Page 13 of The Wolf and the Wildflower
Her father smiled slightly, pushing his spectacles once more up his nose. A habit which meant he was fiercely concentrated on the conversation while attempting to appear nonchalant. His spectacles were also an object which helped him center his emotions. At times she wished she could stare at her papa and not see him through the lenses of the knowledge she held. Perhaps she was overthinking the matter. Perhaps the touch of his glasses was simply an endearing habit and not a sign of anything more serious.
“Have you given any thoughts of marrying yourself?” her father replied calmly. “Is there any young lady you have an attachment with?”
Jules swallowed the laugh bubbling in her throat. It was not a light matter, but if she did not see the humor in the deceit, she would weep with pain. “Father, surely you jest. I have only just returned to England. I’ve not been out in society much.”
Thank heavens they were not forced to attend all of the events which the viscount and viscountess invited Jules and her parents to. It had been easier to discourage her uncle’s numerous invitations by implying she had little time to attend balls and the theatre because of studies. Now that Jules was back home in England and had yet to meet her sister’s new husband, she would be harder pressed to be able to ignore or deny those invitations.
Sometimes it was…exhausting having a family that belonged to thehaut ton. Though she was not about town much Jules was still painfully aware that her actions could affect the entire family, especially her sister, who was so gloriously happy as the new Viscountess Halliwell.
A sly glance from beneath his bushy brows. “You did not meet anyone while you were studying?”
She glanced through the carriage door. “A few cherished friends. I am only three and twenty, Father.”
“Your uncle believes he has the perfect match for you. A young lady who has recently become his ward. Her father had been his friend, Baron Irving. I have not met her, but Albert writes that she is good-natured and lovely.”
Her heart thumped. “I have years before I will think about taking a…partner.”Good heavens, this is getting even more ridiculous.The continued deception burned inside her belly like she had swallowed the bitterest of poison. “Uncle Albert has not mentioned Miss Irving in his letters, and please do not encourage him, Father.”
“You did not visit home for the holidays for four years,” her father murmured, an amused smile about his mouth. “Your mother missed you fiercely.”
And in his tone, she heard the echoed sentiments that he too had missed her presence terribly. Regret clutched at her throat, and she brushed aside the emotion.What’s done is done. There was no sense in looking back with sadness, only to look forward.
Would you love me the same if you knew I was a female, Papa?
The coach drew to a halt, and Jules breathed a sigh of relief.
She alighted from the carriage and was greeted by an enormous four-story, endless Georgian-style house built to dominate the landscape and certainly intending to be impressive. But the surrounding landscape was no wilting flower in the face of this stately home. Rolling grasslands with flowering gardens housing myriads of colors designed in intricate patterns were placed artistically. At the edge of it all loomed thick forestry, teeming with birds and wildlife, for as she surveyed the land, a fox scampered across her view while a few birds glided above the treetops.
They walked toward the entrance where a man, possibly the butler, awaited their arrival. He introduced himself as Mr. Campbell, the chief steward of the estate. He escorted them inside the manor, and Jules handed over her hat and overcoat to the butler before caressing her moustache. “Gentlemen, the duchess, and a few other family members await you in the drawing room,” Mr. Campbell said. “The duke is also there, and His Grace is keen to have this meeting underway.”
Her father frowned, and Jules understood his thinking. It would probably be best if they met privately with the duke and the duchess for their first meeting. Father, however, did not object, and they followed Mr. Campbell down the long hallway. Jules’s heart raced, and it vaguely stunned her to know that inside her gloves, her palms sweated.
Why must I be nervous to meet this gentleman?
Upon reaching the drawing room, Mr. Campbell knocked once and then opened the door. Immediately Jules saw that there were six occupants, and their animated cheer was a carefully constructed pretense. The duchess’s lips were pinched, and a strained expression appeared around her eyes. The young lady playing the pianoforte did so a bit too vigorously, oftentimes striking a discordant tune. The other two ladies beside the duchess taking tea appeared as if they wanted to be elsewhere. And there were two gentlemen playing chess by the fireplace.
A cold gust of wind blew through the room, and Jules lifted her gaze to the wide-open windows. A gentleman stood there, with his back turned to those gathered in the room. She hadn’t seen him in her initial assessment of the occupants. His stillness had set him apart and had not immediately registered.
His body was perfectly motionless, the clothes he wore—tan trousers fitted into knee-high boots and a dark blue superfine jacket—clasped his frame with elegance and perfection. Though his hair had been caught at his nape, it flowed past his shoulder blades and even lower to his upper back. The way he stood apart from everyone spoke so much about the man.
He finds comfort in isolation.
“Dr. Southby!” the duchess said, hurriedly lowering her teacup and saucer to the small walnut table before her. She stood, glancing behind her and then back at them. “I do believe you are a day early.”
The rebuke in her tone did not deter her father. He stepped forward with a courtesy bow. “Your Grace, I had sent a note ahead and I believe your man, Mr. Campbell, received it, since he greeted us earlier.”
An interesting flush rose on the duchess’s cheeks before her expression shuttered. Everyone in the room stared at Jules and her father, and even the young girl’s fingers hovered over the pianoforte keys as she glanced between the man at the window and the duchess.
“Wulverton,” the duchess said brightly. “Do you recall I mentioned Dr. Southby will be visiting?”
The duke turned to face the room and Jules’s thoughts crashed. He was…beautiful. It felt wrong to describe him so when his raw masculinity was undisguisable. The sharp slant of his cheekbones, his elegant nose, full sensual lips, dark winged brows set above brilliant dark gray-blue eyes. He wore no cravat or neckcloth, and she spied the strong column of his throat. The pit of her belly dipped, and an acutely unfamiliar sensation tightened low inside. Jules had a momentary sensation of complete bewilderment before she worked to school her face into a polite mask.
The duke’s gaze scythed indifferently through her and their party. Their regard did not connect, nor did his eyes linger on Jules or her father.
“Your Grace,” her father said bowing. “It is a great pleasure to meet you.”
“Dr. Southby,” the duke replied with indifferent civility. “It is best we get acquainted in privacy. We shall remove to my study.”
His voice was deep and smooth, controlled, perhaps a bit disinterested, and Jules sensed that he had not agreed to this meeting for himself. The duke nodded gracefully to his mother, then made his way from the room. Jules hurried to the side, and he walked past without looking at her or her father. They followed, and Jules glanced at her father to try and guess his thoughts.
