Swept Away (2 page)

“J
ulia, no! Absolutely not!” Phoebe, Julia's petite blond sister-in-law, jumped to her feet at Julia's words, her hand flying to her chest as if to keep her heart from leaping right out of it. “You cannot. You must not. You don't know what you are saying!”

Julia sighed. She had known that Phoebe would react like this to the announcement of her new plan. Seduction was simply not something a well-bred young lady of 1811 set out to accomplish. “I
do
know what I'm saying. And I don't intend to actually sleep with the man.”

Phoebe let out a strangled cry and sank back into her chair. “Julia!”

“I should think that would please you,” Julia stated practically.

“Well, of course I don't want you to—to—you know—but, Julia, dear, you show such a want of propriety! To even speak of such a thing!” Her cheeks flamed at the thought.

“How else can I explain it to you?” Julia had little use for many of the conventions of Society. Because of her mother's long illness, she had not made her debut when she should have, and then there had been the tremendous scandal around her brother, after which she and Phoebe had been ostracized by the ton. So she had never lived through a stifling London Season, her every word and action examined and criticized by the leading lights of the fashionable world. That, Phoebe was sure, was to blame for Julia's lack of conventionality.

Julia knew that it went much further back. Her mother, like Phoebe, had tried to instill ladylike behavior in her daughter, but her sweet nature had never had the iron necessary to win in a battle of wills with Julia. Both her father and brother had doted on Julia, and they had found her bright wit amusing and her courageous spirit admirable. She had been allowed to express herself freely, to study where her curious mind led her, and to attempt whatever physical feat intrigued her. As a result, she had a quick mind and an even quicker tongue, could ride as if one with her horse, could hit a bull's-eye with both firearm and arrow, and brimmed with a confidence that few women of her age had. The best that her mother had managed to do was to teach her manners, dancing and the obligations of a lady. In public she had learned to curb her tongue and control her actions, primarily so that she would not cause her mother or Phoebe distress.

Phoebe moaned and sank her head in her hands. “Julia, you cannot do this. Selby would be furious with me if he knew! I shouldn't have let you come to London. I shouldn't have agreed to any of this. Your first plan was bad enough—kidnapping Stonehaven and forcing him to confess! But this…!”

“Phoebe, don't fail me now.” Julia crossed the room and knelt in front of the other woman's chair, taking Phoebe's hands in hers. Phoebe was as dear and sweet as a woman could be, and Julia understood why her brother had loved her so much, but there were times when Julia wished that her timid sister-in-law had a little more fire in her. “You mentioned the first plan. Remember how you worried and fretted over it? You were afraid that I would get hurt if I went along with Nunnelly and Jasper. You were afraid my reputation would be ruined.”

Phoebe nodded. “Yes. I was cast into despair every time you went out!”

“But nothing happened, did it?” Julia continued. “I came back safely every time, even tonight, and Lord Stonehaven never had the least clue that the lad atop the coach was I.”

“I know, and I thank the Lord for it.”

“Then believe me when I tell you that nothing bad will come of this, either. I told you, I'm not about to let the man have his way with me. I'm simply talking about meeting him, flirting with him, leading him on a little. Encouraging him to talk about what he's done.”

Phoebe gazed at her doubtfully. “Do you think that will work on a man like Lord Stonehaven?”

“I am certain of it. Look—” she sat down on the floor beside Phoebe's chair and eagerly explained “—there are two things I learned from following Lord Stonehaven these past three weeks. One was that taking him by force simply will not work. I did not know the man. I assumed that someone who did as foul a thing as he did to Selby would be too cowardly to even resist us. But physically he is strong and, I must admit, quite brave. He did not run from two men, instead he stayed and defeated them!” She could not keep a tinge of admiration from seeping into her voice. “Even tonight, when we were in the carriage and running away, he came after us—knowing that there were three of us.
But
—” she paused significantly “—the other thing that I discovered about him is that Lord Stonehaven is very fond of women.”

“A roué?”

Julia shrugged. “I don't know that I would go as far as that. He doesn't seem to pursue innocent maidens. I have only seen him with sophisticated ladies and, uh, well, women of a certain sort.”

“Oh, Julia…” Phoebe moaned.

“But don't you see? That will work to our advantage!” Julia cried. “The man has a weakness, and it is women. That is why I realized that if I could get close to him, talk to him, I could worm the truth out of him. Why, you yourself have told me that it is when a man is pursuing a woman that he is most vulnerable, the most eager to please. Doesn't it follow that that is when he will be the most likely to tell me what I want to know?”

“I don't know.” Phoebe looked uncertain. It seemed to her that Selby had been at his most vulnerable after they had made love, but she certainly could not reveal something like that to his sister!

“I have found with my suitors that they are amazingly eager to talk, especially about themselves and how clever they are and what great things they have done. They want to impress me. I suspect that Lord Stonehaven is the same way.”

“Perhaps so, but, Julia, I think that you are getting in over your head. You haven't even made your debut, and Lord Stonehaven is a wealthy man who has been on the town for some years. I am sure he is in his thirties.”

Julia raised her eyebrows and stood up, putting a hurt look on her face. “Are you saying that you do not think I can attract a sophisticated man like Lord Stonehaven? That only those who live in a little town like Whitley are drawn to me?”

Her gentle sister-in-law looked horrified, as Julia had known she would, and she forgot her questions for a moment in a storm of anxiety. “Oh, no, I did not mean that! Dearest Julia, you must know that I would never think you could not attract any man you wish. You are the most beautiful woman I know. Not just in Kent—I am sure that if you had had a Season in London, you would have outshone all the other debutantes.”

Julia smiled. She had not really had any qualms about her ability to attract a man, sophisticated or not. She had merely wanted to distract Phoebe from her worries. Julia Armiger had been assured that she was a beauty from the time she was old enough to toddle. The eager pursuit of her since she was sixteen by every gentleman within the vicinity of their country house had done nothing to disabuse her of the notion. Indeed, looking in the mirror each day was reassurance enough of that. Her figure was tall, slender and high-breasted, the perfect body for the high-waisted, soft, flowing styles that were currently popular. Her hair was a rich auburn, thick and inviting, and her eyes were a vibrant blue, accented by thick lashes. Everything about her face, from her creamy white complexion to the narrow arch of her dark brown brows to the sweet curve of her full lower lip, all combined to create a perfection that would perhaps have been cold if it had not been for the warmth of her smile and the pert little dimple that often creased her cheek.

Julia was not vain about her beauty. She accepted it as a fact, just as she accepted that she could handle a horse or read a book. Her beauty, she had found, meant a great deal more to others than it did to her. Indeed, there had been times when it had been a trial, when she had wished when conversing with a man that he could talk to her about something more interesting than the quality of her skin or the brightness of her eyes. It seemed to her that, in choosing a wife, it would be more important to find a pleasing personality such as Phoebe had than great beauty.

“Do you forgive me, dear Julia?” Phoebe asked with some anxiety, and Julia bent to give her a reassuring hug.

“Of course. I was merely teasing you. You have paid me compliments often enough to turn my head, I assure you.”

Phoebe smiled and relaxed. “Good. What I meant to say was that Lord Stonehaven has had far more experience than you. I am sure that he will admire you the moment he sees you, but it is what he might do that worries me. You intend only to tease him, but he is a dangerous man. An unscrupulous one! Think what he did to Selby, who had been his friend for years. What if you arouse him, and he—he does not behave like a gentleman? What if he—” She lowered her voice. “What if he forces you?”

“I may not have made my Season, but I have had some experience with men. I do not think the ones in Kent are that different from other men. I have always been able to handle my suitors, including the one or two who made less-than-gentlemanly overtures to me.”

Phoebe's eyes widened. “No! They did? Who?”

Julia chuckled. “Squire Buntwell, for one.”

“Squire Buntwell! That old pudding!” Phoebe exclaimed indignantly. “What would he think a woman like you would want with him? Why, he's fifty if he's a day, and married, besides.”

“I don't think he was overly concerned with what
I
wanted, only with what
he
wanted. Anyway, I made it clear to him that he should look elsewhere for his satisfaction.” Julia's eyes twinkled with laughter as she recalled the incident.

“What did you do?”

“I stamped hard on his instep and punched him in that fat stomach. And while he was doubled over, trying to catch his breath, I told him that if he ever tried it again, I would tell his wife, the pastor and all the gossips in the county. He would be a laughingstock. I think he saw my point.”

Phoebe giggled. “I am sure he did. But I don't think that would necessarily work with a man like Stonehaven.”

“Perhaps not. However, I can carry Selby's detonator with me,” Julia said, naming the small pocket-size pistol in her brother's collection. “I would think that a man's ardor decreases dramatically when he's staring down the barrel of a firearm.”

“Julia!” Phoebe looked shocked, but could not keep from bursting into laughter.

At that moment they were interrupted by the tumultuous entrance of a six-year-old boy.

“Mama! Mama! Oh, Auntie, there you are. I was looking everywhere for you. Look what I got!” He held out one grubby hand, palm up, to reveal a prize he knew would be far more appreciated by his aunt than his loving, but strangely squeamish, mother.

“A caterpillar!” Julia cried, echoed somewhat less enthusiastically by Phoebe, and bent down to look at the prize in the boy's hand. “Wonderful, Gilbert! You didn't squash it a bit, either.”

Gilbert nodded proudly. “I know. I 'membered what you said, how the green juice was like blood to him, so I didn't squeeze him.”

“Good lad.”

“Could I keep him?” He looked over at his mother. “Please?”

Phoebe smiled at the boy. Sturdily built, he had an angelic face, with her own light blue eyes and sweet smile, but Selby's strong chin and jaw. A cloud of bright red-gold curls added to the illusion of a cherub. Phoebe, while she might not share her son's fondness for worms, snakes and caterpillars, rarely could deny him anything.

“Of course you can, sweetheart. Just make sure to put him in a container, though, or he might frighten the maids.”

“Get Nurse to find a jar for you,” Julia instructed. “And remember, put holes in the top, and a twig and some leaves inside for him.”

Gilbert nodded and bounced out of the room to show his prize to his nurse. Phoebe looked after him with a sigh, her eyes filling with tears. Gilbert, only three years old when his father died, could not even remember Selby. “If only Selby had lived to see him grow up.”

Her wistful words hardened Julia's resolve. “And he would have lived to see him—if Stonehaven had not hounded him to death. Phoebe, I have to make Stonehaven reveal the truth, don't you see?”

Phoebe nodded. “I know.”

“If I do nothing, Gilbert will always have to live under the shadow of the scandal. He'll hear the whispers. People will turn away from him, refuse to meet him or issue him an invitation.” She paused, not adding, “The way they have us.” But Phoebe knew that truth as well as she.

The scandal surrounding Selby and his death had sealed Julia and Phoebe off from “polite society.” Phoebe no longer went to London for the Season. Julia, who had not yet made her debut, had accepted that she never would. The blot on the family name was too great. Even in the small circle of their country acquaintances, there had been those who had cut them. Wherever they went, even church, they saw people whispering and staring. When they had moved to the Armiger London house a few weeks ago, more than one Society matron had looked the other way when she saw them. The memory of the ton was very long.

“No,” Phoebe whispered fiercely. Normally sweet-tempered, a threat to her beloved child was enough to turn her into a fiery avenger. “That cannot happen to Gilbert. We must not let it.” She looked up into her sister-in-law's vivid blue eyes, and her jaw hardened with determination. “You are right. I was being weak. Of course we must continue to try to prove Selby's innocence. You do what you must. Whatever it takes.”