The Perfect Mistress (39 page)

Her anger had not vanished since yesterday but it too had faded, to be replaced by an ache in her heart so deep it caught at her breath. She had scarcely slept at all last night thinking about what Harrison had said and done and why. Her grandmother had said she would feel much better in the morning, but here it was morning and she didn’t feel at all better—just tired, and listless, and very sad.

Harrison was, well, who he was. The kind of man who considered it his duty to protect those people he decided needed protection. Who would do what he thought was necessary even if it was wrong. It was what was expected of him, indeed, what he expected of himself. That, in itself, was not a bad quality. The question was could she accept it? Not that it mattered now. He regretted everything that had happened. Everything including her.

“Lady Winterset?” Daniels said from the doorway. “There is a gentleman requesting to see you.” Her heart leapt but Daniels shook his head. “It is Lord Kingsbury.”

Harrison’s father? “Very well. Show him in.”

A moment later the elderly man, with the assistance of a cane, hobbled into the room. The man was nearly as tall as his son. One could see, in his day, he was every bit as handsome and now remained most distinguished. In spite of his age, he still had an air of roguish charm about him and a definite wicked twinkle in his eye. Browning immediately bounded over to greet him, tail wagging in enthusiasm. His lordship chuckled and patted the dog’s head.

Julia rose to her feet. “Good day, my lord. I must say this is an unexpected pleasure.”

“I do hope you’re not disappointed.”

“Why would I be disappointed?”

“I thought perhaps you might be expecting a different member of the family.” He studied her closely. “Was I wrong?”

She ignored his question and indicated the chair nearest him. “Do sit down, my lord.”

He settled into the chair. She sat on the sofa; Browning returned to sit at her feet. “Why are you here, my lord?”

“I have come to plead my son’s case.”

She raised a brow. “Your son’s case?”

He shook his head in a mournful manner. “He’s in a sorry state, I’m afraid.”

Her heart tripped. “Is he?”

He considered her for a moment then smiled. “As are you, I see.”

“Nonsense,” she said. “I have never been better.”

He laughed. “My dear young woman, I don’t believe you for a moment. If I did I would take my leave at once. No, I would say at the very least, you haven’t slept.”

“I have a great deal on my mind.” She shrugged. “There is nothing more to it than that.”

“Of course not.” He smiled. “Surely your inability to sleep isn’t because you’re miserable.”

“Not in the least.”

“Nor could it be due to confusion.”

“I have never been less confused.”

“Or attributable to being caught in a maelstrom of emotion and loss and even, dare I say it, heartache.”

“I’m not caught in anything and my heart has never been better.”

“My, that is a shame,” he said under his breath.

She huffed. “Lord Kingsbury, I have no idea what you are trying to say.”

“Then I shall endeavor to do better.” He thought for a moment. “I have made a great many mistakes in my life. Among them, the premature turning over of family responsibilities to my son. Not that he was not more than capable, even then. But he has become somewhat narrow-minded, even arrogant, in his belief that he alone knows what is best for all concerned.”

She scoffed. “I have noticed that.”

“His heart, however, is usually in the right place, but perhaps you’ve noticed that as well?”

“Perhaps.”

“I do not want my son to make the mistakes I did.” He paused. “Are you aware that I knew your grandmother?”

“Did you?”

He nodded. “She was quite wonderful. I have often thought … well, it scarcely matters now, I suppose. She’s gone and I am very nearly at the end of my days.”

Obviously he thought Eleanor was dead. Julia started to correct him then caught herself. She would have to talk to her grandmother before she told him otherwise.

He blew a long breath. “When I met Eleanor, I had no idea she was Hermione’s daughter. My liaison with her had occurred some fifteen years before I met your grandmother. Eleanor was a widow and I never imagined, I never connected the names although the eyes …” He nodded slowly. “I should have known by the eyes. You have her eyes, green as fine emeralds and as endless as the night.”

She bit back a smile. “How very poetic of you.”

“I have my poetic moments.” He smiled absently and continued his story. “Eleanor was devastated when she found out about her mother and me. To be expected, of course. I was rather shocked myself. She said she never wanted to see me again. I had hurt her deeply. She couldn’t forgive me and I couldn’t blame her. I didn’t know what to do. I was as miserable and confused and lost as Harrison is now. So I did nothing, which was very stupid of me.” He shrugged. “The next thing I knew I was married to Harrison’s mother and Eleanor had vanished from my life.”

“You never tried to find her? When your wife died, that is?”

“I had no right. Besides, it was too late, she was gone.” He smiled wryly. “It seemed somehow as though events were coming full circle when you came into Harrison’s life and he fell in love with you.” He met her gaze. “There has not been a day since the moment I lost her that I have not regretted allowing your grandmother to walk out of my life, and I will not watch history repeat itself.”

“You do know what he did?”

“I do. Quite simply, it was wrong. However, while his methods were questionable, he was only trying to save me from scandal.” He leaned forward. “That kind of loyalty is commendable.”

“I suppose one could say—”

“Furthermore, at that point, he scarcely knew you at all and, in truth, owed you no allegiance whatsoever.”

“Well, yes, if you wish to—”

“And you must give him some credit for calling the entire thing off.”

“And I do but—”

“But what, my dear?”

“But …” She met his gaze directly and ignored the lump that lodged in her throat. “He wishes none of it had ever happened.” She drew a deep breath. “None of it would include me.”

“My dear Julia.” His voice softened. “You drive him quite mad. This is not the first thing he has said to you that was not entirely as he intended it, nor, I suspect, will it be the last. He is indeed miserable and confused. He has no idea what to do, which in itself is not the Harrison I know, and says a great deal about not only his state of mind but his feelings for you. He is beside himself trying to come up with some sort of brilliant idea to win you back.” He grinned. “God help us all.”

She chose her words with care. “It seems to me what someone says in the heat of the moment is often what one truly feels.”

“Does it?” He considered her curiously. “And it’s always been my experience that nothing said in the heat of the moment can be completely trusted. Words are both awkward and dangerous. And what comes out of one’s mouth might not be at all what one meant to say.”

She met his gaze. “Do you really think so?”

“My dear, no man who truly wished none of this had ever happened would be as unhappy as my son is today.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know …”

“You can certainly choose not to forgive him and never see him again.” He paused. “If that would make you happy.”

She heaved a heavy sigh. “Or I could forgive him, I suppose.”

“And allow him to spend the rest of his life trying to make amends.” Lord Kingsbury nodded. “It would certainly serve him right. Fit penance for his crimes I would say.”

“It does seem appropriate.” She thought for a moment. “Is he truly miserable?”

“I have never seen anything like it.” He nodded. “All he wants now is to make up for it all.”

“He did get me a dog.”

“Entirely his idea, I might point out.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “You’re lying, my lord.”

“But I do it so well. And it’s not a complete lie. A dog is not something I would have thought of. I tend to lean more toward jewelry as a gift of apology.”

“You should reconsider that. It’s not nearly as charming.” She cast an affectionate glance at the dog. “Why is he called Browning?”

“Robert Browning is Harrison’s favorite poet,” Lord Kingsbury said staunchly.

She laughed. “I doubt that.”

“He is trying to embrace poetry. For you.”

“Is he?” How very sweet of Harrison. In spite of his arrogance and annoying nature, there was something endearing about the man. But then she already knew that.

“He is indeed.” Lord Kingsbury nodded. “Admittedly, I am lending him a guiding hand. Browning is my favorite poet as well.” He thought for a moment. “’How sad and bad and mad it was—’”

Her grandmother’s voice sounded from the doorway. “’But then, how it was sweet.’”

Lord Kingsbury’s eye widened. He struggled to his feet and turned toward the door, his voice barely more than a shocked whisper. “Eleanor?”

She smiled. “Albert.”

He stared in disbelief. “I thought you were dead.”

“Not quite yet.”

“Very nearly everyone we once knew is.”

“Apparently, we are made of sterner stuff.”

“I assumed that you too … You seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth.”

“Admittedly a mistake on my part. One of many.” She shrugged. “And water under the bridge now as they say.”

He studied her for a moment. “Do you still wish me dead?”

“Goodness, you are an absurd man. I never wished you dead.” Her smile widened and her eyes twinkled in a wicked manner. “Simply dismembered.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Is it too late?”

“For dismemberment?” She glanced pointedly at his cane. “It scarcely seems necessary now.”

He smiled slowly. “You have not changed at all.”

“Nonsense.” She scoffed. “I have changed a great deal. Why, I am as old as time itself.”

“And yet just as lovely as I remember.” He gazed at Eleanor with a look that said he did indeed see the woman she once was.

How sad to think of all the years lost because she was slow to forgive and he didn’t know how to make amends. Julia’s heart caught.

“You didn’t answer me. Is it too late?”

“As we have both agreed we are still alive, I would say it’s not at all too late.”

“I have much to make up for,” he warned.

“We both have much to make up for.” While her words were directed at the older man, her gaze strayed to Julia. “I was a fool to have delayed forgiving you when it was only truly my pride that was injured. I have regretted it for thirty years.”

“Will you allow me to make amends now?”

“My dear Albert, we have wasted a great many years. I should hate to waste any more.” She moved toward him and held out her hand. “I would propose we go on from here.”

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “My darling girl, there is not a day that I have not missed you.”

Eleanor fairly glowed with newfound happiness. “What a wonderful coincidence, my dear man.”

The two long-ago lovers stared into one another’s eyes and Julia realized her presence was not needed. She edged toward the door.

“If you will excuse me …”

“Before you go,” Lord Kingsbury began, “there is something I have wondered since we first met at Veronica’s.”

“Yes?”

“Although I am most grateful that you decided to sell Hermione’s memoirs, as none of this would have happened otherwise, I am curious as to why you simply didn’t sell your great-grandmother’s jewels.” He nodded at the pendant around her neck. “That necklace is most distinctive and I remember it well. It was given to her by a prince if I recall and is no doubt quite valuable.”

Eleanor sighed. “I told you to take it to a jeweler.”

“I haven’t had the chance.” Julia stared. “All of your treasures then? Are they all—”

“True treasures.” Eleanor lifted a shoulder in a casual manner. “Of course.”

“Mrs. Philpot said they were paste.”

“Goodness, darling, if one is going to allow the world to think one is mad, it’s best not to let anyone know the madwoman in the cottage has a king’s ransom in jewels.” She met her granddaughter’s gaze. “Although, as they are not my jewels, perhaps I am not the one you should be quizzing about this.”

“Perhaps not.” Julia nodded, exchanged a few more words then took her leave, closing the parlor doors behind her. It wasn’t as if Eleanor and Albert needed a chaperone after all. A girlish giggle sounded behind the doors and Julia grinned. Although perhaps they did.

A few minutes later, she stood in the middle of her bedroom and drew a deep breath.

“I know you don’t do parlor tricks,” she said, “and Lord knows, you have never appeared on command, but I do need to speak to you. Now.”

“Very well,” Hermione said a fraction of an instant before she appeared, sitting in her usual spot at the end of the bed. “You called and I came.” She shrugged. “I do hope you’re happy but do not expect it to happen again.”

Julia ignored her. “I need to ask about, well, your legacy.”

“The memoirs you mean.”

“No. Money, jewels, that sort of thing.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “It’s really most impolite to discuss money.”

“You have my apologies.”

Hermione sighed. “Go on then.”

“What happened to your money? Why did you leave nothing of value when you died?”

She bristled. “I rather thought my memoirs were of value.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant and I did.” She shrugged. “The small fortune I inherited from my husband went to my son, as was expected. Unfortunately, while he did not squander it, he did not nurture it either and, as you know, there was nothing left when he died. My jewels, quite an extensive collection I might add, went to my daughter.”

“Real jewels?”

“Goodness, darling.” She sniffed. “How could you ask such a thing?”

“Then all this time that I have been juggling accounts and trying to determine what to do about my financial woes,” Julia said slowly, “the solution to all my problems has been in my grandmother’s hands the entire time?”