Lord Barry's Dream House (4 page)

He
hiccupped
and said, “Was told to cut this in one-foot pieces. Walls too short in the stables.”

Juliana boldly took the saw from his unresisting hands and subtly guided him away from the spot. The man was slightly foxed—not the first time this had occurred to one of the carpenters.

“I do believe there are ample short pieces of lumber here for you to use without resorting to cutting up a long—and rather expensive—piece.” She led him to a pile of lumber containing perfectly good—if short—pieces remaining from lengths that had been used in the main house and were quite usable for his purpose.

“Oh.” The man was not quite so befuddled that he couldn’t realize that Juliana meant him to work here and leave the other timber alone.

“Who told you to work with that good piece?” she asked, trying not to sound as annoyed as she felt. There had been entirely too many incidents of this sort. They continued to drive up the cost of the building, something she sought to avoid if at all possible.

“Fellow over there.” The carpenter pointed vaguely in the direction of the main building, and Juliana sighed. It was clear to her that the culprit would be impossible to identify if all the men banded together to maintain silence. Had she not needed the lot of them, she would have fired the crew and hired others. That was impossible, for they were skilled—in spite of their fondness for ale—and had been excellent workers in the beginning when her father was still living. But Juliana felt that unless she or Henry were in constant attendance, the construction would suffer greatly.

“Try to use common sense,” she murmured, hoping the man would not take silent umbrage at her words and do worse. “I should like to know why the stable walls were built too short in the first place.” She felt guilty, for she should have inspected them the day before, and she had merely glanced from a distance, depending upon Henry to catch any wrong.

“Dunno,” the man replied carefully. “Henry Scott looked at
’
em.
”

J
uliana murmured something, then marched away in search of Henry. She could not believe that he would undermine her work on this house. He had always given her to understand that it was as important to him as to her.

Then she wondered if this was another attempt upon the part of Sir Phineas to subvert the work on the mansion. She would not put it past him to supply strong ale to the carpenters, slipping it to them when she was not present. The men would likely seek to place the blame on Henry, hoping to divert attention from their own wrongdoing.

When she entered the house again, she was met by Lord Barry, who looked ready to explode.

“Is there something the matter, my lord?” she said in a brisk, businesslike manner.

“I would ask about the little rooms scattered here and there in the house. Henry Scott informed me that a number of water-closets are planned, that you have actually ordered the fixtures!” Lord Barry sounded as though he had not believed his ears, and he waited for her to deny this incredible assertion.

“I firmly believe the design that Joseph Bramah developed is the best at present. My father experimented and felt he had improved slightly upon the original design, and that change was included with our order. But yes, the plumbing pipes have been installed, and we merely await the fixtures. Once the painting is finished and perhaps some decoration added, they will be set in place. It is so disagreeable to seek a privy in the midst of a rainstorm or in the cold of winter. I felt certain that you would wish a modern convenience for your home.” Since he had said he wished comfort, that was what she intended to give him.

“But they are not on the plans,” he countered. “Someone ought to have consulted with me.”

Of course he was right, she admitted to herself. “Time constraints,” she replied, taking refuge in the distance that had made correspondence a long, time-consuming matter. She took a militant stance knowing that this was the first of many obstacles she had to face. If she failed at this one, she might as well hand over the reins of the building to Sir Phineas and watch the place become a Gothic pile.

Lord Barry blinked, taking a step back, no doubt because of her aggressive attack. Juliana congratulated herself on her approach. If she might win this particular battle, the remainder should follow.

“And drainage?” he queried in a faintly ominous tone.

“They drain to a point some distance from the house. It is a better system than prevails at Osterly House, where, as you must know, Lady Jersey wishes the finest of things installed.” Juliana clasped her hands behind her, hoping he would not notice how nervous she was. This was not a time for vapors or weakness of any kind. It was difficult enough to discuss a subject like water-closets with a strange man without going into the matter of proper drainage—a matter that a young lady usually knew nothing about.

Steps were heard on the portico, and moments later Sir Phineas entered the vast hall, a smirk on his lean, hawkish face. He doffed his hat to Lord Barry, revealing that fringe of gray below his balding pate.

Juliana performed the introductions with grace, her anger at the nasty Sir Phineas for daring to show his face in this house causing her to forget her nervousness.

“Well, my lord, is it not as I told you? This chit of a girl has the nerve to assume the direction of the beautiful home being built for you, when you thought you had the services of a capable architect—Lord Hamilton. Surely you will wish to make some changes.” He bestowed a smug look at Juliana, and she longed to kick him in the shins, or perhaps nudge him off a ledge. She
knew
he was responsible for her problems, yet she could not prove a thing against the man.

Edmund glanced at Lady Juliana and noted the tightening of her lips, her determined stance. It seemed clear to him that she had not the least liking for this intruder. And what did this old neighbor stand to gain by his action? This aspect intrigued Edmund not a little.

“And what would they be, Sir Phineas?” Edmund inquired in a dangerously quiet voice that echoed through the room.

Above them the plasterers were silent, pausing in their work. The carpenters had moved to a distant part of the building, and not a hammer could be heard. Edmund, Henry Scott, George Teynham, and Lady Juliana all stared at the newcomer until he shifted uneasily and gave a false-sounding laugh.

“Why, find yourself a truly capable architect to oversee the remainder of the work, of course—one who will add some life to the building, give you the very latest in style and design,” Sir Phineas said persuasively. “I believe that I am capable of giving you a first-rate home.”

“I have promised Lady Juliana that I will give her some time before I reach any decision regarding the future of the house. I have not yet inspected the building from top to bottom. Once that is accomplished, I will have a better idea what I intend to do.”

At that moment several workers entered the room carrying what appeared to be a fireplace surround, extravagantly sculptured and exquisitely finished. The white marble gleamed in a shaft of sunlight before it was placed against an opening on the far side of the room.

Edmund strode across the room, making short work of the distance. Before him was the creation of one of the premier sculptors of the day. To either side of the rounded center opening an angel held what appeared to be a spear, with the handle extended upward. In the center of the piece was carved a wreath. It looked quite magnificent.

“The design comes from Thomas Hope,” Lady Juliana said. She had hurried after Edmund and now stood poised at his elbow, ready to answer questions. “He has such a one at Deepdene. It is a beautiful design, perfect for this hall. A matching surround will be placed on the opposite wall.” She gestured to the gaping hole on the other side of the room. “The over-mirrors will have the same rounded shape as the French-inspired mantel.”

“Are all the mantels like this?” Edmund asked, while taking note that Sir Phineas was chatting rather familiarly with one of the carpenters who had just entered.

“No, most are elegantly simple, keeping with the style of each particular room,” Juliana replied, which was certainly true enough. The Etruscan room would have a mantel with beautifully carved palm leaves. And the bedrooms had the very latest design that used canted sides in the fireplace opening to increase burning efficiency. She hoped he would appreciate her efforts on his behalf, but doubted it. Patrons were notoriously ungrateful.

“It will do,” Lord Barry said.

What Juliana might have replied to such understated approval was never to be known, for her sister Barbara fluttered into the house. She was delicately dressed in pale pink muslin and brought the scent of roses with her. A more soberly garbed Kitty followed her.

Barbara floated across the room to join Lord Barry and the others. Kitty hung back, watching all from a careful distance.

“La, sir, I trust you do not intend to spend this glorious day cooped up in the house,” Barbara cried in that beautifully cultured manner she’d developed with her mother’s help. She toyed with the ribands of her exquisite bonnet and bestowed a devastatingly attractive smile on his handsome and dangerous lordship.

“I must,” he said, smiling at Barbara in a way he had never looked at Juliana or anyone else since he’d arrived. That smile was quite a revelation to Juliana. She sighed slightly and shared a look of understanding with Kitty.

“Well, Mama sent me along to tell you that we are going to have a bit of entertainment to please you. Since you are staying with us, it is only proper, is it not?” There was no clue in her trill of laughter that she had carefully practiced it to achieve that lovely lilt.

“I shall be certain to return to your home in ample time, in that case. And I shan’t permit myself to be detained by anyone,” he added with a look at Sir Phineas.

The discussion became general after that, with Barbara charming every male in sight, especially the Italian plasterers, who clambered down for a better look at her.

Sir Phineas sidled up to Lord Barry and spoke briefly, then took himself off, after first demanding in a bantering way that he be invited to the party as well.

Juliana stared after his departing figure and frowned.

“You do not care for the gentleman?” Lord Barry queried smoothly at her side.

“To borrow one of Uncle George’s favorite quotes,
His brain is as d
r
y as the remainder biscuit after a voyage
. He fancies himself an architect, and I suppose he is one, should you like the Gothic style.”

“I imagine it has merit,” Lord Barry said, watching Barbara flutter about the room. She exclaimed over the new fireplace mantel, and he strode to her side to discuss it, smiling at her with a look of fond amusement that set Juliana’s teeth on edge.

“There may be a way out of our troubles, Henry,” Juliana said to him when he joined her off to one side. “If only his lordship likes what he sees in the rest of the house. Barbara can enchant him out of any doldrums into which he might fall. Perhaps I should have her come along? She will distract him from all those changes I made.”

She exchanged a look with Henry, then turned to study her patron. She was in trouble, all right, and she feared it was not going to be a simple matter to solve.

Chapter
Three

A
ctually, the tour through the upper regions of the house went far better than Juliana had hoped, much less expected. Each time Lord Barry paused to examine a bit of some architectural detail, Barbara would offer an enchanting smile and a small comment, then draw him on to the next room or point of interest. Her laughter bubbled out—pleasing and delightful. She clearly amused his lordship, who gazed upon her with a most tolerant eye.

Juliana had never been jealous of her younger sister in the past, counting it wonderful that Barbara would easily find an excellent match when she went to London for her Season. Now Juliana gave her sister a thoughtful frown. Was it
quite
necessary for her to smile at his lordship in
quite
that way? Or must she be
quite
so engaging?

He indulged the sparkling minx with a lenient smile, as was the wont of every gentleman who encountered the second of Lady Hamilton’s three daughters. Yes, Barbara would undoubtedly be a diamond of the first water when she went to London for her come-out next Season, with a highly suitable marriage to an eligible peer following.

However, Juliana felt that Lord Barry would not be the right one for her sister. There was something about the man that set pulses to racing, and whimsical Barbara would never be a match for him. For while she didn’t want for sense, she was a trifle featherheaded. Most men might not give a fig about that, given a pretty bride. Juliana felt Lord Barry would find her bird-witted ways a trifle wearing.

Juliana made a rueful moue, thinking of how she had given up her Season to finish this house, afraid Sir Phineas might do great harm while she was gone. And to think the patron would never know, much less appreciate her efforts on his behalf. Well, her father had often commented on the subject of patrons, so she had been prepared. Only, the reality was more hurtful than she had expected.

Lord Barry would most likely return later full of unanswered questions. But for the time being, she and Henry had a reprieve. She could query her assistant while Lord Barry’s attention was fixed on the size and arrangement of his dressing room—a neat room off his bedchamber fitted with shelves and compartments Juliana had considered very clever and his own water-closet.

“Henry, what is this about the stables?” Juliana asked in an undertone. “The walls are too short? I found a slightly foxed carpenter about to saw a long and expensive piece of lumber so the walls could be raised to a proper height. What happened? And why didn’t the chap use wood from the pile of odds and ends left over during construction?”

“The carpenters claim it was all a mistake, that the plans were unclear and they had misread your notations. Since they had no problem reading the house plans, I give leave to doubt their lame excuses. I would fire them if I could. However, I need their labor and cannot easily replace them at the moment.” Henry gave her a look that plainly reflected his anger at the man he felt responsible.

“I have never known such a feeling of frustration,” Juliana said quietly. “I thought that all my drawings were sufficiently detailed so as to prevent precisely that sort of confusion.”

“They are, indeed.” Henry looked at her, understanding and sympathy in his eyes. “I would give anything to be able to force Sir Phineas to admit what he is doing, accuse him of his dastardly deeds.”

“And the toad dares to request an invitation to our little party for Lord Barry,” Juliana said with disgust. “I depend on you to keep a watch on him. Needless to say, I cannot trust him an inch.”

“Look on it this way—you
will
be able to keep an eye on Sir Phineas while he is there,” Henry offered with a grin.

“Aye, but he never does a thing on his own,” she pointed out with simple logic. “He hires another to do his dirty work.”

Lord Barry turned to face them, a quizzical expression on his handsome face. Juliana murmured an excuse to Henry and hurried to where Lord Barry now inspected the dressing room that led off the opposite side of the master bedchamber.

“May I answer a question for you, my lord?” she inquired in dulcet tones.

“I do not recall the dressing room for my future wife being quite this large. On the set of plans that
I
have, it is no larger than mine.” He studied Juliana with a gaze that had her clasping her hands before her lest she betray her nervousness.

“I believe there was a decision to add a fixed bath in that room. I trust you have not changed your mind?” Juliana frowned at the mere thought of the time and expense involved with such a change.

Lord Barry gave her a bland look that offered not the least clue as to what might be in his mind. She continued without waiting to find out what it might be.

“However, it does seem to me that your lady wife will appreciate a generous dressing room,” Juliana said persuasively. “And note that each of you will have your own sitting room beyond.” She felt her cheeks warm as she doggedly continued. “And your wife’s sitting room leads through to the nursery. This creates a lovely family suite.”

“I trust my wife will appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

She caught sight of a gleam in his eyes before he turned to inspect the intricately carved molding that had been placed above the door.

Juliana wondered if he had selected his bride yet. The way he was looking at her sister made it unlikely, but one never knew. Think of all the married men who flirted with ladies not their wives!

This thought pushed her from the master suite out into the hall. Henry followed her. Foot tapping impatiently, she waited for the others to join them. Oh, for this ordeal to be over! She had worked so hard to incorporate the very latest in design into this house. Now it seemed that her patron was steeped in tradition, wanting the old styles.

“The rest of the bedrooms are quite ordinary; he can see them another time.” She glanced at the door that led to the attic stairs. “Nor shall I show him the attics.”

The attics were in such disarray that little could be discerned from a casual walk-through. Juliana doubted he would understand the meaning of the layout of the partitions anyway. Few people seemed to grasp the elements of transferring the lines of a floor plan into reality. The sizes of rooms were especially baffling to most
.
What seemed adequate on paper usually turned out to be far too small once built. Rarely did it work the other way.

The rustle of skirts could be heard before Barbara and Lord Barry came around the
corner
.

“La, sir, I believe you have inspected enough for the day,” Barbara teased while avoiding a pile of sawdust, revealing a fetching dimple when she beamed a smile at-his lordship. “Why do we not return for a dish of tea and a stroll in my mother’s rose garden? It is truly pretty this time of year.”

“By all means, lovely lady,” Lord Barry replied as they joined Juliana in the first-floor hallway. Then he gallantly escorted Lady Barbara down the incomplete and wood-strewn staircase with a look on his face that led Juliana to understand her reprieve was but temporary.

At the foot of this potentially elegant fixture he paused, staring at the right and left wings as they soared to the first floor. He turned to an uneasy Juliana, forbidding look on his face.

“I shall speak to you about this later—in private,” he added with a glance at Henry.

“Henry has been a faithful assistant, first to my father and now to me,” Juliana said with a snap. “There is nothing in this house about which he is not knowledgeable.”

“But
you
have the ultimate responsibility for translating the plan into reality. It is
you
with whom I wish to speak.” His words were quiet, but uttered in a manner that brooked no denial. He was the patron. He paid the bills and was to be heeded if at all possible.

“Yes, Lord Barry.” She stood at the foot of the stairs, hands folded, watching as he joined her sister by the entry door. When he realized she would not be going with them, he turned and gave her that quizzical look again. “What? Do you not come with us?”

“I have work to do here, my lord. I shall see you later,” Juliana replied. Much later if she could manage it. He was one to avoid if possible.

He said nothing, just studied her a few moments, then turned and left the house, listening to Barbara’s chatter with every evidence of pleasure.

Outside of the house where the beginnings of the avenue had been begun, Edmund paused before joining Lady Barbara in the carriage. He gazed at his future home for some moments, studying the classical lines of the house, the elegant simplicity of it. While it seemed most acceptable, he had strong reservations about some of the innovations he suspected Lady Juliana had introduced after her father’s death. That young woman had a goodly number of questions to answer later, and he would not permit the charming Lady Barbara to deflect them.

Reluctantly, he turned his back on the construction and entered the carriage. Listening to his companion’s talk with half an ear, he considered his lady architect. Sir Phineas was right. Had Edmund known of the earl’s death, Edmund would have demanded another qualified architect replace him. Yet, it seemed that the daughter sought—with no little determination—to complete the house. Perhaps she intended it as a monument to her father’s genius. Edmund could understand such sentiment. He would most likely feel the same, given the circumstances.

What he did not know was how he would deal with the attractive young woman on a businesslike basis. Women didn’t belong in business. They should marry and produce babies with proper regularity. It was deuced awkward and not a little distracting to try to be forceful, demand to know what he wished, with a delectable armful as his opponent.

What qualifications did she possess to make changes? Had she any notion what they would look like in reality? He very much doubted it. In his experience architec
t
s spent a great deal of time producing piles of contract drawings for each edifice they designed. His smile became rather feline as he considered requesting that the enticing Lady Juliana produce her little stack of such details—the staircase, for example. It
seemed to him that those cantilevered stair treads were far too
t
hin to last any length of time. He did not want a main part of his house tumbling to ruin in short order.

“We have arrived, Lord Barry,” Lady Barbara said, shifting in the carriage to remind him that he ought to be attending her.

“Indeed. If you do not mind, I shall not come in with you just now. I have to discuss a small matter with my groom. I shall see you shortly in the drawing room. Thirty minutes, perhaps?” He assisted her from the vehicle, then bowed politely.

Those limpid pools of crystalline blue smiled at him, concealing any curiosity she might have had.

He watched as she gracefully walked to the house, blond curls peeping from under a saucy bonnet and her shawl draped elegantly over her shoulders. Some man might appreciate her, but not him. Nor was Lady Juliana his sort. That young woman might drive him mad with frustration, but Juliana would never lie in his bed as his wife. Then—quite unbidden—came an image of the self-possessed Lady Juliana in the stately bed he intended to purchase. She was tucked beneath linen sheets and wore a radiant expression on her face as she turned to him.

“No,” he muttered to himself, causing the gardener planting
some annuals to replace a few late-blooming bulbs to glance up in alarm. Edmund knew he must not think of Juliana as a woman—that way led to disaster. She must be no more than an architect in his eyes.

Indeed, he decided as he strolled around to the stables to check on a few of his things, he would discuss all matters relating to the construction of the house with his lady architect in a rational way. And, he concluded, he would
not
allow that willowy body nor the soft dark cloud of hair to distract him. Never! Now, if he could manage not to be swayed by a pair of most fetching blue eyes that brought to mind a tropical sea, he would be quite fine. They were, he admitted, disconcertingly honest eyes.

With that decision reached, although why it had to require so much debate he most likely could not have said, Edmund left the stables and returned to the drawing room without having consulted with his groom on a thing.

“My lord, we are so pleased to have you join us,” Lady Hamilton said. “Do accept a cup of tea, perhaps a ratafia biscuit?” She sat poised at the tea table, seemingly bent on pleasing his every whim. Her manner was most gentle, yet Edmund found himself obeying her in an instant, for there was that thread of steel lurking within her tone. To his surprise, he found the tea most welcome. He wondered if Lady Juliana managed a cup of tea while working at his house. He also wondered as to what Lady Juliana called work.

The damask-covered armchair proved to be surprisingly comfortable. Sipping his excellent brew and listening to the amiable chatter of the two women—for Lady Katherine said nothing at all—his thoughts returned to Lady Juliana. She needed someone to look after her he decided when he took note of the elegant garb worn by the other women of the family. Why, Lady Juliana was years out of fashion, even he could tell that. He had observed the clothes in London on his way through the city, and his lady architect was by way of becoming a dowd! Pity, that.

“We have sent invitations to all our friends and neighbors to join us in a bit of festivity in your honor, my lord,” Lady Hamilton said, unknowingly intruding on Edmund’s reflections on the state of Juliana’s dress.

“How kind,” Edmund remembered to reply just in time. “I hope I may do you justice in my attire. I ordered several coats and other items while in London and pray they will be delivered in time. It is difficult to be
au courant
with fashion while off in the islands,” he concluded with a smile at them all.

The youngest of the girls, Lady Katherine, had been staring at him most intently. At his last words she spoke. “What is it like on the island? Is it truly so hot and humid? And are the flowers as exotic as reputed?”

“Our Katherine, or Kitty as we call her, likes flowers, my lord,” her mother explained with a confused look on her face, as though she did not quite know what to make of her youngest child when she chanced to recall her presence.

“I have read a great deal about island flowers, but I confess they seem amazing.” Kitty watched him with that same flattering, steadfast look.

Edmund smiled at her eagerness and spent some time entertaining her with descriptions of all the flowers that had grown around the plantation. He remembered more than he would have believed possible, and the minutes slipped by quite unheeded with such an enthralled audience.

At last Lady Hamilton rose from her chair, gesturing to Lady Katherine that the conversation must conclude. To Edmund she said, “We offer a simple collation in the breakfast room about this time of day. Should you wish, you may join us there.”