Sommersgate House (55 page)

Upon Monique’s
curt greeting, the distasteful Samantha said, “I’m calling to
inform you that Lord Ashton has reneged on the contract for the
flat. He also wishes you to know that your monthly allowance will
cease effective immediately.”

At this news,
Monique was stunned speechless.

Samantha
continued. “He will reinstate you, at a quarter of your allowance
and will purchase and furnish a flat for you, again, at a quarter
of your budget, if you publicly and liberally declare your mistaken
impressions of his fiancée and officially announce your approval of
the match.”

“A quarter?”
Monique’s voice shook with angry disbelief and just a hint of
fear.

“He’s
instructed me to tell you that you can take it or leave it,”
Samantha returned.

The tone of
the girl’s voice left Monique in no doubt she was enjoying this
tremendously and Monique shook with humiliated ire.

She had
long since gone through the trust funds her parents
and
her husband had left her. The
generous allowance her son gave her monthly (and often augmented at
her request) was her only source of income.

Furthermore,
she’d never worked a day in her life. She certainly couldn’t (and
wouldn’t) start now.

Monique was
not a stupid woman (just an evil one), she knew when her son said
something, he meant it.

Therefore, she
had no choice.

“I’ll take
it,” Monique snapped.

Later, Monique
had to get herself a rather unladylike portion of sherry (and
brought the bottle with her) as she sat by the phone and started to
make her calls.

* * * * *

At
Sommersgate, the news of the impending nuptials met with mixed
reviews. Lizzie was beside herself with delight. Ruby, taking the
lead from her sister, was equally thrilled. Nick, Ronnie, Carter
and the Kilpatricks were all obviously awash with joy.

Willie didn’t
quite know what to make of it all.

Formally, in
the library, Douglas and Julia sat with the children and announced
it the day after they’d agreed to marry. While Lizzie and Ruby
danced jubilantly around their aunt and uncle, Willie stepped back,
once, twice then fled the room without a word.

Julia was
horrified and immediately moved to go to him.

Douglas caught
her arm and murmured under his breath, “Let me.”

She did but
not without pacing at the bottom of the stairs, holding her new
kitten Fred (who was not very happy at being held and stroked when
he wanted to play and, if possible, scratch the wonderful carpet
runner on the stairs which was the perfect height for his little
claws).

When Douglas
descended the stairs, Julia turned fretful eyes to him. He
encompassed her waist with his arms and looked into her eyes.

“Give him
time,” he said quietly.

These were not
the words Julia wanted to hear but she nodded anyway.

Two days later
at dinner, the mood had not changed. Lizzie and Ruby and the rest
of the household were still ecstatic. Willie was unusually quiet
and still undecided.

After the main
course was whisked away and the pudding about to arrive, Willie
cleared his throat and announced he had something to say.

“Thank you,
Uncle Douglas,” he started, his young voice sounding solemn, “for
asking me to be your best man. But I’ve thought about it and
decided, since Dad isn’t here to do it, that I should give Auntie
Jewel away instead.”

Julia’s hand
flew to her mouth, her eyes quickly filling with tears slid to
Douglas who inclined his head soberly at his nephew, his face
communicating he felt this decision wise.

“That is,”
Willie continued, his eyes on his aunt, “if you want me to, Auntie
Jewel.”

She didn’t
trust herself to say more than, “Please.”

Taking his cue
from his uncle, he inclined his head (somewhat arrogantly, Julia
noted with a hint of amused dismay).

Lizzie let out
a snort, betraying her attempt to hold back her tears. At the
noise, Julia let her emotions go and burst into uncontrollable
sobs. Lizzie followed suit and Ruby, never one to be outdone,
wailed louder than the two other females even though the four year
old wasn’t exactly certain why she was crying. Douglas and the
newly-anointed Will (who had, that evening at the dinner table,
forever lost the youthful “Willie”) found themselves thrust into
comforting the howling women. Douglas pulled Julia into his arms
and then steeled himself when Lizzie threw her entire body weight
against them and he included the young girl in his comforting
embrace. Will, for his part, patted Ruby’s back awkwardly.

Mrs.
Kilpatrick walked into this scene carrying pudding and after
hearing the story haltingly told by Julia, she joined the
caterwaul. So overcome was she, Douglas had to phone Roddy
Kilpatrick to come see to his wife.

* * * * *

Douglas and
Julia’s first row came less than twenty-four hours after Julia
agreed to the marriage.

Indeed, the
morning after.

“I’ll ask
Veronika to move your things up here today,” Douglas murmured
against Julia’s lips, the water from the shower falling on them,
his soapy hands on her body.

She smiled but
shook her head, moving her mouth from his, she paused from running
her lips across his jawbone to reply, “I don’t think so.”

Douglas’s
slippery hands slid over her behind, pulling her wet body closer to
his. “I do.”

She laughed
(probably too aroused to realise the seriousness of Douglas’s
intent). “I’m not moving up here. The children don’t even know
we’re getting married.”

“We’ll tell
them today.”

She nodded her
agreement but said, “We have young, impressionable children in the
house, we can’t carry on like this.” She brushed her lips against
his. “I’ll move up after the wedding.”

His hands slid
up to tighten around her waist.

“You’ll move
up today,” he ordered, his voice brooking no protest.

Her head
jerked back, (probably at his arrogant tone which she immediately
changed her mind about and most definitely
did not
adore).

“I will not!”
she snapped stubbornly.

He pressed her
against the wall of the shower.

“Yes,” was all
he said, his fingers finding spots that would (with any normal
female) get her to go along with his plan.

Not Julia.

Still, she
gasped (she couldn’t help herself).

Then she
stated firmly, “No!”

“Yes,” he
growled, his mouth finding the area behind her ear that he knew
would get her to acquiesce.

Unfortunately,
Douglas again misjudged his bride-to-be.

“We cannot
carry on an illicit affair under the noses of the children,” Julia
retorted (but her reply lost some of its strength due to its
breathy quality).

Douglas, not
one to fight fair, lifted her effortlessly, spread her legs,
pressed her against the wall and entered her in one fluid movement,
his hands on her backside holding her aloft.

Her legs
immediately wrapped around him.

“And what,
pray, do we do about this…” he pulled out slowly and then surged
forward, gratified to hear her moan deep in her throat, “in the
meantime?”

She sucked in
a shuddering breath.

“You… you’re
going to have to be...” he moved lazily out and then swiftly in
again and she paused to savour it. “Creative,” she whispered.

Compromise was
reached as Douglas very much liked the sound of that.

And creative
he most definitely was.

* * * * *

With less than
two months to plan the wedding, Julia was forced to create an event
that was worthy of the nuptials of Lord Ashton, Baron
Blackbourne.

Luckily, she
had the worthy assistance of Charlotte Forsythe, Margaret
Kilpatrick and Samantha Thornton (and the long-distance support of
Patricia Fairfax). Further, being a rather dab hand at lists, Julia
was able to get organised and have plans underway in short
order.

Douglas,
coming home earlier than normal, much earlier,
creatively
earlier (that is to say, hours earlier
than the children would arrive home from school and with the
knowledge that Veronika had taken Ruby to a movie, this knowledge
coming from the fact that he told Veronika to do so and gave her a
two fifty pound notes for her troubles) strode down the hall to
Julia’s room.

What he found
upon opening the door was of great surprise as well as a little
alarming.

Julia, wearing
nothing but a rather fetching pale pink bra and panties that was
liberally dosed with delicate black lace was being fondled by a
tall, rail-thin, impeccably (if dramatically) attired and immensely
effeminate man who, for reasons unknown, had yards of ivory silk
wrapped around his own body.

“Douglas!”
Julia cried.

“Julia,”
Douglas responded, his face setting dangerously, his arms crossing
on his chest and his stance settling belligerently.

The other man
stepped back and brought a fluttering, open palmed hand to his
chest.

“Oh my,” he
drawled upon looking at Douglas.

“This,” Julia
motioned to the man and then grabbed her cashmere robe and shrugged
it on, “is Gregory.”

Douglas didn’t
move, didn’t utter a noise, he simply glared.

“Oh my,”
Gregory repeated, his eyes never leaving Douglas.

“Gregory will
be designing my wedding gown,” Julia explained, hastily tying the
belt of her robe.

Douglas,
again, had no response.

Except he
quirked a brow.

Julia went on.
“He designed the dress I wore to the ball.”

This caused a
slight softening of Douglas’s features.

Very
slight.

“
And,
” Julia
continued meaningfully, “I’m hoping to introduce him to
Tony
at the wedding.”

Douglas
digested this information then nodded and, with unmistakable
intent, strode toward his soon-to-be wife.

“Gregory, as
delightful as it is to meet you,” Douglas’s voice was even and
determined, his arm sliding around Julia, hauling her resisting
body to his side, “I do think it might be time for you to have a
break from your worthy endeavours and seek some refreshment.”

“Douglas!”
Julia screeched, her voice high with mortification.

Gregory looked
from Julia to Douglas, quickly read Douglas’s meaning and asked
affably, “How much time do you need?”

“Fifteen
minutes,” Julia quickly responded.

“Two hours,”
Douglas said at the same time.

“Two hours it
is.” Gregory, a romantic at heart, quickly exited, thinking maybe
he should return in three.

So he did.

* * * * *

Julia was so
happy, she could barely contain herself.

Life had most
definitely taken a dramatic turn.

She
still worried about the future (she couldn’t help herself). She
also had moments of sorrow that she was not sharing these joyous
times with Gavin and Tamsin. Further, she would, approximately six
times a day (she started counting), have to stop herself from
telling Douglas her feelings and would sometimes nearly let slip
that she knew about his childhood (it was appallingly easy to drown
in moments of tenderness when she was with him, which was
often,
very
often).

Despite all
that, Charlie’s prediction that even without any avowal of undying
love from Douglas, life with him was better than any life she knew
before.

And Julia
savoured it sweetness.

He was
possibly
the
most
attentive,
the
most
voracious,
the
most
generous lover she’d ever had, in bed and out of it.

Indeed, if he
were actually to love her, she might expire from the rapture of it
because it could scarcely get better than this.

Although, in
the deepest regions of her heart (where she had firmly and
stubbornly buried it), she wished for that vow of love more than
anything in the world.

She was
humming to herself as she was getting ready for Valentine’s dinner.
Douglas was taking her somewhere in Bath and they would be gone the
entire evening, not to return until the morning, and she knew
(happily) what
that
meant.

Ronnie, who
also had a new boyfriend of her own, was home at her bedsit getting
ready for her date. Carter was off for the evening. The Kilpatricks
had taken the children out for a curry and would be watching them
for the night.

Julia had the
house to herself.

She had
wrapped Douglas’s present, no cologne or tie this time, but a pair
of gold cufflinks of Gavin’s which had also been their
grandfather’s.

She had
Patricia’s approval of this gift, indeed, as with everything that
had to do with Douglas, she had Patricia’s approval, especially
after Julia (in a moment of weakness and in deepest confidence)
explained the Kilpatrick’s story of his childhood.

Julia had the
cufflinks cleaned and put in a handmade box of cherrywood that was
lined with black velvet. They had been (except for his wedding
ring) Gavin’s proudest possession and Julia truly hoped that Will
didn’t mind that Douglas owned them until such time as nature took
its course (in, hopefully, about sixty years) and they came to
Will.

She had spent
an age getting ready, bathed, lotioned, powdered and made up. She
donned her frock, made specifically for the night by Gregory. It
was an absolute vision, a swathe of scarlet red satin, strapless
and form-fitting, cut at the knees. In the back hem, frothing forth
from a deep slit, sprung a dramatic poof of black tulle. She wore
it with black, high-heeled sandals with peek-a-boo toes and a
daring ankle strap.