Swept Away (11 page)

A thrill ran through Julia at the sound of his charged voice, and it was all she could do to say, “Thank you.”

She thought that he was going to take her in his arms and kiss her, but instead he turned away and hung her cloak on a hook. Julia stripped off her gloves, reminding herself sternly that she had to be in firm control tonight. This was her best chance to catch the man, and she could not get rattled. By the time he turned back, she thought she had herself well in hand.

“Shall we dine?” he asked, gesturing toward the table.

“I think I would rather watch the passing parade for a moment, if you don't mind. It is such an interesting lot of people, don't you think?” She gestured vaguely toward the bottles of wine on the table. “Perhaps we might have a little drink?”

“Of course.” Stonehaven went to the table. “Would you care for a glass of wine? Sherry? Ratafia?” He mentioned two drinks commonly drunk by ladies.

“Sherry would be nice.” Julia smiled at him and strolled over to the half wall that looked out on the middle area of the gardens. She had not taken off her mask, and she was glad of it, for the stares of several of the young men passing by were far too bold. She felt safer behind the mask; at least no one would know her face if they should ever meet her again.

Stonehaven came up beside her, handing her a glass of golden liquid. It took only one hard look from him to discourage a young man who had started to walk over to their box.

They sipped at their drinks as they watched the people stroll along. Julia thought that she would indeed have enjoyed seeing them if it had not been for the nerves knotted in her stomach. She took a sip or two of the sherry in the hope of relaxing, but she had no intention of drinking much tonight. She was unaccustomed to drinking liquor except for a glass of wine at dinner—and usually not even that. She certainly did not want to become inebriated herself in the attempt to loosen Lord Stonehaven's tongue. Tonight she needed, more than ever before, to be in full possession of her senses.

Stonehaven made a joking comment about a sprig of fashion who was walking past their box now. Dressed in the tightest of pantaloons in a pale shade of lavender, with a coat of bright blue, quite padded in the shoulders to make up for the defects of his figure, he obviously considered himself up to the mark. The points of his collar were alarmingly stiff and high, making it almost impossible for him to turn his head, and his snowy white cravat was tied in an intricate manner. Across the figured waistcoat that showed between the lapels of his coat stretched a gold watch chain from which hung such a number of fobs and seals that they clattered together as he walked. He strolled along slowly, giving everyone the opportunity to admire him. When he saw Julia and Stonehaven watching him from their box, he bowed toward them, no doubt sure that they were staring because they were so entranced with his attire. Since he had to turn the whole upper half of his body in order to do so, Julia had to clap her hand over her mouth to hide the fit of giggles that threatened to engulf her.

“Atrocious girl,” Stonehaven told her, smiling lazily. “You nearly made me choke—I'd just taken a drink.”

“Nonsense. 'Twas not
I
who made you laugh. It was that popinjay.”

“The Tulip of Fashion? Oh, no, laughable though he is. What nearly caused me to lose control was the way your mouth dropped open. You looked like a landed fish.”

“How unkind of you to say so!” Julia protested, spoiling her appearance of indignation by chuckling. “You show a lamentable lack of conduct.”

“I?”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “What is that old expression? Something about the pot calling the kettle black?”

They passed some time in this bantering way. Julia asked him who this person was or that. One very grand-looking woman, whom she supposed must be a member of the peerage, was, he informed her, one of the most famous madames in town, while a plain white-haired woman in an outmoded black dress was, he said, a duchess.

“No!” Julia protested. “I can't believe it.” She glanced at the empty glass in his hand. “You must be foxed.”

He laughed. “I'm not. I tell you, that is the Duchess of Denwater. They live in a grand, decaying pile up in Yorkshire, and both she and the duke are the most amazing skinflints one ever saw. It's said she pinches every penny and pays such miserable wages that she can't keep a full staff. She comes down to London once a year and drives her son and his wife mad. The duke stays at home, despising to travel. The son has to beg for every cent he gets from them. It's fortunate his wife has a small legacy or the Lord only knows what they'd do. He has to borrow on his expectations as it is.”

Julia shook her head as she reached out for his glass. “Let me refill your glass,” she offered.

He shook his head. “I thought you were sure I was foxed.”

“I should have known you would cast that back up at me.” Julia took the glass from his hand despite what he had said and went to the table to pour him another drink.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” he teased, following her to the table and pushing his mask back off his head.

Julia looked up into his twinkling eyes, holding out his glass, and said provocatively, “Why, of course. How else could I ‘have my way' with you?”

His fingers curled around the glass, touching hers, and he gazed down at her warmly. “Indeed, my dear Jessica, there is no need for you to do anything to achieve that. I am already yours.”

Julia's mouth went dry, and her heart began to knock wildly in her chest. She gazed at him, unable to think of anything to say. He set his glass of wine down on the table with one hand, and with the other he pushed up her mask and laid it aside.

“I dislike any part of your face being covered,” he murmured.

He bent to kiss her.

Julia braced herself. She had prepared herself to hold out against this first kiss. She knew that she must not allow it to rock her off her feet as she had been the other two times. But he surprised her by not kissing her deeply or fervently, but with the lightest of touches, his lips brushing hers like butterfly wings. His mouth returned again and again, gently taking first her upper lip, then her lower, between his lips. It was teasing, distracting and thoroughly arousing to her senses.

Stonehaven raised his head and looked down at her with a faintly questioning look. Julia stared back at him. She didn't know what he wanted her to say, but she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, it would be to ask him to kiss her again.

With the greatest exercise of self-will, Julia made herself step back. “Perhaps—perhaps we should have that supper now.”

He stepped aside, saying, “Of course,” and held out a chair for her.

He removed the covers and solicitously helped Julia to a portion of everything laid out before them. Julia took a sip of wine to steady her nerves and began to push the food around on her plate. She had never felt less like eating.

“Tell me about this ward of yours,” she said, hoping that it would sound only as if she were groping for a topic of conversation. She had tried her best to come up with some less obvious way of bringing it up, but she had not been able. She only hoped that the three glasses of wine he had drunk would already have made his reasoning less clear.

He looked faintly surprised, but said only, “Young Thomas, do you mean? I had forgotten that I'd mentioned him.”

“Not by name. You merely said that you visited him in Kent. I beg your pardon, I forgot—you said you were not really his guardian, but only his trustee.” She frowned and speared a green pea. “I am afraid that I do not entirely understand the difference.”

“I have no guardianship of his person. He lives with his mother. I merely administer a trust fund that his father set up for him. His father, Walter, and I were good friends.”

“Ah, I see. How sad that he should have died so young.” She thought it best not to concentrate entirely on the trust for fear of rousing his suspicions.

“Yes. A riding accident. Most unexpected and unfortunate. Especially for Thomas. He has no father, and neither I nor the other trustees live nearby. Only one did and he—well, he is dead now, too.”

Julia's stomach knotted at the mention of her brother's demise, but she managed to say in a normal voice, “How tragic. This seems an ill-fated story.”

“Yes, it
was
tragic. On all counts.”

“What happened to him?”

Stonehaven shook his head. “No, let's not talk about such sad things tonight.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “I would much prefer to concentrate on something pleasant, like you.”

Julia could have screamed with frustration, but she forced herself to smile. “Indeed, you are right. This is not a night of gloom.” She picked up the wine bottle and refilled his almost empty glass. “We should be merry.”

He lifted his drink toward her in a toast, and she responded, clinking her glass against his. She took a sip. She had avoided drinking as much as she could, but in her nervousness, she had already downed two glasses. Since she had managed to eat almost nothing, she was beginning to feel woozy. She forced herself to eat a little, trying to think of a way to bring Stonehaven to talk about what she wanted him to. It did not seem wise to return directly to the subject of the trust for fear he would grow suspicious.

After they finished eating, they, too, took a turn through the gardens. “I suppose it is only fair to allow everyone to criticize us the way we did them,” Julia said, mask and cloak once again in place, as they strolled along the grassy thoroughfare between the boxes.

“I protest! We did other things than criticize. As I remember, there was a dress you coveted.”

“Ah, yes, the pink one. It was lovely. It would never do, however, for one with my color hair. That is a color that Ph—uh, that
few
people but blondes can wear.” She smiled at him, hoping that he hadn't noticed her stumble.

How could she have slipped and almost said Phoebe!
It was, she thought, that she was beginning to feel so used to Lord Stonehaven, so familiar with her role, that she was forgetting that she was playing a part. In fact, there were times when she found herself relaxing and being herself instead of trying to get information out of Stonehaven. Earlier this evening, for instance, when they had been watching the passing parade of people, she had enjoyed their banter and had been, for a brief period, just what she appeared to be: a young woman flirting with a man and taking pleasure in his company. The thought of it horrified her. How could she have forgotten, even for a few minutes, about Selby and what this man had done to him?

They reached the end of the promenade and took one of the small paths branching off from it. As they drew into the more secluded parts, it was brought home to Julia quite forcibly why Vauxhall Gardens was not a place a maiden went unless escorted by some responsible male. She saw a young woman being chased by an obviously inebriated man, but her shrieks were so playful, and she was laughing with such glee, that it was obvious she intended to be caught. In the shadow of a tree she saw another couple in a fervent embrace. It was clear that even without a private box one could find an ample number of places to be intimately alone here.

When two young blades reeking of alcohol made their swaying way past them, one of them almost bumping into Julia, Stonehaven decided that it was time to return to the box. “It is almost time for the fireworks, anyway.”

Back in their box, Stonehaven poured himself a brandy, offering Julia one, which she declined, and they sat down before the open wall to watch the fireworks display. Julia could not help but enjoy the fireworks, oohing and aahing and clapping her hands whenever one was especially spectacular.

“That was beautiful!” she exclaimed, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed with pleasure, when the display was finally through.

Stonehaven looked down at her, smiling. “No, it is
you
who are beautiful.”

He reached over and pulled the curtains closed. Julia's heart began to race, and her stomach was a knot of nerves again. The time had arrived, she realized, and she wasn't sure whether she was more scared or excited. Stonehaven took off his mask and tossed it onto the table, then reached up to remove hers, as well. Surprising her, he reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small box.

“Here,” he said, extending it to her. “A token of my esteem.”

Startled, Julia took the box and opened it. Inside, on a velvet cushion, lay a delicate bracelet of sapphires and diamonds. Julia drew a quick, awed breath. “It's beautiful!”

“I am glad you like it.”

“But I can't take this!” she said instinctively, thrusting the box back toward him.

“What?” He looked stunned. “What are you talking about? Do you not like it?”

“Of course I like it! But—” Julia came to a flustered halt. She could hardly give him the response ingrained in her: that a lady could not accept such a gift from a man who was neither her fiancé nor her husband. From a man who was no such relation one could take nothing but flowers or candy or perhaps some small, impersonal thing—never a bracelet, especially such an obviously expensive one. “I, uh, it is far too expensive. I couldn't possibly.”