Candace Camp - Swept Away

Anger blazed across Julia’s face as she said acidly, “You certainly did us ill enough by accident, then.”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Finally Lord Stonehaven said, “Miss Armiger, I am not the one who brought dishonor to your family. Selby did that. I know that you loved your brother, but—”

“You’re right. I did. I still do. And I don’t know how you can have the nerve to come here today and force Phoebe and me to look at you, the man who ruined him!” She realized that the growl was slipping again in her agitation, and she stopped, clearing her throat.

“Please, Miss Armiger, do not distress yourself so much.”

“It is not I who is causing my distress!”

Lord Stonehaven sighed. “I am sorry. Obviously I should not have come. Please believe me when I say that I have no desire to cause either you or Lady Armiger pain. I—I had hoped to heal some of the rift that lies between us.”

“That will never happen.” Julia shot to her feet, glaring at him, her arms stiff at her sides. “Do you think that you can ruin my brother and then be forgiven?”

Stonehaven sighed, rising to his feet also. “No. I can see that that is too much to expect.” He turned toward Phoebe. “Lady Armiger, please accept my regards. I want you to know that if I can be of service to you in any way, you have only to call on me.”

Julia let out an inelegant snort. “She would as soon call on a snake for help.”

“I’m sorry, Lord Stonehaven.” Phoebe cast a nervous glance toward Julia. “But I think it would be best if you left now.”

“Yes, of course.” He bowed over Phoebe’s hand formally, but, after a wary glance in Julia’s direction, was wise enough not to approach her. “Good day, ladies.”

He turned and left the room. Phoebe and Julia stood frozen, listening to his receding footsteps upon the Carrera marble floor. There came the sound of the footman opening the massive front door, and a moment later it closed.

Julia ripped the mob cap off her head and slammed it down on the chair, following it with the spectacles. “Oh! I cannot believe the nerve of that man! How could he come here? How did he dare! Did he think that we would welcome him? That he could just waltz in and charm us into forgetting that he is the man responsible for Selby’s—”

Phoebe let out a little inarticulate noise of distress, and Julia was instantly contrite, “I’m sorry, Phoebe. I should not have said that. It was upsetting enough for you to have to meet that man. I should not have added to your distress. It just makes me so angry.” She slammed one fist into the other hand. “Lord Stonehaven is utterly without feeling.”

Timidly Phoebe offered, “It was rather nice of him, I suppose, to call on us. No one else does. Most people just snub us. It would have been far easier for him not to come, and no one would have thought badly of him.”

“Nice!” Julia sneered. “There was nothing nice about it. Trust me. He merely came here to gloat. Or perhaps it suited him to appear to be magnanimous. No doubt he thought we would grovel in gratitude at his being so kind as to notice us. Well! He’d better think again!”

“I am sure he has—now,” Phoebe replied dryly.

Julia glanced at her sister-in-law in some surprise, then chuckled, much of her anger draining out. Julia let out an explosive gust of air and sank back into the chair, picking up the cap and spectacles and holding them in her lap. Now that it was all over and she was no longer consumed with rage, her legs were suddenly trembling, unable to hold her up any longer.

“Oh, my,” Phoebe said, also sitting down with a plop. “I cannot imagine how you pulled that off. I was terrified when he walked into the room.”

“Do you think he knew me?” Julia asked anxiously. “I couldn’t see him. Did any expression of recognition cross his face?”

“No. He seemed only—well, appalled—whenever he looked at you. Oh, Julia!” Hysterical laughter bubbled up from Phoebe’s throat. “Julia, you cannot imagine how you looked! Your eyes so huge and blurred, like a frog’s.”

“Well, thank you very much,” Julia tried for an indignant tone, but laughter broke through.

“And that cap!” Phoebe let out a peal of laughter. “How did you ever think of it so quickly? I am sure he didn’t know whether you were a housemaid or a—a—”

“Giant frog in a dress?” Julia suggested.

They both laughed, unable to restrain themselves, relief from the last few minutes’ strain making them giddy. Phoebe described each expression that had chased across Lord Stonehaven’s face at Julia’s words, her imitations making Julia howl with laughter. It took some time before their hysteria died down into chuckles and then into sighs and, finally, silence.

“Well…” Julia said at last, rising. “I suppose I had better return these to Mrs. Willett and try to make amends with her.”

“I am sure the poor woman thinks you have gone quite mad.”

“No doubt. Ah, well, hopefully I will be able to think up an adequate story.” She stood up and started toward the door, but then stopped as a new thought hit her. “Oh, no! I daren’t see him tonight, as I had planned. Not so soon after this.”

“No. You’d best give him a few days to forget Miss Armiger’s features,” Phoebe agreed.

Julia sighed, a little surprised at how disappointed she felt. But then, she reminded herself, it was only natural—merely an indication of how eager she was to bring Lord Stonehaven to justice.

Julia let three days pass before she went again to Madame Beauclaire’s, but she found it difficult to wait. By the time the evening came around, she was fairly champing at the bit, eager to go.

She was wearing another one of Phoebe’s dresses tonight, again with a let-out hem and the modest fichu of lace at the neckline ripped out. It was a gauzy dress in a color the modiste had termed “sea foam green.” Though it did not have the tighter-fitting skirt of the dress she had worn the last time, its flowing lines clung to Julia’s slender form, and the low neckline was enough, she thought, to spark any man’s interest. Besides, it was a color that looked perfect with her auburn hair.

Tonight she returned to Madame Beauclaire’s without her cousin’s company. Geoffrey would balk, she knew, at escorting her a second time and would probably ask all sorts of awkward questions. Besides, having been there before, she did not need him now. As few women as she had seen there, she felt relatively sure that the doorman would recognize her as a customer.

Nor did she take her own carriage. It would have been handy, of course, to have Nunnelly waiting outside to take her home, but it might also interfere with her plans. Last week it had turned out very well when Lord Stonehaven had walked her out to find her a hackney. And there was always the danger that Nunnelly might balk at her going into a gaming house. Loyal as he was, he had known her since she was a toddler and had no hesitation about speaking his mind to her. He was also much too likely to give her orders, having grown accustomed to it, she thought, when he taught her to ride when she was a child. He was quite willing to break the law for her sake—he had never quailed at the thought of abducting Stonehaven—but she felt sure that he would refuse to let her put herself into a situation that might damage her reputation.

So she went to Madame Beauclaire’s in a hackney, the nerves in her stomach tying themselves into an ever-expanding knot. As she had expected, the footman at the door let her in after one quick glance, bowing deeply. She suspected that he could have said with whom she had left the other night, as well. Plying her fan to hide her nerves, she strolled along the hall, glancing into the rooms on either side.