The Rake Enraptured (21 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-
EIGHT

"My darling. Oh my dear one. It is heaven to see you." Tears stood in the Comtesse's eyes as she clasped Julia's cheeks between paper-skinned hands, crepey and dry. For a long moment she stood, drinking in the sight of her granddaughter as if it was refreshment to her spirit. Then she took Julia's hand in her own and lifted it and held it before her, turning a little to include Colin. "This must be your new husband. Introduce me, darling."

"Lady Eloise Dutout, Comtesse de Vral, this is Mister Colin
Holbrook."

"You may use the English form, Mr
Holbrook. Julia forgets she is not to call me Comtesse."

"I'm sorry, Grandmere." Julia turned to Colin. "We are to be as English as we can possibly manage."

"To be French is still unfashionable these days, and no wonder. My poor country. That wretched Corsican. Still, never mind that. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Holbrook. Your people are from Dorsetshire?"

"You are correct, Lady Eloise."

"Such a great pity about your brother. You have my condolences for your loss."

"
Thank you."

"I admit I prefer the usual tradition of saving soldiering for the second son only, but I admire the sacrifice your family made to defeat that monster."

"My brother was very fierce. He was never one to turn from a fight. Certainly tradition was not enough."

"So chivalrous, in the best sense. A sad loss. And your parents so soon after. A triple blow. I imagine these have been difficult years for you."

"There have been new burdens, certainly. I can only hope I have proved equal to them."

"Julia wr
ites to me that you are exploring a newfound passion for estate management."

Colin cocked a brow at Julia in enquiry, but she only looked back at him, silent, still absorbing the information her grandmother had acquired from her own sources, that he had ne
ver seen fit to share with his new wife. A second son with responsibility thrust unexpectedly upon him as he grieved for the loss not only of a brother but of his parents as well. It was no wonder he had struggled beneath that burden. Yet he had never complained of it to her.

Why had he not told her?

"I don't imagine I have mastered the subject, but I find it far more interesting than I thought. It is Julia who has been the good influence." He turned a warm smile upon her. "She encouraged me to be more useful to the world."

"Did she? How very blunt of her. I have not known many men who embrace such a forthright opinion."

"I am always willing to learn."

"Such an attractive quality in a person. No doubt you will do well. Here is Mary with refreshments. Won't y
ou take a seat, Mr Holbrook?"

So they spoke over a range of topics and Julia listened, finding it illuminating to witness Colin like this. Without a seductive conversational partner, she discovered his charming ease of manner was a natural part of him rath
er than a deliberately applied technique. He listened well and his interest seemed genuine. Of course Grandmere was a charmer herself, of the first caliber.

The two seemed to like each other. In due course she invited him to call her Eloise, a high distin
ction. Julia knew her heart had been won.

"But of course the most pressing matter is establishing Julia," she said suddenly, and recaptured Julia's wandering attention.

Colin leaned forward attentively, with a nod of encouragement. "What would you suggest?"

"I'm sure you don't need to be told how to go on. But if you would like, there is a very excellent
modiste
I could recommend. She is French, and her prices high, and she is sadly underutilized because of it. But her work is masterful, and her instincts sound. I think her a genius."

"I'm not certain-" Julia began, thinking she had never discussed finances with Colin and did not know how much economy she must practice. But he cut her off.

"An excellent idea. We will certainly take your recommendation."

"When you have several morning dresses I shall go with you and we will call on all my most influential acquaintances, and see how much of worth is left in those connections. I hope
it will be easy to gain vouchers to Almacks, given my friendship with the Countess de Lieven. The woman is a snob, but I knew her mother in the Romanov court. I do not believe your reputation will prove too great a bar."

This last was said as an aside to Colin, as if it were nothing, but his face hardened. "I hope not, indeed," w
as all he said. 

"That should be enough to make you as fashionable as one could hope. I shall be delighted to see it finally come to pass, and you well-established."

Julia nodded, and smiled faintly, yet thought it must surely be more difficult than Grandmere made it sound.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The modiste's small shop was very elegant. Julia stood in the private rooms behind the main shop front, as Madame Bisset slowly circled her, one curled forefinger pressed to her chin and her narrow brow wrinkled in concentration.

"Very stark, she murmured. "Simple. Almost harsh. There is no compromise, here. And here, this straight line. Or perhaps the elfin . . . But there is not enough of prettiness. The vigor but not the youthful lightness. No, it is severi
ty. Dignity distilled." She spoke louder. "That is it, Mrs Holbrook. It is dignity distilled. We will use the rich colors, to make your skin glow. Your hair is not to be cut. None of the fashion for the many curls here and here and everywhere. No. Very simple. No lace, but only the finest cloth and exquisite construction. I will assay it. Yes. You have this bone structure, and usually we do not see the bones. For most women the attention is all here, for the bodice and the lift." She indicated with hands positioned as if to be a shelf beneath her own breasts. "It is all here, and here for the bosom, the soft mounds. But we will not force this and make the lack obvious. The Romans did not admire
le grande
decolletage
, and neither shall we. No, you will not be pretty, Mrs Holbrook, and perhaps the style will not be liked. But I think you will be admired. A fierce goddess come to earth," the woman muttered to herself in French, and Julia supposed she thought an English woman would not understand the words.

A god
dess. Not a sparrow but a goddess.

Now that would be a transformation worth ten thousand pounds.

When the first dress arrived, Julia had the maid Jane Crimpton help her into it. The woman had been the late Mrs Holbrook's dresser, and Julia learned she had only stayed beyond the death of her mistress as she had married one of the footmen and did not want to live under another roof. Not that she had this from the haughty woman herself. Colin told her, passing on the information from his valet, a man who had served as his batman in the field.

"It is dreadfully low to gossip with the servants, I know," he confessed with that engaging grin of his, "but I can't stop the man from
telling me whatever intelligence he has. So let it be known Crimpton stays on sufferance and probably despises us all for our common ways."

So Julia wore her own sternest expression as she let Crimpton fasten petticoats she would rather have tied herself, and slide the dress over her head. When it was on she turned to the mirror and drew
in a sharp breath.

It was a morning dress, the first finished, as requested, and instead of the usual lace, frills, pleats and fuss it was starkly simple. It outlined her figure without compromise and she discovered as she shifted that the outline lent he
r a certain mesmerizing silhouette. There was nothing to distract the eye. For one used to concealment, and merging into the background, it was a complete transformation. Rich blue with a depth of color that made her own skin seem bright against it.

Oh, it
was strange, but beautiful. Yet the gown did not dominate her as she was used to dresses doing, so she looked small within a cloud of dull material. Instead it made her shape somehow exactly right, and of proportion.

Grandmere was right. The woman was a g
enius. Oh, if she could create an entire wardrobe in the style of this one dress, Julia could turn heads with pride. She could not imagine she would set a trend - for her figure was hardly fashionable - but she would have a distinctive style all her own.

Crimpton folded her hands beneath her bosom and gave a grudging nod. Julia sensed this was approval.

"She is very grand."

"Not pretty, though."

"No, not pretty. And so proud and stiff. I can't imagine what captured his eye."

"There is something about he
r. I suppose she is distinguished. Who are her people?"

"Her maternal grandfather was a French Count. Her father was a Preston from Belgravia."

"I don't know the family well."

"They were nothing much, though well enough born I suppose. Not in the first ci
rcles. Both parents died when she was a child."

"An orphan, then. An heiress?"

"I suppose she must be, for I can't see any other reason our Mr Holbrook would settle for someone so paltry. Though I didn't know he was on the catch for an heiress. Are his pockets to let?"

"Not that I've heard. But he's been rusticating for months and no one has seen him."

"Well then, it must be the money. I wonder how long it will take before he returns to the parties."

"Not long. I can't imagine she'll satisfy him."

"Not with his appetites. She looks too rigid to unbend in bed. So cold."

"Poor, dear Colin."

"Yes. Poor darling."

Julia stalked past the two women in fiercely restrained indignation, head held high. Their overloud talk ceased abruptly. She knew she was spoken of a
nd watched, but it was beyond tolerance to hear the actual unkind words. It was small comfort to know she had succeeded with her appearance. Even if she showed as well as possible for one with her looks, still she was not thought of as his equal. Of course. Foolish to think things could be different.

Still, she would make a place for herself. The Countess Lieven had become an unexpected ally. She and Grandmere had called on
the society doyenne and been instantly admitted. Perhaps it was also curiosity to look over the new wife of the so charming Mr Holbrook. Regardless, they met with the Countess who examined Julia in one comprehensive glance, was coolly receptive and gradually warmed through the fifteen minutes of their visit. As they stood to take their leave, she said in her lightly accented voice, "It is very pleasant to sit with two women of such good sense. Comtesse, I can see your line has bred true."

"Mrs
Holbrook is a great credit to me."

"So I think. I shall be delighted to meet with you again at A
lmacks. I shall send vouchers." 

"How delightful."

At Almacks the Countess Lieven had distinguished them with her attention, sitting to speak to them for another half hour and introducing her new acquaintance Mrs Holbrook to several of her cronies, including the other patronesses.

While
Julia was not welcomed with open arms, still, she was welcome, and it dawned on her there might be a place for her among these sharply clever, dignified women who held such sway in fashionable London.

On her arm, Colin cut
a magnificent figure. She saw the charisma of him turn heads wherever they went, and was proud of him. Everywhere he was liked. Not universally, for there were certainly women who gave him the cold shoulder for his risque reputation. But he had a skill for social interactions, for his ease of manner, and while to Julia's watchful eye it seemed inevitably women who most frequently clustered around them, she could not see him show any preference for one over another. If they bored him as he had once claimed, he showed no sign of it.

"What were you speaking of to Lady Gordon, just now? You had her in fits of laughter."

"She was telling me of her little dog. He has appalling manners, and embarrasses her before all her guests." He related the tale and many others when she asked, and she could not perceive any self consciousness in him.

Nonetheless she was certain they met with women who had been
his lovers. More than one wife on the arm of her husband, eyed Colin with a certain knowing hunger, and Julia found she wanted to turn from him in those moments, or clutch at him even tighter, or stalk over to the woman in question and demand she take her eyes off Julia's husband.

She hated that he had given them that knowledge of his body and what it could do for them.

Colin's attentions to Julia could not be faulted. He was always with her, or nearby. He did not trouble to hide his pride in her, stood up with her for dances wherever they went, sat with her to talk, and Julia thought part of her newfound success in society must be this besotted behavior.

Anyone who watched them must assume there was something entrancing about her, since her new husband was so
unwaveringly attentive. Many asked for introductions, and though she herself did not have Colin's knack for charming everyone, still she found some people who interested her, who had more to speak of than tedious commonplaces.

She would have enjoyed herse
lf, except the situation with Colin felt like she was holding her breath. She waited for him to grow bored. To turn away, or resume the life that had once held him so firmly. Her tension made her short tempered with him. She second-guessed his attentions, found them almost smothering, because she was afraid to sink into them, to enjoy him and depend on his care too much.

At night they made love with passionate fervor and she could pretend the depth of her feelings for him were returned. That he loved her wi
th a heart as constant as her own. Certainly there was an edge to his lovemaking almost of desperation, as if he sought to prove himself over and over again.

It made her afraid. Of him, of herself. She was loving him too much, and he poured himself into he
r night after night with unrelenting determination. Their playfulness had dissipated. Did he grow desperate now he was reminded so much of his London life? Did he try to bury his desires in her body?

She was always receptive, thinking she must never refus
e him. Even in her menses she urged him to teach her other ways to pleasure him. She joined him in his freneticism yet lost that precious sense of connection she had imagined they had.

Something was missing. Did he already regret their marriage? Was this d
esperation him trying to keep his word and force himself to the course he had set, now he had lost true desire for it?

Oh, she was afraid. Terrified until his very presence chafed her almost to madness. What was behind his watchful eyes? 

They had been in London for two weeks when she brought things to a point.

He was watching her dress. She had sent Crichton away, since he insisted he would stay. She could not manage her own embarrassment at her response when he looked at her like that, in front of her
lady's maid. Now she struggled with her own laces in a gown that fit more tightly than any she had worn in the days when she dressed herself.

Annoyance and frustration at the clothing and being watched at her struggles, made her lash out.

"Why are you always here?"

"Because I like to be near you."

"Surely you would prefer to be elsewhere? I'm sure you do."

"No. Shall I help you with that?" He rose from the sofa by the window and came towards her.

"No, I don't want help. I just want some time alone. Whenever I turn around you are always watching me."

He halted halfway across the room, his eyes narrowing. "I didn't know you found that unpleasant."

"I don't have any peace. I need some-" she gestured with her elbows as if resisting a mass of close-pressed bodies, "space to breathe. Can't you just leave me alone for one second? Don't you have a life of your own?"

He stood and looked at her for a long moment, his eyes hooded, and then he bowed stiffly.

"I beg your pardon," he said quietly, and went out.

She turned
back to the mirror and stared at her own reflection, suddenly feeling close to tears. He need not look at her in such a way, as if she had betrayed him. It was not so much to ask, surely? Her life had changed beyond recognition in little more than a month. Sometimes it made her breathless. Such a weight of responsibility lay upon her with the servants looking to her for direction, Grandmere's fond hopes for her, his unspoken expectations and the endless round of balls and routs and parties until she got no sleep, and then him in the darkness, overwhelmingly fierce.

It was too much. She just wanted to cry out 'Stop!' and climb off
this mad chariot ride for a day, two days, a week. She stared in the mirror, at the dark circles under her own eyes.

She could no
t. There was a campaign to wage. She had built up momentum, and could not pull her forces back now. Onwards. Onwards into the fray. That was what she wanted, was it not? It was what they all wanted.