James walked to the window, noticing the threatening clouds gathering overhead. Their darkness layered the hills with damp shadows, making the hour feel late. Somewhere across the hills and valleys sat Cable Grange. Watching the wind shake the tall hedges of the garden, he tried to picture himself as lord of the manor, spending his days in land management with all its hundreds of concerns, but he had trouble imagining it.
Reaching up under his jacket, he felt for the jagged, raised scar. Yes, he was lucky to be alive and sometimes it made him think he wanted a wife and a family. What would it be like to enjoy the kind of happiness he’d witnessed between his parents before his father died or the love he saw in his sister’s eyes when she walked with her husband? He’d tried so many times while convalescing to imagine the future, but always it remained shrouded in a grey fog of uncertainty. The sudden end to his naval career made the years before him seem meaningless while old wounds and betrayals arose from the past to dominate his mind.
A bolt of lightning split the distant horizon and the image of Miss Howard atop that beast of a horse commanding him like a common seaman seared his mind. Tight desire coursed through him at the memory of her tongue tracing the line of her lips and the curious need illuminating her face. Her free spirit and courage reminded him of Caribbean ladies, bringing a smile to his face at the memory of warm afternoons and even warmer nights in the islands. Those days seemed like a lifetime ago yet today, in Miss Howard’s presence, their carefree ease sparked deep inside him for the first time in over a year.
The feeling made him uneasy. He’d experienced something like it once before, allowing it to guide him, and he’d come to regret it.
He downed the last of the brandy, forcing back the encroaching sadness. He wasn’t ready for another life-altering change and certainly had no intention of courting Miss Howard.
As James examined the cut-crystal glass, an idea suddenly came to him, so simple yet brilliantly amusing. George was determined to meddle with yet another scheme. Why not catch him up in one of James’s devising, give him a friendly taste of his own medicine?
‘Perhaps you’re right. I should give more thought to the idea of marriage,’ James announced, strolling back to the table and scrutinising the position of the balls.
George’s smile broadened. ‘Indeed.’
‘A man needs a woman to make a comfortable home for him.’
‘One with a sense of how to run things properly.’
‘The perfect mistress to complement him.’
‘Exactly.’
‘A woman like Miss Taylor.’
‘Annette?’ George sputtered. ‘You must be joking.’
‘I’m quite serious. She’s well brought up and pleasing to view.’ James leaned over the table to take a shot, pretending not to notice George’s stunned expression.
‘But there’s nothing there, no substance.’
‘Good. It makes life less complicated.’ James hit the cue ball, sending it bouncing off the side to hit the red ball. Straightening up, he worked to contain his laughter as George stared slack jawed at him.
‘Annette?’
James smiled to himself, realising just how much fun this harmless revenge would be.
Chapter Four
The clock in the hallway chimed six times as Julia rushed across the marble floor, late for dinner again. Stopping outside the dining-room door, she ran her hands over her hair, tucking a loose tendril into her coiffure. Mary, her lady’s maid, had been too busy with Annette to arrange Julia’s hair so she’d done it herself, pulling it back into a more flattering bun and allowing a few curls to hang about her face. The coiffure was far from stylish, but it framed her features much better than Emily’s plain creation. Pulling the bodice of the light-blue muslin dress lower, she hitched up the pink sash in an effort to make it appear more fashionable. The ribbon refused to co-operate, slipping back down to her waist. With a sigh of frustration, she gave up, knowing she’d dressed as well as could be expected for dinner at Knollwood, which was never a formal affair.
Until tonight. The instant Julia stepped into the dining room she remembered Emily’s instructions to dress for their new guest. She’d been so distracted by planning her tactics with Simon, she’d completely forgotten.
‘I’m so glad you could join us. I was afraid Knollwood business would keep you away.’ Emily’s high, nervous voice pulled Julia out of her momentary shock and she took in everyone’s attire. Mother’s deep-maroon mantua, though of an older style, suited her matronly frame while Emily and Annette’s dresses were the height of London fashion. Simon wore a coat of the finest material and Uncle George and Captain Covington looked dashing in their uniforms. Plain muslin in the face of so much silk only emphasised her lack of fashion. For a moment, Julia contemplated making her excuses, feigning a headache or some other feminine nonsense, then changed her mind.
I’ve already made a fool of myself. No sense starving now. Throwing back her shoulders, she strode into the room.
‘Yes, Knollwood business can be quite exacting, but I wouldn’t dream of missing dinner.’ She took her place next to Simon, across from Annette and Captain Covington.
‘You look very lovely this evening,’ the captain offered across the table.
‘Thank you.’ Was he teasing her? It was difficult to tell. His beguiling smile reminded her of the one Paul always used to flatter pretty ladies at the assembly hall.
‘The affairs of Knollwood must be very demanding to make you lose track of time,’ Annette mocked.
‘No, I was quite aware of the time,’ Julia replied coolly, annoyed by her stepcousin’s condescending tone.
‘Perhaps you could learn a thing or two about managing your affairs, Annette,’ Simon suggested, dabbing the corners of his mouth with his napkin.
‘Now you prefer bluestockings?’ Annette frowned. ‘I thought you felt education was wasted on women?’
‘I do. It leads a woman to interfere too much in a man’s business.’ He fixed an icy stare on his sister, who coloured under the remark, but said nothing.
Julia sensed more to this conversation than a simple debate of female education, but having no interest in the intricacies of the Taylors’ personal business, she concentrated on enjoying her meal.
‘Julia, Jim was telling us the latest news from London regarding Napoleon,’ Uncle George announced. ‘It appears Admiral Nelson will face him before the month is out?’
The food turned to dirt in her mouth. ‘Do you think so?’
‘It’s a very real possibility,’ the captain answered with measured words, fingering the spoon next to his plate.
‘Paul’s ship, HMS Pickle, is with Admiral Nelson’s fleet. He could be injured, or worse.’ Her voice quavered with worry and she didn’t care who heard it or what they thought.
‘Even if there is a battle, HMS Pickle is a small ship used to send messages or fetch supplies. She won’t see much action.’
‘But there’s still a chance Paul will be involved in the fighting?’
‘There is, but let’s hope if Admiral Nelson and your brother face him, the battle is quick and decisive in Britain’s favour.’
His sympathetic eyes touched her and she wished they were alone so she could pour out all her worries to him. He would understand, perhaps even take her in his sturdy arms and, with tender, reassuring words, drive away all her fears for Paul.
‘Admiral Nelson will lose more than a battle if he continues his indiscretion with Mrs Hamilton,’ Annette added, indifferent to Julia’s concerns. ‘Don’t you agree, Captain Covington?’