Veiled in Blue (24 page)

She could continue along the same lines and never discover the joy they had shared on the two nights they had spent together. She and Julius could live separately.

For his part, Julius did not attempt to break the new fences she was busy erecting, but coolly helped her out of the carriage, ensured her comfort and left her alone.

Why had he given up so easily? She had asked for the space and he had given it to her, but he had made no attempt to draw her closer, to seduce her, or talk to her. He’d answered her questions coolly and without emotion. She should appreciate that, but she did not. She only felt completely alone.

When she saw the house, all thoughts left her, swept away by the sheer magnificence of Edensor Abbey. The frontage took her breath away. The Palladian mansion dominated the landscape in a majestic sweep of pure grace.

Julius broke the uneasy silence. “My grandfather had the front constructed. The back of the house has an entirely different appearance. The house itself is much older. Once it was a Benedictine abbey, and then Henry VIII gave it to one of his courtiers, my ancestor. I can best describe my ancestors as opportunists. They waited until they were sure which way the wind was blowing before taking sides. That was with a few aberrations that halted the relentless progress of the family. Because, of course, family was all.” He spoke dryly, as though he were a guide to the house, not a member of the family owning it.

The grey stone blended in with the greenery, bright dots of color indicating where flowers broke the lush landscape. As if reading her thoughts, Julius said, “My grandfather also had the grounds remodeled. My father is considering employing Capability Brown to change a few things. Your thoughts will be welcome, of course. You may choose to make the grounds your particular concern. It’s up to you.”

The notion swamped her. She had duties beyond imagining. How would she cope with this new grandeur? She set her mouth to a firm line. She would have to. That was all.

She dared not meet Julius’s gaze. Not because she was afraid of him, but she was afraid the tenderness she had been accustomed to seeing in him would be entirely gone. She wanted to remember it, longed to see it, even though he had betrayed her so badly.

The question revolved in her mind. Why had he not told her? Why had he kept his true identity a secret from her, even when he’d asked her to marry him? Did he not trust her?

A notion occurred to her, shocking her back to reality. “Why did you not ask me to sign an agreement? A marriage settlement?”

He grimaced, a mere twitch of his lips, but enough to show his dislike of her question. “And reveal the extent of my wealth? I would have had to get lawyers involved, and the consequent delay would have been enough for you—” He broke off and recommenced in a cooler tone. “I considered it would be sufficient to deal with the formalities when we reached here. Over the next week, I daresay we will come to an agreement. Since you have no portion, we will provide one for you.”

“No!” she said, repulsed at the idea of taking money or property from him.

“Yes,” he said. “It will provide dowries for our daughters and settlements for our sons, as well as provision for your widowhood.”

The carriage came to a halt outside the imposing double sweep of steps before the house. The doors swung open, as if someone inside were watching for their coming.

Of course they were. An important person had come home. Julius probably took this kind of treatment for granted.

When she moved, he glanced at her, long enough to keep her in her seat. She would have pushed the door wide and kicked the steps down, but in the last few days a servant had performed that office for them. This was no different, except the servant wore the livery that must belong to the family. His snow-white wig was almost as perfect as Julius’s.

Once the footman had the steps down, he looked up. His eyes widened, but he said nothing. Instead, he held out his arm to assist her to alight, which she did without ceremony. Julius followed. Once his feet were on the ground, he shook out the full stiffened skirts of his ultramarine coat, laced with black braid today, and graciously offered his arm to Eve.

She looked into the face of a stranger.

Cold, his eyes icy, his mouth set in a determined line, Julius nodded once and led her up the set of shallow stairs leading to the front door, via a half landing. He held his arm out, so she had to lay her hand on it in a ceremonial way, rather than snuggling her arm up against his body, as he had done before his confession of his true status.

The man she had married had turned into an earl. She had lost the warm, loving man of her wedding night. He might have gone forever, since he never truly existed in the first place.

And what of Alex? He must have known who Julius was. They had deceived her together. But the real blame lay with Julius who should have told her. It was his responsibility, and he had failed to do so. Eve detested dishonesty.

They stepped over the threshold at the same moment to discover a man bowing low. His glance at Eve revealed nothing but disdain. Inside, she bridled. They should not look at her as if she were something scraped off their shoes.

A small woman not in the first blush of youth, dressed in a breathtaking gown of pale-pink embroidered with spring flowers approached them, her wide hoops barely swaying with her movements. She glared at Julius. “Winterton, what is this? You arrive late, and bring a…guest with you?”

At last, Julius responded in a way Eve recognized. His glance at her conveyed reassurance, warmth returning temporarily to his eyes. Then he turned his attention to the woman.

“You did not get my letter? That is, to say the least, unfortunate. Mother, I have the honor of introducing to you…my wife.”

Eve swept into a low curtsey as Julius continued.

“Her mother will be arriving shortly. I sent word ahead of our imminent arrival.”

“I heard nothing.” The woman’s curt tones rang around the huge space. An imposing marble staircase led up one side of the hall and stretched across to meet its counterpart running up the other side. White marble columns supported the stretch of hallway, and another space opened up beyond. The walls were polished panels, and above hung gleaming paintings, portraits of people in antiquated dress interspersed with landscapes. Two massive chandeliers were suspended above them. They looked as if they held a hundred candles each. The penetrating tones sounded as if they bounced off every surface before returning in accusatory echoes. “Is this your idea of humor, Winterton?”

Light streamed in through the windows at the front. Eve stared at a beam of bright sunlight on the floor as she straightened, and once she had regained control, lifted her head to confront the angry features of her mother-in-law.

Eve refused to look away. The stormy eyes, so like her son’s, except the color veered toward grey rather than blue, gleamed in the sunlight.

Julius continued to speak. “While I regret you did not receive my message in good time, I can assure you this is my wife. We have been married for four days, but I have been courting her for some weeks. The moment I saw Eve, I wanted her, and I was fortunate enough to win her.”

The Duchess of Kirkburton, her complexion smooth from the skillful use of cosmetics, her hair drawn back into a fashionable style and powdered lightly, was everything Eve was not—fashionable, poised, and confident. Watching her, Eve detected hesitation, and for the fraction of a second, a moment of doubt.

The duchess turned her head abruptly, one of her ringlets brushing the frill of lace fastened around her neck and leaving a trace of hair powder behind. “I consider your behavior reprehensible, Winterton. I have gathered the perfect candidates for your hand, so you go off and marry the first woman you find?”

“No, mother.” Anger trembled behind his taut words. “I married the woman I wish to have by my side.”

“And so you repeat your mistake when you married Caroline?”

“You helped to arrange my marriage to Caroline.”

Although the mother and son appeared entirely unaware of the two footmen nearby and doubtless the ears pressed to the other sides of the doors leading off the hall, Eve was not. “Should we not discuss this matter in private?” she suggested as mildly as she could.

The duchess swung her gaze back to Eve, as if surprised she was still there. “If you wish. Perhaps it would be a courtesy to our guests.” She spun around in a swirl of silk and addressed the footman goggling behind her. “Request the presence of the duke in my breakfast parlor, if you please.”

The man bowed and glided away, his steps barely creating a sound on the chequered black-and-white floor.

“Come.”

The duchess led them up the stairs and turned left, taking them along the spacious hallway and into a suite of rooms at the end. They were furnished in perfect taste and at great expense. Not a china shepherdess was out of place, and dust would not dare to show its face here. She stopped and waved impatiently to a seat.

Eve took another, a chair with broad arms upholstered in delicate yellow and white stripes. She no longer cared if she marked the seat with her travel-stained garments. The duchess had not even considered offering refreshment, and Eve wanted tea. She would have happily gone to the kitchens and made it herself, had it not been totally reprehensible to do so. For the rest of her married life, she would be castigated as the countess who did not know how to go on in society, who stopped to prepare her own food and drink. If only they knew! The knowledge would not be difficult for anyone to discover, but this family would probably try to hush it up. Good luck to them. Eve refused to hide her origins. Liars were always found out.

Goodness, she was making decisions about what kind of wife she would be to Julius without even realizing it!

She need not have worried, at least about the tea, because a maid appeared almost immediately after them, bearing a substantial silver tray containing all necessary items. She’d even brought bread and butter. If Eve hadn’t been so afraid of her manners letting her down, she would have been overjoyed by the food.

She should learn how to start behaving like a countess, whatever that meant.

She disposed her skirts as gracefully as she could before she sat. It occurred to her that whoever she was, the duchess should perhaps have offered her a room to get rid of the dust of the road and refresh herself, but perhaps the trial should come first. They would not give a condemned prisoner a chance to refresh himself.

Eve sat up straighter and lifted her chin, refusing to allow anyone to intimidate her, even this formidable lady. If she thought of the woman as the Duchess of Kirkburton, she would quail before her greatness, but if she addressed the person she could see and hear, she had a chance at coherent speech and thought.

“Who are you, young woman?” the duchess demanded in stentorian tones that filled the large room effortlessly.

“She is—” Julius began, but Eve cut him off.

“I am the daughter of a country vicar and his wife. Until recently, I lived in a village called Appleton. I have a reputation that will not disgrace the position your son has elevated me to, but I have no personal fortune.”

She felt rather than saw Julius relax.

The duchess poured the tea. Eve remained perfectly still until the maid brought her a dish, and then she took it with a smile and a nod, as she recognized the tactic. The duchess had needed to think. She turned to Eve with a polite smile, better than the frozen features she had offered before.

“Then my son fell madly in love with you?”

Eve raised a brow. “That would not be to the point, ma’am, would it?”

Another interruption occurred when a man entered. His face had the ascetic quality Eve had come to recognize in his son, and he bore the air of someone accustomed to power. Three other men followed him, younger, closer to Julius’s age, but nonetheless still intimidating with their fashionable clothing and their quiet arrogance.

Julius got to his feet and bowed, and Eve stood and curtseyed, keeping her head bowed while Julius made the introductions. She met Lords Darius and Valerian Shaw, twins and the sons of the Marquess of Strenshall, and Lord Nicephorus Westwood. All cousins of Julius. Darius and Valerian had a dark beauty Eve would normally have admired, were she not still obsessed by her fair-haired, treacherous husband. Lord Westwood had an air of distance that made his unsmiling austerity attractive in a different way. The Emperors of London must be devastating to society. They all bowed over Eve’s had, seemingly unsurprised by Julius’s choice of wife.

Her grace spoke first. “I consider you deeply foolish, Winterton, to have taken this step without our approval.”

Just as if Eve were not there. Obviously the duchess was not yet willing to let Eve join the family. The presence of the others increased her anxiety, but she hated the uncertainty plaguing her. She would not allow it to defeat her.

From his inside pocket, Julius produced some papers.

Silence reigned while his grace took out a pair of gold-framed spectacles, perched them on his nose, and perused the documents. He took his time, but eventually put the glasses back in his pocket and lifted his head. “The papers are in order. Winterton obtained a special license from Doctors’ Commons and married in the parish church at Appleton. Miss Merton has lived there for years and so she fulfils the residency requirements.” He addressed his wife. “Madam, we have a new daughter-in-law.”

Eve lifted her head and stared at the duke incredulously. He was smiling, the first sign of a welcome she had received since entering through the doors of this great house. She ventured to smile back.

“You understand, my dear, we need time to get to know you,” the duke said gently.

“Of course, your grace.” Heat rose to mantle her cheeks when Eve realized she should probably not call him by his title. Then what should she call him? “Sir,” probably. Her gaucherie knew no bounds.

“There is no room for her. Winterton does not have another bedroom close to his. We will have to move his rooms,” the duchess snapped. “We have a house full of guests at the moment. How can we undertake such a major alteration?”