Theresa Romain: Season for Temptation

James blinked. Surely she hadn’t just said what he thought she’d said. “Er. . have there been many?”

“Many what? Lemons? I suppose so. We all like them prodigiously.”

“No, fiancés.” He held his breath waiting for her answer.

Julia looked puzzled for a moment, regarding the tea tray as if looking for the fiancés in question. Then understanding broke over her face.

“No; you’re the one and only, which I would have thought you’d have known. But it is so much easier to throw Louisa to the wolves than to blame the whole household for our topsy-turvy welcome.”

She laughed, and James let a relieved breath whoosh out of his lungs. He settled against the sofa back again, considering her thought process.

No, it still didn’t make any sense to him, but the distraction was delightful. After a moment, he gave up and just chuckled. “Miss Julia, your logic is impressive. Lemon, please, and one sugar.”

Julia handed him a delicate cup, then prepared her own tea and piled up a plate of biscuits for herself.

Settling back on the sofa, she chose a piece of shortbread and let it crumble in her mouth. Their cook made the most wonderful shortbread, light and sweet. The only thing better in the world was her ginger biscuits. She chose one of those next.

Julia hadn’t realized she was so hungry, but before she knew it, she was staring at an empty plate.

“Did I really eat all my biscuits?” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.

She looked up to see the viscount’s green eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement.

“If you didn’t, someone stole them from you very quietly indeed,” he replied with a straight face, but his eyes brimmed with laughter.

Her treacherous face turned hot again with embarrassment. “I suppose that’s possible,” she replied, struggling for dignity.

She forced herself to set down her plate. She would have loved to refill it, but there was no way she was going to let this dashing young man watch her make even more of a fool of herself than she already had. More than once.

“Er. . a watercress sandwich for you, my lord?”

He looked surprised, but accepted one of the foul treats. He actually began to eat it.

“Do you want some more biscuits, Miss Julia?” he asked between bites. “Not that it’s my place to offer you food in your own home, but I’d feel better if I weren’t the only one eating.”

“The children are still eating, too,” Julia replied, but she was too hungry to put up any more than a token resistance. She eyed the tray, considering how much food she ought to leave for her parents and Louisa.

They never ate much in the early afternoon. Perhaps two biscuits each would do? She took the rest.

“Admirable,” the viscount spoke up, watching her pile biscuits onto her plate.

Julia could feel her face turning pink again. She never could hide her embarrassment, which itself was always embarrassing to her. “I’m certain everyone else will love to have the watercress sandwiches,” she explained, knowing her words sounded lame. “No need to let these biscuits go to waste.”

“Of course not,” he replied, hoisting his teacup in front of his face and making a choking sound. “It’s very resourceful of you.”

Now Julia was suspicious. “I could have sworn your cup was empty.”

He set it down, a poorly feigned expression of surprise on his face. “So it is. Well, my mistake.” His face was serene, but his eyes were laughing again.

“I hope you choke on your horrid sandwich,” Julia muttered under her breath, too quiet for him to hear.

Of course she didn’t mean it, though. Every time the viscount smiled at her, she felt triumphant. Glowing, like she’d accomplished something wonderful.

She just wanted to keep looking at his eyes; she’d never seen anyone like him. It wasn’t that he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, though he was undeniably good-looking, tall and lean. It was more that. . he seemed happy. As if he was exactly where he wanted to be.

If he’d only keep smiling at her like that, she’d keep eating biscuits to amuse him. Whatever it took to keep that smile on his face.

Actually, eating more biscuits was an excellent idea for her own sake as well. She wondered if it would be too rude to leave none for Louisa. Her sister had never actually said she hated watercress, after all. The mere fact that she’d never taken one of those sandwiches in her whole life meant nothing. It could just be a coincidence.

She reached for another ginger biscuit and looked at the viscount expectantly.

He picked up on her cue right away. “Must I take another sandwich to keep up with you?”

“I knew it. You don’t like them either.”

He shrugged. “That would hardly be polite for me to admit, Miss Julia. Perhaps I should just say that I preferred the shortbread.”

She was seized by a sudden urge to break down the final barrier between them. After all, she’d already bullied, insulted, fed, and amused him. If she couldn’t permit a future relative to call her by her Christian name after that, there was simply no good time to begin.

“Please call me Julia if you like,” she offered. Then, wondering if she’d been too forward, she backed off, explaining, “Or if you insist on formality with one who is to be as a sister to you, then you must address me as Miss Herington. You see, I am the oldest of the Miss Heringtons. To be fair, the only one as well, as we are a family of remarriage.”

Oh, dear, there she went talking her head off again. Louisa always said she never used a word where a sentence would do, and never a sentence when she could use a paragraph.

It didn’t seem to bother the viscount, though.

“Very well,” he agreed at once. “I’ll be happy to call you Julia, and you must call me James. I am not the only Matheson, you see; I have a cousin with the same family name who’s got his eye on my estate, so for his sake if nothing else, informality must be introduced so that we are distinguished from one another. Imagine the confusion if you were to shout for Matheson at a party and got the wrong one.”

“It would be much more likely to raise eyebrows if I were to shout James and get the attention of a dozen young men, or more likely the whole room. Wouldn’t everyone look at the ill-bred shouting girl? And then I’d have your attention regardless of how I had addressed you.”

James looked at her with mock suspicion for a moment, and his green eyes kindled. But his face was sober as he replied, “Quite true, and most efficient it would be. Were you to take up the habit of shouting, you need never address me by anything at all. But perhaps we had better leave it at first names, to be spoken at a moderate volume.”

First names. Spoken at any volume, Julia liked the sound of that.

James could hardly believe he was saying such ridiculous things to a young woman he barely knew, but he was enjoying himself as he had never expected to when embarking on his journey to Stonemeadows Hall. An engagement of convenience ought not to be a matter of concern for a man who’d spent his life under the quizzing glass of the ton —and yet, he’d been as nervous entering the manor house as a young man entering a woman’s bedchamber for the first time. He was shamefully afraid he wouldn’t be able to perform up to the expectations of his audience.

All right, perhaps that was taking the simile a bit far. But he’d been apprehensive. He was, after all, the head of his family now, which was still a rather startling realization even after a year. And his family needed him, and so he needed Louisa. It was as simple as that. But he hadn’t quite felt right about the situation until he started talking to Julia.