we begin by being on rather less formal terms? My name is Will, I would like you to use it. May I call you Julia?’
In for a penny, in for a pound... ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I would like that. Can you not discuss your thoughts with your...I mean, the man who will...’ Goodness, it was hard to think of a tactful way of saying, The man who will take over when you die.
‘My heir, you mean?’ His lips curled into a sardonic smile. ‘Cousin Henry Hadfield. He has no interest in the land. He wasted his inheritance from his father on enjoying himself in town until his mother finally reined him in. Not a bad youth at heart—but if I were to talk to him about elm tress and field boundaries he would think me all about in the head.’
‘Most people would, frankly, if they aren’t practical landowners.’ Julia got up and strolled a little way so she could look down on the lake lying below to her right and the edge of the park with the plough-lands beyond to the left. ‘You have some long boundaries there. From all I have read elm grows fast and the roots go straight down and do not steal goodness from the crops or interfere with the plough. You raise a timber crop and waste no land. I have...I had started a nursery of cuttings from a neighbour’s trees.’
‘There’s some land that might do for that,’ Will said. ‘Shall we drive on and have a look?’
* * *
They spent all morning driving around the estate and Julia gradually relaxed in Will’s company. They did not agree about everything, but that, she supposed, was only to be expected and the mood was amiable as they finally returned to the house.
‘I will take luncheon in my chamber, if you will excuse me. Then I have paperwork to see to in the library.’ Will surrendered his coat and hat to the butler. ‘Please feel free to explore the house as you wish. Or the pleasure grounds.’
* * *
It was a little like a fairy tale, Julia decided as she strolled through a rose garden. She had fled from evil and found herself in some enchanted place where the outside world did not intrude and everything conspired to make her comfortable and safe.
A gardener materialised at her side with knife and basket and asked which blooms she would like cutting for her chamber.
‘Oh, I had better not,’ she demurred.
‘Lord Dereham sent me.’ The man glanced towards the house and Julia saw the silhouette of a man watching her from one of the long windows. The baron in his study, she assumed.
‘Then thank you,’ she said and buried her face in the trusses of soft fragrance.
* * *
At dinner she mentioned the roses, but Will waved away her thanks with a gesture of his long fingers. ‘They are there to be enjoyed. What do you think of the gardens?’
‘They are lovely. And the vegetable gardens are quite the most wonderful I have ever seen. You even have a pinery—I confess to quite indecent envy!’
The mobile mouth twitched a little at that, but Will only said, ‘I haven’t succeeded in getting a single edible pineapple out of it yet.’
‘More muck,’ Julia said. ‘I was reading all about it and you need a huge, steaming pile of manure, far more than you would think.’ She caught the eye of the footman who was bringing in the roast and he looked so scandalised for a second that she stopped with a gasp. ‘I am so sorry, of all the things to be discussing at the dinner table!’
But Will was laughing. It was the first time she had heard more than a chuckle from him—an infectious, deep, wholehearted laugh—and she found herself laughing, too, until he began to cough and had to sip water until he recovered.
* * *
The next day was overcast with a cool wind so they had gone to the stables in the morning and walked slowly from box to box, admiring the mares and then smiling over the yearlings and the foals in the paddocks. Will had let her take his arm as though he felt at ease enough not to hide the fact that anything more than a stroll was tiring.
Julia explored the house in the afternoon. She found an upstairs sitting room with bookshelves and a deep window seat and curled up with a pile of journals and some novels, but after a while she realised that she was simply staring out of the window.
This place was still a fairy tale, a sanctuary from the dark that she had left behind, a place out of time with its prince, struck down by a wicked enchanter, but still strong enough to defend its walls and keep her safe.
The whimsy made her smile until the chill of reality ran down her spine. It could not last and she should not delude herself. Soon she would have to leave here and find employment and never, ever, be herself again. She had a week, and two days of that were gone already.
* * *
At dinner Will was quiet, almost brooding. Tired, perhaps, she thought and did not attempt to make conversation. When the footman cleared the plates and set the decanter at his elbow she rose, but he gestured her back to her seat.
‘Will you keep me company a little longer, Miss Prior?’ Before the servants he was always meticulous in observing