Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Julia, you’re not paying attention!” Susannah said.

“Hmm? Of course I am.” Julia sat up straighter on the picnic blanket, cursing her wandering mind. “Everything Felicity did is simply splendid.”

“Thank you, Your Grace!” Felicity giggled as she stood before Julia, her shoes and stockings gone, covered in mud from head to toe. Well, Julia wasn’t sure exactly when she’d done that. “Then I may go back to the creek and conduct another experiment? Miss Winslow says that I must stop work on the toad catapult, but I felt certain you’d agree that it is important for science.”

“Aha. Perhaps it’s not good for a little girl to work so very hard. Why don’t you go inside and wash up, dear? The sun will be going down soon.”

“It’s only three o’clock!”

“Time flies. Off you go.”

Felicity grumbled as she went to Miss Winslow’s side and walked back with the governess. Susannah nibbled another biscuit in thoughtful silence as Julia looked up. Buttery afternoon sunlight streamed through the tree branches, dappling the soft earth around them. She and Susannah had been at Lynton Park for three days now, and it had been a heavenly time. Susannah had adored Felicity at once, and Miss Winslow made for a delightful companion. The three women had a wonderful time wandering the grounds with Felicity frolicking ahead, or having interesting discussions over dinner. After all the anxiety of the London Season, absconding to a secluded haven felt like paradise.

But of course, one glaring omission remained. Every night when Julia went to bed, she laid in the dark all alone and stared at the ceiling. Should she write another letter? Should she send word to Gregory in London?

Julia cursed her stupidity at writing that first idiotic note just before leaving Carter House. But she’d been right to do it. Hadn’t she?

“You must talk to me,” Susannah said.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been myself, darling. I suppose I’m tired after a few strange months.” Julia began packing their things into the wicker picnic hamper, eager to return to the house. She usually would love nothing more than a chat with her stepsister, but Susannah often wanted to discuss Gregory when it was the two of them together.

“Julia.” The girl gripped the napkins, refusing to let her put them away. “I’ve thanked you numerous times for bringing me here. It was so kind of you.”

“Yes. And it’s rankled Constance a good deal. Everyone gets what they want.”

“But why hasn’t the duke arrived yet? The Season’s quite done.”

“Ashworth is traveling the Continent. I’ve told you before, his plans have been fixed for some time. This was our arrangement from the start.”

“But you don’t want it to be. Do you?”

Sometimes, Susannah could be dreadfully perceptive. Julia elected to forget the napkins and stood with the basket.

“Do bring the blanket, please.” She then strode away, resigned to Susannah’s ongoing questions. Her stepsister took up the blanket and followed.

“I still don’t understand what’s happened between the two of you.”

“Nothing’s happened,” Julia said. Nothing and everything all at once. Julia’s head was sensible, and she knew it was good that Gregory was absent. That didn’t stop her from rising every morning and looking out the bedroom window, trying to see as far down the winding road of their estate as possible. Searching for the sign of a carriage, or Gregory on horseback.

But nothing ever changed.

“Perhaps I’m truly better off never marrying, if this is what awaits me.” Susannah sounded cross, which was unusual for her. “It doesn’t matter how beautiful your home or grounds are if you have to be alone with them.”

“I’ve you and Felicity and Miss Winslow. That’s quite enough company for me.”

“But Felicity will grow up, and Miss Winslow will find another position, and I’ll leave.”

“For where? Beaumont House, for life as a spinster with Constance. Believe me, darling, that’s a wretched fate.”

“I could take my dowry and live comfortably off it abroad,” Susannah muttered. They both knew the truth, though. Susannah’s father had it in his will that she would not have control over her finances until she either married or turned thirty-five. If Susannah elected for spinsterhood, she would be relying upon Constance’s charity for a long time yet to come.

“There’s nothing wrong with a marriage of convenience. You’re still young and have romantic ideas about life, but when you reach my age you understand that no one can have everything.”

Julia had almost possessed everything she’d ever dreamed of, but in the end she’d run away from it and left a note telling it not to follow her. That was right, though. Wasn’t it? To pull away first in order to keep from being wounded? Gregory had taught her that much.

“Oh, stop lying, Julia. You’re sitting here utterly miserable, and you won’t even admit it to yourself.”

Susannah had never been this angry with her before.

“Do whatever you want with your life, my love. I think it best for all women to decide their own happiness. But leave me to mine.”

With that, Julia sped up and returned to the house ahead of her stepsister. She remained in the library until supper, which turned out to have been a mistake. She could not pick out a book and read even one page without Gregory’s face appearing before her. Besides which, sitting in the library reminded Julia of all the heated trysts they’d enjoyed here.

Would she ever find peace on her own again?

Miss Winslow and Susannah talked amiably throughout dinner, but Julia didn’t hear much of it. She was not a naturally quiet or dour person, but she found she’d no energy for discussion or laughter.

Soon after their meal, Susannah retired to the music room by herself. Julia and Miss Winslow sat in the parlor, listening quietly as the sounds of Bach floated toward them from over the halls.

“Miss Fletcher has a great talent,” Miss Winslow observed. She sipped a glass of sherry and watched Julia.

“What?” It took Julia a moment to return to herself and comprehend the words. “Oh. Yes, she’s a genius at the pianoforte.”

“The former duchess was a true proficient, so I’ve been told.”

“By whom?”

“Mrs. Sheffield and other members of staff. Mrs. Sheffield in particular recalls the days when the old duke was still alive. This house was filled with visitors throughout the year. The Duchess of Ashworth’s musical salons were considered a great treat by the ton.”

“Ashworth never mentioned such things,” Julia said. Odd, because such events seemed like the thing he’d relish most.

“The current duke would have no memory of them, according to the housekeeper. She told me that His Grace did not spend much time with his parents.”

“Well. He would have been at school from a young age,” Julia said.

“It’s not just that. I’m told that His Grace was on his own quite a bit from the time he was born. He once went a solid eighteen months without laying eyes upon either his mother or his father.”

Miss Winslow explained everything with her customary soft, easy voice, but Julia couldn’t help feeling that the governess took great interest in her smallest reaction.

“Typical for the child of a duke, isn’t it?” But Julia didn’t believe her own words. Even the most elite of parents spent an hour or so a day with their children, usually for tea or directly after dinner. “They had him home for holidays when he was at school. Surely.”

“Not according to Mrs. Sheffield.”

Good Lord, had Gregory’s parents truly been so barbarous? Julia knew for herself how wonderful her husband could be, how brilliant and formidable and joyous. He must have been the same as a child, at least a little. How could any decent mother fail to take interest in such a boy? How could any good father not feel tremendous pride?

What kind of damage could such neglect do to a young child? Come to think of it, why was Miss Winslow going into such detail?

“You’re being forthcoming tonight,” she said to the governess.

“In truth, Your Grace, the staff asked if I would reveal some of the unsavory details to you.” Miss Winslow lowered her eyes in quiet deference.

“Why?”

“Because they care very deeply for their master, as they’ve come to care for you, Your Grace.” Miss Winslow studied her folded hands. “I confess, I feel the same. We want for the two of you to be happy.”

“I don’t need to be manipulated by my own servants.” Julia winced as soon as the words had passed her lips. She sounded like one of those society dames who believed servants and tradespeople were beneath her. Bloody hell, she sounded like Constance. “Excuse me, Miss Winslow. I apologize. I’ve been tired.”

“You needn’t ever apologize to me, Your Grace. Forgive my bluntness. It’s only that Mrs. Sheffield and I are quite in agreement that you and His Grace are two of the most exceptional employers in England.” A faint smile twisted the governess’s lips. “I’ve known my share, believe me. If people such as yourself and the duke cannot be happy, then I doubt happiness is possible for any of us.”

Julia considered again how the usually contained governess became red-cheeked and nervous whenever Huntington came to visit. Yes. Everyone wanted to believe in a fairy tale, didn’t they?

“But I still don’t fully understand why you’ve told me these horrid stories about His Grace,” she said.

“We’re all products of the people who’ve loved us, ma’am. At least, that’s my opinion on the matter. We’re also formed by the people who didn’t love us. Sometimes it makes us hard, or heedless, but I don’t believe anyone’s ever finished becoming themselves. If that makes any sense.”

It did, somehow. Gregory’s parents and their cruelty had scarred the boy. The boy had grown into a man who didn’t know how to love, or even worse, did not believe himself capable of being loved.

Such a man would believe only the worst of people.

Such a man would also believe anyone who told him that he was unlovable or too broken.

Which Julia herself had done when she wrote that blasted note. She hadn’t given him a chance after the discovered moment in the garden with Campbell. Even if he could never love her the way she loved him, perhaps she could make him trust her again. Perhaps she could assure him that he was more than enough.

“Thank you, Miss Winslow. This has been an illuminating evening.” Julia rose to her feet, her stomach fluttering with nerves but an unshakeable lightness inside her as well. For the first time in days, weeks, perhaps her entire life, she knew what she needed to do and exactly what she wanted.

Julia went to her room and rang for a servant. She then gave instructions to prepare a carriage first thing in the morning. They were to make a trip to London.

Hopefully, her husband would still be there.

The next morning, Julia hugged her stepsister and Felicity, bade farewell to Miss Winslow and the servants, and rode in her carriage out of Lynton Park. She clenched and unclenched her gloved fists, already eager for the long journey to be done as they bumped along the road. She wished she could fall asleep right now and awaken as soon as the carriage pulled into Grosvenor Square. Sitting by herself for these long hours would be unbearable.

Would Gregory be waiting for her in London? Would he even listen to her when she tried to explain? Could he forgive her?

Julia’s temples throbbed and her breath caught in her throat. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes.

She loved him. That was why she’d been restless and miserable these past few days. She loved her husband more than anything on this earth. She wanted only to find herself in his arms, to feel his lips upon hers, to hear the rumble of his laughter, and if he believed himself too broken to be loved, or her too unfeeling to love him properly, Julia would work however long it took to convince him that they were better together than apart.

If it took the rest of her life, she’d do it.

In the early afternoon, they needed to stop and rest the horses for a bit. There was an inn where Julia could find a meal and a few hours of respite. If the horses and driver hadn’t needed a rest, she’d have gladly pushed on. As it was, she hoped the inn did a nice mutton stew. Love and nervousness had left her famished.

The innkeeper was a jovial man, thrilled by Julia’s fine carriage and clothes. He showed her to a smaller room, reserved for only the best clientele, he said. There was only one other person in the dining room, a man with his back to her. Julia barely glanced around as she took her seat, hungry as she was.

“Would Her Grace care for something to drink?” the man asked. Julia would be expected to maintain the illusion of feminine delicacy, but she’d never been much good at lying.

“The best ale that you have,” she replied. If the innkeeper was shocked by her unladylike taste, he said nothing. The man went about his business, leaving Julia alone at her table. She worried the fingertips of her gloves, rehearsing over and over what she would say when she met with Gregory again. How she’d fall into his arms, urge him to speak with her, ask him to forgive her. She’d also probably scold him for not coming after her himself; Julia would never be fully rid of the combative aspect of her nature.

The innkeeper returned with her ale, and she ordered a bowl of stew.

“Very good, Yer Grace.” The man gave another little bow, then looked to the secretive traveler at the back. “Anything else for you, sir?”

“The lady has the right idea,” a richly familiar voice drawled. “Ale for me as well.”

Julia froze, nearly spilling her ale as Gregory stood up behind her. Her mouth went dry as the innkeeper left and her husband made his way over to her.

“The Duchess of Ashworth. What an unexpected surprise,” he said.

Julia looked up into his face, still the most handsome she had ever seen in her life, or ever hoped to see. His gray eyes did not flash now, and his full, sensuous mouth did not lift in any hint of amusement. Her husband regarded her with a close, rather cold level of inspection.

“Gregory,” she breathed. “Whatever are you doing here?”

The duke took the seat opposite hers.

“I was making for Lynton Park, but that trip seems unnecessary now,” he said. “The fact is, I came to find you.”

“Yes.” Julia felt dizzy. “And why is that?”

“Because I wished to return this to you.”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a shoe.