enough to find her and let her know you are returning home?’ Julia nodded. ‘Then I will go and settle my account, pay off the postilions and collect my baggage. Jervis and I will meet you in the yard of the Stag’s Head opposite.’
Something flared in her eyes, but it was gone before he could analyse it. Julia pressed her lips together as if on a retort and nodded again. This was not the place to talk. Will got to his feet and let himself out, wary now that Delia or Henry might see him. A confrontation in a crowded ballroom would set the district on its ears for weeks. That was the only reason for the knot in his gut, surely? He would be home within the hour. His life could begin again—on his terms now.
* * *
Julia stared blankly at the battered door panels as the catch clicked shut. She was not a widow. She was not even the pretend-wife of a man who had vanished as though he had been a dream. Her husband was alive and fit and, as far as she could tell, in the very best of health. Which meant he would find out exactly what had happened at King’s Acre in his absence.
She had no idea what Will imagined he was coming home to, but she rather suspected that he had not thought through the implications of surviving his hasty marriage. Finally she would find out exactly what manner of man she was tied to, for this was all going to shake him off balance enough to reveal his true character. The baby. Her mind shied away from how she was going to break that to him.
Think of something else. My goodness, but he is attractive. Julia jabbed loose hairpins in securely and told herself that physical attractiveness was no guide to inner character. And if Will Hadfield thought he was coming home to her bed tonight he must think again. There was far too much to be said, to work out, before things became that intimate. She swallowed. If they ever did. She was not at all certain what she wanted, although that was probably academic. Her desires were not going to affect Will’s reactions. For all she knew he might try to repudiate her now he no longer needed her. He certainly might when he learned what had happened in his absence.
But that was something to worry about when she was alone. Now she must leave without arousing Delia’s suspicions. Julia opened the door and almost bumped into Henry. She slid her arm into his and produced a faint smile. ‘Cousin Henry! Just the person I need. I have such a headache—would you be a dear and let your mama know I am returning home now?’
‘Of course. Shall I go and call your carriage?’
He was a nice young man, Julia thought, watching him weave through the crowd to the front door. Still self-centred and inclined to believe that things would fall into his lap by right, but he would learn. Yet however little he wished his cousin ill, the discovery that he was not going to inherit King’s Acre in a few years would be a blow that would set his world on its ear.
When her carriage pulled into the inn yard the footman jumped down from the box to open the door and let the steps down and almost fell over his feet when he saw the two men waiting. ‘Mr Jervis! And—oh, my Heavens, it’s his lordship! Thomas, look, it’s his lordship just like he used to be!’
‘Praise be!’ Thomas the coachman must have jabbed the horses’ mouths in his excitement. The carriage rocked back and forth and she saw Will grin in the lamplight. It was the first time she had ever seen him smile like that. How had she ever thought him old, even when he had been so sick? This was a man in his prime.
‘Praise be, indeed, Thomas. Good to see you again, Charles. Now, load up the bags and let us be going. We can’t keep her ladyship sitting around like this.’ He climbed in, the valet on his heels.
‘Good evening, your ladyship.’ The valet sat down with his back to the horses, his hat held precisely on his knees.
‘Good evening, Jervis. Welcome home. I am delighted to see you after all this time.’ And thankful that his presence in the carriage would bar any but the most commonplace conversation. Shock was beginning to give way to apprehension. It was no more than that, she assured herself. There was nothing really to actually be afraid of. Was there? Only some very unpleasant revelations to deal with.
‘You have bought a new team,’ Will observed. Perhaps he too was glad of their involuntary chaperon. ‘There will be more horses arriving in a few weeks. I bought an Andalusian stallion and two mares and a dozen Arabians.’
‘Fifteen horses?’ Julia felt a surge of excitement sweep back the fears into their usual dark corner. ‘We will need new stabling. And to extend the paddocks,’ she added. ‘Thank goodness the feed stocks are so good and the hay crop should be excellent if the weather holds. We may need to hire new grooms.’ Mind racing, she started to make lists in her head. ‘I will get Harris the builder up tomorrow to discuss plans. Jobbins will have ideas about any likely local lads to hire, of course, but we will need someone used to stud work—’
‘I have it all in hand,’ Will said. ‘You have no need to trouble yourself with such things now that I am home.’
‘It will be no trouble,’ Julia retorted. She knew exactly what state the grass was in, how much new fencing was needed, where an extended stable block would go and the strengths and weaknesses of the current stable staff. There was going to be a territorial battle, she could tell, because she was not prepared to let three years of hard work go and retire to her sitting room and her embroidery. But that was something else that could wait until the morning.
‘We can have supper while they make up the bed in the master suite,’ she said into the silence that had fallen. ‘And make sure your room is aired, of course, Jervis.’ In the gloom of the carriage she could sense the sudden sharpening of Will’s attention. He was hardly going to discuss their sleeping arrangements now. When the time came to go upstairs she would just have to be very clear that she wished to be alone.
No doubt that would be another subject on which Lord Dereham had very firm opinions. And then there was the secret tragedy that, somehow, she was going to find a way to confess before anyone told him of it.
Will rolled over on to his back and opened his eyes. Above him, lit by the early morning light, was the familiar dark blue of the bed canopy. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and focused on the stars embroidered in silver thread by some long-ago ancestress. Home. He really was home.
Without turning his head he stretched out a hand as he had every morning since he had finally accepted that he was not about to die. Beside him the bed was empty, the covers flat, the pillow smooth and cool. No one was there, of course.
Julia had not been very communicative last night, not after the brief verbal tussle over where he was sleeping. Which she had won, he reflected. For one night, at any rate. He was hard, aroused, but then he was every morning since he had recovered.
Will threw back the covers with an impatient hand and let the cool air of dawn flow over his naked, heated body. He had made his bed and now, he supposed, he must lie on it. Not that it would be such a hardship to lie with Julia. His mouth curved at the memory of her in that pink silk last night. He had thought about her these past years, but the memories had been of her spirit and her intelligence, not of her looks.
But marrying Julia had been a brilliant piece of improvisation by a dying man. A marriage of convenience that he had expected to last mere months. For a man with the prospect of a long life ahead of him it was a sentence to a loveless but solid and respectable future.
Or, given the hideous example of his own parents’ convenient marriage, loveless and cold, although, if he had anything to do with it, not spectacularly scandalous. He winced at the remembrance of the raised voices, the banging doors, the sniggers at school and the oh-so-careful reports in the scandal sheets—It is said that a certain Lady D—... It is the talk of the town that Lord D—’s latest companion...
All those lies, all the pretence. His father pretending he was not unfaithful, his mother pretending her heart was not broken, both of them lying to him, fobbing him off, whenever he asked if anything was wrong, when Papa would be home, why Mama was weeping again. It