Scandal By The Ton (7 page)

Chapter Seven

Julia greeted the Ashridge stableman, and told him she would saddle her own palfrey. "I'm going riding with our neighbor from Royston Hall this morning."

"Which one? His nibs or the young 'un?"

Julia grinned. "His nibs, the viscount."

"Ah, then ye won't be hunting."

"Perhaps, perhaps not," she said with a wink. Though Julia had a fashionable new riding habit, she wore her old dark green riding dress that she kept in the wardrobe at Ashridge. Though she had tied back her long dark hair, curly tendrils escaped to frame her face. She led the glossy chestnut from the stables just as Royston rode into the yard.

"Good morning. Nicholas."

His eyes shone with amusement that she used his name, honoring their bargain. "Yes, it is a good morning. What's the name of your palfrey?"

"Gloriana. I chose the name because of her color."

"You are indeed a student of history."

"Yes, particularly the Elizabethan era."

"Is that the time period you're writing about?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. My story is about Elizabeth Hardwick."

"Bess? Good God, you've chosen a strong, dominant woman for your heroine."

Julia laughed. "I have no interest in writing about a pathetic, wishy-washy female, and I suspect none would be interested in reading about one."

"Didn't she have a string of marriages?"

"Four, to be exact. Unlike today's females, Bess didn't take lovers, she took husbands."

Nicholas helped her into her saddle,
and then remounted his own horse. "I thought we could ride through Royston Heath. I keep it as a sort of nature reserve."

"Oh lovely. Although I've ridden there before without permission."

"Then henceforth you have my permission to explore the health whenever you fancy."

The pair rode past Royston's cultivated fields of barley, divided by bushy hedgerows, past meadows filled with his roan-colored, shorthorn cattle, then they galloped over the hilly heath. Brown hares could be seen racing in every direction. The riders surprised a small herd of Muntjac deer that took flight, jumping high over imaginary obstacles and bringing laughter to Julia and Nicholas.

They cantered through horseshoe vetch, sending swarms of Chalkhill Blue, and Marble White butterflies into the warm summer air. Julia pointed to a stand of trees where a flock of Royston Hooded Crows sat cawing raucously. "I love the crows!"

"Me too. Unfortunately, there aren't as many as there used to be. The farmers shoot them."

They stopped by a wide stream and dismounted, allowing their horses to crop the grass.

"Actually, we are in Cambridgeshire now. My Royston lands straddle the border. The landscape tends to flatten out as you go north toward Cambridge."

They sat down on a huge fallen log, watching the fish dart about in the water.

"I'm curious about what you do when you are sent on a diplomatic mission," Julia said.

"Are you truly interested, or just being polite?"

"Nicholas, of course I'm interested. I don't feel a pressing need to be polite to you."

"Great Britain has now been at war with France for seven years. Until recently we had an alliance against France with seven other countries, but last year Spain dropped out. I was sent to Portugal to make sure it didn't follow Spain. Portugal's Iberian Peninsula can be used as a base of operations against Napoleon, but that country depends upon Britain for financial aid."

"So basically, you funnel money to our allies."

"You grasp the situation very well."

"Why did Spain drop out of the alliance?"

"The blunt truth is that France operates a network of corruption and graft in Spain."

"So France bribed Spain to withdraw?"

"Apparently their bribe was larger than ours." His voice was cynical.

"Does Britain
want
this war with France?"

"We do not. I, and many other diplomats are trying to negotiate a peace treaty. Wars are expensive. So far this one has cost over half a trillion pounds."

Julia jumped to her feet. "Good God, that is truly obscene. Just think of the good that amount of money could do to help our own people. I hope you do negotiate a peace treaty."

"These things take time, and a good deal of patience." Royston was pleasantly surprised that he could converse with a female about his diplomatic service, but of course there were things he couldn't, nor wouldn't divulge. "Enough about war, shall we resume our ride?"

"Yes, please." Julia allowed him to lift her into the saddle, and it made her feel special when his hands lingered on her waist longer than was necessary.

"Why don't we go to the Boars Head in the village for lunch?"

"That sounds delightful. Lead the way."

At the public inn they sat at a scrubbed wooden table for two, beside a mullioned window. The ceiling was low beamed, and the flagstone floor was covered with fresh shavings. When the serving maid came to take their order, Julia read the luncheon items chalked on a board. "You first, Nicholas."

"I'll have the plowman’s lunch, and a mug of ale, please."

"I'll have the same," Julia said decisively.

"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer wine or cider?" he asked.

"No, I have a fancy for ale." She had no idea what a plowman's lunch was, so when the server brought the food she was pleasantly surprised to see two thick slices of freshly baked bread, a pot of churned butter, wedges of soft, white Cheshire cheese, thick slices of ham, and two large pickled onions. "The bread smells heavenly."

"Yes, food for the gods." Nicholas picked up the jug of ale and filled their mugs. It was a most unladylike repast, and Nicholas could think of no other female of his acquaintance who would not have shuddered in horror at such peasant fare. He was both pleased and amused when Julia tucked right in without hesitation.

They both devoured their food and washed it down with the brown ale. Julia picked up a pickled onion and crunched into it. "Ah, the
pièce de résistance.
"

Nicholas smiled and shook his head. "That would be you. Sweet and tart."

Julia thought fleetingly of
Scandal by the Ton.
"I'm not always sweet; I can be vitriolic."

"A fascinating combination. Deliver me from females who are bland and vapid." He too had saved his onions 'till last. He picked them up and ate them, then licked the vinegar off his fingers as Julia had done.

Outside the Boars Head, a hostler brought their horses, and once again Nicholas lifted her. But this time, before he set her on her saddle, he kissed her impulsively. "I wanted to do that all through lunch," he confessed.

"You taste of onions," she teased.

"You, too. How very debauched we are."

Nicholas escorted her back to Ashridge Place, but before he departed he asked, "You will come out again with me, won't you?"

"Of course. When you think of some other debauchery we can indulge, just let me know."

All afternoon and evening, Julia thought about Nicholas Royston. When she went to the library to work on her book, she finished the prologue, then her mind drifted to the noble lord who lived next door. When Luna rubbed against her ankles, Julia said, "I assumed his interest in me was to avenge the humiliation Mother dished out to him. That was a plausible assumption while we were in London, but here there is no one to see us or gossip about us."

Julia stroked Luna's head. "Blink once if you agree with me; twice if you disagree."

Luna blinked.

"I came here to put some distance between us. Dottie once said,
A female runs away, so that the male will follow her.
If he came to Hertfordshire because I'm here, I am flattered beyond words."

Luna blinked.

"If I admit the truth, I am hopelessly attracted to him. Nick Royston is so overtly masculine that he makes me feel extremely feminine. He's also dark, dominant, and dangerous-- everything that sets the heart on fire."

Luna began to purr and rolled on the rug.

"Exactly. That's how he makes me feel."

Over at Royston Hall, Nicholas sat at his desk in the library going over the accounts. He'd been responsible for both the estate and his younger brother since his parents had died in the influenza epidemic when he eighteen. The limestone from his quarry was bringing in good profits, and his Royston fields had produced a bumper crop of barley for the last three years. His vast malt house was producing malt almost year round, and the price was going up monthly. As well, his herds of Hertfordshire shorthorns were thriving.

Money went both ways of course. Repairs to the houses of his tenant farmers were a constant expense, but it gave him a feeling of deep satisfaction that his people were well-housed and fed. Nicholas had founded two schools in Royston, one for the younger children, and the other a grammar school for the older pupils of the town. He considered it a small expense in return for the riches his Royston landholdings produced.

His mind wandered from the account books to Lady Julia next door. He was happy that their chance meeting at the Duchess of Gordon's had prompted him to get to know Claire Shelborne's daughter. Though initially his motive had been retaliation against Julia's mother, he had been pleasantly surprised at the lady's intelligence, humor, and yes, her youth and beauty were potent attractions.

The fragrance of the night-scented heliotrope stole to him through the open library window and lured him outside into the moonlit garden. A light breeze rustled the leaves, and Nick's senses told him the night was made for romance.

He raised his head and listened when he thought he heard a cry.

"Luna! Where are you, pussycat?"

Nicholas realized it was Julia on the other side of the wall, in her own garden. Then he spotted the black cat jump up onto the stones. "She's here on the wall, chasing moths," he shouted.

Julia moved toward his voice and laughed. "She likes to sleep all day and prowl all night."

"Felines are semi-nocturnal." His powerful legs climbed over the wall then he picked up Luna and made his way toward Julia. "Here she is. Would it hurt to leave her out here?"

"Well, it might. I know that foxes and badgers are nocturnal also."

"You're right, of course. But if you stay in the garden for a while, she'll be safe."

"Ah, but will I, Lord Royston? If you say
yes
I'll be insulted."

"And if you don't start calling me
Nicholas,
I'll be insulted.
"

Julia set Luna down by a flower bed, and the cat immediately stalked something with wings. "The fragrance of the night-scented stocks is almost intoxicating tonight."

"It was the scent of the heliotrope that lured me outside."

"It's lovely. It reminds me of vanilla."

Nicholas bent down and plucked one of the bell-shaped flowers and held it out to her. "The flowers don't open until evening, then in the night they readjust themselves to face eastward, to be ready for the sunrise."

"I didn't know that." She took the flower and examined it in the moonlight. "It has a tiny yellow eye, the same color as Luna's. How do you know so much about flowers?"

"I have Nicholas Culpeper's Complete Herbal from the seventeenth century in my library."

"Perhaps we are both bibliophiles!"

Nicholas smiled, "Another thing we have in common. It would be my pleasure to have you come and browse in my library."

"I'll come tomorrow, if I may."

"You may-- I quite enjoy your company. How about a moonlight stroll?" His long fingers closed over hers and the pair moved along a brick walkway between the flower beds.

Julia laughed softly. "Is this what's known as
leading me down the garden path?
"

"Indeed it is not. There is an element of deception in that idiom."

"We all deceive from time to time. It's human nature."
I'm Ann Onymous. I practice deception every week.
Julia felt a twinge of guilt, but managed to banish it.

They stopped by the carp pond and heard the splash of frogs, and the trickle of the fountain. The moon sailed behind a cloud, and all about became shadowed in subtle mystery. Nicholas slipped his arms about Julia and drew her close, then he dipped his head and took possession of her lips. His hot demanding kiss lit a spark deep within him and he knew he wanted to possess her.

Julia felt a frisson of desire as his mouth firmly pressed against hers and she opened her lips in invitation. The thrust of his tongue was hot and hungry, and she shivered with her first taste of arousal. She felt his lips trace her throat and the tip of his tongue followed her delicate clavicle and it made her feel weak with longing. She reached up and caressed his cheek with her palm.