Chapter Fourteen

The miles between London and Somerset had been fleet, mostly due to Julia’s interest in her new husband. The talk had been as playful and easy between them as ever before, and she feared she would miss the conversation when he left her for his journey across southern Europe. Still, spending time all alone at a palatial estate with servants to see to her every need was a soft kind of hardship.

Julia watched out the window, enjoying the bright green of the spring countryside. They’d passed through the village of Lynton not too long before, which meant that they were on Gregory’s lands now. They might have been traveling across them for quite some time, actually.

Julia smiled at her husband, the rakish and passionate duke, as he slept on the seat across from hers.

She didn’t have to steal her glances now, and took her time to appraise every inch of him. Asleep, he exhibited a sensuous charm she had previously missed. Though she supposed Gregory had more charm in reserve than most men possessed in their entire beings.

His head had tilted back against the seat, allowing a perfect curl of dark hair to sweep across his eyes. Julia had no idea how anyone could be so devastatingly masculine and beautiful at the same time. The hard, square jaw and the sculpted lines of his body suggested a man capable of action, someone who’d be difficult to defeat in a brawl or on the battlefield. But he had an artist’s touch when it came to love, the little Julia had experienced of his prowess. Or perhaps a musician’s talent. She imagined he knew just how to play with a woman’s body, to get the most exhilarated sounds out of her.

She wasn’t one for blushing, but she could feel the heat on her cheeks.

“Your Grace?” Julia cleared her throat. “We should be arriving soon.”

“Hmmph.” Gregory startled awake, blinking rapidly as he sat up straighter. “Julia. I must have closed my eyes for a moment.”

“Do most moments constitute an hour and a half?” She bestowed upon him a most charming smirk, if she said so herself.

“Impertinence is a terrible feature in a wife.” He came and sat beside her upon the bench. Julia suppressed a shiver of delight. “I must strive to make you more obedient.”

“You’ll have to work very hard, I’m afraid.”

“Normally I detest labor.” He kissed her. “However, I feel invigorated by the challenge.”

Julia could think of nothing to say immediately, as his kisses tended to have a seismic effect upon her.

“I think it will be nice to have some time in the country. Just the two of us.”

“Yes. It should be just the two of us.” The way he phrased it was odd, but before Julia could inquire further her husband gestured to the window. “Take a look, duchess. Does it meet with your approval?”

Julia looked outside and became frozen with amazement.

Her family’s seat, Pennington Hall, was considered a fine country manor, and she’d always been proud of it. But Lynton Park eclipsed every single aristocrat’s estate she had ever glimpsed before.

The carriage drove past a small pond fringed by willow trees and emerged into sunlight that shimmered across acres of pure green lawn in both directions. Far ahead stood an enormous house in the classical style. It was made of a fine, warm stone, three stories tall, with Grecian columns decorating the facade and a grand triangular frieze atop. The frieze displayed the Ashworth crest carved in stone, a stag and a lion flanking a shield. Sunlight glittered across the endless display of windows.

“I told you,” Gregory murmured in her ear. “Size does matter.”

The house sprawled, forming a sort of L shape against the brilliant emerald lawn. They rode past a fountain and expertly gardened sections of roses, tulips, and daffodils.

This was Julia’s new home.

“I’m ever so glad I lost my shoe at the Weatherford ball.”

“Glad you lost your head as well?” Gregory traced his thumb up and down her back, making Julia warm with delight.

“I’d never lose something that precious. I merely left it unsupervised for a moment.”

Julia felt an odd contentment. She remained ensconced in this carriage, secure within her husband’s embrace. For today, at least, and perhaps tomorrow as well, he was hers. She couldn’t grow used to him, but she could enjoy him while their time lasted.

“I’m interested to see the interior of a house belonging to the greatest lover in England or on the Continent.”

“What do you think it resembles?” Gregory sounded amused. “A brothel? A temple to my own handsomeness?”

“Something in between, perhaps.”

Julia had her own ideas. Ashworth was a man who lived for physical pleasure and novelty, and she doubted there’d be anything in his estate that didn’t please him in some manner. She envisioned red velvet drapery and silken bedspreads, along with the finest crystal and tasteful yet erotic art hanging upon the walls, mixed up with landscapes and still lifes as camouflage for unsuspecting guests.

He was a man of sin, so she almost feared what she’d find at the end of this drive.

“There they are.” Gregory smiled as their carriage pulled up to the front steps of the house. An army of liveried footmen and maids awaited, ready to greet their new mistress. Gregory got out and handed Julia down, then led her to a middle-aged woman with a warm countenance.

“Mrs. Sheffield. Good to see you again.” Gregory nodded to the woman in greeting. “It’s been far too long.”

“Nearly eighteen months, Your Grace. We are so glad to have you back at Lynton Park.” The housekeeper gave her curtsy and seemed sincere in everything she said. All the servants looked composed, but Julia sensed that every single one of them was happy to see Gregory, from the housekeeper to the scullery maid. The duke must make a good employer.

Julia felt proud of that idea. To her, nobility who treated their servants like property were the worst sorts.

“Allow me to present my new wife, the Duchess of Ashworth.” Gregory placed his hand upon Julia’s lower back, sending little thrills throughout her body.

“Your Grace.” Mrs. Sheffield beamed as she curtsied. “Welcome to Lynton Park. I trust you’ll find everything to your satisfaction.”

“I’m sure I shall,” Julia replied.

She believed she’d like this woman, and all the servants for that matter. Gregory took her by the arm.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to take my wife on a small tour of the house. I want to show her the gardens, the library, the parlors…” He leaned nearer to Julia’s ear. “There’s the most marvelous view of the lake from the duke’s bedchamber.”

Julia’s heart sped up. She’d been able to think of little else on the drive up here, and a long carriage ride with Gregory so near had left Julia with a pang in her stomach. She was hungry. Starving, actually.

If she was to make this house of depravity her home, better to do it at once.

“Oh! Shall I have Miss Winslow bring Felicity later to meet with Your Graces?” Mrs. Sheffield asked.

Felicity? Julia glanced at Gregory in puzzlement.

“Miss Winslow and Felicity are in residence?” He sounded amazed.

“They left early for one of Miss Winslow’s natural expeditions. She’s created something of a botanist in Felicity.” The housekeeper sounded proud.

Before Julia could politely ask what they were talking about, the euphoric cry of a little girl came bounding across the lawn.

“Your Grace! Hullo!”

A girl of ten or eleven came racing up the steps to greet Gregory. The child latched onto him with enthusiasm, another shocking thing to see. Even beloved children learned from an early age never to throw themselves into an adult’s conversation, or to paw at their parent. Or guardian, in this case? Julia wasn’t so certain.

The child had a tangle of black hair and grass-green eyes set in an impish face. Her clothes were smart but the entire front was muddied, as if she’d taken a flying leap into a patch of wet earth.

“Hello, my girl.” Ashworth’s whole countenance warmed. It wasn’t fire, as Julia had seen so often, but clear sunlight. “Where’s your governess?”

“Beg pardon, Your Grace!”

A woman hurried up to them, moving with both speed and elegance. She wore a dark gown, befitting a governess, but didn’t keep her head lowered and her eyes downcast the way most women of her station might in the presence of nobility. The woman stopped at the top of the steps and curtsied to Gregory, then hastily did the same for Julia.

“Hello, Your Graces. Please excuse Felicity’s current state. We didn’t expect you home until this afternoon.”

“We made better time than I’d anticipated.” Gregory cleared his throat. “Julia, this is Miss Viola Winslow. She attempts to govern my ward.” He gave a fond smile to the girl at his side. “Which brings us to Felicity Berridge, the chit herself. Now curtsy properly, Felicity, and show my new wife some of the polish I’ve struggled to give you.”

But there was no coldness in Gregory’s voice or demeanor. The child obeyed with great cheer.

“Hello, Your Grace.” The girl giggled. Julia liked her at once.

“Hello, Felicity.”

Julia maintained her composure, but she felt rather dizzy with the surprise. There was nothing in the least wrong with Gregory taking in a ward, but no one had mentioned a word about the girl. Laura hadn’t, and she knew everything to do with society and those who moved in it. Felicity Berridge was a well-kept secret, which led Julia to the possibility that Felicity was not Gregory’s ward, but his daughter. An illegitimate one, of course.

Though there was no physical resemblance between them, that didn’t mean they weren’t related. The idea that Felicity was Gregory’s by-blow did not upset Julia; rather, it was the idea that he’d fathered a child on a woman and then evidently refused to marry her, or to give his own daughter the position she deserved in society.

Based upon everything she’d seen of the man thus far, it felt wrong to suppose something that awful. But Felicity presented quite a mystery, and until she understood the facts Julia would feel ill at ease.

“Are you well, Your Grace?” Miss Winslow appeared concerned.

“Quite well. Only tired from the journey.”

Julia could not allow Felicity to think her hesitation had anything to do with the child’s presence, so she petted her hair. Felicity beamed, revealing that one of her front teeth was missing. Julia laughed.

“I thought you both would’ve been sea bathing in Cornwall by now. It is the time for your usual holiday, isn’t it?” Gregory asked Miss Winslow.

“I’d a cold last week. It’s started to finally clear up.” Miss Winslow sounded apologetic, which was absurd. A person couldn’t control illnesses, after all. “We could be off tomorrow, if His Grace would prefer some privacy.”

“Oh, can’t we stay?” Felicity tugged at Miss Winslow’s arm. She was a headstrong little thing, only increasing Julia’s approval. “I’ve not seen the duke in ever so long, and I want to know the duchess better!”

“Do stay.” Julia wasn’t sure why the words came tumbling out of her mouth, as a child scampering around the house was the last thing a newly married couple might want. But if Felicity was Gregory’s ward, then Lynton Park was her home and she shouldn’t be evicted from it.

And if she were more than his ward, well, then Julia would have several pointed questions for her new husband.

“Are you sure, Julia?” Gregory appeared surprised.

“The house seems rather large,” she drawled. Quite an understatement. “I’m certain we can find a spot of privacy here or there.”

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” Miss Winslow sounded fond, and also tired. Then she paled and lowered her head. “Sorry, Your Grace. I shouldn’t have spoken so familiarly.”

Miss Winslow appeared to be about Julia’s age. The sight of her fearful subservience only made Julia recall being under Constance’s thumb.

“I’d like a little familiarity, Miss Winslow.” Julia needed new friends and allies. Besides, any woman who let a girl romp around in the mud was doing something right. Felicity deserved a release for her high spirits.

“Very good, ma’am.” The governess seemed quite relieved.

“I’ll see you both later, but for now I’d like some time with my new bride.” Gregory stole Julia away with ease, finally leaving the servants and the girl and governess behind. Julia strode through the entryway into the house’s front hall. Again, she met with surprise, because it wasn’t the voluptuous bordello she’d been expecting. She’d anticipated Gregory’s tastes would run to the baroque, the more lavishly opulent the better. But the space was bright and airy, with the customary oil portraits and landscapes decorating the wall. Lynton Park was elegant. Tasteful.

“Come. I want to show you around.” Gregory stood before Julia. “What would you like to see first? Upstairs, perhaps?” Where the bedrooms were, undoubtedly.

“Is there a portrait gallery? Some of these are so fine.” She turned around to admire the art and gave him her back.

Until she had a few questions answered regarding Felicity, he wasn’t sneaking her off anywhere for passionate, conjugal purposes.

“You’d like to look at art?” He sounded a bit disbelieving. “If you wish to examine some sculpture, there’s a masterpiece of male nudity waiting only upstairs, in the eastern wing.” He was at her back, and his nearness almost caused Julia’s knees to weaken. Wretched man, he could overpower her will so easily.

“Would this devastating statue be housed in the duke’s bedchamber?”

“I only unveil it on special occasions.”

The man was so arrogant, so certain of his own appeal. Worst of all, he was right to be so sure. Julia began to tilt backward into his embrace but forbade herself to tilt one inch more. They needed a frank conversation.

“Mmm. I think a bit of family history first, if you please.”

Gregory made a low, almost bestial noise. “Are you certain you’re not out to drive me stark raving mad?”

“The thought had occurred to me.”

“The title’s three hundred years old. Naturally there’s a gallery.” Gregory sounded frustrated, but he didn’t badger her. Julia’s new husband took her arm. Even when she was this uncertain of everything, his touch still managed to shake her to the foundation.

They wandered to the western wing of the house, past salons and the door to Lynton Park’s grand ballroom. Julia imagined hosting her own events here, being regarded as one of the great ladies of the area. It was a dizzying thought.

The family portrait gallery occupied a wing of its own in one of the older parts of the estate. The mullioned stained-glass windows let in horizontal slats of colored light as Gregory led Julia past one painting after the next.

“Godfrey Carter, the first duke.” He pointed out a man in an Elizabethan ruff. “He was supposed to have been a rather fine statesman, but I always thought it looked like that ruff was devouring his head. Not terribly dignified.”

Julia walked past the portrait to a woman dressed in clothes of the mid eighteenth century, and thought she detected something of Gregory in the lady’s face. Julia was trying to find the right way to bring up Felicity, but she became a bit spellbound by the abundance of history. She’d always enjoyed studying family portraits, namely because she liked trying to piece people together. Gregory seemed to have a mind like Godfrey’s, but a smile like Claudia, his grandmother. There was something mischievous and willful in the cast of both their eyes.

She thought of Felicity, and how mischief might well run in the family.

“You seem distant.”

Gregory sounded much more formal now, his patience for this mystery at an end. Julia knew that she must speak her mind.

“Felicity’s a very dear girl.” She meant it.

“Indeed. She’s a wonder.”

“Because she’s so wonderful, I was curious why you’d never mentioned her before.”

“I’m not much involved with her upbringing, so it didn’t seem urgent.” Already, he sounded on his guard.

“Not even to your wife?”

“I’d have told you eventually.”

“Also, why does no one in London seem to know of her existence?”

“Are you accusing me of something, Julia?”

All the mirth had departed Gregory’s face and voice. Her husband stood beneath a portrait of some military ancestor of his, and Julia was caught off guard by the striking resemblance. Both men appeared crafted from iron, their powerful bodies radiating challenge to any who dared oppose them.

“There’s no shame in making a little girl your ward.” Julia decided to dare. “But hiding her away suggests covering up a great secret.”

“I don’t like when you play games.” He had some audacity to stand there and judge her, considering her suspicions.

“If Felicity’s your daughter, treating her like a stain to be covered up is cruel. Just tell me, is she yours or not?”

After all, how could Julia respect a man who went eighteen months without seeing his own child? Felicity didn’t appear maladjusted but calling her father “Your Grace” instead of Papa was much too formal.

Gregory took slow, powerful steps toward her. While Julia had no fear of him, she had to stay firm.

“That’s what you think, then?” He sounded maddeningly neutral.

“I’m only asking a question. It’s not that far-fetched, all things considered.”

“You believe I would sire a child, allow her to remain illegitimate, then conceal her from society out of shame?”

Julia realized she had made a mistake. A grave one, even. All of Gregory’s humor and sly seduction had vanished, so that only fury remained. Due to his rakish reputation and his eternally confident demeanor, she’d never imagined he could be insulted, but she’d been so bloody wrong. Julia had struck him right at the core, and she couldn’t even tell why.

So much for understanding the man at all.

“I’m sorry,” she began.

“Save your apologies.” The duke turned his back on her and strode away, passing through the beams of sunlight. She paced after him.

“Erm. Perhaps I jumped to conclusions.”

“Catapulted might be the better term.” He sounded angry, which only made her angry. It was a flaw of hers, to grow irritated when she knew she was in the wrong.

“What was I supposed to think?” she snapped.

“You were supposed to think better of me.”

Damn everything, he was right. Why had Julia brought it up in such a way? Because she was tired? Or, in a guilty pocket of her soul, perhaps it was because seeing little Felicity had been a sharp, painful reminder that Julia herself would never be a mother. That her arrangement with Gregory meant she would have security and status, but never the love of a family. If Felicity were Gregory’s, then it would be one more daily reminder of what Julia could never have.

“If you say she’s not yours, I believe you! You don’t need to say anything more. Isn’t the fact I take you as a man of your word enough?”

Gregory turned, bringing Julia to a fast halt.

“Perhaps it should be. But I’d hoped you knew me better than to even think all that.”

“I hardly know you at all.”

Once again, Julia’s mouth moved before her mind could advise caution, but it was true. She knew the man before her as intelligent, bold, a good-natured rake. That would be enough to entice eager women to become his lover, but his wife? Even a marriage in name only required some deeper understanding of one’s partner.

“That’s true. We don’t know each other,” he said. Even though the sun was bright, Gregory’s storming mood seemed to darken the gallery. “Well, you’re correct that you need an explanation.”

“I told you I’ll take you at your word.”

“No. I want to explain this. I didn’t think I’d have to do it today, as I expected Felicity and her governess to be gone.”

They’d stopped, Julia noticed, beneath a portrait of the late duke, Gregory’s father. There was a physical resemblance between the pair of them but also a gulf of difference. The other duke had been painted with hawkish intensity. The man appraised the world as if judging whether or not it was worthy of him.

Gregory, she realized, did not judge others. He did not ask them to be flawless specimens worthy of his attention.

“Go on. Tell me,” she said.

“Felicity’s illegitimate. You’re right about that.” Gregory leaned a hand upon the wall. “But she is not mine.”

“Oh. Then whose is she?”

Why had Gregory taken her in? It was good, to be certain, but even though she believed him to be a good man it was still a grand gesture.

“She’s the Earl of Rockford’s bastard.” He said the word without apology, though uttering “bastard” before a lady would elicit many gasps from good society.

“Are you and the earl friends?”

He scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Then I fail to see why you took Felicity on.”

“You believe I shouldn’t have done such a thing?” Now he looked as if Julia were the monster.

“No! Only I can’t understand why or how you became involved in the first place.”

Julia felt lightheaded beneath Gregory’s appraisal. She’d seen him serious, but only in the throes of passion when his intent was anything but pure. The Carter Club had no clue about the man beneath the sensual, charming facade. Laura didn’t know, either. Perhaps the man was not the one-note libertine she’d envisioned. The notion did more than shock her; it frightened her. If she’d misjudged him so severely, what must he think of her now?

“Ten years ago, I was attending a house party at the earl’s estate up in Derbyshire. It was a weekend of frivolity and debauchery, much like any other. The countess preferred to stay in town, allowing her husband all the libidinous activities he desired.” Gregory began to walk the gallery again, rather like a great jungle cat surveying its domain. Julia followed, intently listening. “I noticed some commotion to the side of the ballroom—something to do with the servants. But such matters were beneath our attention, particularly with gambling and loose women to entice us.”

Julia shook her head.

“At least I wasn’t mistaken that you were a rake,” she said. It was meant to lightly tease, but Gregory flinched.

“‘Were’ being the operative word, my dear.”

Julia decided not to press him about that distinction. She didn’t like the strange surge of hope she felt. As they walked, Gregory continued his tale.

“At three in the morning, I awoke to knocking. There was a maid at my door, a mere chambermaid. Anna. She risked her job and perhaps a good deal more to disturb a duke in the middle of the night.”

Indeed. Most other members of the ton would have berated Anna, or even physically struck her, and all without consequence. The idea made Julia sick to her core.

“Why did she wake you?”

“Because one of the servants had delivered a baby girl and then died. That was the cause of the minor commotion I’d noticed earlier in the evening.”

Julia did not need to be told who had fathered the baby.

“Didn’t the earl know she was expecting his child?”

“No, and he was beside himself with rage. Apparently, the girl had managed to hide her condition.”

Julia wasn’t certain how that could work, but she knew from experience that women in desperate situations tended to be resourceful.

“Rockford wanted to send the child to a workhouse.” Gregory’s joviality had vanished, and in its place, Julia found a smoldering, volcanic rage. Not at her, but directed toward the events of that night ten years ago. “He was prepared to abandon her to poverty. It’s almost certain she’d have died before she was one year old.”

That an earl had been willing to cast aside his own child, illegitimate or not, the moment she was born was so hideous that Julia felt the urge to get back in the carriage, ride to Derbyshire, locate the man, and bash him right in the nose. The worst part was that Rockford would have gotten away with it, too. Society might secretly condemn him for his actions, but no one would ever challenge an earl.

Except, perhaps, a duke.

“Anna told you because she believed you’d intervene, didn’t she?” Julia asked. Then, before she could stop herself, blurted out, “Why?”

Damn her. That had been abominably rude. But it brought some of Gregory’s warmth back, and his laughter.

“I asked her the same. She merely said she believed I’d do the right thing. I said she must not know me very well.”

“Or perhaps she did.” Julia hadn’t thought this man could do more to surprise her, but he’d proven her wrong.

“Perhaps,” Gregory replied. “She vanished after that, and while I knew I ought to go back to bed, somehow I found myself asking Rockford to let me take on the baby.” He blinked, as if still stunned by his own actions. “Can’t say what possessed me to do it. Well. Perhaps I can’t abide a man who tosses a child away as if it’s worthless.”

Julia had always prided herself on her perceptiveness, but she had missed this side of her husband entirely. Perhaps she was not as observant as she’d thought? Or was Gregory a master of controlling what side of him people saw?

If that were true, how much more of him remained undiscovered?

“I agreed to bring up Felicity quietly, at least until she was ready to make her debut. Even then, I couldn’t allow anyone to know her parentage. Most of the ton will think as you did, that she’s my by-blow, but I shan’t mind.” Finally, his rakish smile returned. “It would only confirm my terrible reputation. I’ve worked so hard to maintain it, I should hate to see it disappear now I’m married and respectable.”

“Yet you told me the truth,” Julia murmured.

“Well. You’re my wife, aren’t you?”

Julia’s heart beat faster to hear the words “my wife” on his lips, and realized how much she loved the sound. For much of the past month, she’d dreamed of Gregory’s eyes and mouth, and of the mysteries of his body. Passion had sparked between them from the moment they laid eyes upon each other.

But this was something else, perhaps even more shocking than love. Julia liked this man, impossible as he could be.

Though could one honorable deed compensate for all the debauchery of his past? She did not know, and not knowing something rather terrified her.

All she knew for certain was that she wanted to spend as much time with this man as she could before he was gone from her life forever.

“Thank you for telling me.” She licked her lips, the next words sticking in her throat. “I apologize for doubting you.”

“An apology from the Duchess of Ashworth?” Gregory pretended shock. “Lord. The end of days is surely upon us.”

“How dare you?” But Julia laughed as she walked the gallery at his side. “You don’t know very much about me yet, Your Grace.”

“Indeed. But I hope to rectify that problem immediately.”

Julia left the corridor on the duke’s arm, but she couldn’t stop the wild course of her thoughts. Because she did like him far too much for comfort. She liked him, Julia realized, more than any other man she had ever met. Including the man who’d broken her heart ten years prior. To want Gregory was one thing; to want to be with him, that was different. When he left her after they came together, would she be able to smile and carry on with her life?

Or had Julia set herself up for the greatest heartache she’d yet known?