Veiled in Blue (31 page)

Lucinda was on Eve’s side of the table, next to a handsome young man Eve couldn’t remember. In the drawing room, Julius had kept by her side and introduced her to a great number of people who smiled back at her, their eyes sparkling with speculation. Eve did not need a crystal ball to know. To arrive at the house where he was to choose a bride with one in tow had given society plenty to talk about, as had his evident devotion to her. Nobody knew her. One young man had actually blurted out, “Who is she?” to which Julius had told him in frozen tones she was the Countess of Winterton. Eve felt almost sorry for the youth.

Now she had to make polite conversation about people she did not know. Her mother, who read the gossip sheets, was probably getting on better, but Eve did her best.

Sometime during the third course, someone asked her about the Duke of Newcastle. “Of course you know him,” the man said, his air so superior Eve instinctively wanted to slap him.

The man was trying to humiliate her. Either that or he wanted to display his own knowledge. So Eve told him the truth. “Until recently I lived quietly. I have heard of the people you speak of, naturally, but I have never met them. Nor did I expect to. I presume the duke is a man, much as you are, or my husband, or anyone else here tonight?” Without waiting for a reply, she continued. “I shall no doubt meet him, but no, I don’t know him. So tell me, are you a special friend of his?”

The man reddened, his cheekbones crimsoning. Someone nearby smothered a laugh, not successfully. From the gleam in his eyes Eve suspected Valerian, who was sitting on her side of the table, easily able to hear the conversation.

Someone else spoke in a moderate but easily heard voice. “I knew I’d like her.” The lady tilted her glass to Eve in a salute.

Whether she wanted to or not, Eve was making her place in this world.

Then came the ball. The ladies did not stay alone in the drawing room for long. The men joined them in the space of half an hour, and Eve’s mother-in-law announced they would go down to the great room.

The state rooms were resplendent. The ball that heralded the start of the hunting season was so grand its purpose was lost in merrymaking and conversation. To her shock, the Duke of Kirkburton gestured for her to take the floor with Julius. “A wedding minuet,” he said, loud enough for the guests to hear.

The minuet was the most graceful and formal dance of the whole gathering, and she was to display her skills. Eve’s heart sank. How could she do this with everyone watching and criticizing her?

But as Julius led her to the center of the floor and the musicians—a sextet—struck up the first notes, he kept his attention on her. As he bowed over her hand to begin the first figure he murmured, “Only I exist. Everyone else here is an illusion. Dance for me, my love.”

His eyes sparkled as they reflected the candlelight. Eve swallowed and watched him, as she curtseyed low. He snared her gaze and kept her fixed on him.

They began the dance. Eve knew the minuet, of course, but she had performed it rarely. Sir Henry had not favored the more courtly measures and had concentrated on country dances. Determined not to let Julius down, Eve mirrored his movements, taking care to hold her hands at the correct angle and dispose her body elegantly. After the first measure, he snared her, and she lost herself in him. He gave her everything, occasionally allowing his mouth to relax in a smile as she sank into a curtsey or swayed gently when she took the mincing steps the dance demanded.

The sound of her skirts, the firmer rustle of his stiffened coat, and the gentle murmur of the guests did not drown out the musicians. Keeping her face clear, her concentration hidden, Eve twirled and paced and made the graceful shapes. Once she stumbled, but she regained her footing, putting her error to the back of her mind, no doubt to wake up sweating in the night when she recalled her blunder

Except she would not be alone. Julius would be there to hold her and soothe her and then make love to her. The recollection brought a spring to her step, an extra push to her glide.

After an interminable time that could not have lasted longer than fifteen minutes, she recognized the music’s closing bars and swept into a low curtsey, breathing out in relief. The torture was over. Julius bore her off the floor as other couples swept on to the polished boards and led her straight to his parents. He bowed, and she sank into yet another curtsey.

“You might have warned us,” he said, “But my wife is equal to the task.”

The duchess lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “I expected no less.” She bestowed a frosty smile on to Eve. “However, I will need other evidence of your ability to care for my daughter. A dance means nothing.”

“She will be with me, Mama,” Julius said smoothly. “Helena has already indicated her preference.”

Feeling the family animosity simmering below the surface, Eve interrupted the rising tension. “I would have danced worse had someone warned me. I dance but indifferently.”

“I wouldn’t say that, my dear,” the duke put in. He propped his hand on his hip and swept his highly-polished shoe before him. “I shall undoubtedly claim a dance from you later.” His craggy face broke into a broad smile. “Welcome to the family, Eve, such as it is.”

And just like that, she was accepted. Her exemplary behavior during the last few days had borne fruit. Either that or his grace had decided to oppose his lady wife. Eve was not foolish enough to imagine the struggle for Helena was over, however. The duchess did not give up easily, and one skirmish did not win a war. But Eve ranged herself firmly on the side of her husband and his sister. The duchess would not have her daughter as an unpaid companion and servant.

Perhaps if Eve found someone to attend the duchess, the lady would not be so insistent for Helena to remain with her? She would think on that.

The duchess did not appear to have any concerns about discussing the matter in public, however. “I have no doubt you will be busy before too long with your own family. I anticipate happy news soon.” Her lip curled. “Particularly as you broadcast your devotion to each other by sharing a bedroom.”

Eve caught her breath in a sharp gasp. What happened in their bedroom was not for public consumption. There she felt safe. There she could speak her mind and give way to her concerns. “Large as it is, this house is filled to overflowing.”

“As my son is the heir to the estate, I cannot conciliate my feelings to his decision to cram into a corner of the place in a room totally unsuited to his dignity.” The duchess lifted her chin. Her lack of height did not detract from her self-important air. She seemed to take up far more space than she physically occupied.

“Nevertheless, we will do this.” Julius paused and grew perfectly still. “You want me to leave? I shall do so with the greatest pleasure, ma’am. I had already planned to take my wife away for a more secluded time together. You are helping me to my decision, are you not?” This time his smile had nothing pleasant about it. “However, if I go, so do my daughter and my sister.”

While that would make a novel kind of honeymoon, Eve was forced to agree with him. His mother had taken another step. She would drive Julius away and retain Helena. This dispute was going beyond the simple concern of whom Helena would live with. It was turning into a full-scale battle between mother and son.

“Helena must do as she pleases,” Eve murmured.

“And so she will.”

Without anyone noticing, Helena had crossed the room to join them. A full-scale family argument threatened. Augustus was heading their way. Would they stand in the ballroom and shout their disagreement for the world to hear? An army of ants crawled over Eve’s skin. She took a step back and then another. This threat militated against everything she had worked for. Was she to be known as a wedge, a weapon the participants could use against each other?

Revulsion filled her soul. While mother and son glared at each other, Eve stepped back.

Her triumph had come before a potential scandal. How ironic. How typical of her life, which followed the one step forward, two steps back pattern so closely it could have been invented for her.

Augustus’s voice pursued her. “Would you appreciate a drink?”

She turned to see him advancing on her, two chilled glasses of white wine in his hands. Condensation ran down the glittering surfaces, softening the sharp cuts and the hard-edged shine. Although she did not want any more to drink, she recognized salvation when she saw it.

As she accepted the glass he offered, he touched his against hers in a quiet toast. “Welcome to the family.”

“Is that why you live in Rome?”

He smiled wryly. Although he and Julius barely resembled each other, that quirk reminded Eve of her husband, a reminiscent echo.

“Partly. I am a scholar, and I have found my work there absorbing. I would not stay away merely because of that.” He gestured dismissively to the small group garnering everyone’s attention. “They do this all the time. You must not allow it to upset you.”

“But everyone is looking!”

“With resigned acceptance.” He took a sip of his wine. “The dispute between mother and son is well-known and ongoing. The rest of us steer as clear of it as possible. For the most part, they agree to disagree, but while Helena remains at large, they’re at loggerheads. Wait until she marries. I promise it will settle down.”

Eve cast a glance at the fiercely disputing mother and son, their faces tight and the duchess’s flushed. “So I have a job to do.”

“Don’t interfere. Truly, let it run its course.”

She took a swallow of wine. It made its cool way down her throat, bringing some order to her confused mind. “I thought they were private people?”

“Our mother is the one person who can make Julius lose his temper in public.”

Why did that make Eve want to prove Augustus wrong? She wanted to be the person to drive Julius mad in public—and in private, come to that. Her possessive streak had never reared up before, but she could not deny it now.

She refused to look. Augustus was facing them, but Eve was trying desperately to prove she didn’t care, it was something she was used to. Across the room, she caught her mother’s horrified stare.

Her moment of triumph had not lasted long.

The scent of his cologne told Eve her husband had come up behind her. “Eve,” he said softly.

She would not give the crowd any more fodder for gossip. Fixing a bright smile to her face, she turned around, her skirts swinging. “You’ve finished your discussion, then?”

“Completely. Totally.” Julius closed his eyes and then opened them again. They were clear, as if he’d wiped the scene from his mind.

Augustus lowered his voice and gazed past Julius’s head, as if he were saying something of no consequence. “I need a private word with you as soon as possible.”

Julius’s smile revealed nothing. “You’ve learned something?”

“Yes. At least I think so.”

“Tomorrow morning.” Julius turned a particularly charming smile on to Eve. “The country dances are beginning. Would you care to dance?”

“Dear me, Julius, you are turning into a provincial before my eyes!” Augustus grinned when Julius turned his astonished blue glare on to him. “Brother, don’t you know it’s bad form to dance with your wife all evening? Some would say at all, but you are newly married, and so you may be allowed a certain leeway.” He offered his arm. “Would you care to accompany me on to the dance floor, ma’am?”

Time for some revenge. However petty, the notion warmed Eve’s heart. “I would love to, sir.”

As Augustus swept her on to the floor, Julius’s chuckle echoed behind them.

* * * *

Once in their bedroom, Julius swung off his coat and tossed it on to a nearby chair, ignoring Lamaire’s irritated tut as he swept up the garment and draped it carefully over one arm. He left the room on Julius’s curt nod.

Julius turned his whole attention to Eve. She stood in the center of the room, uncertain, an edge of fear touching her. What had she married into? Her resolves of the morning were proving fugitive. How could she make a success of this world?

He crossed the room and stood before her, but did not touch her. “Don’t look like that,” he said roughly.

“Like what?”

“As if you don’t know what to do. I told you how it was between my mother and me. I’m sorry she chose tonight to create a scene. I think she did it on purpose.”

Eve raised a brow. “Does anyone do that?”

“Yes.
She
does.” Spinning around, Julius took a turn of the room. When he returned, she was waiting, arms folded. “My mother is a user, a manipulator. When I was a child, she separated me from my brother.” He grimaced. “At least she tried to, though both of us became adept at climbing the walls of the Abbey so we could see each other. I was the heir, Augustus the mere spare. When he showed an aptitude for study, she procured an excellent tutor and gave him his head. It was only a few years later I realized the behavior was typical of her. She has read her Machiavelli. She was separating us to control us both.”

Eve still had her doubts. “Are you sure that was what she was doing?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “She has repeated such behavior over the years. She works toward what she wants with little regard to anyone’s feelings or what she does to their lives. That is why I do not live at home. As soon as I finished university and the Grand Tour, I set up my own establishment. My tour was curtailed because Augustus was with me. He chose to remain abroad. If we were not so strong-willed, we would have become everything she wanted.”

Eve had a choice. She could believe him without limits, but that would not be good for him or for the relationship they were carefully building. “If I accept your word without asking for evidence, I will not be the kind of wife you need, will I?”

He bit his lip. Even now, despite her distress, Eve yearned to taste it, to lick the sore spot. She desired him, always. These emotions, so new to her, threatened to overwhelm her.

Eventually he spoke. “You’re right. I want my Eve, a partner, someone to take equal decisions with. Come.” With a brush of her elbow, he guided her to the day bed. Disposing her skirts, wishing she had the forethought to take off the pinching stays or the tickling lace tickling, she nevertheless waited for him to talk to her.