Twelfth Night Secrets (15 page)

“What did you get us for Christmas, Grandfather?” the twins demanded in unison, forgetting Harriet’s injunction. They pranced around him.

“It’s something in the stables, isn’t it?” Tom said.

“Maybe it is, and maybe it isn’t,” the Duke said. “But first, you may give me your gifts.”

The children proffered their own wrapped parcels, and their grandfather managed to look suitably delighted at a very ill-sewn sampler from Gracie and a wooden carving that with imagination could have been a ship from Tom. He set both with some ceremony on the mantelpiece and took a small package out of his coat pocket, turning to Harriet. “This was your grandmother’s, my dear. I had the setting changed to suit more modern tastes.”

Harriet took the tissue-wrapped package and opened it. It revealed a silver locket set with emeralds. She opened the locket, and her eyes filled as she looked upon the miniature of her brother, perfect in every detail. She had no words, but the Duke had no need of them and held her tight for a moment.

She gave him her own present, a beautifully illustrated copy of Milton’s
Paradise Lost,
which she and
Nick had talked about buying for him together . . . before Nick had gone. It hadn’t been easy buying it alone, but she had made herself do it, knowing it was something he would have wanted.

Julius stood to one side, making himself as inconspicuous as he could. He shouldn’t be there, intruding on this family’s most intimate memories, and yet he wanted to be there, to be part of Nick’s family, perhaps in some way to help lessen the void of Nick’s absence. He knew he could never really do that, but maybe there were little things he could do, although never enough to make up for what had happened that day in Bruges.

There was no way to make himself scarce without drawing attention to himself, so he kept still and silent until the moment of intensity had passed. Fortunately, the children knew how to hurry it on its way.

“May we go to the stables now, sir . . . Harry . . .
please,
may we?”

“Yes, I think you’ve waited long enough,” the Duke said. “Come.” He took a child by each hand, and they left the library through the French doors onto the terrace, making their way around the house to the stables.

Julius fell naturally into step with Harriet as they
followed the Duke and the dancing children. “I have a little gift for you myself,” he said. “But I hesitate to present it at such a family occasion.”

She turned to look up at him in surprise. “Oh, but you shouldn’t . . . I don’t have anything—”

“I don’t expect you to,” he interrupted swiftly. “I happened to see these in Oxford yesterday, and they seemed perfect for you.” He took a package from his coat pocket. “They seem to be exactly the color of your eyes.”

Harriet opened the paper carefully to reveal a pair of emerald-green doeskin riding gloves, edged with gold braid. She held them against her cheek, feeling their soft silkiness. “They’re quite beautiful, Julius. How can I thank you?”

“Easily enough,” he said, and without conscious thought bent to kiss the corner of her mouth. His tongue darted in a moist, intimate caress across her lips before he straightened, his dark eyes, although filled with light, regarding her with a startled question.

She swallowed. Her mouth felt deliciously warm, alive somehow. “Why did you do that?” It was all she could think of to say, and her gaze was as startled as his.

It was a question he was asking himself, but he heard himself answer, “Because I wanted to . . . I seem to have been wanting to kiss you since I first saw you.” A rueful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Do you mind?”

Harriet swallowed again, absently touching her lips with a gloved fingertip. “I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “It took me by surprise.”

“If it’s any consolation, it took
me
by surprise, too,” he responded with the same rueful smile.

She glanced quickly at the stable yard and was relieved to see that her grandfather had his back to them and the children were hopping from foot to foot in anticipation, far too excited to notice anything untoward with their sister.

“Where is it?” Tom demanded. “I don’t see anything.”

“Just wait a minute,” Harriet said, moving swiftly away from Julius. “Just listen.”

They stopped hopping and stood stock-still, and then they heard the light tinkle of bells. Judd appeared around the corner of the stable block, leading a black pony with bells in its harness drawing a pony cart. The cart was painted crimson, and the pony’s harness was tooled emerald-green leather.

“Is it ours?” Grace asked, her mouth half-open.

“Just for us . . . our very own carriage?” Tom sounded awed.

“Yes,” her grandfather assured them, smiling. “Your very own carriage, and you shall both learn to drive it. Judd will teach you. I expect you both to turn into fine whips by the spring.”

“Oh, we will . . . we will.” The pair of them, chanting in unison, ran to the pony and cart and within minutes were arguing about names for the pony.

“A success, I think,” the Duke stated. “And if they have yours and your brother’s natural ability with the reins, they should be driving themselves around the estate in a few months.”

“Not without a groom,” Harriet said swiftly.

“No,” the Duke agreed. “Most definitely not without a groom, and I think it would be wise if some kind of schedule were drawn up as to who should have the reins and when. Otherwise there’ll be nothing but arguments.”

“I will see to it, sir,” Harriet said, catching a quick frowning glance from the Earl, which puzzled her. It seemed almost disapproving. She turned her attention back to the children, who were leading the pony around the yard under Judd’s supervision. “I think I’ll
save my presents until after church,” she said. “They have enough to feast on for the moment.”

“I’ll go back to the house. We should leave for church in half an hour, Harriet. Make sure they’re clean and tidy.” He strode off, his thick mane of white hair catching the winter sunlight.

“Anyone would think you were their governess,” Julius said abruptly, his voice rather clipped. “Is there no one else responsible for them?”

“Yes, of course there is,” Harriet said, somewhat defensively. “Nursemaids, governess, tutor. My grandfather just relies on me to organize them, that’s all.”

He didn’t say anything, but his thick black eyebrows were still drawn together in a frown. He left her and walked over to the children, who were scrambling into the pony cart, already squabbling over who was to take the reins. He stopped at the cart, one hand resting along the side, and said something to the twins that Harriet couldn’t hear. They stopped squabbling, however, and Tom passed the reins to his sister, who, after practicing holding them for a few minutes, passed them back to her brother. Julius nodded and left them, returning to where Harriet still stood watching.

“It seems you can perform miracles, my lord,” Harriet said lightly. “They actually listened to you.”

“I find most people do,” he responded with what she thought was infuriating complacence. And then he grinned at her. “That annoyed you, didn’t it?”

She couldn’t help laughing. “Yes, it did. How smug you sounded.”

“Well, it seems to be a natural response when you call me
my lord
in that supercilious voice,” he replied. “I become smug.” He reached out a hand and lightly caressed her cheek with a fingertip. It seemed an almost careless gesture, and yet her cheek came alive beneath the stroking touch, and she felt her stomach lurch with a strange surge of excitement. Her eyes were locked with his for an interminable moment. Somehow that earlier brushing kiss had altered the balance between them. Even the air around them felt different, charged in some way, so that the intimate fingertip caress felt natural, inevitable.

“Harry, Harry, look, we’re driving!” The excited shriek from the twins shattered the moment, and she turned with mingled relief and disappointment away from Julius, giving her attention to the children, who were slowly driving the pony cart around the yard.

Julius stood to one side, his arms folded, watching her. She was hatless, and her gleaming fair hair was simply dressed in a braided knot at the nape of her neck, delicate side ringlets framing her face. It was a style that in profile showed her very firm pointed chin and the smooth, straight nose to perfection. Her cloak hung open from her slim shoulders, and sideways he could see the swell of her breast above the high waistline of her emerald velvet gown.

His body stirred. Every rational instinct told him that she was out of bounds. He was on a mission, one that at his very core he believed to be the most important of his life. He owed it to Nick to succeed, and now he was contemplating jeopardizing that mission for Nick’s sister. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. The iron control he had developed over his emotions, his needs outside his work, had stood him in good stead over the years, and now he felt it slipping. It frightened him, and yet he saw an oddly liberating vista opening before him.

Afterwards, after he had done what he had to do, maybe he could revisit that vista. But until then, he needed to reestablish that control.

Julius had joined the church party gathered in the hall when Harriet, wearing an ermine pelisse, her hands buried in an ermine muff, came down the stairs with the children, once more tidy and scrubbed. He crossed to the staircase and gave her his hand down the last step. It was such a natural gesture she thought nothing of it, taking her hand from her muff and placing it in his. Only then did she remember that she had told herself very firmly that she needed to step back from Julius Forsythe, keep a distance between them that would prevent any further sudden intimacies. And yet in the last few minutes, that resolution seemed to have dissolved like sugar in hot water. In the same way, she could find no sufficient reason for them not to walk
together to church, at the rear of the procession, the children running a little ahead of them.

“When do you plan to return to London?” Harriet asked. “You must have friends . . . people to see, things to do.” Maybe, she told herself, she could maintain a distance with casual conversation, even while she directed the conversation into avenues that might prove enlightening.

“Oh, I’m in no hurry,” he responded with a careless shrug. “The Duke has been kind enough to extend an open invitation, and in truth, the country life suits me. I enjoy the hunt, and I’m quite a fair shot, and I don’t mind my own company.”

For some reason, this didn’t surprise Harriet. He seemed so self-contained. “Do you know people in Oxford? When you went there yesterday afternoon, did you visit friends?”

“No,” he responded, glancing down at her. “As I believe I told you, I went into the town just to revisit old memories. And they didn’t come up to expectations, as I believe I also told you.”

“Oh, did you?” she said vaguely. “I forgot.”

Like hell you did.
He made no further comment, however, and waited with some interest to see what she would come up with next.

Harriet cursed her clumsiness. She really wasn’t very good at this. She’d asked the question hoping it would lead to something, but that was idiotic. She was dealing with a professional. He wasn’t going to give something away inadvertently. “I just wondered if there was anyone left over from your student days, someone who had stayed on after his degree, teaching perhaps.” She offered an indifferent shrug as if the issue were of no real interest.

“Not that I know of,” Julius said.

“Nick still had many friends even after he went down,” she persevered. “But then, of course, he grew up only ten miles from the city, so perhaps it’s not that surprising.”

“No,” he agreed. “Not in the least surprising. Besides, your brother seemed to make friends very easily.”

“And you don’t.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“No,” he agreed again. The questions were coming a little close to home. A man in his line of work couldn’t afford friendships.

“And yet . . . and yet you and Nick became friends, good friends.” She glanced at him, watching his expression, which seemed suddenly to have closed.

“As you say” was his only response.

Harriet’s attention was suddenly diverted to Tom, who was walking just a little in front of her. She had been noticing rather absently that his hand was constantly going to the back pocket of his nankeen britches. She looked closely for a moment and then said, “Oh, I don’t believe it. Today of all days. Wretched boy.”

“What?” Julius asked, his step slowing.

“Tom’s got something in his back pocket, and it’s alive,” she said with a sigh. “Look, you can see it moving.”

Julius followed her gaze and saw what she meant. Tom’s back pocket was squirming as if with a life of its own.

“I’d better deal with it before we get any closer to the church,” Harriet said, increasing her pace to catch up with the twins. “Whatever he’s up to, it’s bound to cause a massive scene, and Grandfather will be furious.”

Julius put a restraining hand on her arm. “My dear girl, you have far too much responsibility for those children. You can’t anticipate every little thing. Let Tom discover the consequences of his actions for himself for once.”