Edith Layton (9 page)

In the end, he found a patch of sunlight on the close-cropped grass, near a thick stand of rhododendrons to the side of the summerhouse. He spread the blanket, and they sat. She noticed, not without amusement and a delicious sense of danger, that they sat in a place where the groom wouldn’t see them unless they—or he—stood up.

The innkeeper of the White Hart had done them proud. They lunched on pâté, cold chicken, sliced beef, cheese, bread, and little tarts, and had a bottle of a fruity red wine to drink. All the while they lunched, they chatted. He was happy to tell her about the wonders of the antipodes. He spoke of little green birds and animals with pockets again, adding some bits about opals, gold, and pearls. But he never mentioned prisons or chains, punishments or other prisoners.

She sat upright with her legs tucked under, her skirts carefully arranged, and listened with sinking spirits. She’d read much the same about the antipodes in the
Gentlemen’s Magazine
s she’d found in the squire’s library, and heard nothing she hadn’t read about. Apart from the fact that she had no more proof that he was really Christian Sauvage, she began now to wonder if he’d even really been on the other side of the world. Nor did he say anything more about their common past.

“You’re very quiet,” he finally said. “Haven’t given you much chance to talk, have I? And how are you to know who I am if I don’t talk about the past you remember?”

She blushed.

“No, don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “Of course you want to know. And I want you to. You probably won’t believe this, but it isn’t so much about Egremont now as it is about you and whether you believe me.”

That she did not believe. Not when they sat on the grounds of one of the finest estates in England. Not, when no matter how he protested, he knew that her opinion might have even some small bearing on his
ownership of it. But she said nothing. This was not about her desires, she had to remind herself. This was about discovering who he was.

He sat on the blanket, one leg extended, one knee bent, his arm resting on that knee, the wineglass dangling from his hand as he studied her. His eyes were clear and transparent as the shimmering lake as he looked at her. “Julianne,” he said on a sigh. “Shall I tell you about the time we flew the kite and you wailed for hours because the wind blew the string out of your hands and whipped it away over the treetops? Or the time Jon and I decided to try to make invisible ink and ended up making such a mess I was forbidden your house for a week? Or the time Jon fell down the abandoned well and we both nearly had heart spasms, until his head popped up and we realized it was boarded over and he was standing on wood and not water? And laughing like a madman, because he’d crouched down in order to terrify us?”

“I don’t remember the invisible ink.”

“And so then I’m a liar?”

She gazed at him, all her hope in her eyes. “I don’t think so. I don’t want you to be. Oh, what am I to think? How I wish Jon was here; he’d know in a minute.”

“Would he? It was a long time ago, and I’ve changed. It isn’t only the years, it’s the quality of those years.” He looked at her steadily. “You remember my father?”

“Oh yes,” she said eagerly. “He was such a nice man, always working at books and balances, but he always had time to talk to us.”

“I remember something else now,” he said. “He once said you were like a kite yourself, in that you were always attached to Jon’s sleeve and trailing after him. Do you remember that?”

“No,” she said in frustration. “But you said it didn’t matter what I remembered. You said no one would care.”

“I never said that,” he said seriously. “I only said it wouldn’t matter in a court of law. It matters to me.”

“Why?” She waited for him to say it was because she was beautiful or some such, not because she wanted to hear it said, but because that was the sort of thing a deceiver would say.

“Because you bring back good memories, Julianne. Because you and Jonathan and the life we led was a pure, untouched part of my life, one of the few parts of my youth that I want to remember. And also because,” he said with a gentle smile, “you are a beautiful woman, and I can’t resist wanting to please you.”

That wasn’t quite what she’d feared he’d say. But the flattery was close enough, and so that counted against him. She gazed at him and wished she could read his mind.

He studied her in return, then suddenly leaned in toward her, and never touching her otherwise, laid his lips on hers. Only that. But she sat very still, and felt her heart leap up. His mouth was firm, yet soft and sweet. It only lasted a moment. Then he leaned back and looked at her.

She couldn’t think of what to say, or do. But she licked her lips because it had been so very sweet.

He carefully put his wineglass down, rose on his
knees, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her, thoroughly.

She gasped, and he used the moment to slide his tongue past her lips. That made her gasp again, and she heard him chuckle, and he did it again. She’d been kissed before, of course, but none of her beaux had ever taken such liberties. At least not for very long, because she hadn’t liked those kinds of kisses. They were wet, crude, and unpleasant. Or so she’d thought, before. But this? This was an invitation, not an onslaught, a tentative inquiry. And even more, everything about this man felt good, even the texture of his tongue.

The kiss felt odd to her at first. But then she grew involved, and soon her pulses beat in time to the rhythm he set as his tongue moved in her mouth. She leaned in toward him. He tasted of good red wine, dark and sweet. He held her gently, yet even closer. She relaxed against him, marveling in how his lean body felt so wonderfully warm. Now he wasn’t remote or reserved, she could feel his heart hammering under her opened hand. Unlike other men she’d kissed, he neither hesitated nor forced her to more. She felt safe and yet daring, as though she were greeting an old friend, yet dazzled by the feelings this amazing stranger brought to her.

He finally pulled back only so far as to spread soft light kisses along her cheekbone until he reached her ear and whispered, a smile in his voice, “Come, Little Jewel, do the same for me.” Then he kissed her again, and without thinking, without allowing herself to think, she slipped her tongue into his warm, opened mouth, and felt the warmth of his gratified sigh.

His hands spread against the sides of her face to angle her for his kisses as he deepened them. He caressed her back and her shoulders. His hand moved to her breast, and cupped her. He stroked an aroused nipple to make it peak the more, as his mouth went to her neck, to her collarbone, and traveled on. She clung to his shoulders and shivered. She caught her breath. And then suddenly, it all felt much too good.

She pulled back, astonished and embarrassed in equal measure.

He let her go at once, but frowned. “What is it?”

“You…I—we…should not.”

“Why?” he asked.

“You know.”

“But I don’t.”

“I can’t,” she managed to say, looking anywhere but at him.

“But why not?”

She stared at him, because what he asked was too bizarre. “Because,” she finally said when it appeared he wasn’t joking, “what we did could lead to more.”

He smiled, and drew closer again. “Well, yes. That’s the point.”

She put up a hand, her amazement winning back her sanity. “I don’t know what they do in the antipodes,” she said, “but surely you remember that a well-bred woman doesn’t do such things with a man unless they’re promised to each other—and I don’t expect that!” she added quickly.

“In fact,” she said, jumping to her feet, shaking out her skirt and looking around anxiously, “doing
that
with a woman of any reputation would ensure your
having to marry her. Even doing less. Even just kissing.
What was I thinking?
” she asked, her hand going to her forehead. “Lord, I’m lucky that groom is dozing with his eyes open.”

He’d gotten to his feet when she did. “Wouldn’t do him good if he weren’t; he can’t see us from here; I made sure of it,” he said calmly. “I know I’ve consorted with some irregular females, but you mean to say a fellow can’t cuddle with a respectable female here in England? That can’t be so. It’s true that we’re freer where I come from, but men and women can’t be that different.”

“Well, they are,” she said in a less certain voice. Because she knew very well that many girls at home married and delivered perfectly fine fat babies five or six months later. But they were local girls of no particular degree. She’d heard all the gossip about the wild ways of the
ton
, too. But that was a rackety set, and she knew who she was. Or at least, she thought she had. She didn’t know what to say, then remembered she was an enlightened female and not missish. And besides, how could she be after what they’d done?

“If women do such things in the antipodes,” she asked, hardly believing she was having this discussion—any more than she believed she’d allowed what just happened, “what do they do if they conceive from such…doings?”

“Then the fellow would be responsible and do the right thing, I’d hope.”

She eyed him narrowly, as her sense returned. “And you’d risk that? You hardly know me. But you
were raised here, you know our rules and morals. You must be joking.” Her eyes widened. “Or did you think my morals were light because I came here by myself? Or that I’d do anything to discover who you were? They aren’t, and I’m not, and I wouldn’t!” she said, feeling chilled to the soul. She stood tall as she could. “I agreed to tell my cousins who I thought you were. I also thought I could rediscover a piece of my past. But I have no interest other than finding the truth. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

He reached out to take her hand. She stepped back. He frowned. “I wasn’t joking,” he said. “And yes, I was taught those morals, too. But I was a boy when I left your world, if not this island, and I forgot. Or, at least, I’d hoped what I was taught was only like the fairy stories they also told me then: fanciful tales just for children, to shape their character, not necessarily the truth. The world they sent me to was very different. That made me think what I’d been taught wasn’t true. I see my mistake. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

He bowed his head. When he raised it his eyes glittered. “If I’m supposed to marry you now, Julianne, and you want me to, I’m at your service.”

“Oh no!” she gasped. “In the first place you’d think I was after your fortune, and in the first place I don’t know you.”

He smiled a more natural smile. “That’s two first places. I didn’t mean to addle you. Or if I did, not that way. And I want to know you better, too. So if you won’t have me, please forgive me, and let’s let it be. And then, too, there’s my wife and three children’s feelings to consider.”

She smiled. Her smiled faltered. She finally just shook her head. “I don’t know what to make of you.”

“That’s why you’re here isn’t it?” he asked blandly. He began plucking up their picnic things. “It will all come clear in time, Little Jewel.” He paused and looked up at her. “You will give me that time?”

She only nodded, bent, and helped him gather plates and cutlery. She didn’t trust herself to speak. Christian had always liked to tease, but surely not about such an important thing? What would he have done if she were a stickler for propriety? Or if she’d been trying to trap a husband? He’d taken a huge gamble. Or had he? He didn’t have Egremont and its treasures, yet. For all he claimed, he mightn’t have two pennies to rub together. He might actually be married, after all.

She’d never done as much with any man, and never anything so intimate so quickly, willingly, unthinkingly. But it had been so easy and felt so right. It had been as natural as laughing with him. She bit her lip. Now, at last, she was worried. Whoever this man was, she liked him much too much, and soon it might not matter who he was, as long as he was with her.

J
ulianne sat silently, her hands clasped in her lap. She’d held them like that since she’d realized they were shaking, and they had been since she’d climbed into Christian’s curricle for the ride back to the squire’s house. She couldn’t believe her behavior with him. She’d acted like a positive
trull
, she thought in despair. What had come over her? Well, she thought, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, she certainly knew what almost came over her! And he was sitting right next to her, occasionally glancing her way.

Drat and blast the man. She wasn’t loose, and he’d made her forget that with just a kiss. He was an enigma and a problem, and she wished she could just lean over and kiss him again. Worst of all, now she knew she couldn’t trust herself any more than she could him. She stole a glance at that smooth hard face, and yet felt a thrill, remembering how warm he’d felt, how impassioned he’d been.

He hadn’t said a word to her for miles, had let her maintain her silence, but he saw her steal that glance at him.

“So, you’ll never talk to me again?” he asked pleasantly. “That will make your inquiries difficult, I think. Or do you plan to submit them in writing?”

She tried not to laugh.

“Julianne, I said I’m sorry if I offended, but it was nothing, really. I don’t mean it was nothing,” he said quickly. “It was something delicious. But it was only a kiss or two. What was it after all, but a few minutes of pleasure? No harm done, no risks run, nothing to thunder from the pulpit about, no worries, really, unless you insist on it. Do you?”

“Of course not! But I shocked myself. Beyond that…” She hesitated, then decided to be absolutely candid with him, “I wonder what you think of me.”

He checked, and looked at her searchingly. Then he smiled. “I think you’re delightful, but couldn’t you tell? Don’t throw anything at me. I mean that in other ways, too.”

“It’s just that I felt like you were an old friend,” she said, her head to the side as she tried to puzzle it out aloud. “I suppose that made me more comfortable with you, the way we used to be. I forgot we were grown-up. But I discovered that soon enough,” she said ruefully.

“Ah. So you recognize me, at last?”

She shook her head, and stared at her fingers. “Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. You know things I’ve forgotten, and when you speak of them I remember. You don’t know other things I think you ought to. I wish I knew.” She turned and stared at him, frowning fiercely. “If you’d come back to England just as Christian Sauvage, home to show the world
how well you’d done for yourself, I wouldn’t have doubted you. But there’s a fortune and a title awaiting the heir to Egremont. That changes everything.”

He nodded, his eyes serious. “I see. But I wouldn’t have come home if I hadn’t heard of the inheritance. And don’t you think the fact that you can tell me this means you trust me just a little?”

She laughed bitterly. “Oh, but the problem is that I trust you more than that.”

He didn’t laugh in return. “We’ll have to do something about that,” he murmured.

“I think,” she said, “you’ve done enough for a while. I think it would be better to let things go on by themselves for a space.”

“But you’re willing to keep seeing me?”

She looked out at the road ahead and nodded.

“Good. Then don’t let them send you to me like a…” He paused, and changed what he was going to say. “Make sure they treat you with respect, Julianne. As they would if it was your cousin they were sending to me. Let them surround you with chaperones, or with however many they’d send along with a proper English lady. You deserve no less. And don’t worry about me,” he added, chuckling, “I love a challenge.”

Her head snapped back. “Oh, you’re saying you won’t treat me with respect unless they do?”

“I have enough trouble with temptation as it is. I told you, I’m never sure just what you consider proper over here.
Now
what have I said to upset you?”

“Are you saying that to win my confidence or do you mean it? Oh, blast! Even if you’re joking, there’s doubt! Do you see what I mean?”

“I do. But think of this. Would you even tell me your fears if you didn’t trust me on some deeper level?”

She looked down at her hands again. “To tell you the truth, Christian, I no longer know what I do!”

“Good,” he said. “That’s a beginning.”

They didn’t speak again until he drove up to the front of the squire’s house. He leapt to the ground to help her down and paused for a moment in the drive, holding her hand. “Tomorrow?” he asked.

“I’d like to,” she said, “but maybe that’s too soon?”

“I’d think the more you see me the happier your cousins will be,” he said. “I’d wish the more you see me the happier you would be. Tomorrow then?”

She nodded. Then she grinned. “Better bring a bigger carriage. I’ll have a legion of maids with me.”

He smiled. “Better bring an appetite, too. I thought we’d lunch at the inn this time. Tomorrow, then,” he said, and climbed back up to the driver’s seat, took the reins in one hand, saluted her with the other, and drove away.

She watched until he was gone, then turned to go into the house, knowing there were questions she’d have to answer but not particularly caring what her cousins thought right now. She knew what Christian was, if not who he was. He was a man who made her realize she was alive again.

He might well be a liar and a cheat. But if he really were Christian Sauvage, he’d soon be an earl. And so then it was altogether possible, actually probable, that once he achieved his goal he’d give her a smile and maybe a kiss on the cheek, then go find himself a
rich, titled woman to marry. If, she corrected herself, he didn’t already have that wife and three children, after all. But at this point, she told herself, it didn’t matter.

What mattered was that his presence was a challenge and a dare. She had to get to the heart of it, even if it took her own heart from her again. Because whatever else the man who would be Christian tried to make her remember, he’d reminded her what life was all about. Soon enough she’d be home again. Once the mystery of the heir to Egremont was settled, she didn’t think anyone would have a use for her here. Her cousin certainly wouldn’t, the fiction of their friendship was already wearing thin. And if Christian turned out to be a cheat, he’d either be gone in the dead of night or carted off in chains. She didn’t want to think about that. If he was the earl, he’d remain a friend, she did believe that. But she couldn’t see him pursuing their friendship if she left.

When she returned home, she thought, she might accept her parents’ offer of a trip to London, or to Brighton, or somewhere where she might meet eligible men. She hadn’t known enough of them. She might only be a gentleman farmer’s daughter; but like that bespelled princess she’d heard about at bedtimes when she’d been a child, she felt she’d been aroused from a deep sleep by a kiss. It was time for her to find someone to live her new life with, someone to love.

For now, she was being courted. Even if it might be for all the wrong reasons, it was opening her eyes to her opportunities again. If she were smart enough to keep remembering it, she’d fare well. If not? She
shivered with remembered pleasure, laced with thrilling fear. Well, she’d just have to make sure she was that smart. But she’d start living again, that she vowed.

Julianne was humming under her breath as the footman opened the door for her, and it was all she could do not to waltz into the house.

“Here she is!” squire’s wife said, rising as Julianne entered the salon.

Her cousins were all there, as were Hammond and a tall, elderly gentleman, who got to his feet with difficulty, leaning heavily on his walking stick.

“Sir,” Hammond said, “this is Sophie’s cousin Julianne Lowell, the young woman who grew up with Christian Sauvage, as we told you. Julianne, here is my cousin, Sir Maurice, the baronet Sauvage. His title was awarded by the king, for services rendered,” he added with pride.

“Merely for my help in matters of acquisition,” the old gentleman said in a surprisingly strong voice. “I have a certain expertise with antique paintings, porcelain, pottery, and other items of virtue. He appreciated my help in their selection.”

“The baronet honors us with his visit,” the squire’s wife added with a trill of excitement. “He seldom leaves his home. It is one of the foremost castles in the north, filled with treasures remarked upon in every guidebook on the region.”

“My late wife’s contribution to the family,” the baronet said with a dismissive wave of a hand. “It is true that I seldom travel, or at least have not in the
past few years, but I do when I must. My concern for the family and its honor outweighed my creature comforts. I grew impatient with written reports. If there is a long-lost cousin returned to us, it’s my duty to come and see him. If it turns out that he’s a charlatan, the more so. Good afternoon, Miss Lowell.”

Julianne dipped her head as she bowed.

“A pretty child,” the baronet commented with approval as she did. “Yes, she is lovely, Martha, you were right. And you sent her out alone with this fellow who claims to be my cousin? Fie, Henry,” he told the squire. “That wasn’t at all well done of you.”

“As I said,” Hammond said triumphantly.

Julianne felt warmed by the old gentleman’s concern for her.

“Of what use was it?” the baronet went on. “If anything, it might have muddied the waters. Young women’s heads can be turned so easily.”

Julianne’s eyes narrowed, she was glad she still had her head lowered in a bow.

When she lifted her head she found the old man looking at her keenly. He was thin, and not unhandsome for his age, his face creased with strong lines by his eyes and mouth, but otherwise unwrinkled. What hair he had left was silver and cropped close to his head. He had a long nose and gaunt cheeks, but his eyes were clear and blue as the sky. He was dressed in black, his clothes hung on his lean frame rather than being fitted as tightly as fashionable young men wore them, but he was scrupulously clean and immaculately dressed. And mercifully, Julianne thought, unlike many gentlemen of his generation, he smelled of
lavender water and not camphor, or more distressing scents.

“So, Miss Lowell,” he said, “what do you make of the fellow? Is he your childhood friend, do you think?”

“I don’t know as yet, sir,” Julianne said. “But I can tell you I begin to think he might be. He remembers things a stranger wouldn’t, things too insignificant for anyone else to know.” She glanced at Hammond and, seeing his pallor, felt her spirits sink, and added, “But I was only a child when he left, so my impressions mightn’t mean much in any event.”

“Oh, I believe they are meaningful,” the baronet said. He gripped his walking stick and used it to lower himself slowly back into his chair. “Sit, child. I’ve a thing or two to ask, as well as tell you.”

Julianne took a chair opposite the old gentleman and looked at him curiously.

“Does he ask you about your childhood?” the baronet asked her.

“No, not really,” she said. “He asked about what happened to his friend, my brother. But he never asked about me—except, of course, to ask if I remembered things he and my brother did.”

“And did you? And what sort of things was he talking about?” the old gentleman asked.

She thought back. “I remembered many things, not all. But…”

“He told her about the Gypsy Fair,” Sophie said with a bitter laugh. “She was astonished that he remembered it. But I told her everyone knew about that. The truth is, he’s very beguiling.”

“I never doubted that, whether he is or is not who he claims to be,” Sir Maurice said. “An imposter would trade on charm, and the men of our family are known for it. Your own cousin Simon was just such a fellow.”

The room went still, everyone remembering that charming young Simon, Sir Maurice’s only child, had been drowned in a boating accident three years before.

“But I was talking to your cousin Julianne,” the baronet went on mildly. “And I should be pleased if you did not interrupt, Sophie.”

Sophie hung her head. Her parents looked embarrassed.

Julianne was impressed at the easy command the baronet had taken of the room. She wondered what Christian would make of him and how the two would deal together. The more she thought of it, the more she realized they were very much alike in their calm, effortless air of command. It made her feel more comfortable, and she looked at the baronet with growing interest. He smiled his encouragement at her.

“He told me about several incidents in my childhood,” Julianne told him earnestly. “He knew the pet name only my family called me. He knew about my dog, my brother’s best pranks. So many little things that, in truth, sir, I do begin to believe he may be who he claims to be.”

“I see. And what did he tell you of his crime? And his punishment?”

She looked down. “Nothing. That is to say, he de
nied he committed a crime, but said little else about it.” She looked up at him again and explained, “I didn’t ask more because it’s obviously a painful thing to him. Well, why wouldn’t it be?” she asked, seeing Sophie looking at her with disgust. “What purpose would it serve except to embarrass or cause him pain? I don’t know anything about that part of his past, so what could I discover? I wouldn’t know if he was lying about that.”

“Exactly,” the baronet mused. “But I would. I heard the evidence. Charles, the sixth earl, sent to me, and I came to do what I could to protect the family. After I heard the evidence about what Geoffrey Sauvage and his son had done, I was deeply shocked, and shamed that we shared the name. Christian and his father were convicted and sent to the antipodes instead of to their deaths. It was no less than they deserved. And that charity, I may add, was only because the late earl had a soft heart. And see what it cost him,” he murmured.

“Miss Lowell,” he said, holding her gaze with his unwavering blue stare. “
Whoever
this man who claims to be Christian Sauvage is, I believe him to be a liar and a cheat. I doubt he is the liar and cheat that I knew. I have reason for this belief. I was just about to tell your cousins what I’ve discovered.