Swept Away (20 page)

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Authors: Candace Camp

BOOK: Swept Away
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“We did what we thought was best.”

“What
you
thought was best!” Julia repeated scornfully, her cheeks blazing with color. “It would have been best to tell us the truth! Neither Phoebe nor I is a child. If we could handle Selby's death, I think we could have handled a suicide note, as well. I want to see it.”

“It was a very…blunt telling of what happened. You don't know what pain it will cause you and Lady Armiger.”

“No, I don't know, because I don't know what's in it, since you and Varian saw fit to treat us like children!”

“Not like children! Like a sister and a wife who loved a man very much. We did it to protect you.”

“I did not ask for your protection. And I never shall. I want to see that note.” She looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Or are you hiding it because you are afraid that Phoebe and I will not accept that note as uncritically as Varian? Is it because Phoebe or I would easily see how false it is?”

Stonehaven's fingers clenched, and he set his jaw tightly. For a moment Julia thought that he would start yelling. But when he spoke, his voice was low, controlled and grim. “Very well! You shall see the note. It is in my office at Stonehaven. Perhaps then you will finally admit the truth.”

“I already know the truth.” Nerves danced in Julia's stomach. She felt almost sick. There was no possibility now, she knew, of her getting off in London. There was now no place she wanted to go more than Stonehaven.

11

T
hey spoke little on the rest of their journey. When they reached Swanley, Stonehaven rented a post chaise, and, while they sat down to a hearty breakfast in a private parlor at the posting house, he sent a maid down the street to purchase hairpins and a brush for Julia. Julia was surprised by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, but she was heartily glad. She had been aware of the odd looks she had received on their short trip and in the yard of the posting house. No woman went about in public with her hair loose and hanging, and Julia was very aware that hers was also wild and tangled into the bargain.

It took several minutes to brush her hair into any sort of manageable shape. She glanced up once in the mirror she was using for the job and saw that Stonehaven was standing across the room, arms folded, watching her. Her breath caught in her throat. Quickly she swept her hair up and arranged it in a simple knot from which several thick strands still dangled. These she curled around her finger until she had a cluster of three long lustrous curls. It was not the most stunning hairdo she had ever achieved, due in large part to not having the services of her maid, who was quite clever at such things. However, at least she looked presentable—as long as one did not look at the sadly crumpled state of her dress.

Stonehaven had been occupied during much of the time with writing something down on a piece of paper, which he now sealed.

“Do you wish to write a note to Lady Armiger?” he asked with the same formal courtesy with which they had addressed their infrequent remarks to one another. “I have written some instructions to my business manager, and I plan to have them delivered when we pass through London. I thought perhaps you might want to let your sister-in-law know of your plans.”

“Yes, thank you,” Julia replied with equal courtesy.

Dipping the pen in the ink, she scribbled a brief note to Phoebe.

Dearest Phoebe,

I have no time to write an explanation, though I know that this letter will leave you amazed. I want you to know that I am unharmed. I am traveling to Stonehaven, Lord S's estate in Buckinghamshire. He is insisting that I marry him, and he is taking me to meet his mother. Of course, I will not. (Marry him, I mean.) But he has
important information
there, and I must see it.

Love, Julia

P.S. Please pack a trunk of my clothes and send it.

She knew that Phoebe would be thrown into confusion by the note, but she had no time to write more. The chaise was already waiting for them in the yard. She promised herself that she would write a full explanation of what had happened when she reached Deverel's home. After shaking sand over the ink to dry it, she then tapped it off and folded the paper, sealing it with a wafer of wax.

Lord Stonehaven took her note, and they hurried out to get into the carriage. The chaise rumbled out of the yard, the postilion in his bright red jacket on the lead horse. One of the ostlers accompanied them as an out-rider on Julia's mare. Deverel sat across from Julia, politely riding on the backward side, and on the opposite end of the seat.

After a few minutes of stony silence, Deverel closed his eyes and leaned back against the squabs. Julia was not sure if he was actually going to sleep or merely removing himself from her company in the only way possible. Whatever it was, she found the situation more comfortable this way, and she was able to relax and watch the countryside go by, and even think. As a result, she thought of something to add to her note to Phoebe, and when they arrived at the post house in London, she insisted on jotting an extra line on the back of the note. Deverel then sent one of the ostlers off with both her message and his, and a few minutes later, with a fresh team of horses, they started out of London.

This time it was Julia who closed her eyes, and she soon found herself asleep. Sleeping helped wile away some of the time, and they stopped in midafternoon for a light nuncheon. After that, they rode on, too tired now of riding to much care about the awkwardness of being in the carriage together. Julia looked at the scenery, noticing that it was becoming like that around Selby's hunting lodge. That fact was enough to make her heart squeeze in her chest.

Phoebe—or, rather, their estate manager—had sold the hunting lodge last year, advising that it was not feasible for Phoebe to keep up a home which she never used. She had understood, but it had taken her two years to bring herself to get rid of something of which Selby had been so fond.

It was after dark, and Julia was growing sore and weary from sitting so long in the carriage, when they at last turned up a long driveway lined by magnificent trees and pulled up in front of a gracious house of honey-colored stone. The front door opened wide at their approach, and a footman bowed.

“My lord! What a surprise.”

“Not an unpleasant one, I hope.”

“Oh, no, my lord, indeed not. Lady Stonehaven will be so pleased. I believe that Carruthers has gone to inform her ladyship of your arrival.”

“Very good. Is she in her sitting room?”

“I daresay, my lord.”

“Jennings, this is Miss Julia Armiger, my fiancée.”

“Your—” The man choked back his surprised exclamation, goggling at Julia. “Indeed, sir. Congratulations, my lord. Welcome to Stonehaven, Miss Armiger.”

“We have no luggage. Pay off the postilion, will you? Miss Armiger and I are going up to see Mother.”

They had barely reached the top of the staircase before they met that good woman hurrying down the hall. She smiled broadly when she saw Deverel and held out both her hands to him.

“Deverel! If this isn't just like you—putting us all at sixes and sevens! Why didn't you let me know you were coming?” Her welcoming smile belied any harshness in her words.

“I relied on your good nature,” he replied, taking her hands and squeezing them, then pulling her close for a hug. “And the fact that I pay my servants very well. Frankly, I didn't decide to come until this morning, and I thought it would be better to explain in person than to try to put it all in a letter that would, at best, arrive only a couple of hours before we did.”

He turned toward Julia, and his mother followed suit, her dark eyes bright with curiosity. Julia could see that Deverel had inherited his coloring from his mother, for her eyes were black, as was her hair, except for a single distinctive streak of white that ran back from her right temple. However, unlike her son, she was short and a little plump, with a smiling, pleasant face. She was dressed quite fashionably in a dove gray dress of elegant lines and expensive material that proclaimed the work of a major modiste.

“Mother, I would like to introduce my fiancée, Miss Julia Armiger. Julia, this is my mother, Lady Teresa Stonehaven.”

There was a moment of frozen silence. Lady Stonehaven looked blankly at Julia, then at her son. “Fiancée?” she repeated in a small voice. “Armiger?”

“Yes.”

“Well—ah, this is certainly a surprise.” She turned to Julia. “Excuse me. I don't know where my manners are. How do you do, Miss Armiger? I am most happy to meet you.”

She extended a hand to Julia to shake, and Julia noticed that the older woman's fingers were strangely discolored in varying degrees of brown, yellow and green. Lady Stonehaven saw the direction of her eyes and chuckled softly. “Don't worry. It's not dirt. I assure you, they are quite clean. It is just that I cannot seem to ever completely remove the stains.”

Julia looked up at her, blushing. “I'm sorry.”

“Oh, no need. It startles everyone who doesn't know me. I know you are far too well-bred to inquire, so I shall tell you. I paint. Oils, mostly. Lately I've been most interested in murals.”

“Painting on the walls again, Mother?”

“Only two,” she promised. “And not in your bedroom.”

“Thank you.”

She looked offended. “One would think that you disliked my painting, Dev.”

“No, madam. I think you are aware of my opinion of your talent. However, I have no desire to awaken at night and see a group of Greeks standing across the room from me.”

She sighed. “I never thought a son of mine would turn out so hidebound.”

“No, ma'am. Just lily-livered.”

As they had been talking, Deverel had taken the two women's arms and steered them down the hall into a small, tastefully appointed sitting room.

“What a lovely room!” Julia exclaimed. None of the furniture in the room was new, nor was it coordinated, but it was a cheerful, homey blend of comfort, practicality and beauty.

“Do you like it?” Lady Stonehaven asked, smiling. “Thank you. It is my favorite room in the house. And where I spend most of my time—when I'm not in my workroom, of course.” She gestured them toward chairs, asking, “Are you hungry? Would you like some supper?”

“That would be wonderful,” Deverel replied. “We had only a small nuncheon on the road and, I am afraid, missed tea altogether.”

“I fear that we have already had dinner, but I am sure that Cook can throw a reasonable meal together quickly.”

“The leftovers will be more than adequate.”

Lady Stonehaven rang for a maid and was answered by the butler himself, a dignified individual who greeted Deverel gravely and assured Lady Stonehaven that a quick meal for the travelers had been set in motion as soon as they arrived and would shortly be brought up to them on trays.

“Wait, Carruthers, I must introduce you to Miss Julia Armiger. She is shortly to be my wife.”

The older man was so startled that he dropped his usual carefully controlled expression. “My Lord!” He recovered himself enough to continue smoothly, “May I offer my congratulations?” The butler turned toward Julia and bowed. “Miss Armiger. What a wonderful surprise. I wish you all the best.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, Julia swung on Deverel. “Why must you keep telling everyone that? You are going to look most foolish when we don't marry.”

Lady Stonehaven's eyebrows rose. “Are you not going to marry? But I thought you were engaged.”

“We are,” Deverel responded.

“We are not,” Julia said at the same time.

They glared at each other.

“Oh, dear,” Lady Stonehaven said. “I must confess, I am a trifle confused.”

“Perfectly natural, Mother. I am still in somewhat of a daze myself.”

“I am very sorry, Lady Stonehaven,” Julia said earnestly. “I know you must think we are quite mad.”

“No. No—only a little.”

“The truth is that, well, certain circumstances arose that made Lord Stonehaven feel that it is necessary for him to marry me. But I assured him that it is not.”

“Pamela St. Leger discovered us in a compromising position, Mother,” Deverel explained. “Being a friend to neither of us, she will, I am persuaded, see to it that everyone in the ton knows about it.”

“Oh, my,” Lady Stonehaven said, somewhat inadequately.

“It wasn't what it seemed,” Julia assured her, miserably aware that this very nice-seeming woman must now despise her.

“Of course not,” Deverel agreed.

“I'm sure not,” Lady Stonehaven agreed. “Deverel is certainly too much of a stickler to have done anything indecorous.”

“You make me sound like a prig.”

“No. Merely a man who always thinks before he acts.”

Deverel arched an eyebrow and murmured, “If only you knew…”

“What, dear?”

“Nothing. At any rate, it was obvious that our only recourse was to marry. In fact, I told Pamela that Julia and I already were married.”

“You seem to have an uncontrollable urge to tell everyone,” Julia told him bitingly. “I cannot think why you cannot keep it to yourself.”

“Oh, no, dear,” Lady Stonehaven assured her earnestly. “You mustn't worry. Our servants will not reveal that you were married
here,
later than when Deverel told Pamela. They are most loyal to us.”

“No. I am not worried about servants' gossip. I mean that I do not intend to marry him!”

Lady Stonehaven looked shocked. “But, my dear, I thought that it was so compromising that you have to.”

“It was,” Deverel confirmed. “Julia is simply too naive to understand that. Or perhaps too stubborn to accept it. Or both.”

“I am not naive! As for stubborn, you are ten times worse than I am. You keep insisting that I marry you, and I have told you time after time that I will not. I don't care about the scandal. I do not want to marry you!”

It occurred to Julia that her statement would be bound to offend the man's mother, and she turned to her with a belated apology. “I am sorry, my lady. I know he is your son, but I simply cannot marry him.”

“I perfectly understand.” Lady Stonehaven stood up. “You know what I think we should do? I should show you to your room, Miss Armiger. No doubt you are very tired, and you would like to freshen up a little, eat and go to bed. I shall tell the servants to bring the tray to your room. How does that sound?”

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