Lord Barry's Dream House (3 page)

Juliana thought of all the subtle changes she had made in those plans, and her heart sank to her toes. Gallantly facing the challenge, she nodded and said, “I shall be at your side, if you please.”

She couldn’t figure out what his answering look meant, but she felt a tiny bit of hope growing within. Perhaps ...

Chapter
Two

T
he following morning Edmund walked into the breakfast room to find George Teynham seated with his cup of coffee in hand. Seated next to him, Edmund was surprised to see Henry Scott enjoying a hearty breakfast. His surprise must have been revealed on his face, for Mr. Teynham offered an explanation of sorts.

“Good morning, Lord Barry. I trust you slept well. Henry has joined me in breaking my fast. We frequently discuss the coming day over our coffee.”

The two men exchanged looks, and Edmund wondered what had been said before he entered the room. He helped himself to various selections displayed on the sideboard, then also seated himself at the oval cherry table. From their gilded frames, assorted portraits of past ancestors looked down on him with varying degrees of approval.

“Indeed,” Edmund agreed, “I sleep better when in England. It is pleasant to have wool blankets atop me at night. I missed that while in a warm climate. It is one of the many things I look forward to enjoying once established in my own English home.”

“You intend to remain here, then?” George said, holding his cup in both hands while studying their guest and patron. He exchanged another glance with Henry Scott.

“I do. I also intend—in due time—to find myself a pleasant English bride and live the good country life of a solid English citizen.” Edmund gave the two men a wry look, then sipped the hot coffee. He grimaced at the knowledge that he sounded more than a little stuffy. But he had longed for a comfortable, pleasant home in the English countryside for so long it had become an ache within him. And he knew he needed a wife
—
not only to run the house but to provide him with an heir. Wives were necessary items.

“An English home, an English bride, and an English life. Methinks you have had a surfeit of life in foreign parts,” George said with a half smile. “You must wish that to be kept mum. I warn you that every matchmaking mother within miles will seek you out otherwise.”

“I’d prefer a peaceful existence—without that sort of thing, thank you.” Edmund tucked into his meal with a hearty appetite. The food was excellent—a typical English breakfast, the sort he had dreamed about while in Jamaica.

“We shall take care it is not bruited about, then.” If George thought it unlikely that Edmund would be spared the husband-hunting female, he didn’t give voice to the thought. Edmund felt he was more than capable of finding a wife on his own.

“Good morning, Uncle George, Henry,” Juliana sang out as she entered the breakfast room with a light step. She stopped suddenly when she discovered the third occupant. “Oh.”

“Good morning, Lady Juliana,” Edmund said smoothly. The chit was most presentable this morning—as she had been last night, to be perfectly honest. The blue gown she’d worn at dinner had brought out a sky blue in her candid gaze. This morning she wore a green sprigged thing that might cover that delightful bosom, but nicely hinted at her curves and gave her eyes the color of a tropical sea.

“G-good morning, my lord,” she stammered. She accepted a cup of tea from the butler, then sank down on the closest chair to contemplate Edmund. She peeped over the rim of the cup with an amusingly concerned look. It pleased him that she was worried about the trip to his building site. He had studied the plans most carefully last evening, and he was primed for the day.

Juliana contemplated the unwelcome guest with a speculative gaze. Would he make a fuss and bother about those trifling changes she had made in the plans? Worse yet, would he demand she restore the original—and impractical—details to the house? What would be his position on water-closets?

Or the Rumford range? She decided she would wait a while to spring the Etruscan room on him. Not to mention the Chinese dairy. Surely he would appreciate hot and cold running water, and the steam engine to pump water to the house? Would he also like central heating? Much as she loved her parent’s house, she could not deny it was cold and drafty in winter. If he desired comfort, central heating looked to be the thing.

Juliana had found an excellent account of the scheme Sir John Soane had used to provide central heating for a mansion and its offices in Tyringham. If they could do this off in Buckinghamshire, it could certainly be accomplished here. She had long ago firmed her intention of trying it out in the new house.

But
...
he
had come. Oh, how she wished him a thousand miles away. What a pity those good looks were wasted on a patron. Her intuition told her this man was nothing but trouble, and her intuition had never been wrong.

Somehow food had no appeal this morning. She managed a few nibbles of toast and one bite of buttered eggs. Dalston frowned down on her, and she returned his look with a shrug. He glanced beyond her to the stranger and gave her a barely perceptible nod of understanding.

The conversation was of the weather and the probability of rain. With the lead on the roof, the house was safe from water now, but not all the windows were installed, and she blessed every sunny day until then.

There came a lull in the conversation, and Juliana sat tensely, wondering what might come next.

“Shall we depart for the house?” Lord Barry said, dropping his napkin on the table and pushing his chair back an inch or two. He thus established his intent to be in control of the situation. Juliana supposed he had that right since he was footing the bills, but it rankled her that he did not permit her to lead the way in this instance. Good manners ought to have prevailed here.

“By all means, we shall go at once if you like,” Juliana replied evenly, popping up from the table with nicely feigned enthusiasm.

Lord Barry immediately came to her side, walking close to her so she had no chance to speak with Henry about anything. His lordship could not possibly know that she needed to compare stories with Henry so they would not contradict one another. Had she thought at all, she would have planned for this. Who had expected Lord Barry to turn up out of the blue, demanding to see his home?

The procession out to the carriages brought to mind her dear papa’s funeral; thus she had little enthusiasm or desire for this particular jaunt.

“Here, my lord,” she said hastily, “you must drive with Uncle George. I will ride my mare over.” And have that chance to talk with Henry, she added to herself.

Edmund could do little else but nod acceptance at this point. The mare stood at the ready and, the green sprigged muslin aside, Lady Juliana was eager to mount and be off. A faint smile lingered on Henry Scott’s face. Edmund wondered at that. What were those two hatching? Or did the chit merely seek a chance to have a romantic word or two with her smitten swain? Edmund decided he did not care for Henry Scott
—
on general principles, of course.

As the coach set off along the avenue, Juliana followed behind, Henry close by her.

“Henry, I must speak to you. Did Uncle George tell you what happened after dinner last evening? We met in the library where Lord Barry informed us that he had studied the original house plans—brought them with him, as a matter of fact—and intends to go through the house with an acute eye, no doubt hunting for changes. What am I to do?” she cried in true distress.

“He’s a sharp one, make no mistake,” Henry said with a slow nod. “I suspect you will wish that you either had not made changes or at the very least consulted with him over them.”

“That would have taken precious time, and things are slow enough as it is,” Juliana said with a rueful shake of her head. “Were it later on, it would be far too late to make changes. Now it can be done, and I believe he has the right to make me
pay for any work that must be done to make corrections—if they are my fault.”

“I noticed that he watched you rather carefully just now
—
before he entered the coach. I don’t know what to do about the changes you have made,” Henry said with a glance at the vehicle that
p
receded them down the lane.

“Well, you must try to match your story to mine,” she said with a frown. How complicated this all was. Her main desire was to build a house, and she wanted nothing to interfere with that. At the moment it was her entire life. Or it had been. Lord Barry had changed everything, the dratted man.

For the remainder of the ride, the two compared notes and decided what they would say on every matter either could think of should one or the other be asked.

“I fear we have forgotten something,” Juliana said with a worried glance at Henry.

“You will simply have to do the best you can. You are rather clever. Just twist him around your finger as you do every other male who crosses your path,” Henry said with a resigned air.

“Do not be absurd,” Juliana said absently, watching the coach draw to a halt before the construction site. “Barbara is the one who captures attention, not me.”

Henry shook his head as though to say that Juliana ought to pay more attention to those around her. She would not, of course. She had her head in the clouds, or was far too deep in contemplation of a problem with the construction to notice that a man had given her his regard.

“Here we are, my lord,” Juliana sang out in what she hoped was a gay voice.

He left the coach and stood, feet planted firmly on his own bit of English soil, to gaze his fill at the front of the house. It was an elegant structure. Solid Portland stone gave the house a feeling of permanency, while the divided stairs winged upward to meet before the central door with an airy grace. This sense was enhanced by the elegant wrought iron balusters just partly installed.

Four pillars graced the portico before the front entry, their Ionic capitals nicely picked out in the morning sun. Workmen
swarmed about the place like so many ants, each intent on his own particular mission, paying only slight heed to the visitors. Lady Juliana was far too familiar to cause the least comment; and strangers came to see the work in progress too often to spark curiosity from the carpenters who chanced to be near the front door.

The group walked at a leisurely pace toward the house, Juliana darting swift glances at Lord Barry, trying to catch every nuance of change in his expression. The man gave away nothing of his inward feelings; his face was a mask of polite interest.

“Fine house,” Uncle George commented at long last when the suspense became too much for them all.

“Indeed,” Lord Barry replied in an undertone.

He walked on ahead of the others, striding up the stairs, his heels clicking on the stone floor as he crossed the portico. Inside the great entry hall he came to a halt. It was magnificent in reality. He had not been able to acquire a grasp of the immensity of the room from a mere floor plan. Even the water
-
color rendering of the room had not the impact of actually seeing the place. The ceiling soared upward to high above where the plasterers, standing on the scaffolding, were at work. Lady Juliana had cautioned him regarding that scaffolding yesterday. The plasterwork looked to be coming along nicely.

“They have been in residence for a year now,” Lady Juliana murmured at his side. “I truly wonder how they manage to work at that height, given the amount of wine charged to their account. Oh, dear,” she exclaimed, her cheeks pinkening, “I ought not have said that.”

“Quite understandable. I understand they are weaned to red wine in infancy. How much longer will they be up there?” He craned his neck to inspect the details he could see and wished he might climb the scaffolding to see it all better.

“Well,” she replied in a considering way, then turned to her works supervisor. “Henry, should they finish soon?”

“I believe so. They have the central figure to complete, but the decoration around the ceiling perimeter is done, and very well, I must say.”

“
You see, my lord? Soon,” she said with a sigh of what sounded like relief.

Edmund made no comment, but strode on ahead to the dining room. In here carpenters were at work on fitting in the two bookcases he had required be added. He wanted books throughout the house, not just in a library and rarely looked at. In his opinion a good book ought to always be available if one wished to read.

“And here,” Juliana said with a gesture to an alcove in which niches had been created, “is the area for the china cabinets to be installed when finished. Father and I thought it would be nice to have your china on display when not in use. I trust you have a suitable pattern in mind? Wedgwood does a very nice design incorporating initials, with a discreet gold border.”

H
e merely looked at her, and it gave Juliana the feeling that she had been silly and rather female in her observation, not to mention intruding where she was not wanted. She resolved to remain silent regarding any future helpful suggestions she might wish to offer. “Actually, I ordered a set of Sevres while in London. It will have English flowers centered on each plate and a border of celadon and gold.” Edmund did not know why he so carefully explained his selection to Lady Juliana. Perhaps it might assist her in other matters regarding the dining room, but he found he was interested in her reaction to his taste.

“English again,” Uncle George muttered while looking at the niches created for those china cabinets.
“Thou are not altogether a fool
.”

“We could paint the walls the same celadon, if you wish, and use accents of gilt on the ceiling,” Juliana said politely, ignoring her uncle’s foray into Shakespeare. “And of course you will want another set of dishes for daily use.” She studied
h
er patron. Sevres was far too expensive for common usage, even if the gentleman was as rich as reputed. “Queens Ware is lovely, and much used by the royal family.”

“English, too,” Uncle George chimed in from his place across the room where he now stared out of the windows.

“I shall attend to that in due course.” Relenting a trifle, he added, “Perhaps a representation of my family crest would be possible.”

Juliana again felt put in her place, although he had been polite in his speech. Perhaps he failed to realize that an architect did not merely design a building and halt with that. Her father, and Juliana as well, had felt it important to be concerned about all aspects of the dwelling. She had made her own sketches for furniture, china, just about everything, including color and fabrics. Whether or not she might offer them to her patron would remain to be seen.

“Juliana, what is that man doing?” Uncle George inquired.

She glanced at Lord Barry to find him absorbed in the detailing of the trim around the doors. Swiftly crossing to her uncle’s side, she raised her brows in silent query.

George pointed out of the window to where a man prepared to cut into a long piece of lumber. Juliana gasped and darted from the room without another word to anyone.

“Shall we proceed, milord?” George said patiently. “It seems my niece is momentarily required elsewhere.”

Edmund frowned, then joined the other men in exploring the remainder of the ground floor.

Juliana rushed out the central door and flew down the stairs and across the grounds, reaching the carpenter who had placed his saw upon the length of wood.

“Precisely what do you think you are doing, my good man?” she demanded, hands on hips.