Veiled in Blue (19 page)

Alconbury bared his teeth. “You can try.” He lifted the edge of his own dark green coat, revealing the cream lining and his own weapon. “I will meet you any time you choose, but you will have to be the aggressor, because I have no such intention.”

Damn the man to hell and back. Julius would have enjoyed releasing his temper in a flurry of slashes and thrusts. He’d been irritable ever since his coach had lost a wheel, forcing him to miss a day’s travel. “Then why pursue me?”

“To speak more plainly.” Alconbury lifted his head and flexed his shoulders, in the manner of a man spoiling for a fight. “With all those ears flapping in the club, whatever we said would have been all around London by nightfall.”

“Sooner,” Julius said dryly. At least they could agree on something. “So what did you want to say to me…plainly?”

Alconbury took the stance of a fighting man, legs apart, coat thrust back to expose the hilt of his sword. If he drew it, Julius would meet him, but until Alconbury did, Julius would not make the first move.

He glanced toward the club, since he was the one facing it. A few men had wandered out in Alconbury’s wake, seemingly casually, but Julius knew better. They would love to have some amusement to enliven their day and give them something more substantial to bet on than the progression of flies on a wall. Many of them had longed to see a fight between two men who were reckoned equally matched. Julius did not particularly want to oblige them today.

“Say what you need to.” He retained his stance, but took a deliberately relaxed pose. He would still be ready to strike, if necessary, but he would not do it unless provoked.

“Very well.” Alconbury gazed at him, his brown eyes dark in the bright sunshine. “I know of your lady, and do not waste air telling me she is not your lady. I received word there was an incident with someone.”

“How would you have heard that?” That was what came of losing a wheel on the road. It gave others a chance to overtake him, and the news had reached London before he had.

“How do you think? I had a man in place. I knew that area held something of interest.”

“Does your father?”

“Not as far as I know.”

Alconbury kept his gaze on Julius, as if the minute he looked away, Julius would strike. Julius knew exactly how he felt. Tension thrummed between them, as tight as a drum. “Let that stand. I know what happened, and somebody died. That person was nothing to do with either my father or myself. Is that clear enough for you?”

“So you know for sure your father wasn’t involved in it?”

Alconbury raised his eyes to heaven, as if to find answers there. “Exactly. Someone like that would need substantial investment. We have no house in that area, and no funds went out of the family. I cannot put the matter any clearer. If you wish to protect this lady, do not waste your time looking in our direction.”

Julius’s blood ran cold. If this was true, Eve was in worse danger than he feared. The Dankworths would want to capture her, to force her into an unwanted marriage. The Young Pretender would merely wish to take her out of the problem completely.

If he could trust this man. Alconbury was the son of his family’s worst enemy, the man who wanted to destroy them. Something lay in their past that had started the feud, but the current generation, Julius and his contemporaries, had no idea what it was. Did Alconbury?

They were done. Julius jerked a nod to Alconbury, choked out, “Obliged, sir,” and went on his way, ignoring the groans of the men waiting to watch a fight.

Alconbury’s chuckle came to his ears before he strode out of earshot. The man was altogether too self-confident for his own good.

“I cannot imagine your so-called betrothed is coming back,” Sir Henry said after church. Two Sundays after Julius left, Eve was in private and quiet despair, desperate to hear from him. But very little had reached her.

The past week had driven her nearly demented. Julius had written to her, but only a short note to inform her he was delayed, and it was included in a much longer one to Alex, the contents of which he did not share with her. However after the arrival of the letter, by messenger and not carriage, no less, Eve was rarely alone. Even in the house a burly footman trailed after her, looking uncomfortable as he did so, but doggedly protecting her.

The footman was standing not six paces from her now, while she spoke with Sir Henry after Sunday service. Exasperation filled her. This was too much, having her watched as if he were afraid someone would leap out of the nearest bush.

“My dear, I am concerned for you.” Sir Henry touched her arm below the single ruffle of lace she wore.

She refused to take more from Connie, despite her new friend’s insistence. She would hardly have time for finery if she found herself back where she started—living in a small house on the village green, looking for work as a governess. While she had taxed her mother with the knowledge of her parentage, and her mother had confirmed it, Eve did not see what difference that would make to her life. It had not so far, so why should it do so now?

“You should not be concerned, sir,” she said. “You know who Lord Ripley is, and his credentials could hardly be better.”

“That family is somewhat irregular.” Sir Henry leaned so close, the sweetness of his breath wafted over Eve’s senses, mingled with the sickly scent of rotting teeth. If he did not suck pastilles all the time, he might not have such bad teeth.

Sir Henry had not repeated his proposal, but he had continued to visit, insisting on ensuring Eve’s safety and that of her mother. While Eve appreciated his care, she could have done much better without it. He appeared at the Ripley’s house with alarming regularity—like a vulture, Connie had said in one of her more unguarded moments. A well fed, smug vulture, waiting for Julius to let Eve down and abandon her.

His plumage today was his favorite russet, the color of the country, he had often said, with a green waistcoat that bore definite traces of breakfast.

Eve gritted her teeth, smiled, and nodded. “Lord and Lady Ripley have been very kind. They wish me to remain with them until the wedding.”

“Ah, but will there be a wedding?” Sir Henry smiled as if he were teasing her. “He promised to return within the week, and more than two have passed. How many more before you give up?” He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing the back.

Recalling the way Julius’s lips felt on her skin, Eve shivered, delicately but without the possibility of preventing her instinctive reaction. Sir Henry felt nothing like her betrothed. His breath was too hot, his lips too hard.

“I will be waiting,” he promised. “What happened was an aberration. A practiced seducer visited us and was then gone, all in an instant. Like a folk tale. You were always meant for me. You must know that now. I will wait, but not too much longer. There are more young ladies than you waiting for me to say something to them.” He followed the last remark with a grisly version of a teasing smile.

Did he truly believe the young women of Appleton wanted nothing more than to be mauled by him? True, he was in possession of a comfortable fortune, and he was not known for profligacy in any form, but was that enough? His increasing girth promised only to flourish in the coming years, and his sense of self-importance stifled Eve. He could not conceive of anyone more important than he was. He was monarch of the district and had been so for some time, regarding Appleton as his own private fiefdom.

Lord Ripley might have bought a house, but he was of no consequence, holding no local offices and wielding no influence. At least, in Sir Henry’s rigidly restricted view of the world, one where, like the old map in Hereford Cathedral, he was the center of the universe instead of Jerusalem. In a few years he’d be bellowing across the hunting field, demanding his rights as Master of the Hunt, and inviting his cronies to the hall to drink the night away. What was she thinking? He did that now. He would merely continue, as he always had, and when he died he would leave a son to carry on the family tradition. For if he did not marry Eve, he would find someone to warm his bed and take care of his house. That was all a wife would ever mean to him.

“Unhand my bride, if you would, sir,” came in the soft, refined tones of a man of fashion, a man confident of himself and his place in the world. The voice she had longed to hear ever since he had left.

“Julius!” At once she condemned the eager girlish way she cried his name, but she could not take it back now.

Sir Henry blinked at her once, but his hold on her hand slackened. Eve took advantage of his inattention and moved away to the man she had ached to see most in the world.

Heedless of the congregation who had lingered to gossip after the service, he took both her hands in his and raised first one, then the other to his lips, removing the taint Sir Henry had placed there. “And how is my lady?” he asked.

Eve swallowed. She should scold him for his tardy appearance, or at least behave with propriety. After all, they were standing outside a place of worship. “I’m perfectly fine,” she said, her voice girlishly breathless. She needed to learn to be more circumspect, but she could not prevent the sheer joy coursing through her when she saw him and felt his touch. His fingers warmed her through. She should have put her gloves on directly after the service, but faced with a glorious day, she had refrained from doing so. Now she was glad she was still bare-handed, as was he.

“I am so sorry I couldn’t come to you earlier,” he said, “But I hurried here as soon as I was able.”

“He did,” a deep voice chimed in with feeling.

Eve tore her attention from Julius to the man standing by his side. He wore a similar fashionable outfit, but the effect was very different. His brutish strength showed through the coat of mid-green dull satin, and—were there cherubs embroidered on his waistcoat? His eyes, though, they were the same as Julius’s, the dazzling blue of forget-me-nots.

In other respects, though, this man was…more. An inch taller than Julius, maybe two, where Julius was all athletic grace with powerful, sleek shape of a greyhound, his companion was packed with muscle. Not in a clumsy way, but with the same assurance.

She hazarded a guess. “Your brother?”

The corner of Julius’s mouth quirked in a smile. “Indeed. May I present my brother, Augustus Vernon? It was partly his fault I am tardy with my return. That, and a few necessary duties I had to accomplish.”

He released her hands long enough for her to make an acceptable curtsey. Mr. Augustus Vernon returned the salute, his bow perfunctory but good, his eyes filled with a kind of sardonic glee. “So you are the lady who has snared my brother? About time, I say. Our mother will be delighted.”

Eve doubted that. She was not looking forward to meeting the lady and confessing she had married her son out of hand, and she had no fortune at all. What Julius was willing to overlook, his mother would probably not. What mother would?

She wouldn’t say anything, though, in case she put her foot in her mouth. “Thank you, sir,” she said demurely.

“It is partly because of this marriage I have come, but I intend to accompany my brother to our parents’ house after the wedding.” Augustus spoke English almost too perfectly, as if he were out of the habit of using the language.

She turned to Julius, her brows lifted in query.

His mouth tightened. “I fear we should make our way there after the ceremony. Our mother expects us. Expects me.” His smile brightened. “But from tomorrow onwards, we will be as one.”

What would he do if she refused him now? They had spent a night together, it was true, but there would be no immediate outcome. Her courses had arrived right on time. This union was by no means certain.

The avid attention of the bystanders burned into Eve. She hated when people stared at her, but if she was to spend the rest of her life with Julius at her side, she had probably better get used to it. With a smile, she took his arm. “Would you care to walk to the carriage with me?”

That in itself would draw opprobrium. The villagers preferred the Sunday tradition of walking to church, but Woolton Manor was too far away for them to walk, Alex had declared, and sent a carriage.

Eve’s gaze clashed with Julius’s. He was watching her, his eyes blue flames. He could not have made his desire for her more obvious.

He led her to the carriage and handed her inside with delicate ceremony. The action sent a wave of shyness through her. No longer on solid ground in more ways than one, she smoothed her skirts automatically as her betrothed sat beside her. Sir Henry was standing by the church railings, staring at her, his gaze fulminating.

These interlopers had ruined his plans for the village he had always considered his, invaded his little kingdom without compunction.

Julius and his brother appeared not to notice until the carriage had jolted off. With Eve’s mother also aboard, the equipage was now quite full, and Julius had Eve’s skirts over his lap, to make room for his brother who was seated next to him. Indeed, Augustus Vernon could take up a whole seat on his own. As it was, he was sitting almost sideways.

As the carriage went on his way, Augustus observed in a dry tone, “I see your presence has not gone unnoticed, Julius.”

“I’m sure it will settle down once we are gone,” he said.

“And the congratulatory visits?” Augustus twitched the cuff of his coat into place.

“They can cope with the interruptions. But we will not be here to see it.”

Eve cleared her throat but could think of nothing useful to say. The sound was enough to bring Julius’s attention back to her. His face remained almost devoid of expression, but his eyes glowed. Were her eyes revealing as much to him, or was her quickened breathing giving him the clue? She fought to control her breathing. “Tomorrow?”

He nodded. “I obtained permission from the vicar to visit him later today. We marry tomorrow.”

Augustus shifted. The carriage rocked, though whether the road was the culprit or this big man, was unclear. “Our mother will be delighted. At least I will not be the center of her displeasure. I had feared all her recriminations would fall on me.” When Eve shot him a startled glance, he gave an unrepentant grin. “I only speak the truth, dear lady. Our mother is rarely content with anything, so believe me, you will not be unusual in that respect. Who knows, she might welcome you, and then where would we be?”