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JAMES AWOKE THE NEXT morning feeling much more at ease than he had the night before. A good night’s sleep had refreshed him, and he looked forward with eager anticipation to whatever unusual greetings the Olivers might have in store for him today.
Would he be treated to a discussion of pig breeding? Or perhaps invited to consume a live chicken, personally captured by his lordship that morning?
Or perhaps . . . he let his thoughts wander. Perhaps, in such an unconventional household, the young ladies were regularly left unsupervised. Perhaps he’d be left alone with . . .
What was he thinking? With Louisa, of course. Certainly. Why shouldn’t he be allowed to be alone with his intended?
He looked out his bedchamber window at the clear sky of a sunny morning, and his tangled thoughts straightened into a semblance of peacefulness at the pleasant sight of the bright day and the orderly grounds.
With a bit of help from his fastidious manservant, Delaney, he attired himself nattily—if not exactly with attention to his pastoral surroundings—in blue coat, pale yellow pantaloons, mirror-bright Hessians, and crisp white linens. He quickly messed his light brown hair into place, accompanied by the pained groans of the manservant, for whose tastes he tended not to be fashionable enough.
But James hardly noticed; he was looking forward with impatience to the first full day he had ever spent with Louisa’s family. The cloudless blue sky and his well-rested body lifted his spirits, and he hummed with satisfaction as he thundered down the main staircase and into the breakfast parlor, thinking of steak and eggs.
And found that there was no one there. And no food.
Bewildered, James blinked, stared into all corners of the parlor, and checked the room’s dainty timepiece. It was only just now ten o’clock—what was going on here? He had heard of country hours, but this—well, this was ridiculous!
Now that he noticed, the whole house was like a tomb. Where were all the servants? Where were all those little children? Where was Louisa? And where was Julia?
He was just wondering.
He was less than surprised, then, when the door behind him slammed open, light footsteps hurried in and skittered to a stop, and a feminine voice muttered, “Hell’s bells.”
That could only be one person. Without turning around, he said, “Good morning, Julia.”
She gasped. “Oh, no, not again.”
He turned, unable to keep a teasing smile from his lips. “What am I to make of that greeting? That’s hardly hospitable, is it?”
She smoothed her hair back from where it threatened to tumble out of its pins. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
She added primly, “It is just that it seems as though every time we meet I am running into a room and swearing. Which I really do not do very often, I promise. At least, not every time I run into a room. It’s just the unusual excitement surrounding your arrival. We are all turned on our heads a bit.”
Julia gasped again and added, “Oh, Lord, and I was rude again, wasn’t I? I mean, good morning. I mean, I should have said that first before I explained myself. Or even before I came in and said ‘he—’”
“Yes, thank you, I’ll consider myself properly greeted.” James cut her off before she could utter the improper phrase again. It seemed as if Julia wanted to retort, but she took a deep breath, snapped her mouth shut, and nodded.
“Well.” James changed the subject. “We keep meeting over meals, don’t we?” As if on cue, he felt his stomach growl. “Although there doesn’t seem to be any food this time.”
The redness of Julia’s face had faded, but she still looked chagrined. “Right, I’m sorry about that. Believe it or not, we meant this as politeness. You see, we all eat breakfast around eight or so, but we knew a town gentleman would never want to keep those hours. So I had the servants clear the food and they were to make new when you got up.”
“And the—ah, bells of the underworld that you mentioned?”
“I didn’t think they would clear everything, so understand my surprise when I saw a bare and gleaming tabletop. And the upper housemaid had just told me you were almost ready and on your way down, and I thought—”
Puzzled, James cut her off again. “Upper housemaid? I didn’t see anyone about.”
She blew air out of the corner of her mouth and looked at him with pitying tolerance. “You’re not supposed to. Good servants are unobtrusive, especially with guests. She did excellently to notice and come tell me—only apparently our other servants are good, too, or at least feeling energetic this morning, because I’ve never seen them clear so quickly. Perhaps they’re trying to impress you?”
James gave a bark of laughter.
“But they are working on making your food, I swear it,” Julia said in a soothing voice.
She then flung herself down into a chair, and James followed her lead in a more sedate manner. “Honestly,” she added, “please don’t take this the wrong way, but haven’t you run a house before? Don’t you know how servants act?”
“Honestly,” he echoed her, “no, I haven’t ever run a house. Nicholls, my own country estate, is a recent inheritance, but I’ve never lived there. All I’ve ever had since attaining my majority are my bachelor lodgings in town. And a single valet.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon.”
“No, that’s quite all right. I ought to learn these things or my wife and servants will think I’m a fool. Which is much worse than merely having one’s future sister think one a fool.” As her mouth opened in protest, he raised a hand to quiet her. “It’s only fair. I am, at least in this respect. Repeat that at a ton party, though, and I’ll have your hide.”
She covered her mouth quickly, but a giggle crept between her fingers.
The gnawing in his stomach lessened at the sound of her laugh. She distracted him, and he felt the urge to talk on, to prolong their conversation again.
He explained further. “You see, I never came to the country as a child, and I never visited my own estate until I inherited it. For both of my parents, there was simply nothing outside London. And since my father passed on, my mother has continued to live in Matheson House in town and run it to her own liking. So I now find myself in the position of having a title and no idea what to do with it.”
“You have a secretary, don’t you? And a steward?”
“Yes, and they’re so capable that they don’t have a bit of need for me. But they live in London, and they focus on our holdings there. I intend to create a real home for myself in Nicholls.”
A sudden worry struck him. “Does Louisa know how to manage a household?” Good Lord, he hoped so. An ignorant viscount was bad enough, but if his future wife was clever, they would manage.
Julia looked doubtful, but she was nodding. “I expect most young ladies learn such things from their mamas or their housekeepers. We are well supplied with servants here, but we haven’t had a housekeeper since the butler’s wife died last year. It would just kill poor Manderly to see someone else in his wife’s place—er, so to speak. And between Mama and me and sometimes Louisa, we manage those duties.”
James eyed her askance, this small, hopeful-looking blond person sitting so pertly in a chair across from him. The more he learned about this household, the more unusual it seemed. “How many jobs do you do? Governess and housekeeper?”
Julia looked surprised at his question. “I never thought about it like that. This is my home, and I do what needs to be done. Everyone’s happier knowing they can trust the children to be cared for and the servants to be content, so why have someone else do it?”
“What will they all do when you get married?”
The question slipped out before he thought better of it. Julia looked even more startled, and James wished he could have called the words back. He knew—he knew —that was a very personal question to be asking a young lady he had only met the day before. And it was doubly improper to think of her married, or in anything but the most familial of ways. He racked his brain to think of a way to change the subject gracefully.
Luckily, a welcome tray of food was brought into the breakfast parlor just then.
And then another.
And then the most perfect rack of toast he’d ever seen.
As Julia dismissed the footmen, James wondered aloud, “How many people are having breakfast with me?”
“It’s all for you. We just wanted you to have a choice, since we didn’t know what you usually breakfasted on.”
He approached the laden sideboard and opened the first covered dish hopefully, and a heavenly smell of steak and kidneys wafted up. Under the second cover were ham and eggs. And that toast—his mouth positively watered at the sight.
“This all looks and smells wonderful,” he said as he began to assemble a plate. “Thank you very much. I’m sorry to have put you and your servants to so much trouble for just one person.”
“So . . . it’s a lot of food? You might not want it all?”
Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Julia’s taut pose. Her gaze was trained blankly on the wall and her fingers twisted in her lap. “You want something to eat again, don’t you?” He carefully kept his face solemn as he turned to face her.
She looked up at him with guilt. “I might have ordered just a bit too much. But if you’re absolutely certain you won’t want everything . . . well, the ham smells so good, and I can hardly believe it, but I’m hungry again already.”
James laughed. “Serve away. Have as much as you like. Far be it from me to starve a lady in her own home.”
The hungry pair ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. James crunched through the thin-sliced ham and crisp toast until his empty stomach began to feel pleasantly full, and his mind returned to the three objectives he’d had for the day.
First, find some breakfast. Done.
Second, find Louisa and set a wedding date. The sooner, the better.
Third, find Lord Oliver and get his approval for the wedding date and marriage settlements.
He felt a bit queasy all of a sudden. He wondered if he’d eaten too quickly.
Still in silence, he sipped at a cup of tea until he felt more settled. He took a deep breath. “Where is Louisa this morning?”
“Hmm?” Julia looked up from intently slathering an ungodly amount of butter on a piece of toast. “Oh, I expect she’s in the library. Or maybe up with the children, if Mama’s not up there. Or maybe they are all visiting the new calf. It’s sure to be one of those.” She dimpled at him. “You see, I do not do everything by any means. Or know everything about this house.”
James nodded his acceptance, not quite able to respond to her smile. “Would you show me the way to Louisa, once you are done eating? I haven’t quite got my bearings in the house yet.”
Julia stood up so quickly that James heard the thump of her knees banging against the underside of the table. She winced, but replied, “Yes, sorry, let’s go. I didn’t mean to eat so much and keep you waiting.”
“No need for injury,” James assured her, the urge to laugh returning again. “Please finish your toast. In fact, try these preserves as well—they are delicious.”
That was all the persuasion Julia required to sit back down and resume her meal. “Mmm,” she agreed. “You’re right, the cook’s got a knack with blueberries.”
James looked down at his own plate again, but the food didn’t appeal to him anymore. It had been delicious, and he had been very hungry. But now, his insides roiled, and he wasn’t sure why.
So, with no food to occupy him, he watched Julia.
She didn’t notice his gaze, so single-mindedly was she eating. Her light hair was pulling out of its pins, and with curls around her face, she looked sweet and untroubled. Now that he knew the breadth of her responsibility in the household, he could hardly believe that she appeared so carefree, or that she and Louisa were virtually the same age.
As he watched, he felt that warmth tickle through his body as it had the day before. She really was lovely, despite her untidy hair—or maybe even, really, because of it. And she was so unexpected.
He had an urge to touch her neck, or smell her hair, or drop a kiss onto those full lips. If he only could get that blasted toast away from her for a few seconds, to draw her attention. His hand even began to reach toward her as if of its own volition, and he forced it to pick up a fork and toy with that instead. But he wanted to grab her up and kiss her until she forgot all about her breakfast. He wanted to learn all about her. He wanted to . . .
He mentally drew himself up with a start as he realized what he was thinking. What the devil was he doing, getting heated up about a young woman who hadn’t even made her debut yet? And, more importantly, with an intelligent, elegant, would-never-talk-with-her-mouth-full betrothed waiting for him somewhere in this rabbit warren of a house?
He shuttered his face, annoyed with himself. Honestly, had he taken leave of his senses to let this friendly, chattery (don’t forget beautiful, his treacherous brain added) girl get to him in that way?
He might well have, at that. But he wouldn’t let it happen again. Couldn’t he talk to her without thinking of her as a woman? He simply had to, while he was staying in her home. He couldn’t make her—or Louisa, for that matter—feel uncomfortable.
But he couldn’t stop looking at her, either.
Julia finally seemed to feel James’s gaze on her and looked up. “I’m sorry, I’m done anytime. You’re finished?”
At his silent nod, she stood up and stretched luxuriantly. The taut flex of her body did nothing to help banish the thoughts that James knew he needed to put a stop to.
“It is so wonderful to have extra meals in midmorning. I can’t thank you enough for being a late riser and missing breakfast.”
This broke James’s feeling of internal tension; it was too ridiculous. At his sudden explosion of laughter, Julia hastily corrected herself. “That is, not late for town, but early. Maybe late for the country, but not really, since you are a guest. And you can do whatever you like, and not worry about it a bit, since you are a guest.”
“Family, I hope,” James replied in his most brotherly voice. “And not to be tiptoed around with special arrangements that cause you extra trouble, like second breakfasts.”
As he said this, he thought with a pang of the hour at which he would have to rise for breakfast with the family. Eight o’clock. It simply boggled the mind. Well, if he was to run his own estate, it would be good to get used to these early country hours.
“Right, right,” Julia was still talking on. “That’s right, you are to be family. And it’s very kind of you to provide me with an excuse to eat as much as I want to.”
With this, the pair left the breakfast room and proceeded down a corridor James remembered only vaguely from his initial trip through the house the night before.
“I still have quite a lot to become familiar with,” he observed.
“Louisa will be happy to show you around the whole house,” Julia replied with—was that a knowing smile? He arched a brow back at her, but she seemed not to notice as she continued, “We’ll check the library for her first. It’s her favorite place in the house.”
They came to a set of heavy double doors, and Julia knocked before cautiously turning the handle of one. “She hates to be startled,” she explained over her shoulder in a carrying whisper.
James nodded his understanding. “Louisa?” he called hesitantly.
“Good heavens, come in,” said an exasperated voice from inside.
As Julia opened the door, Louisa added, “Julia, you have got the loudest whisper anyone could possibly imagine. Good morning, James. How are you feeling today? Did you rest well?”
“Excuse me; I will leave you alone,” Julia said in her loud whisper, and again with that knowing smile that twisted warmly through James’s stomach like a fine brandy, she melted off.
***
ONCE OUTSIDE THE DOOR of the library, Julia blew out a deep breath, her shoulders sagging. She looked up and down the silent corridor to make sure it was empty, then leaned back against the wall and slid down to the floor, folding her legs in front of her.
“Why am I so stupid all the time?” she muttered.
Why, she thought to herself, did she keep embarrassing herself in front of James? Good heavens, that was Viscount Matheson she kept insulting! It seemed as if she couldn’t meet the man without some breach of propriety, whether chiding him for his town polish or, oh yes, giving him an earful of her most unladylike vocabulary words.
Well, they were not the most unladylike words she knew, but they were bad enough.
He had been kind about it so far, but she knew it was important that he like the family and want to go ahead with the marriage. Quite simply, Louisa’s turn in London was over, and Julia was to go next if she was ever to have a prayer of marrying outside the limited social circle of the surrounding estates. Their parents had never made the smallest allusion to the fact, but she knew well that, though a London season was a heavy financial burden, an unmarried daughter—especially one of five—could be even more so.
Julia glumly dropped her chin onto her folded knees, curling her arms around her legs. Thus far, her family had behaved quite unconventionally toward their guest— that is, their newest family member, as he had referred to himself—but then again, he did seem to like it.
So, did he like them?
Did he like her?
From what Julia had seen of James so far, he was . . . well, wonderful. She couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. His clever face, his warm smile, his low laugh, his long body. She only wished she’d been able to see more of it. Of him.
She felt her face heat again. This time, the heat spread into her fingers, making them tingle, and into the pit of her stomach, tickling it with nervous excitement.
James was exactly the sort of man she wanted to meet in London. Exactly the sort of man she’d like for a husband.
She had to remember, though, that he was also the man who was going to marry her sister.
Suddenly, she felt like using all her most unladylike vocabulary words.