The Notorious Nobleman (11 page)

Her prediction quickly bore itself out.
Attracted by the sound of their whispered exchange, Mr. Worthing
smiled down upon Julia. “May I offer you a glass of lemonade,
ma’am? I should be happy to fetch one for you or, if you’d like to
refresh yourself a little, I could simply accompany you to the
punch table,” he said, and he offered her his arm.

Julia knew what was expected of her. She
slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow and, fully mindful
of Harriet’s prophesy, allowed herself to be lead away from the
dancing guests to a smaller room where drinks and light
refreshments were being served.

She should have been gladdened by the
prospect that she had been singled out to receive the attentions of
such a pleasing young man. She should have been gratified to find
that the first stage of her plan to remarry and thereby secure her
future had been so easily fulfilled. Instead, Julia felt only a
deep sense of disappointment. She was being courted by a man of
sense and dependability. She would rather have been courted by the
Duke of Warminster.

She forced a smile to her lips and accepted a
glass of lemonade from Mr. Worthing. She had taken her first
tentative sip when she heard a well-loved voice behind her, saying,
“Good evening, Lady Pettingale.”

She almost choked on her lemonade. She
turned quickly to find Gavin standing there, looking quite handsome
in evening dress. She set her glass clattering down on the table
and said, visibly distracted, “So, you came after all!” She
perceived that he was watching her with an odd little smile playing
at his lips and felt unaccustomedly flustered. His smile grew as
she stammered, “I mean to say, I didn’t know you were in the
neighborhood

When you didn’t
call at the vicarage, I thought you had

Not that I wished you to call, of
course!”

“
Perhaps you would be good enough to
introduce me to your companion,” he said, mildly.

“
Of course! Duke, this—this is Mr.
Worthing!”

Gavin shook his hand and said, “I believe
this dance was promised to me. I shall return Lady Pettingale to
you, presently, if she so wishes.”

He tucked Julia’s suddenly trembling fingers
into the crook of his arm and led her back into the assembly
room.

Immediate upon their entrance, Julia found
the eyes of the others guests upon them, forcibly bringing to mind
all the warnings she had been given concerning the duke. Most
notably, she recalled Harriet’s caution that her reputation would
sink past redemption if she were to be seen in his company.

She blurted, urgently, “I do not wish to
dance with you, duke!”

“
No? Very well, then. Shall we sit down
here, instead?” Still claiming her hand, he led her over to where a
pair of chairs were situated apart from the others.

“
I would rather you returned me to Mr.
Worthing.”

“
Why? What has he

Oh, I see how it is!” he said, the light of
understanding in his eyes. “He must be the lucky bachelor who has
tumbled into your trap.”

She felt her face color. “Mr. Worthing
is a very respectable young man

”

“
And you mean to marry him, if you
can,” interpolated the duke. “You told me so once. Oh, you didn’t
mention him in particular, but some man very much like him. Is he
as boring as I promised you he would be?”

“
More so!” she said,
honestly.

His eyes searched her face. “From the way you
are behaving, I could think you don’t wish to see me. What is it?
What has occurred to make you so wary of me?”

“
Nothing!” she said, unable to meet his
eyes.

“
Less than the truth, Julia? That is
not like you. Go on, tell me!” he said, compellingly. “Has that
friend of yours been sharing with you more tales about
me?”

“
No! Well, rather, she has, but nothing
worse than any of the other stories I already heard about
you!”

“
Then what?” he demanded.

She cast a nervous glance about the room and
saw that their retreat to a secluded corner had not gone unnoticed
by the other guests; nor had Harriet and her husband failed to
notice their téte-a-téte. They hurried toward Julia and Gavin; a
look of distress marred Harriet’s face and an expression of
disapproval lined the face of the vicar.

Julia rose to her feet, determined to fend
off their recriminations; but their attentions were not directed at
her. Instead, the vicar said, in a low but angry tone, “Warminster!
I should have suspected you capable of this kind of behavior!”

One of Gavin’s dark brows flew challengingly
as he, too, got to his feet. “Speaking with a friend is hardly
cause for recriminations, Clouster. Where did you learn your party
manners?”

“
Never mind my manners! Have a care for
your own! You know very well you should not be speaking alone with
Julia!”

“
Once again you have flown to the wrong
bait, Clouster. Lady Pettingale and I were simply sharing a few
words of conversation in a public assembly. What could be more
innocent?”

“
You know very well that no young
lady’s reputation can weather an acquaintance with you,” said the
vicar, as Harriet wrapped a protective arm about Julia’s shoulders.
“Unless you have some more honorable intentions toward Julia, I
suggest you behave as a gentleman and bow out, Warminster.
Well?
Are
your intentions
honorable?”

Julia’s eyes met Gavins’s. In their dark
depths, she detected no evidence of a man about to declare himself.
Her heart sank.

If he cared for her, now was the time to say
it. If his intentions were honorable, nothing would have prevented
his saying so. Instead, he was silent. To Julia, his silence was
more eloquent than any protests he might have made.

The vicar nodded his head wisely, “I thought
as much. Be good enough, if you please, to keep your distance from
Lady Pettingale from this day on.”

Without another word, he escorted Julia and
Harriet to the cloak room then out into the summer evening.

Julia climbed up into the Clouster’s
carriage. Her heart was pounding as she looking across at the vicar
and his wife. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she said in a low but
firm voice. “You caused a greater commotion than was necessary. You
should have left me alone to deal with the duke.”

The carriage lurched forward into the evening
darkness, masking Harriet’s expression as she said, “It was clear
he intended to dance with you.”

“
But he didn’t. I asked him not to
dance with me and he didn’t. We only sat down for a moment’s
conversation and he would have ended that, too, when I asked. But
you didn’t give me the chance. You caused a great scene
unnecessarily.”

“
But it was necessary, my dear friend.
I saw him spirit you away to a secluded corner and I could scare
believe it. How could any of us know the duke would behave in such
a manner? And at a public assembly, too! I ask you: What kind of
friends would Mr. Clouster and I be if we had left you to fend for
yourself?”

“
Just so,” said Mr. Clouster. “We are
the most devoted of friends, which is why we cannot stand by and
allow you to make the same mistake twice.”

Julia thought hard for a moment.
“
The same mistake
? What do
you mean?”

“
I am referring,” he said, lowering his
voice as if he were afraid he might be overheard, “to your
unfortunate partiality for unsuitable men. My dear wife informed me
of the circumstance of your marriage. Not only did you wed a man
unworthy of you, but you eloped with him, as well. It appears to me
that you are very close to repeating the same unfortunate behavior
that has since caused you nothing but misery and shame.”

Julia felt her anger rise. She said, stonily,
“You presume too much. I appreciate that you are trying to do me a
service, but to compare a folly I committed when I was young—”

“
A marriage is not to be entered into
lightly,” said Mr. Clouster, in a tone he usually reserved for
Sunday sermons.

She was about to make a hasty retort, but
Harriet stopped her by reaching over and grasping her hand. “Julia,
please don’t mistake our attempts to help you as anything more. We
are not judging you. We are simply trying to save you from yourself
and from that odious man. It is good of you to defend him, but you
cannot know him as we do. After all, you’ve only seen the man three
times.”

That much was true, but Julia was certain
that those three occasions were enough to prove that, beneath his
sometimes scandalous behavior, he was a good and kind man at heart.
It was also enough for her to realize that her attraction to him
caused every other man to pale in comparison. Even Mr. Worthing,
whom Harriet had touted as the most eligible bachelor in the
neighborhood, could not measure up to half the duke’s timber, in
Julia’s estimation.

Harriet released her hand and leaned back,
saying, “And after his behavior tonight, we now know that his
intentions toward you are not honorable. I’m certain you don’t wish
to think ill of anyone, but you heard for yourself the exchange
between my dear husband and the duke. He is not a man of honor and
he never should have singled you out for attention in such a
fashion as he did tonight.”

Harriet continued to speak so for the next
several minutes while Julia blessed the darkness of the carriage.
She felt very close to tears—whether from hurt or anger, she
couldn’t decide—and she dared not trust herself to speak. In her
heart she knew there was truth in Harriet’s words. She—along with
half the assembled guests—had heard Mr. Clouster demand that the
duke state his intentions toward her and the duke had declined. In
front of an assembly full of people, he had declined.

It was a difficult lesson to learn that the
man she loved did not return her regard; and to have learned it in
front of Harriet and her husband was quite the bitterest of pills.
Vividly, she recalled the times she had championed the duke. How
naïve she had been! How stupid!

She was consumed by such thoughts as the
carriage bowled along toward the vicarage. Vaguely, Julia was aware
of Harriet’s voice droning on and on for a good portion of a mile;
and she only noticed that Harriet had stopped talking when she
heard her gasp slightly.

Julia looked at her friend and saw that her
expression had frozen into one of stunned surprise and that her
attention was riveted on something outside the window of the
carriage.

Julia leaned forward to follow Harriet’s
gaze. In the moonlight she could discern a small rise some distance
away, and atop it was a figure on horseback, watching the progress
of their carriage as it made its way along the lane.

Her heart leapt within her breast. She
recognized him immediately, of course. It was the Duke of
Warminster who sat so imposingly astride his mount, and her breath
caught as she waited to see what, if anything, he would do.

He didn’t keep her waiting long. As Julia
watched from the carriage, he set his horse in motion. The spirited
animal caricoled slightly, then set off pall-mall down the rise on
a direct course for their carriage.

In an instant he was on the road before them,
forcing them to a halt. Gracefully, he slipped from his saddle and
flung open the carriage door.

He cast a cursory glance toward Harriet and
her husband; then, wordlessly, he held out his hand toward
Julia.

Her lips went dry and she flicked her tongue
nervously over them. She didn’t dare look at Harriet or at the
vicar, for she knew what she would see in their faces: shock,
disapproval, horror. They would be stunned to see that she even
hesitated instead of rejecting his gesture outright. But she did
not look at them. She looked only at the duke, searching for some
sign that would tell her what she wanted to know; that would
convince her that she was right to follow her heart instead of
letting her prim-and-proper head dictate her actions.

Slowly, tentatively, she stretched out
her hand toward his; but some remaining scruple caused her to stop
just short of touching him. She looking unblinking into his eyes,
willing him to say something

any
thing

that would help her make up her
mind.

He obliged by gruffly saying, “Julia
Pettingale, I’m a bounder and a cad. I can give you a dozen reasons
why you shouldn’t marry me and you can probably give me a dozen
more.”

She found her voice. “Are you
asking
me to marry you?”

He hesitated. He almost succumbed to that
nagging doubt that said any marriage proposal he might offer Julia
Pettingale would only end in rejection. He wouldn’t go through
that; he wouldn’t be able to bear losing her. But if he didn’t pose
the question, he knew she would be lost to him forever. He steeled
himself and said, “Yes, I’m asking you to marry me.”

She didn’t realize she had been holding her
breath; but she must have been, for she gave a great sigh of
laughing relief and placed her hand in his.

“
Julia! You cannot do this!” uttered
Harriet, aghast.

The vicar was more direct. “Julia, I forbid
you to get down from this carriage! I’m shocked to think you would
even entertain such a proposal! You’re a willful, shameless
girl!”

“
You are speaking to the woman I intend
to marry,” said the Duke, warningly. “I could call you out for
that, Clouster.”