Scandal By The Ton (6 page)

Julia smiled. "I am delighted to meet you, Your Highness."

Dottie said, "Which nickname do you prefer:
Silly Billy,
or
Slice of Cheese?
"

The prince stiffened. "I prefer Gloucester."

"Then
Gloucester Cheese
it is," Dottie said irreverently.

Nicholas Royston had a difficult time keeping a straight face.

"Since the play portrays another Gloucester, are you enjoying it?" Julia asked.

"Not really," Mick admitted, "I don't think we'll stay for the rest of it."

Julia's glance moved from Michael to the prince and back again. "Ah, I can see where a play about envy over a more accomplished brother wouldn't appeal to either of you."

The pair bowed and took their leave, as the lights went down and the third act began.

Nicholas bent his head to Julia and murmured. "That was a wicked thing to say."

"Yes, I know. I simply couldn't resist."

When Royston took hold of her hand in the dark, she didn't pull away. She could feel the heat from his strong fingers seep into hers. Julia tried to concentrate on the actors onstage, but she was more aware of the compelling presence of the male beside her.

Gradually, she became used to his closeness and was able to focus on the drama onstage.

In the fifth and final act, she leaned close to Nicholas and whispered, "Shakespeare is fond of his ghosts." She felt him squeeze her hand in response.

When the final line was delivered, both Julia and Nicholas were on their feet applauding. The audience cheered, clapped, and some stamped their feet to show their appreciation, as the cast took several curtain calls.

"I thoroughly enjoyed it. Thank you so much for inviting me, Lord Royston."

"Your presence made it more enjoyable for me. And please call me Nicholas. It makes me feel ancient when you address me as Lord Royston." He helped her into her cloak, then his hands cupped her shoulders possessively.

"Ancient?" Dottie declared. "A man of thirty is barely mature. We would be delighted to call you Nicholas.
All unavoided is the doom of destiny,
" she quoted.

Chapter Six

The following morning, two dozen yellow roses arrived for Lady Julia. The card read:
Destiny.
As she put them in water, she felt both flattered and apprehensive. It was a gallant gesture if Lord Royston truly admired her, but if his motive was revenge against Claire, it was insulting.

Julia warned herself about developing a
tendre
for the devilishly attractive viscount.
I must think with my head, not my heart. I must distance myself from Nicholas Royston. If he ever finds out that I am the one who splashed his name all over the gossip column of the London and Country, there will be hell to pay!

On Saturday evening Claire Shelborne went to an entertainment at Spencer House in St. James's, and Julia decided to occupy herself writing her
Scandal by the Ton
column. She declared Lizzie Armistead 'Tart of the Week' and listed her lovers: Charles James Fox, the Duke of Dorset, the Duke of Ancaster, the Earl of Derby, and Viscount Brolingbroke. Julia then recounted an amusing anecdote where Lord George Cavendish barged in on the lady and found the Prince of Wales in her bed.

When Julia had asked Dottie where she heard about the incident, Dottie explained that Cavendish was the Duke of Devonshire's brother, and Claire's friend Lavinia had brought the tale straight from Devonshire House.

"Dottie, are you sure you don't mind delivering the column on Monday morning?"

"Absolutely, my dear. I can't wait to see if Royston is hanging about, waiting to abduct the culprit who delivers it. What fun it would be if he grabbed me and tried to defrock me."

On Sunday morning, Julia was in the breakfast room enjoying strawberry filled
crepes
with her grandmother, when Claire burst in on them.

"How dare you? How
dare
you purposely humiliate me by attending the theatre with Nicholas Royston? His box at Covent Garden is so prominent that every eye was upon you, flaunting yourself in his company! It's the talk of the Ton! No less than six people took delight in informing me about the outrageous liaison of my own daughter with the lecherous devil."

"My dearest Claire, just because the viscount sent Julia two dozen roses, doesn't indicate anything as intimate as a
liaison,
" Dottie declared, deliberately adding fuel to the fire.

"The roses are from Royston?" Claire screeched. "You stupid girl, do you not realize that Lord Royston is using you to get back at me for dismissing him?"

"Do sit down and have some breakfast, Claire. You're frothing at the mouth."

"And you are a devious old harridan, who feigns deafness for her own amusement!"

"And you are a spoiled bitch, and a deplorable mother, who thinks the Universe should revolve around her. You treat us as if we are your satellites."

When Claire raised her hand as if she were about to slap her mother, Dottie said dryly, "Let me remind you, I am armed with a knife."

"Oh, please don't fight." Julia put her napkin on the table and stood up. She was the bone of contention between the pair and if she removed herself, their tempers would likely stop flaring.

She went up to her own chamber and stood gazing out the window with unseeing eyes. Her mother's words echoed in her ears:
You stupid girl, do you not realize that Lord Royston is using you to get back at me for dismissing him?

Julia pressed her forehead against the cool glass pane.
If what Mother says is true, then I am more than stupid.
She turned as she heard her bedroom door open, and saw her grandmother. "I think it would be best if I put some distance between both Lord Royston and my mother. If you don't mind, I'd like to spend a week at Ashridge Place. The solitude will give me a chance to begin writing my book."

"Darling, of course I don't mind. It's your country home. I'll even help you pack all your pretty new clothes. Toby can drive you this afternoon and bring the carriage back. I'll deliver the column tomorrow, and if you're not back in time, I'll try my hand at writing next week's column."

Julia smiled. "You always manage to make me feel better."

"That's what grandmothers are for."

On Monday morning, Dorothy Ashridge stepped from her carriage on Fleet Street. As she walked toward the building where the
London and Country Magazine
was published she spotted Nicholas Royston standing beside his own carriage. Without hesitation she greeted him.

"It was exceedingly thoughtful to send Lady Julia roses. She was thrilled."

"It was my pleasure, ma'am. She enjoyed the play so much; I'd like to invite her to the Drury Lane on Wednesday, with your permission."

"I would have no objection whatsoever, Lord Royston, but Julia is visiting the country. She went to Ashridge Place yesterday. Hertfordshire is so lovely this time of year."

"It is indeed. Did Lady Julia go alone?"

"Claire didn't accompany her, if that answers your question."

Nicholas smiled ruefully. "It does, ma'am."

"Are you going into this building, my lord?

"No, not this building. I have other business on Fleet Street," he evaded.

"I'm here to see my old friend, Alexander Hamilton, who publishes the
London and Country
. Do you know him?"

Since this was the fellow Nicholas had been tempted to sue for libel, he replied, "No, I don't know the owner of the magazine personally."

"Such a pity. I'm sure you'd have many interests in common. I shall bid you ta-ta for now." Dottie hid her amusement as she made her way to the newsroom to deliver Julia's column.
Poor sod will be waiting in vain if he hopes to encounter George the newsboy today.

Three hours later, Nick Royston gave up his vigil. He climbed into his carriage and on the way home he began to think about Hertfordshire. The lure of the countryside in summer was hard to resist. The more he thought about Royston Hall, the more he missed it. He hadn't been since before he'd traveled to Portugal to urge that country to maintain the alliance against France.

Thoughts of Julia Shelborne invaded Nick's imagination, and by the time he arrived at Curzon Street, he had decided to drive up to Hertfordshire, concluding that Royston Hall needed his attention. In short order, Nicholas packed, and then wrote a note for Michael telling him where he'd gone. Nick decided to drive his own phaeton and left the closed carriage and driver for Mick.

As he tooled along the Great North Road he contemplated Lady Julia's surprise when she saw him. Lord Royston did not have a vindictive nature, and the need to take revenge against Claire Shelborne had long since evaporated. He neither liked nor disliked the young widow; he was simply indifferent.

Julia sat on the lawn beneath the shade of a huge weeping willow; the sable house cat,
Luna,
curled up beside her. She was surrounded by history books she'd brought from Ashridge Place's well-stocked library. She had decided to write a story about Bess of Hardwick, a real-life woman of history whom she found fascinating. Bess was a friend of Queen Elizabeth the First, another bewitching female.

Julia had been doing research on Elizabeth Hardwick for some time. Bess had begun as a servant girl with nothing, and by her own willful determination, and four husbands along the way, became the richest woman in England after the Queen.

Julia decided that it was time she stop researching and starting writing. "I think I should divide my story into four parts-- one for each marriage," she told
Luna.
The cat opened her yellow eyes that resembled full moons, and closed them again.

With her head on one side and her pencil poised above her notebook, Julia spoke her thoughts aloud. "I'll write a short prologue when Bess was six and the bailiffs removed her family from Hardwick Manor, then jump to Part One, Chapter One, when she was sixteen."

Julia wrote:
Derbyshire, England, August 20, 1533.

"Well, good morning. I had no idea you were in residence at Ashridge Place."

Julia looked up in surprise at Nicholas Royston, dressed in riding clothes, holding the reins of a black hunter. "And I had no idea you were in residence at Royston Hall, my lord."

"An amazing coincidence."

She licked her lips. "I don't believe in coincidence."

"Then we'll call it
Destiny
."

The corner of her mouth went up. "As you wish."

"Would you like to join me for a ride?" Nicholas invited.

Julia was tempted. In fact, she admitted he was the most tempting man she had ever encountered. "Some other time, perhaps. Today I am writing."

"Then why don't I join you?" Nicholas fastened the reins of his hunter to a tree, and stretched out on the lawn beside her.

"Writing is a solitary occupation," she said pointedly.

"When you told me you had aspirations to become a professional writer, I didn't take you seriously. Still, I suppose it's the fashionable thing for a lady to do these days, since Georgiana Devonshire penned
The Sylph.
"

"I'm not writing to be
fashionable,
Lord Royston, and I consider
The Sylph
to be sentimental claptrap, and blush that the duchess named her melodramatic heroine Julia."

"Sorry, perhaps you prefer to follow in the footsteps of Fanny Burney."

"Have you ever read Frances Burney's
Evalina,
my lord?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Then let me enlighten you. The novel
Evalina
is perhaps sentimental, but it
is not to be mocked. Burney writes with a good deal of satire and wit, and her heroine is filled with fire and gumption. I am passionate about history and have decided to write a fictional biography of a famous woman who lived in Elizabethan England."

Nick Royston's features sobered. "You are right to chastise me. I was being condescending. It is just beginning to dawn on me that you are indeed serious about your writing. My respect for your intelligence is rising by the moment. I humbly beg your pardon, Lady Julia."

"Liar! You never did anything
humble
in your life, my lord."

He grinned. "
Mea Culpa
."

"I forgive you, but I have a suggestion, Lord Royston. If you allow me my solitude to write today, I will go riding with you tomorrow."

"It's a bargain... providing you agree to call me Nicholas."