Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) (28 page)

"The first thing I am going to do is have a dressmaker come to the house. We cannot have the Duchess of Mannington receiving guests in that pitiful gown," Julian's grandmother stated firmly.

Julian laughed. "I told Lavender that you would try to run her life, Grandmama." He sat back on the couch, watching Lavender's face. "Don't say you were not warned."

"What you need is someone to take you in hand, Julian. I thought you had better manners than to leave your wife alone on her first day in London. If your grandfather had done that to me, I might not have been here when he returned. For that matter, you might never have been born, because I would have had nothing to do with him. I would have thought you would take better care of your new bride."

Julian stared into Lavender's eyes. "You will learn, Grandmama, when you know her better, that my wife can take care of herself."

19

For the last week Lavender had spent her days standing before a highly acclaimed French dressmaker, being poked, measured, and pinned. Gowns of every color and description now filled the huge cherry-wood wardrobe in Lavender's dressing room. Dazzling jewels had been purchased, and the numerous necklaces, bracelets, and rings were in a locked jewel box on Lavender's dressing table. The floor of her huge wardrobe was lined with soft leather shoes, while gloves, hats, and bonnets to match every gown were on the upper shelves. The gowns she had worn on the voyage across the Atlantic had been distributed among the servants. Lavender's head was reeling from such finery.

It did no good for Lavender to remind Julian's grandmother that, as she grew bigger with the baby, the gowns would soon be too small for her. The dowager had merely shrugged her shoulders and stated that Lavender would be able to get into them again once the baby was born, unless, of course, she wanted new gowns at that time.

Lavender hardly ever saw Julian. He left the house early each morning, and did not return until after she had gone to bed. He never came to her room, and Lavender could not bring herself to go to him. In moments of weakness, when she imagined him with another woman, jealousy would burn in her heart.

The family doctor was called in to examine Lavender, and had proclaimed her healthy and predicted the baby would be born in the early spring. Of course the man was told that Julian and Lavender had been married three months earlier than they actually had.

When the word reached the bon ton that Julian was married, invitations came to the house every day, inviting Julian to balls, galas, luncheons, and dinners. Julian's grandmother always sent their regrets, using Lavender's delicate condition as an excuse. Wanting to spare Lavender the agony of being looked at and fawned over, she also refused to invite her friends to come to the house.

However, Lavender and the dowager did draw a lot of attention each afternoon when they rode in an open carriage through St. James's Park. Lavender was discovering that the most prominent in English society always paraded their finery in the park. It appalled her to learn that, even though it was a public park, servants were posted at the entrances of the grounds to keep out the undesirables. She knew such snobbery would never be tolerated in America.

Lavender's guilt was always with her. She felt like a traitor because there was a war going on and she was so far removed from it. Each day she would write a letter to her aunt, not knowing if it would reach her because of the hostilities between the two countries. In those letters, Lavender tried to sound cheerful and dwell on the wonderful sights she had seen, hoping her aunt would not guess how really unhappy she was.

It was a crisp, gusty day. The wind rattled the windows and shutters as Lavender stood at the French doors in the green room, watching the wind strip the last remaining leaves from the trees. Winter was in the air, and she was feeling trapped in her alien world. As always, her thoughts turned to her home. She had heard little news about the war, and nothing from her aunt or Chandler.

She leaned her forehead against the frosty windowpane, thinking about Julian's grandmother, who was visiting friends this morning. Not wanting Lavender to catch a chill, the dowager had urged her to stay in the house today. Lavender was beginning to have a deep affection for the dowager, who had been so kind and loving to her, and had gone out of her way to make Lavender feel a part of the family. Of course, Lavender was learning that the child she was carrying was very important to the dowager duchess, and Julian's grandmother was like a watchdog where Lavender's health was concerned.

Hearing a gentleman's voice in the hallway, Lavender turned toward the door. "No, no, Mrs. Forsythe, don't bother. I know the way, I'll just announce myself," the young man said, peeping his head around the door.

Lavender watched as the gentleman entered the green room and moved in her direction. He appeared to be about her age, perhaps even younger. He wore a powdered wig, and his clothing, which evidently came from the best tailor, was flamboyant. His lips were thin, and though he was a young man, he was plump and his face was round. Even so, there was something notable about him and Lavender noticed he carried himself regally.

"Damn me, I had heard you were a beauty, and you are," he said, stopping in front of her with a wide smile. "I am assuming that you are Julian's new bride."

"I .. . yes, I am."

The gentleman walked around Lavender in the most insulting manner, as if he were assessing her. "For the most part, I find Americans boorish and not to my liking, but 1 have decided to like you." He chuckled as if he had made a jest. "And who would not like a beauty like you?"

Lavender took offense and glared at the man's audacity. She pressed her cold hands together, on the brink of losing her temper. "I have no high regard for Englishmen, either, but at least I have always credited them with good manners—that is, until now. I do not know who you are, but if you cannot conduct yourself properly, I will have you shown to the door."

For a fraction of a second the man's eyes narrowed and he stared at her with a gaping mouth. Soft laughter came from the doorway, and Lavender swung around to find Julian leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed. "1 believe my wife has just put you in your place, Prinny."

Lavender looked from her husband to the odious visitor. "If the two of you will excuse me, I will leave you to enjoy each other's company." When she moved around Julian to exit the room, he caught her by the arm and turned her back to face the man he referred to as Prinny.

"Now you can see what I have to endure, Prinny. The sting of a woman's tongue can be far more deadly than the sting of an adder's bite."

The man called Prinny did not seem inclined to be forgiving. His eyes still conveyed his indignation at being spoken to in such a manner. "Even if she is your wife, she should take care that she does not go too far." There was a warning in the voice.

Julian, however, did not appear to take him seriously. "Your nose is out of joint because you have never had a woman stand up to you before."

With a surprising burst of laughter, the young man held his sides and pointed at Lavender. "And so I have not. She put me properly in my place. You are a most fortunate man, Julian. Your wife has spirit and courage." His eyes danced merrily. "And she is a rare beauty."

Lavender was not appeased. This man had insulted her, and she was not ready to forgive him. Julian, seeing the burning anger that sparkled in her eyes, thought it was time to introduce her to their visitor. He could not be sure how she would receive Prinny when she learned who he actually was. There was the chance that she might become even more hostile toward him.

"Lavender, this man you have just taken to task, is His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales, and your third cousin by marriage."

Lavender froze. No, not the Prince of Wales! Julian had introduced him as her cousin. Was this some cruel jest that she should be related by marriage to her enemy? She glanced at Julian and saw that he was waiting for her to acknowledge the prince. She remembered her promise to be polite to his guest, regretting the day she had made that rash commitment.

She felt the heat of anger that flushed her face, and her mouth rounded. "Oh," she whispered. Prinny might be the Crown Prince of England, and the son of the hated King George, but she felt he had no sovereignty over her so she did not curtsy.

"I am delighted to meet you, madame," the prince said, smiling at her.

Before Julian knew what she was about, Lavender raised her chin, and he recognized the danger signs. He attempted to forestall her before she insulted the prince again; but it was too late, he knew she would speak her mind.

Lavender's caution was overridden by her anger. "I am not glad to meet you, Your Highness, and I do not ask pardon of you. It is you who should beg my pardon for your rudeness."

After a moment of heavy silence, jolly laughter ensued. "Strap me, if you aren't right, dear lady. I was insufferable, and I do humbly apologize to you."

Julian could not believe his ears. That was the first time he had ever heard Prinny apologize to a woman, especially one who had just given him a dressing-down. When Lavender smiled, Julian still did not relax. He did not trust her. He hoped she was remembering the bargain they had made the night of their marriage, and would be nice to the prince.

"Tell me, pretty lady, why is it that this husband of yours does not bring you to court to meet the rest of my family?" the prince asked.

Fearing what Lavender's answer would be, Julian quickly answered for her. "My wife has been recuperating from the tiresome sea voyage, and must rest for the journey to Mannington."

The prince's mouth turned down into a pout. "You hardly ever stay in London anymore, Julian," he said, assuming a hurt expression on his face. "I had hoped you would talk to my father about allowing me to go abroad. He always listens to you."

"Prinny, be reasonable. You have not yet reached your twentieth birthday. There will be plenty of time for you to do the Grand Tour. Besides, you know it would be too dangerous for you to leave England just now."

"I don't see why I have to suffer just because there is a war going on," he pouted, and there were actually tears in his eyes. "You know the real reason my father will not allow me to go is he believes travel is a frivolous waste of time and money. If Frederick wanted to go, Father would not hesitate for one moment to give his approval. Everyone knows that Father wishes Frederick was his heir instead of me."

Lavender watched her husband move across the room and place a comforting hand on the young prince's shoulder. "Your father cannot do anything about who succeeds him on the throne, Prinny, but if you are wise, you will not provoke him just now. He has many problems with the war in America and half of Europe standing against us."

Lavender clasped her hands together. "Have you heard something new about the war, Julian?"

He looked at her grimly. "Nothing that you need worry about," he said in a sharp tone before turning back to the prince. "Can I have Hendrick serve you a drink, Prinny? 1 have an excellent port."

The prince flung his arms out in a rage. "No, I do not want a drink, and I'm sick to death of hearing about the war. I don't know why we shouldn't just give the Colonies back to the Indians and have done with it."

Lavender bobbed a curtsy, knowing if she did not get away, she would lose her temper again. "If the two of you will excuse me, I will retire to my room." She gave a tight smile to the prince. "Your Highness, it has been enlightening talking to you. I am sure England sleeps well at night, knowing they have someone with your intelligence ready to take over the reins of government, should anything unforeseen happen to your father."

The prince flashed her a bright smile, not understanding she had meant to be insulting—but Julian knew her intention was to belittle the prince, and he flashed her a murderous glance.

When she turned to leave, she heard the prince's remark, and smiled. "I wish everyone was as generous as your wife, Julian. Of course, she is astute for a woman, so she recognizes leadership when she sees it."

Lavender moved up the stairs to her chamber, wondering what had brought Julian home so early. She had no notion how he spent his days, but it was none of her affair. She tried not to think about the nights she had lain alone in the big bed, aching for him to come to her—to hold her.

As Lavender reached the top step, she was besieged by a strange flutter that ran through her abdomen and left her gasping for breath. Grabbing the banister, she waited for the sensation to pass. It had been such a strange feeling; not pain, but like ... the baby inside her had moved!

Elation filled her heart as she continued down the hallway. She
had
felt the baby move! She felt an uplifting of her spirits, understanding for the first time that she was responsible for creating a life. This child was a part of her and Julian, hopefully the best of them both. Her hand went down to the slight roundness of her stomach, and she felt an outpouring of love for this unborn child.

Lavender lay across the bed feeling dazed by the motherly feelings that assailed her whole being. Julian's grandmother had told her that she would love the baby after she felt it move, and she had been accurate. Lavender tried to imagine what the baby would look like. If it were a boy, would he have Julian's flashing brown eyes?

Suddenly her bedroom door was flung open, and Julian glared at her. "What in the hell did you mean by that little display downstairs, Lavender? How dare you insult the prince in my house."

She sat up, ready to do battle with Julian. "I was merely defending myself. He was rude to me first."

"We are not at war here, Lavender. Do you feel the least bit guilty that Prinny thought you liked him? He certainly liked you, although I cannot guess why."

"Bah," she said, shaking her head. "If he is any example of the ruling body in England, then you English have my sympathy. He is nothing but a spoiled child who wants to play and resents the fact that a war is interfering with his pleasure."

"You don't know anything about him. I would suggest you withhold your criticism until you know what you are talking about."