Veiled in Blue (26 page)

No. The answer came to her in a flash. He was afraid his family would not allow it. He married her because he wanted to defy his mother. Although Eve had barely met the woman, she had an inkling of how controlling the duchess was.

The village pond was no more. Now she had to remain afloat on a larger sea. Had to. Not for his sake, but for hers.

Thank heaven for Helena, who drew her to sit on a large sofa set by the fireplace, which was filled with fresh flowers, the weather being too warm to set the fire. The scent wafted over her, as did the perfumes of the ladies. When they moved, fresh aromas assaulted her nostrils. The gowns must be scented. Not the camphor or lavender, which would betray a gown that would be stored carefully and kept for Sunday wear, but flower scents mingled with muskier, headier aromas.

The soft upholstery gave under Eve’s weight, its fabric far finer and newer than her gown. It had served her well, but its usefulness had come to an abrupt end today. No longer would it work as her dinner gown. Even less as a ball gown. What would she do now? She would have to suffer while she watched the other ladies parade their finery before her until she found the opportunity to order gowns of her own. Parade they would. Eve had no illusions about that. They resented her.

“Have you even been to London?” a girl asked, her plump lips forming a pout as she spoke. She must have practiced the gesture for hours, all to no avail.

The “even” added a sneering quality to her words. Eve turned a bright smile on to her. “No, although I will be rectifying that in the future.”

“Oh!” Lady Mary widened her fine blue eyes. She possessed an air of fragility, enhanced by her ivory-colored gown and fine blond hair, which gleamed through its light coating of powder. “I have never met anyone who has never visited London before!”

As if Eve were some exotic creature. Eve gazed back at them, letting her eyes half close. “Really? What a sheltered life you must have led!”

Helena gave a crack of laughter. “Well said. London is not the center of the world, despite the way the fashionable talk about it.”

“Don’t you need to dress for dinner?” Lady Mary’s younger sister, Lady Elizabeth, said. She was as fair as her sister, but with a more pointed chin. Her features were more animated. She would probably take in society better than Lady Mary, which must be a sad trial to her older sister.

“This is it,” Eve said, ruefully indicating her gown.

“I have ordered fabrics and gowns from London for my wife,” said Julius.

Eve had not even been aware he had come in. She swiveled around to see him standing in the doorway, glorious in his favorite blue, but a different outfit to the one he had travelled in. Fortunate man. “If they do not arrive by tomorrow, that particular modiste will be in trouble.”

“Goodness, Julius, you startled the life out of me!” Eve said without thinking. Despite his finery, for a moment the amused gleam in his eyes brought her right back to the man he had been before yesterday, the one she could share her thoughts with.

“I beg your pardon, my sweet.”

While she was struck dumb by the public endearment, he glided forward, the heavy skirts of his coat swaying gently, the magnificent jeweled Order decorating the left side of his coat twinkling in the light pouring in through the windows.

“I should have hobnails put in my evening shoes, so you could hear my approach.” He came to stand before her and bowed over her hand. “The last thing I want to do is startle you.” He brushed her knuckles with his lips, his touch indicating to everyone present this woman—she—meant more to him. Usually gentlemen would bow over a lady’s hand but end an inch or two above it. Not in this case.

“You have chosen clothes for me?”

“A selection. Take them all or choose the ones you want and send the others back.” Retaining his hold on her hand, he sat next to her.

If they were anything like the clothes he owned, they would probably intimidate her on their own.

They sat twenty to dinner. That took three removes with at least a dozen dishes in each remove, the crockery, silverware, and crystal perfect examples of the tradesman’s art. The china was porcelain, the silverware real silver, and the glasses were finely cut and engraved crystal. Eve handled them with care and ate sparingly. Her behavior probably castigated her as a provincial, but by this point she was past caring. Let them think what they wanted to. They would anyway. Anything she did would not alter that.

* * * *

Finally Julius saw the benefits of sackcloth, ashes, and self-flagellation. It had taken him over thirty years to discover the advantages, but finally he was there. He cared for Eve, hated to see her in such discomfort. He should have ignored his mother’s house party and found somewhere else to take her, but here he could ensure her protection.

After an agonizing dinner, and when his mother had led the ladies away, finally his father asked him the question he was asking himself. “What were you thinking?”

Val leaned back and propped his feet on the table, crossing his ankles. “He’s violently in love,” he said.

“Or
she
is,” Darius added. “Maybe he couldn’t bear to disappoint the lady.”

Val shot his brother a darkling look. “How would you know?”

Darius preferred men, a family secret most of society decided to ignore, but it wasn’t like Val to mention his brother’s proclivities in such disparaging tones.

Darius grinned. “Some of my best friends are female.”

Val snorted and found a silver toothpick in his pocket, which he plied with enthusiasm.

“Carry on like that and you’ll make your mouth bleed,” Julius remarked. At last he could remove the heavy coat that hung on him like a woolen blanket. This day was far too hot for formal wear. “Or maybe I will.” He tossed the coat over the back of his chair.

Val scoffed at him. Not that Julius could not take care of himself, but he and Val had taken each other’s measure many a time in the fencing salon and found themselves evenly matched. “You have your hands full, cousin. You’re far too engaged to waste time on me.”

“I like her,” Nick put in. “She has courage.”

“She’ll need it.” Val glanced at the duke.

Julius’s father ignored his nephews’ comments but glanced at the gentlemen who were not members of the family, either to remind the others or to give a hint for them to leave.

Although Lord McComyn moved his chair, he did not leave. Likely his wife would make his life hell if he left now. He cleared his throat with a loud harrumph and reached for the brandy decanter. “New blood. Every family needs it now and again. Hybrid vigor!” Lord McComyn rode to hounds whenever he had the opportunity, rather more than was wise, if his wife spoke the truth about his activities. She usually finished with a sigh. “Oh well, it keeps him out of the boudoirs.” That explained why his nickname was “Boudoir” McComyn. Few people called him that to his face, though.

Julius would rather have his wife discussed to his face than behind his back, although he planned to join her in the drawing room soon. With his sisters there, he could leave Eve for a short while. Helena would take care of his interests. Lucinda had a good heart, and would help if she could. “I saw Eve, and I wanted her. Consider it perspicacity and acquired wisdom I left it this long before marrying her.”

“She’s perfect.” Darius accepted the decanter and poured himself a liberal measure. “She’s old enough to shoulder responsibility, young enough to become a mother.”

“And beautiful,” Val added.

“Almost too much,” Nick said. “It’s exactly like Julius to find a ravishing beauty in the middle of nowhere.” He glowered and downed his wine in one gulp.

“You have to know where to look.” Julius could not help feeling smug. Once Eve had found her feet, she would be an asset to him and his family. That notion occurred to him for the first time, but he dismissed it with a careless shrug. He enjoyed looking at his wife, conversing with her and holding her close. The rest was not as important, certainly barely worth his consideration.

Why not?

He had long told himself the next woman he married, as he knew he must, would be elegant, young enough to bear heirs, and no trouble. Eve had been nothing but trouble from the start. True, some of the problems were not of her making, but the spirited woman tramping down the country lane had been a handful in more than one way. He would not have her any different.

He could barely wait to get her upstairs at the end of the evening. He could not expect any favor, but her tiredness bore him down, all through the interminable harpsichord playing and singing the women insisted on doing. He did not linger over wine and gossip.

Once he joined her in the drawing room, Julius sat determinedly by her side, giving every impression of the devoted husband. He ignored the daggers shot them by some of the younger women and remained with her, bestowing on her all the attention a wife should expect and then some for good measure.

He waited until six songs had passed and the youngest McComyn girl had played an interminable nocturne, no doubt because the piece was fiendishly difficult, although tedious in the extreme. After all, although Julius was out of the marriage mart, several other gentlemen remained. He did not envy his cousins their fortunes. While most would abscond to Stretton’s house for the large hunting party that opened the season, some might choose to remain here and shoot his father’s game birds instead.

He trusted every guest invited to the opening day of the season. However he remained aware of the potential danger to Eve. Any stray shot or one fired by an interloper could be fatal. His blood ran cold. Maybe he should take her away before the Glorious Twelfth. Anything less glorious was difficult to imagine.

Whatever Eve thought of him, however she despised him, and God knew she had reason to, he would protect her—with his life if necessary.

When her jaw tightened in an effort to stifle a yawn—he recognized the movement, having done it so often himself—Julius got to his feet. “My dear, we have had a long day. Allow me to escort you.”

Blinking, she took his hand. No pretense at formality now. Before she could change her mind, he closed his fingers, trapping her hand as securely as he might a chick in need of care. He drew her to her feet. She stood silently, with no rustle of skirts. That would change in the next few days. Her loveliness already outshone all the other women in the room. He would ensure she became a woman society would never overlook.

She made her curtsey to the ladies, and, head bowed, accompanied him upstairs, her hand lax in his. She did not try to pull away, but she didn’t respond to him, either. Julius despaired. He would not use her, refused to take a wife bent on obedience. Had he destroyed her spirit?

She said nothing until their bedroom door closed behind them. Julius removed his coat and tossed it over a nearby chair. When Lamaire entered through the door between the powder room and this one, he said one, curt word. “Out.”

The valet did not stay to argue. Just as well because Julius was spoiling for a fight right now. How could he get through to her? “Eve, what does it matter what I am? I’m still the person you married.”

She turned away, lifting her hands to remove her hairpins. The first clattered into the glass dish on the dressing table. “You are. That is true. But you are more than that. So much more I cannot imagine why you did this. You’re a great lord. Everything you did tonight tells me of that. You are at home here as I never will be.”

“Yes you will.” Heedless of her frostiness, Julius crossed the room in two long strides and put his hands on her shoulders. She wore no fichu, only a frill of lace, so his fingers touched bare skin. As always, the thrill of touching her rendered him momentarily speechless. He could not afford that. He forced his mind back into action, as if all his blood had not flowed south. “You have it in you, Eve. You will become everything you need to be. Everything you want to be. I will allow nothing less.”

“You will not allow it?” Her bitter tones echoed around the room as she turned to face him.

He dropped his hands to her waist, afraid if he let her go she would make her escape. “You deserve it. Eve, I will give you all I have and all you need. Doubt all I say if you wish, but not that part. I have faith in you.”

“Then you are the only person in this house to show me such favor.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

She would not cry for people as worthless as the ones downstairs, and he included his reprobate cousins. Even worse that she should think of crying over him.

Julius had never made a more serious mistake in his life as when he had decided not to tell her his true name and status. He began to speak, trusting his instincts. His reason had failed him spectacularly, so why not? What more did he have to lose? “Eve, I would have done anything rather than hurt you. I should have thought more, should have considered your position. But this is the safest place I know. I have servants loyal to me and my family. I can care for you here, until I contact the man responsible for this and make him stop. More than anything else I want to ensure your safety. I need it. Eve, do you understand that at least?” Desperate tones edged his voice, but he didn’t care. Since Caroline died, control had become vital for his existence.

He should respect Eve more. He should show her how much she meant to him, abandon any thought of hiding from her. He’d promised not to keep anything from her. “Ask me any question you wish. I will answer, I swear it.”

“But what should I ask? How do I know what you know, how many secrets you hold about me?

“You have them all, my love.”

“Don’t call me that!”

Her vehemence took him by surprise, and he blinked, but held on to her. “Why not? It’s what you are to me.”

“Am I? Would you treat the woman you love in that way?”

He swallowed. What had he done? Had he wrecked everything by his wretched secretive behavior? “I wanted to protect you.”

“Then inform me, Julius.”

At least she’d used his name. All night she’d referred to him as “my husband” or, copying his mother’s example, “Winterton.” He hated it, curls of acid roiling in his stomach when he heard it on her lips. “Everything. I swear. We may go into the country and live quietly, if that is what you wish. I have some business to conclude, but if that is what you want, that is what we will do. Apart from the title, we may behave as any other country gentleman and his wife.”