Lord Barry's Dream House (19 page)

“Dare we ask if you found a special lady while in London? Lady Juliana spoke of Almack’s and all the world knows that is the premier place to find a wife,” her ladyship said with a narrow glance at her daughter.

“No, I fear I am still unattached. Perhaps I am too exacting in my tastes,” Edmund said with a smile.

“Well, your taste is exquisite in furnishing, so you must be looking for someone very special to adorn this lovely home,” Lady Titchfield coyly declared.

“I am in no hurry,” he said, guiding his guests along to the next rooms and hoping they would leave when the proper time came.

“Lady Juliana said she is going to go south to live with her brother and his wife,” Lady Rosamund said while staring at Edmund’s favorite horse painting by Stubbs.

“Really,” he replied. “Did she mention when? I intend to give a small party and invite the neighbors who have been so gracious to me. Do you think they would enjoy seeing the house, now it is finished?”

“Indeed,” the two ladies agreed in unison.

“Naturally, as daughter of the architect, and one who assisted in much of the planning, it would be appropriate for Lady Juliana to attend, would you not agree?”

“Indeed,” they again allowed, this time with less enthusiasm.

“Once I have set a date, I will speed an invitation to you. Promise you will come?”

“We would not miss it for the world,” Lady Titchfield said, then looked startled when Beckworth opened the front door for her and she discovered she was being guided to her carriage by Lord Barry. In moments they were gone.

There was no time to lose. If Juliana thought that she was going to move away before he had a chance to discover if there was any possibility for them, she was sadly mistaken.

“Beckworth, I would send a message to Mr. Teynham at Beechwood Hall. Do I have someone who could ride there at once?”

“Indeed, my lord,” the efficient gentleman replied.

Edmund thought for a few moments, then marched to the library where he picked up the pen he found on the desk.

After dipping it in ink, he scratched a brief epistle to George that ought to bring him on the run.

Once the note had been sent, Edmund hurried up to his dressing room to change his clothing and prepare for the visit from Mr. Teynham.

George must have broken all records for speed; he came before Edmund would have thought possible.

“Welcome, my friend,” Edmund said with more enthusiasm than he’d expressed for days.

“Well, what can possibly be so important that I must rush here with all possible dispatch?”

“Something rather serious, I fear,” Edmund said, thinking that was about half the matter. After issuing a few instructions to Beckworth, Edmund led George along to the library, which still smelled faintly of paint and varnish. Looking up, Edmund caught a glimpse of the carved figure of Terpsichore that had reminded him of Juliana. That it did, down to a certain twinkle in the eyes.

“All right, out with it, Barry.” George Teynham had no more patience than did Edmund, which gave him hope.

“Do you recall my saying I wished to look for a wife while in London?” At Teynham’s quizzical look, Edmund shook his head. “A lot of empty-headed twits is what I found. Not one of them can hold a candle to a particular lady I would wish to inhabit this house.”

“Not to mention your bed, eh?” Teynham said with a sly smile.

“You have no idea? I do not refer to Lady Rosamund. Rather it is Juliana I desire.” Edmund slid his hands into his pockets and paced back and forth before the new and elegant
bookcase he and Juliana had found in a most unprepossessing shop just off Tottenham Court Road. “There is not a room in this entire house that does not have her touch.”

“That is understandable, but scarcely a reason to wed the girl,” her uncle argued.

“That would be true if I didn’t love that dratted woman beyond belief,” Edmund said with a forlorn look to the man he hoped would help him with his little plot.

‘This is interesting,” Teynham said, finding one of the green leather bergere chairs much to his liking and settling back for more discussion of this intriguing topic.

“She’ll not come here unless there were a raft of others about, I’ll wager. So I thought to invite everyone in the neighborhood to see the new house—with Juliana as a special guest, to represent her fat
h
er, as it were, and her own efforts as a decorator.”

“I suspect you have the right of it there,” Teynham said reflectively. “How may I help?”

Edmund gave a whoop of delight, then pulled up a chair for a council of war. “Here is what we shall do.” There followed a carefully detailed plan that ought to cover anything that might possibly come up. “She will come?”

“Of course.”

“There is no way in the world I shall attend his little party to show off his new house. I know what the place looks like already,” Juliana declared vehemently.

“Silly goose, not with all the furnishings in place,” Barbara chided. “You must come. You are guest of honor. It simply isn’t done for the guest of honor to refuse!”

“Barbara is correct, Juliana,” Lady Hamilton said firmly. “You will attend and wear that spider gauze creation from London. I vow, we must go to that mantuamaker next spring, Barbara. She is truly a wizard.”

Juliana crept up to her room, utterly in despair. Not a word had come about any engagement Lord Barry might have entered into in the past days. Yet, she feared to attend, for she just knew her heart would ache with the love she felt for that
miserable worm. Oh, was ever a woman’s lot so wretched? To love and not be loved in return?

The evening of the party came all too soon to suit Juliana. She slipped on her spider gauze, ignoring the remarks from her mother’s maid that she looked like an angel. Rather, she donned her pearls, gloves, then picked up the little ivory fan Lord Carlingford had given her just before he had asked her to marry him ... and been refused. It was just as she had told Lord Barry. Lord Carlingford had asked her after quite a few meetings, much like other Society meldings.

Barbara chattered all the way to Lord Barry’s home, Lady Hamilton studying her eldest daughter with a perplexed frown, as though seeing her for the first time.

“Here we are,” Barbara gaily announced, following her mother from the carriage with an eager step.

Juliana forced her feet to march up the steps which she had watched being built, to the front door she had designed. It opened, and a highly correct butler ushered them in with great civility.

“Susan, Dowager Lady Hamilton, Ladies Juliana and Barbara Hamilton,” he said with what appeared to be great respect.

“Welcome, Lady Hamilton, and Ladies Juliana and Barbara,” Edmund said with a polite bow.

Juliana avidly drank in the sight of him dressed in his London splendor. Buff breeches topped by a cream waistcoat and deep gray coat was devastating. He proceeded to escort them to a place of honor in the drawing room. Once they were seated most comfortably in the graceful chairs with
t
heir saber legs, he went to the front of the room. He commanded silence
effortlessly, just standing.

“I welcome you all to my new home. A few of you have been here before,” he said with a bow to Juliana and Rosamund,
“
but those who have not may wish to inspect the place at your leisure. Musicians will play for any who care to dance. Food is arranged for any who desire food.”

He looked straight at Juliana when he uttered those last words, and she thought her heart would cease working. Desire food?
Food
did not figure the least in her desires.

“Before you all drift away, I want to express my gratitude to Lady Juliana Hamilton for all she has done to create this house for me and furnish it in the highest style, to make it a truly English house, by a truly English lady. My lady?”

He held out his hand, and Juliana rose from her chair as though she was a puppet and someone had pulled her strings. She walked none too steadily to stand beside him, casting him a questioning look. She had not expected to see him, here, especially, again.

“May I extend to you a small token of my appreciation?”

Her eyes widened as he removed a slim box—a jeweler’s box, it was—from his inside coat pocket. He opened it, revealing an incredible diamond necklace.

“ I realize that a gentleman does not usually bestow such a thing on a lady not his wife, but with her uncle’s permission I could find nothing more appropriate than diamonds to express my feelings at all she has created for me—a diamond of a house in the setting of my land.”

There was amused and delighted applause when he handed Juliana the box, then unclasped her pearl necklace, setting it aside, and placing the cool gold chain about her neck. She felt as though on fire.

“How dare you, sirrah?” she whispered. “This is most improper!”

“I have just begun to dare,” he whispered back.

She smiled as though she was not burning with the touch of his hands on her bare skin or with unanswered questions.

Out in the spacious entry three musicians struck up a minuet, and people took it as a cue to begin strolling about the house, exclaiming over the clever objects Juliana had helped Edmund discover in London.

Juliana stood, feeling wretchedly awkward. “What can I say? This is far too much, and you must know it. What am I to do with you?”

“Well,” he said and frowned, then motioned her to follow him. He casually clasped her hand, drawing her through the throng of people until they were in the peace of the library. He firmly closed the door behind them, slipping the lock into place with well-oiled care.

“What is it?” she asked, suddenly worried that something had been found wrong with the house and she had not been told. “You are displeased with something?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he said musingly.

“What is it?” she demanded. “Tell me!”

“Well, I would like to marry, but I feel the nursery wing of the bedchamber floor is totally inadequate. I cannot contemplate asking a woman to wed me, then find this flaw in an otherwise perfect house. I would very much like to have you remedy the matter.”

“What is wrong with the nursery suite?” she asked indignantly, instantly leaping to the defense of her own design for that area—one arrived at after consulting with other mothers, nursery maids, and her own nanny, now retired but with sensible ideas.

“You see, Juliana, I cannot think of any children I would wish to place there ... except ours.” Edmund met her gaze, recognized the startled confusion in her eyes, and decided it was time for the next step in his plan.

He swiftly crossed to her side and pulled her into his arms, noting she did not resist him. It gave him courage and hope. Not waiting for her to deny him what he sought, he kissed her with every ounce of expertise he had accumulated in his years on this earth, which was not inconsiderable. When he withdrew, he was satisfied to view her bemused expression, well loved and loving in return.

“Juliana, my love, I have missed you as I would miss my very breath. I cannot live in this house without you at my side. You would haunt my every step, my every waking moment. Please—promise you will not consider Lord Carlingford or any other man to be your husband. Only me. No one else in this world can love you half as much as I do.”

Juliana, enchanted by this speech as much as she had been swept away by the passion of his kiss, could at first only nod her acceptance of so handsome a declaration.

The doorknob rattled, and Lady Rosamund could be heard wondering why the door was locked when everyone wished to see the wonderful library with the carvings of the muses.

Edmund po
inted to Terpsichore and said, “T
here you are, my love,
smiling
down
at me
every t
ime
I walk in here. Now I will be able to have you everywhere
.
”

Juliana thought of that perfectly splendid bed upstairs and whispered her agreement to his offer. And she hoped that no one would find the spare key to the library door for some time. She had some important things to finish in this house after all.

EMILY HENDRICKSON lives ill Reno, Nevada, with her retired airline-pilot husband. Of all the many places she has traveled around the world, England is her favorite and thus the natural choice as the setting for her novels. Along with writing her Regency romances, she has written a Regency reference book.

“A wickedly amusing tale of the timeless struggles between man and woman—and builders and home owners!”
—
MARY JO PUTNEY