Where Destiny Plays, page 24
“Are you a Cambridge man then?”
Her words almost made him lose his step. So she really was there before him, his hand really on her waist. “This autumn. I’ll be reading classics and archaeology. Didn’t Uncle Arthur say you had an interest in that?”
“Oh yes! I dream about digging in the ground and finding pots and such. It’s all so romantic, don’t you think, discovering how people lived hundreds or thousands of years ago?”
Perfection just got more perfect. “I like deciphering ancient texts to discover how people lived.”
“Perhaps we can find time this autumn to discuss our discoveries. I’ll be attending Girton.”
“Why, we’ll be neighbors!”
She giggled, a sound more melodious than the orchestra’s tune.
Her laughter tempered to a heavenly smile. “Why do you call Lord Petersham ‘Uncle Arthur’? Are you related?”
“No. My father and Lord Petersham are business partners. There’s a Mr. Phillips in the business as well. I’ve just grown up calling them Uncle Arthur and Uncle Joseph.”
“That’s so endearing.” She looked sideways as they turned. “I love my family. It would be grand to have more relations.”
“I have two sisters,” he blurted.
“Only two? I have four.”
“There are more like you?” He cringed.
She blushed again then bit her lip to suppress a smile. The smile came anyway.
They whirled on the dance floor, gazing at each other, smiling, no longer conversing. He wanted to take her outside to the terrace, to the garden, to strip off her glove, to hold her bare hand in his, to enfold her in his arms, to kiss her in the moonlight.
No. No, he didn’t. He wanted to do none of that. Not yet anyway. Miss Smythe was meant to be savored.
The music ended and he held out his arm to take her back to Lady Banbury. She obliged. They walked slowly in their retreat from the dance floor. What he had to say he didn’t want to say in front of anyone else, just her. He stopped and turned to her.
“Miss Smythe, I should like to call on you. May I? I thought perhaps a visit to the British Museum if your chaperon would not be too terribly bored.”
“I would love that, Mr. Peel.” Her face glowed around her beaming countenance.
The promise of seeing her again thrilling his thoughts, he practically skipped back to Lady Banbury.
* * * * *
Lavinia took off her gloves in her foyer. Dancing with Arthur that evening, talking with him about his afternoon spent observing Lords, sharing a laugh or two, it all seemed so simple. Could she sustain such a fiction while he was married?
And who was he to marry anyway? Lord Richmond, from what Charlotte had told her later, had encouraged William to ask Beatrice to dance. The two apparently were besotted with each other.
Which meant Lady Richmond would have to find another candidate for her son. Which meant Lavinia had a little more time to hope.
Or a little more time to convince herself that she could be his lover and not destroy her heart.
Sims cleared his throat behind her.
She swallowed a lump of emotion. “Yes, Sims?”
“My lady, a message came while you were out. By hand delivery.”
“Thank you, Sims.” She took the folded paper from the silver tray, holding it against her bosom while Sims bowed then made his exit to the servants’ stairs.
She opened the note. It was in a man’s hand, concise and professional, writing she had not seen in years but knew all too well. She stared at the eight words before actually reading them and understanding their meaning:
Salep Hill Cottage. As soon as you can.
Chapter Eighteen
Morning light pierced the front windows of the members’ drawing room at the Merchants and Industry Club. It was far too early in the day to be drinking. Or perhaps it was just a continuation of indulgence from the night before. Joseph snorted a laugh. His fellow club members would hardly care.
“I always wondered what the inside of a businessman’s club looked like,” Lord Richmond murmured.
From the depths of a well-worn leather chair, Joseph took a swig of brandy and surveyed the equally well-worn room. He could only imagine an aristocrat’s gentleman’s club might have more gilding and more servants. And more aged peers like the Marquess of Richmond.
“And, my lord? What do you conclude?”
Richmond looked about at the readers and the snoozers. “That it’s a damn sight cozier than mine.” He swirled the liquor in his snifter. “I could get used to this.” He shifted in his seat. “I love this chair.”
“You’d have to be a businessman.”
“Stranger things have happened.”
“Like a dockworker marrying a marquess’s daughter?”
Richmond grunted. “I hated you, you know.”
“I do know, my lord.”
“You took my Sophie away from me. Physically, emotionally…” Richmond’s voice trailed off with relived memories.
“She needed to be protected from evil.”
“I understand all that now. I may not have been the best father but I love my daughter. In my heart of hearts I know it was for the best. I did not want to believe it twenty years ago.”
“As a father myself I sympathize.” Joseph had been suspicious of Nicholas at first. Of course that had been utterly foolish of him.
“And Arthur. You took Arthur away from me as well.”
“I’m giving him back to you, Lord Richmond.”
Richmond chuckled. “In a sense I suppose you are.”
Joseph gazed into his snifter before taking another sip. “Will this work?”
“Once my fellow peers knew for whom all this was to be done, they rallied to the cause.”
“She really does have strong connections in Parliament, doesn’t she?”
“She’s a highly respected woman. And rightfully so.” Richmond chortled throatily. “The only person who needed convincing was the queen. I reminded her she had been in love once and still understood the intensity of the emotion. And then I groveled. I told her the truth about Sophia’s scandal, about how a peer was involved, how the man left a trail of carnage with his vicious abuse. I pleaded with her to not let another peerage be laid to waste, further dishonoring the Harwell name.” He gulped a mouthful of brandy. “She eventually came around.”
They sat in silence for a spell, observing the occupants of the room. It was a rather uneventful morning.
“Isn’t that the Earl of Chesil?” Richmond’s voice held a note of surprise.
Near the central bank of windows sat a well-built man in his thirties.
“I knew his father. He was a good man. Died too young. His son was earl at twenty-five.”
The young man folded his newspaper, uncrossed his legs then checked his watch. He muttered an oath and bounded up from his club chair.
“I believe Chesil’s in textiles,” Joseph said.
Richmond emitted another grunt. “Do you think Henry will want to follow in your footsteps? In the railway business I mean.”
Joseph drew in a long inhalation, releasing it slowly. “Of course every father wants his son to follow in his footsteps.”
Richmond chuckled as he finished off his brandy.
“I had always thought if I ever had a son that once he came of age, he should make his own choices. That he should experience the fullness of life on his own. I would provide some support, of course. Now I’ve taken some of those choices away.”
“You’ve given him different choices.”
Joseph examined Richmond. Instead of the dour man he once knew, suddenly before him was a kindly grandfather. “Yeah, I suppose.”
“And Henry can always run a railway business if he so chooses.” Richmond lengthened himself in his chair as if he were about to join the dozers. “It seems these days it is acceptable for peers to be businessmen.” He closed his eyes, the glass in his hand perilously close to falling to the carpet. “Did I mention I could get used to this?”
Chapter Nineteen
Exeter
Lavinia sat up in the cab when the carved wooden plaque for Salep Hill Cottage came into view. Nostalgia prickled her skin to gooseflesh once the carriage pulled up the drive. It was late afternoon. Smoke puffed out of the chimney of the stone house and a dim light danced on the curtains of the front room, a homey appeal not seen since the days she and her husband sought respite there from London’s chaos.
She chuckled to herself. Nowadays she thrived on the chaos of London. The refuge at Exeter was reserved for others.
She thanked and paid the driver, asking him to please just leave the bags at the front door, then waited on the entry path as he drove away. She had the key in her purse but she would not need it. The door would be unlocked and the occupant waiting for her.
She entered, closed the door quietly, left her bags in the small foyer under the man’s topcoat hanging on a peg, and tiptoed into the front parlor. The couch had been moved before the hearth, the hearth had been laid with a roaring fire. The room was cozy, like it used to be.
“Good afternoon, Julius.”
He peered over the edge of the sofa. “I knew you’d come.” He reclined comfortably, his hands behind his head, his waistcoat and the first few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, his shoes side-by-side on the rug.
“Did Mrs. Dinsdale let you in?”
“I still have my key but I rang first. Your housekeeper was surprised to see me.”
Lavinia took off her coat and hat, placed them on a chair then went to stand before the couch, the heat of the fire at her back.
“It’s been a long time since you sent a note like that. I thought I should come.”
He slid his feet to the floor then rubbed the cushion next to him. “Sit.”
She sat, not precisely where he indicated, more toward the opposite corner. Whatever this was all about it was best to maintain a distance.
He took her lead and shifted deeper into his corner. “Thank you for coming.”
There was a melancholia to his words, a wistful distance she had never heard before. Julius was the last man to be sentimental. But here he was, suddenly expressing a hint of an emotion she had longed for over the course of twenty years.
“I thought it best to meet here. I feel—” He glanced around the room. “At home in this place.”
They had both felt as such once upon a time. “I’m surprised you still had the key, Julius.”
The lines of age melted around his eyes. “Of course I do, Vinny.”
He hadn’t called her that in years. “Perhaps I should feel flattered.”
He chuckled. “It is I, rather, who should be flattered that a woman of incomparable beauty and refinement should deign respond to my plea.” His voice held sincerity not seduction.
“Plea? I rather thought it was a directive.”
“No,” he said, elbows on his knees. “A plea.” He turned his face to her, his blue eyes glinting with remorse. “For forgiveness.”
Her lungs tightened. She stared at him, disbelieving yet comprehending.
He stood to pace before the fire. “Vinny, what I did to you was egregious. I wish I could apologize. But words can never be enough.” He looked askance then returned her gaze, his veneer of hauteur cracked, his usual self-confidence replaced by uncharacteristic humility. “I’ve come before you to beg for your forgiveness. I understand if you cannot give it but I need you to at least listen to me.”
A sob choked her throat. She stared into the fire until her eyes burned from the heat. Anger and curiosity froze her to her spot on the couch. “I’ve tried so hard to forget what you did.” The tears were uncontrollable.
He was beside her in an instant. “I know.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, gingerly at first, but she did not shrug him off. He wrapped his arms around her. “I was a brute. I was self-absorbed, proud, driven by greed. I foolishly thought such entanglements would hold me back in my career.” He nestled his face in the hollow of her shoulder. “I realize now what a fool I was. The irony of course is that you have furthered so many in their careers since.” He sucked in a tremulous breath. “But mostly I regret having lost the love of my life.”
Irritation ruffled her nape. “How can you say that? You never truly loved me.” But her attempt to shake him off was weak. His arms were warm and comforting. She always gave in to him too readily.
“But I did. Desperately, really, and it took quite a bit of self-control to tamp it down. Yet I failed. Instead, I turned my love for you into something horrible.”
Something horrible indeed. Vicious, raw sexuality fueled by self-gratification and ambition without a thought for mutual desire.
“We’ve never talked about it,” he said softly. “I shut you out because I did not want to feel what I was feeling. I thought if I were cruel to you I would no longer feel. I was so wrong. So utterly wrong.”
He released her and retreated to his corner of the couch. Under his watchful gaze she unlaced her shoes and slipped them off. He drew her alongside, tucking her under his arm, she folding her feet under her. It was how they used to sit together all those years ago.
“I told myself I couldn’t have the burden of an affair so early in my career, especially with a married woman with whom I was dangerously in love. Then in a fit of remorse I convinced myself I could not be a dedicated lover to you, that you deserved more than what I could give, that I would try to convince you of the same.” He swirled intricate patterns with the tips of his fingers along her arm.
She relaxed farther against his chest.
“And then you told me you were pregnant with my child.” He drew in a juddering breath, the depth of his emotion reverberating in her ear. “My God, Vinny, I don’t know what got into me. I did the most brutal thing a man can do. I murdered my own child.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “Jules, don’t say it like that.” Her tears dampened his shirt.
“But it’s true. The child was a wanted child. Had you come to me and said you did not want it I would have obliged without scruples. But you were overjoyed. I was terrified. Richard and I didn’t look a whit like each other. People already had suspicions about you and me, knew about Richard’s infertility with his first wife. There would have been talk. I told myself all of that and more back then.” He drew her to him. “I deeply regret what I did. You never became pregnant again.”
“No…I was careful.” And probably incapable after the incident.
“But you wanted a child.”
“I did, especially after Richard died and I was alone, without purpose. I eventually found purpose in my life. I’ve accepted my fate and truly have grown accustomed to it. There is an immense freedom.”
“It pains me, knowing Richard died only three years later. We could have been married and raised a family. I would have been content.” He smoothed her hair. “But I was not ready. I was a fool. I don’t want to be that man again.”
Something had happened. “Julius, why are you telling me this?”
He chuckled. “Of course a man does not have a change of conscience and heart in a vacuum.” He gave her shoulders a little squeeze. “I’m in love.”
She looked up at him. He smiled down at her.
He chuckled again. “There I’ve said it out loud.” He exhaled a sigh.
“Who is the lucky woman?”
“Grace Danby.”
That was unexpected. “Your assistant?”
“The very same. She’s remarkable. She knows me, Vinny. Really understands me. She’s seen a lot of pain and brutality in her world. She’s been able to see right through mine.”
He grinned, a sight so rare and wonderful. It made him more handsome, as if that were possible. Julius Christopher was truly in love.
Was she jealous? No. She was happy for him. Julius loving another woman would finally sever the fatiguing hold he had over her. She could move forward with an unburdened heart.
“I would not, could not possibly understand what I am feeling is love without having had the experience of you. My body, my mind remembered the emotion.” He shifted to hold her more closely. “Vinny, Grace is carrying my child. I’m utterly petrified but I want this child. I want to be a father. A good father. I want to make up for what I did in the past.”
Tears wet her lashes, from joy or regret she was not sure. “I will forgive you, Julius, if you make good on that. But don’t spoil the child. It won’t do any good if you try to make up for your sins by overindulging.”
He kissed her hair. “Ah no, of course not. I see children almost every day in my office. They behave best with a little discipline.”
She laughed softly, nestling deeper into his warmth.
“I’m going to ask Grace to marry me. Twenty years ago the idea was repugnant. Now I know in my heart it is what I want. But I need your blessing. I won’t go through with this unless you allow it. I owe you that much.”
“You’ll go through with it regardless of what I think, darling.”
“No, believe me I won’t. If you still hate me so much you want me to be punished by denying me any shred of happiness, I would understand.”
She looked up at him. “I want you to atone for your sin with love. By being a loving husband. And by being the best damn father in the world.”
He quirked a brow. “Even better than Nicholas Atherley?”
She laughed. “You should aspire to be so kind and caring.”
Their eyes met, the spark of familiarity drawing their faces closer until his mouth met hers. His kiss was tender, so unlike the last time they were together when anger boiled within. Now it was heartache, sorrow, regret, and love.
He broke from the kiss, his eyes gentle. “Let me make love to you, Vinny. One last time.”
“Yes, Jules.” It was inevitable.
* * * * *
Julius held out his hand and Lavinia took it willingly, letting him lead her into the bedroom, a place that held so many memories.
She let him undress her, submitting to him like she used to, until she was naked and vulnerable before him. And still so beautiful. He trailed kisses down her neck, her breasts, her belly, kneeling to kiss the hair of her mons. He tangled his tongue in the wiry strands, seeking her surrender, finding it in the sticky wetness dripping for his delectation.
