All Things Beautiful (6 page)

“I’ll announce myself.” Again, she effectively cut off anything else Fisher might say. The scent of the apricot and rose-oil perfume she favored swirling around her, Julia dramatically threw open the door to the drawing room for a grand entrance.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

Brader, standing by the fire, a wineglass in his hand, looked up from the guests he was entertaining. Julia found herself with a roomful of men—and a hostile husband.

A flash of hindsight told her she should have waited for Fisher to finish his sentence.

All the men jumped to their feet, surprised by her presence. There were five guests, Julia noted, conscious that she was now the odd seventh to the number for dinner.

“Brader, whom do we have here?” one man asked, his gaze appreciative.

“My wife.” He made the title sound like a prison sentence. Julia ignored his irritation, deciding to brazen the matter out. Why hadn’t Brader warned her they were having guests for dinner?

Because he hadn’t planned to include her.

Well, Brader Wolf had better start accepting her in his life. If anyone should be upset, it should be she! How had he expected her to have her dinner? He should not be surprised by her appearance at his table. Besides, this was her chance to show him he had room for her in his life. Every man of means needed a hostess.

Her most gracious smile in place, Julia fought the urge to run up the stairs and change her dress and, instead, entered the room with the air of one born to rule. Conscious of all eyes on her with open male admiration, she crossed to Brader, daring him to eject her.

The stem of his empty wineglass snapped in his fingers, but Julia thought she was the only one who noticed it. And surely only she knew the smile on his face was more of a grimace. The men had eyes only for her.

Brader introduced Julia to each guest, the role of doting bridegroom sitting ill on his shoulders. Julia played her role to the hilt. She quickly conquered each man with her practiced charm, her smile, and, she thought dryly, her feminine attributes displayed in the sapphire silk.

Mr. Rochester and Sir Evan Andrews were bankers. Sir Hugh Rawlins and his partner, Mr. Daniels, talked to Brader about a patent they needed for their invention. The fifth gentleman, Lord Barham, was a notable member of the House of Lords. The conversation over dinner was the most stimulating one Julia had ever had in her life.

One of the inventors, Sir Hugh, had traveled extensively through Africa. To her surprise, so had Brader.

During a discussion of the East India Trading Company, the bankers deferred to Brader’s assessment of problems inside the organization. Lord Barham agreed completely with her husband and stated he would take the matter up with the trading company’s directors the next week.

She didn’t want to excuse herself at the end of the meal for the gentleman to enjoy their port and conversation. However, Brader gave her little choice, announcing to the men that they would have to bid good night to his “lovely wife.” Julia blushed from the unexpected compliment, even though he appeared to deliver it through clenched teeth, the expression in his eyes unreadable.

Brader walked alongside the table toward her
and offered his hand. The gentlemen stood. Since they were spending the night, they made Julia promise to grace them with her presence the next morning in the breakfast room. The boldest of them promised not to keep Brader overlong, bringing a flush of heated color to Julia’s cheeks.

At the bottom of the stairs, Brader stopped. “I hope you are pleased with your performance tonight—”

Julia placed two fingers across his mouth to stop any angry words. “No. No more harsh words, Brader. I did hot harm any of your business plans tonight and may have helped in some small measure. Let us have done with the animosity between us.” On those words, she stepped up on the first step, turned, and placed a chaste kiss on his surprised lips. She disappeared up the stairs before he could gather his wits.

In the quiet of her room, Julia felt triumphant. She’d conducted herself very nicely this evening. She’d been everything a good hostess should be and had even added an intelligent word or two of her own to the conversation. Brader could not complain about her performance. They’d even managed to pass three hours straight without leaping at each other’s throats! Even the scene by the stairs held promise.

She dismissed her maid after being undressed for bed. Would he knock on her door? Too keyed up even to pretend to sleep, Julia lay awake, listening for the sound of Brader coming down the hall to his room. Perhaps she could claim his attention
when he came to his room, and the two of them could discuss the success of the evening. Maybe tonight would be the beginning of a friendship between the two of them.

Or something more. Julia shifted restlessly on the sheets with the memory of Brader’s kisses on their wedding day. What if she’d kissed him like that by the staircase? Would Brader have followed her up the stairs?

The image of Brader struck lovesick made her giggle. He’d be furious if he knew her thoughts! She could hear him now, growling that no one took his mind away from business. Smacking the feather pillow between her hands, Julia suddenly hugged it to her. But a baby, a baby would be with her always, even if Brader left her again.

Another hour passed before she heard voices. Julia leaped from her bed and tiptoed over to the door. If it was Brader, did she have the nerve to knock on his door? He couldn’t accuse her again of being dressed in flannel. The fine lawn of her new negligee did nothing to protect her from a chill running across the floor and up her spine.

She opened the door a crack. The voices belonged to Sir Hugh and Lord Barham. She started to shut the door when she heard her name mentioned. Shamelessly eavesdropping, she leaned her ear closer, anxious to hear what a good impression she’d made.

“…stunning woman.” The speaker was Lord Barham.

“Wolf’s a lucky man. How does he do it? Everything the man touches turns to gold, including his wife.”

Lord Barham gave a short laugh. “
Except
his wife, you mean.”

“Any truth to the rumor that she is a member of the peerage?”

“Yes. On a social scale, Wolf’s beneath her touch, even if she was only a Markham.”

“Markham? She’s not related to Roger Markham!”

“Do you know him?”

“Who hasn’t heard of him? The man’s notorious. Little better than a sharp, and wasn’t there a story about his daughter—” Sir Hugh’s voice broke off in stunned realization. “That’s her! Julia Wolf is the daughter.”

“Um-hm.”

“She’s the one? The one I heard about three years ago before I left for Africa? The one who entertained—”

“Who entertained half the men from White’s in the nude? Yes.”

“Oh-ho! That was a scandal!” His voice dropped lower. “Wish I’d been there to see her. Is it true?”

“True? Rawlins, I personally know two of the men who saw her naked in the inn that night.”

“And now Wolf has her?”

Their voices were drifting down the hall as Lord Barham answered. “Apparently, and I’ve no idea
why. The man is prouder than the Regent. I can’t imagine why he’d saddle himself with Julia Markham.”

“She’s a beautiful woman.”

“But he didn’t have to marry her. Her kind can be purchased without a man putting a ring through his nose. As to beautiful women, you should see Wolf’s mistress. Now
there’s
a woman who will make your mouth water if you’ve a taste for the exotic….”

Quietly, Julia shut the door and slid down the wall to the floor. What a fool she’d been to think she could start over.

She stayed on the floor until her mind could think again. What Lord Barham told Sir Hugh was untrue. Had Brader heard the same story? Or was the version he might have been told even more lurid? Julia cringed at the thought.

She’d no doubt he’d heard something. Several times he’d mentioned her reputation. And his snide innuendos. Pieces of their past conversations fell into place when considered with Barham’s wild story.

Tilting her head back along the wall, Julia watched shadows from her fireplace perform a wicked dance on the ceiling. She’d never spoken of that night to anyone. When she’d wanted to talk, to explain, no one was interested in her version. Could she speak now?

And what would Brader think of her once he knew the truth?

There was only one way to find out.

A
fter she heard the last door close, Julia opened her door to check if the passage was clear. Finding the hallway deserted, she tightened her hold on the soft, silk-fringed Norwich shawl she’d thrown around her shoulders for modesty and warmth and quietly, on bare feet, crossed to Brader’s room.

She considered knocking but rejected the idea. In the mood she’d left him, Brader would growl for her to go back to her room, and she had to talk to him tonight. This very minute. Before all her courage left her. How easy it would be to pretend she’d never overhead the conversation in the hall two hours ago.

Turning the handle, Julia cracked the door open and slipped through it.

Gentle light bathed the room, and the scents of sandalwood and shaving soap lingered in the air. The simple furnishings were studiously austere: a bed, a table, a desk, a few chairs—and books, stacks and stacks of books in different shapes and
sizes piled haphazardly on the bedside table, the corner of the desk, the floor beside the desk.

In front of the fire sat Brader, his back to the door, hunched over the wide desk with the wicks of two lamps burning away. His attention firmly fixed on whatever he had on the desk before him, he didn’t hear Julia. She took a few timid steps toward him. Still he did not look up.

Now what? What did society dictate for gaining a man’s attention in his bedroom? Julia’s toes curled up in reaction to a chill dancing across the floor, and she sneezed.

Brader shot out of his chair, turning and knocking it over in his haste. “What the hell—?”

Caught off guard, Julia retreated several steps, until the back of her legs hit the bed with a bump. She took a quick step forward. “Brader. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He scowled, his attitude ferocious. As his mind appeared to register who had crept up from behind, his battle stance relaxed. “What are you doing here?”

Julia didn’t answer him, her attention focused on the gold wire frames perched on the end of his nose. Brader wore reading lenses! He’d been studying a heavy tome, much like the ones on the bedside table, spread open on the desk.

Suddenly aware of where her attention was fixed, Brader jerked the lenses from his nose and threw them back on the desk on top of the book. “What do you want?”

Not a good beginning. Julia’s mind searched frantically for an opening. She couldn’t just blurt it out: Brader, you may have heard wrongly that I entertained a roomful of men in the nude. Nor did he seem open to a confession.

Clasping her hands in front of her, praying for courage, Julia whispered, “I have to talk to you.”

“What?”

Julia cleared her throat. “I have to talk to you.”

Brader cocked his head, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

Heat flooded her face as she became aware of her husband’s state of undress. He wore nothing but a loose pair of trousers, obviously not intended for street wear, that rode low on his hips. Very low. The muscles of his bare chest rippled and gleamed in the lamplight. A smattering of hair didn’t mar his chest like those of her brothers, or Lawrence, until right below his navel. There a thin line of dark hair started, disappearing into the drawstring waist of his sleeping trousers.

And his feet were bare. She’d never seen a man’s bare feet before.

The large room felt small, close, and filled with Brader’s presence. She wished her hair wasn’t tumbling around her shoulders, or that she’d had the good sense to have dressed before venturing into his room.

Steady yourself. Keep your mind on what you need to say during this interview. Julia started to sit down, then realizing the bed was beneath her,
bobbed back up quickly. She took a step away from the bed and closer to Brader.

“It’s very personal,” she added, admitting her discomfort.

A knowing grin, not at all unattractive, spread across his face. His voice low and slightly husky, he said, “I notice you’re not wearing flannel tonight.”

Julia opened her eyes wide. Dear Lord, he must truly think her wanton. The shawl had slipped down from her shoulders. She pulled it back up and held it protectively in place with one hand. “It’s not what you think, Brader,” she said quickly.

“Oh?” Brader frowned and crossed his arms across his chest. His face wore that unreadable expression, the one she was beginning to abhor. When he had that look on his face, his thoughts toward her were normally not charitable.

Lamely, Julia continued. “I need to—talk.”

“To talk?”

She nodded and repeated, like the village simpleton, “To talk.”

His eyes narrowed before he shook his head, as if confirming a thought in his own mind that had nothing to with their inane conversation. His strong arms picked up the chair he was sitting in and turned it toward her, placing it between the desk and the hearth. With a mock bow, he indicated for her to sit in it. For himself, he pulled another chair from the other side of the desk and placed it directly across from hers.

When Julia still didn’t make a move, Brader
threw himself down in his chair, stretched out long, muscular legs and said, “So. Let’s
talk.
”

His emphasis on the word told Julia he was angry, and she had no idea why. With a deep sigh, she stepped over his legs to sit in her chair. Dark hair curled on top of his toes, a sight so personal and arresting Julia looked up as she sat down, only to discover staring at a male chest just as distracting.

She turned her face and looked instead at the fire burning low in the grate, hiding her own bare feet under the hem of her nightdress. No valet. She’d listened for one to leave his room and never heard a sound of a servant. He probably tended his own fire, too.

“Come, Julia. You want to talk. We’ll talk.”

Fingering the shawl’s fringe, she searched her mind for a way to begin. Finally she squeezed her hands tightly in her lap, forcing them to be still. “I heard some men talking tonight, Brader.” She raised her head to look him in the eye. “About me.”

Brader stood abruptly and moved a few steps away as if to remove himself physically from her presence. “I don’t think we need go into this conversation further.”

“Brader, I want to talk about it.”

“If one of my guests offered insult, I will discuss the matter in the morning.”

“Brader, it is not the men I wish to discuss. I want—”

“In the morning, Julia.”

“No, now.”

“We have nothing to discuss.”

Julia rose. “Yes, we do! If what you have heard about me is only one tenth of what I heard tonight in the hallway, we have a great deal to discuss. If we are to deal with each other for the rest of our lives, we need to discuss this now.” Surprised by her vehemence, she sank into her chair, half turned from him, and stared at her hands. Gaining control of herself, she lifted the shawl back up around her shoulders and added, “Please.”

She wasn’t sure he would honor her request. However, a moment later, he threw himself in his chair like a recalcitrant schoolboy before the headmaster.

Julia could not bring herself to look at him as she started, her voice low. “The men in the hall—their names are not important for I am not angry with them, truly I’m not, Brader.” Julia stopped, took a deep breath and continued. “One said to the other that I stand accused of entertaining men—in the nude.”

Her head came up and she held her gaze steady, meeting his eyes as she spoke. It was important for him to know she did not lie. “That is false. I have never done such a thing in my life, nor would I ever consider it.”

The flickering fire and lamplight reflected in his eyes. His jaw tensed. Julia would have given her soul to know what thoughts ran through his head.

She continued. “What is true is that I eloped with a cavalry officer. His name was Lawrence Alcorn, and I…” The words became hard to say; she forced herself to finish. “I loved him very much.”

Her confession hung in the air between them, while memories flooded Julia’s mind. She pushed them aside, breaking eye contact with Brader. The memories only brought pain, more pain than the truth.

“He did not love me.”

Julia did not go on but sat staring at the fire in silence. Images, snatches of conversation, savored moments passed before her mind’s eye. Memories….

His voice, sounding like a whisper from the grave, broke the silence. “There was a bet on the books at White’s of one hundred pounds sterling to the man who could topple Julia Markham, the icy Elegant Julia. You knew of it?”

A dark coldness filled her mind. Fear. Julia could not bring herself to look at him, nor could she lie. She nodded her head: yes.

“How many men did your brothers fleece with their counterfeit wager, Julia? How many men lost their hearts to you, only to have you throw them back in their faces and laugh, once the bet was won? How much money did the Markhams make?”

“You know.”

“Aye, I know.”

Julia felt hollow inside. “I didn’t know what my brothers were doing at first. You must believe—”

“But once you found out about their deception, you did not stop them.”

“We needed the money—” Julia shook her head, a denial of her own words. She’d promised herself not to lie again, never again. “No.”

“But then a group at White’s took the wager up in earnest and backed a handsome dashing hussar. My reports state he was the perfect man to break a girl’s heart.” He added coldly, “As amoral and selfish as the Markhams.”

A harsh indictment, delivered in his baritone. No stronger words had ever been uttered against her, and no truer ones described Lawrence. Julia stood, holding the shawl in place with one hand at her chest.

Her voice shaking with emotion, she stated, “I have never been naked in a roomful of men and I never entertained them.” She tossed her hair back with a proud, defiant lift of her chin. “Have your reports told you that?”

Brader gave a half laugh. He leaned forward. “You spent the night in the arms of a man you believed to be your betrothed. You were in a state of—ah—undress. Did my correspondents mislead me?”

Julia didn’t answer but held herself as still as a stone statue, her mind’s eye focused on events years ago.

Brader finished brutally, apparently tired of the
game. “A group of men from White’s burst into the room and discovered the couple. The majority of the men were deep in their cups. No two stories match up, and yet all stories place you in a”—he paused for the proper choice of word—“compromising situation.”

“It was nothing more than a lark for them.”

“Yes.”

She hadn’t expected his agreement. She looked at him sharply but could see no mockery in his eyes. Her muscles ached from standing so stiffly, and yet she couldn’t relax. Nor could she stop herself from telling her story. How she wished she could deny everything and throw it back in his face.

“Lawrence and I were eloping. He had no money. His family was good, but as the sixth son of an earl he would have had to make his own way in the world.” She could not stop the smile, remembering. “Your report was correct. Lawrence was a beautiful man, the handsome hero of Greek myth arriving to save my honor.” Her voice dropped so low she was almost talking to herself. “And I had a need to be saved. He had such wit and loved to laugh. Something about Lawrence defied convention.” She could still hear his laughter, hear his words. His betrayal. A deep coldness stole around her heart.

Julia relaxed and sank into her chair across from Brader but did not look at him. She stroked the shawl’s fringe.

“I knew what my brothers were doing. It seemed harmless enough.” She shot Brader an angry look. “It is easy for you to judge, but perhaps if you’d had parents like ours, you too might be like my brothers.”

“Even if I’d had the chance to do nothing with my life, I doubt that I would use Harry as a role model.”

She answered him with a bitter smile. “Well, many of the men who accepted my brothers’ wager and lost were much like Harry, although they had money of their own to put up. Their vanity told them I would be an easy conquest. What is it with men? They believe that money in funds and a title are enough for a woman.”

Brader gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Wasn’t that what you were looking for?”

Angrily, she said, “My father. It was what my father wanted. What I wanted was for someone to care for me. Me. Not the face or the body.”

Tears threatened, but Julia blinked them back. She’d already disgraced herself enough in front of this tradesman. She steeled herself against emotion and continued in a monotone.

“I thought Lawrence loved me. He had nothing; I had nothing. There were no advantages to our marriage. You may think what you will of me, but when he asked me to marry him—”

“He asked you to run away with him.”

Julia bit back a sharp retort. “He asked me to elope with him.”

“Run away,” Brader confirmed.

“There was no time to gain a license before he left to join his regiment on the Peninsula.”

Brader’s face expressed his disbelief.

Julia’s temper burst into flames, suddenly aware that Brader was toying with her. She jumped to her feet, leaving the shawl, forgotten, in the chair.

“Very well! I believed we were heading to Scotland. Lawrence planned to rendezvous with his accomplices at an inn off the Post Road to win his bet.” She lifted her chin. “And it’s true I spent the night in his arms, but I loved him. I had no idea it was all a hoax.”

Julia crossed away from him toward the darkness of a window. Her mind relived that night, all the sweet coaxing words Lawrence had used, until she’d reluctantly consented to spend the night lying beside him in the cushioned down of the bed, and then the crashing in of the door during the wee early hours of the morning, the men pouring in to stare and laugh at her. Many of the men, she knew. All were members of her class. The majority had proposed to her at one time or the other and had been rejected. They laughed at her in her thin chemise in front of them. Julia winced, the sound of their raucous drunken voices loud and clear in her ears as if it were all happening this very moment.

“Julia?”

She turned toward him, standing by his chair. Thankfully, she was dry eyed. She would not cry for Lawrence, not after what he did to her. “Have
you ever been betrayed, Brader? I can tell you, no knife cuts sharper than betrayal at the hands of one you love. And I loved him.”