Never Less Than a Lady (8 page)

By the time Randall finished writing the letter that would help release Julia from their marriage, he judged that she’d had sufficient time to freshen up. He crossed the hall and tapped on the door, identifying himself. His leg ached some from the long, hard day of travel, but he needed the cane much less today.

He entered when Julia called permission. Even in her worn, ill-fitting gown, his bride looked thoroughly delectable. The shining chestnut hair that fell past her shoulders was a good deal better than passable, and her delicate features and flawless complexion made him want to touch.

In fact, he wanted rather intensely to cross the room and take her in his arms, but her withdrawn expression made it clear that she was not in the mood. The fact that she had invited him into her bedroom without hesitation was progress enough for this day. “I’m just across the hall. Near, yet too far.”

She gave a swift smile. “We really can’t sleep together here since we’re not precisely married. I hope the night isn’t too cold.”

“Two or three more days and we’ll be legal in the eyes of the world.” Even though they’d only shared a bed for two nights, tonight he would miss having her there. He handed her the letter he had just written. “As you requested.”

She unfolded the paper and scanned the brief lines. “Very good. Thank you.” Expression unreadable, she set the letter aside and began pinning back her hair. He hoped that after they were married, she might consider a less austere style.

“I didn’t know Will Masterson had a brother,” she remarked.

“Mac is the daughter of an actress, and the reason why Will ended up at Westerfield,” Randall explained.

“I’ve wondered about that,” she said, her hands moving swiftly as she tamed her hair into severity. “It’s easy to see why the rest of your lot were sent to a school for difficult boys, but it’s hard to imagine Will as a serious troublemaker.”

“Mac’s mother died when he was quite young, so he was sent to his father’s house where Lord Masterson could decide what to do with him,” Randall explained. “Will, who is a couple of years older, became very attached to his little brother. I think their father would have preferred to send Mac to a foster home where he could be forgotten, but Will wouldn’t allow that. He refused to go away to school unless Mac could come, too. As you say, Will isn’t a troublemaker by nature.”

“Unlike you,” Julia said with that quick smile again.

“Unlike me,” Randall agreed, amused. “But he can be quite remarkably stubborn. Lord Masterson wasn’t keen on sending his bastard to a fashionable school like Eton or Harrow, so the Westerfield Academy was a good alternative.”

“Mr. Mackenzie was fortunate to have Will for a champion.” Julia ruthlessly pinned down the last dark waves. “But he seemed rather disrespectful about his brother. Flippant.”

“That’s just Mac. He would give his life for Will without a second thought. Mocking all the way.” Randall offered his arm. “Shall we go down?”

She tucked her hand around his arm. He loved these small signs that they were now a couple.

“Why did Kirkland and Mackenzie look so surprised at the idea of your marrying?” she asked as they left the room.

“I used to be quite vehement that I’d never take a wife, particularly if doing so would gratify my Uncle Daventry.” He smiled wryly. “It was only recently that I recognized how foolish it would be to deny myself something I wanted merely because he wanted it, too.”

“The unglamorous wisdom of maturity.” They shared a warm glance. As they headed for the stairs, he said, “I think it best to explain to Kirkland and Mackenzie that Daventry is after you, and why. Shall I do the talking?”

She sighed. “Please. Just—don’t tell them the more humiliating details.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “And neither of them will speak of anything you prefer to keep private.” They began to descend the stairs. “Now, Lady Julia Raines, it’s time to leave the shadows and move into the light.”

“We won’t need you again, Tanner,” Kirkland said. After the butler left the dining room, he continued, “I hope I get credit for controlling my curiosity through dinner. Julia, have you ever yearned to see what the gentlemen talk about over port? This is your opportunity.”

“I think I’m better off not knowing.” She was about to rise and take her leave when Randall’s gaze caught hers. She could almost hear him thinking that if she was to face down London society, she should be able to face two men who were his friends. “But I suppose I should stay since the conversation concerns me.”

Kirkland nodded as if that was natural. “If you’re not familiar with port etiquette, I am allowed to serve a lady on my right”—he poured her a half glass of ruby wine—“but otherwise, the custom is to always slide the decanter to the left”—he demonstrated, pushing the crystal decanter down the polished mahogany to Randall—“and never to lift it unnecessarily, since a gentleman who has drunk too much might spill some.”

“Which would be a grievous waste,” Mackenzie said piously.

As Randall poured his port, Kirkland said, “You mentioned that the story behind your betrothal is complicated, Randall. Care to elaborate?”

“Though you know Julia as Mrs. Bancroft, her real name is Lady Julia Raines,” Randall said succinctly as he slid the decanter to Mackenzie.

Mackenzie caught his breath, so startled he temporarily forgot to fill his glass. “You were married to Branford, Lady Julia?”

Julia winced inwardly. “Yes.”

“You have my sympathies.”

“On his death?” she asked dryly.

“On having been married to him.” Mackenzie looked as if he’d tasted sour wine. He poured himself a drink, then passed the decanter back toward Kirkland. “He would have made the very devil of a husband, and that’s putting it charitably.”

“Exactly,” Randall said, mercifully drawing attention from Julia. “One day when he was drunk and violent, Julia shoved him while she was trying to escape. He fell and hit his head and died. Unfortunately, his father, my Uncle Daventry, blamed Julia. The situation became so untenable that Julia faked her death and ran away.”

Kirkland’s brows arched. “I suspected that your background was unusual, Julia, but I didn’t guess this. If you’re a Raines, you must be Castleton’s daughter?”

“I was once,” she said tersely. “He disowned me.”

“You’re still his daughter, no matter what the old curmudgeon chose to do with his will.” Kirkland studied her intently. “So you hid in the wilds of Cumberland and became a midwife. Randall coaxed you out of hiding?”

“I would have been content to stay in Hartley forever.” She thought wistfully of her peaceful, useful life and the friends she’d made. “But I must have been recognized when I visited London with Mariah because four days ago I was abducted by Daventry’s men. Randall happened to be visiting in Hartley and came after me when he heard the news. He rescued me from four villains, suggested we marry, and here we are.”

Kirkland and Mackenzie were both staring. “Only four, Randall?” Mackenzie said ironically. “Hardly worth mentioning since there were fewer than six.”

Randall shrugged. “No combat was involved. While the carriage horses were resting, I located Julia and we decamped under cover of night.”

“Let me see if I understand this properly, Randall,” Kirkland said slowly. “You are marrying the widow of your cousin. Your uncle, whose heir you are, considers her a murderer and wants to seek vengeance now that he knows she’s alive. Do you look for trouble, or does it just find you?”

“I’m not sure that wanting to marry Julia falls into either category,” Randall replied. “While it’s a complication that she is my cousin’s widow, I wanted to marry her before I learned that. Even if I hadn’t, I could hardly stand by when I heard that men had broken into her home, tied up her apprentice, and carried her off in broad daylight.”

“Certainly not.” Kirkland frowned. “Is Julia still in danger? It seems likely.”

“I think Daventry will call off his dogs after I visit him and tell him of our marriage. He wants to see a healthy heir to the earldom before he dies, and that means accepting Julia as my wife.” Randall’s brow furrowed. “I doubt that Daventry’s men will find us now that we’re away from Cumberland. But until we reach London and I’ve talked with my uncle—yes, there might be some danger.”

“I’m about to return to London,” Mackenzie said, serious for once. “If you like, I can travel with you.”

“I can’t say that I ever imagined having you along on my honeymoon, Mac,” Randall said, his mouth quirking up. “But yes, that would be very helpful. Just in case.”

Mackenzie smiled beatifically, seriousness abandoned again. “Splendid! A long journey is much more interesting if there is a possibility of mayhem.”

“We will be taking a detour into Cumberland to collect some of Julia’s belongings,” Randall warned. “That will add a couple of days to the trip.”

The other man shrugged. “I shall see a part of the country new to me.”

The dining room door opened and a well-dressed woman of middle years swept in. “I can’t leave the house for the day without matters getting out of hand!” She smiled affectionately at her nephew as she scanned the guests. “Tanner says Major Randall has returned with his betrothed, and I am to organize a wedding?”

Kirkland chuckled as the men arose to their feet. “He spoke true, Aunt Maggie. Unless Randall’s betrothed prefers to make other arrangements. Lady Julia Raines, meet Mrs. Margaret Gowan, the most alarming of my aunts. I shall leave it to the two of you to work out wedding plans.”

Julia rose. “Since my presence is no longer needed, I’ll bid you good night so you gentlemen no longer have to be on your good behavior.”

“Your suspicions wound me,” Mackenzie said soulfully.

Randall grinned. “I would say she’s taken your measure, Mac. Sleep well, Julia.” His glance said clearly how much he wished he could join her later.

Surprised at how much she wanted the same thing, Julia joined Mrs. Gowan. “Let’s have a nice pot of tea while you tell me what you’d like for your wedding,” the older woman said. She had a cheerful, no-nonsense quality that reminded Julia of Mrs. Ferguson at the King’s Arms.

After ordering tea to be delivered to her private parlor, Mrs. Gowan led the way to a comfortably furnished sitting room. “Make yourself comfortable, Lady Julia.” She waved toward the chairs. “I’m sure you have an interesting tale to tell if you wish to tell it, lass. Major Randall had no thoughts of marrying when he left here last week.”

“The decision was sudden, but we’ve known each other for some time,” Julia said, deliberately vague.

Disappointed not to learn more but still hospitable, Mrs. Gowan said, “Tanner gave the impression that you wanted the wedding performed as quickly as possible. What kind of ceremony would you like?”

Julia hadn’t considered the question, so she had to think. “A small church ceremony. Nothing elaborate.”

“I imagine you and Major Randall are Anglican.” The older woman picked up a sheet of paper and a pencil so she could make notes. “Do you require an Anglican chapel, or will Church of Scotland do?”

Julia hadn’t thought about that, either. Since the whole point of marrying in Scotland was to give her the right to divorce, they might as well be Scottish all the way. “The Church of Scotland will do very well, and surely be easier.”

“Indeed it will.” Mrs. Gowan nodded approvingly. “Our parish church is only a street away, and it will be easy to arrange a ceremony there. What else?”

Julia grimaced at her worn, unattractive clothing. “If there’s time, I’d like to get a nicer gown. I have nothing suitable with me.”

“That’s easily done. My youngest daughter is about your size, and she’d be happy to give away a gown or two since it would give her an excuse to buy more.” Mrs. Gowan made a note. “No matter how small a wedding is, anything so important needs to be done right. Do you have any friends in Edinburgh you’d like to invite?”

“No one but Kirkland. I’m a widow and have always lived in England,” Julia explained. “My first wedding was very grand. I’d like this to be as different as possible.”

“It will be, lass.” The tea arrived, and Mrs. Gowan poured them each a cup. “Now tell me what else you’d like for your wedding day.”

When she’d married Branford, all the arrangements had been made by Julia’s elders. She’d had almost no say. This wedding would be small, but to her own taste. And, please God, the marriage that resulted would be, too.

After Mrs. Gowan swept Julia away, Mac finished his port and got to his feet. “I’ll take my leave now. There’s a gaming house I need to inspect.”

“Keep a tight hand on your purse,” Kirkland advised.

When Mac was gone, Randall said, “Is he visiting on your official, or your unofficial, business?”

“A little of both. Plus some of
his
official business.” Kirkland grinned. “We aren’t all as straightforward as you.”

“War reduces life to basics.” Randall thought of what lay ahead. “Matters are more complex now that I’m out of the army.”

Kirkland leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together on his midriff. “Are you as confident that you can tame your uncle as you appeared?”

“No, but I thought I might as well appear confident until events prove otherwise.” Randall’s smile was ironic. “No battle plan survives first contact with the enemy. Daventry is capable of reason, but it’s also possible that he’ll pull a pistol from his desk and take aim. I can handle that. Hired assassins in dark alleys are harder to guard against. For Julia’s sake, I hope the danger can be removed. She’s suffered enough because of the Randall family.”

Kirkland’s eyes narrowed. “I never met Branford, and you never talked about him. He was that bad?”

“Worse.” Randall knew he could never fully understand what it was like to be a young girl at Branford’s mercy. Julia had been scarcely more than a child. But he knew enough of his cousin to be chilled at the thought of what she’d endured.

“Would you welcome an excuse to kill Daventry?” Kirkland asked quietly.

Frowning, Randall considered the question. His uncle had refused to acknowledge or check his son’s cruelties. Because of that, Randall and Julia had both suffered at Branford’s hands. And of course, there was Daventry’s desire to let his nephew die of neglect. “Perhaps I would. But the provocation would have to be great.”

“I shall hope that he can be tamed. If you have to kill him, it would be the damnedest scandal.”

“You have a gift for understatement.” Randall refilled their glasses. “Before I forget, thanks for your support. We could have married in Gretna Green, but I didn’t want this to be a hole-in-corner wedding.”

Kirkland swirled his port glass without drinking. “I think highly of Julia, but are you sure this marriage is wise? She seems a rather uncertain bride.”

“Which is why we’re in Scotland,” Randall said wryly. “She’s only willing to marry me if she’s sure there’s a way out.”

Kirkland relaxed. “I should have realized you were aware of her misgivings.”

“If there was time I’d court her in the usual way, but that isn’t possible. I can best protect her if she’s my wife.” Which was true. But he wondered if his courtship would have been successful if she hadn’t been in fear of her life. He suspected not.

“Still the knight in shining armor, I see.” The other man hesitated. “Though she needs and deserves protection, sacrificing your future is not the only solution.”

“Marriage is no sacrifice on my part,” Randall said flatly. “She has not been out of my mind since the first moment we met.”

Kirkland studied him. “Then it is better to marry than to burn.” He raised his glass. “May you both find the happiness you deserve. Preferably with each other.”

Randall could drink to that. Especially the latter part.

Julia was working at the writing desk in her room when she heard quiet footsteps accompanied by the tap of a cane. Randall was coming up to bed. He would be able to see the light under her door. Would he come in to say good night?

She was pleased when he knocked on the door. “Come in,” she called as she rose from her chair to greet him. “I’m making lists. Mrs. Gowan suggests that we marry two days from now? With a wedding breakfast here after the ceremony.”

“Very good.” He glanced as his travel-stained garments. “I need to find myself some decent clothes. Maybe I can borrow something of Kirkland’s. We’re around the same size.” He smiled a little. “You haven’t decided to take flight? Every time I see you, I’m half-surprised that you haven’t slipped away.”

Though he spoke as if it was a joke, she recognized his underlying seriousness. “I am nervous,” she admitted. “But I give my word that I won’t run away. You’re my best chance of a normal life.”

That surprised a laugh from him. “I’m not sure if I’m pleased or alarmed to be seen as normal.”

“You should be pleased.”

“Then I will be. Sleep well, Julia.” He started to turn away.

“Wait.” She rose on her toes and gave him a good-night hug, her arms sliding under his coat. His cane fell to the floor with a clatter as he hugged her back, strong arms enfolding her.

Though they’d slept together for two nights, this was the first time they’d embraced while standing. “Ahhhh…” she breathed as she leaned into him, resting her head on one broad shoulder. She felt the beat of his heart, the rhythm of his breathing, the hard muscle and bone beneath her gently caressing hands. “This would be more convenient if I were taller.”

“I think you fit very nicely.” He stroked her head, his fingers kneading gently. She didn’t realize that pins were falling out until her hair fell around her shoulders.

“You have extremely passable hair,” he murmured as he ran his fingers through it.

She laughed a little, feeling feminine and attractive and—unafraid. Randall made her feel safe. As Hartley’s unofficial physician, she’d cut and sewed and patched male bodies, but embracing a healthy man was very different.

His hands smoothed down her arms to her back, making gentle circles. “I’m glad you’re getting used to my touch,” he murmured.

“I like your touch.” Which was quite amazing, really. But true. She wasn’t sure how long they held each other. A long time, though not long enough. Randall seemed as content to be peaceful as she was. Thank God he wasn’t a lustful, pawing boy. It was becoming ever easier to imagine a marriage of affection and companionship.

Finally he sighed and released her. “I’ll be asleep on my feet in another few minutes.” He bent and retrieved his cane, barely wincing as he bent his right leg. “Good night, milady.”

There was a caressing tone in his voice that made her feel like a cat being petted. Regretting his departure, she said, “Only two more nights in separate beds.”

He paused, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. She withdrew a little, not ready for that much intimacy.

Perceptive, he brushed a kiss on her forehead. Light. Unthreatening. “I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not going to run away.”

He was gone before she could say that she no longer wanted to run from him.