Season for Temptation Read online

  First, find some breakfast. Done.

  Second, find Louisa and set a wedding date. The sooner, the better.

  Third, find Lord Oliver and get his approval for the wedding date and marriage settlements.

  He felt a bit queasy all of a sudden. He wondered if he’d eaten too quickly.

  Still in silence, he sipped at a cup of coffee until he felt more settled. He took a deep breath.

  “Where is Louisa this morning?”

  “Hmm?” Julia looked up from intently slathering an ungodly amount of butter on a piece of toast. “Oh, I expect she’s in the library. Or maybe up with the children, if Mama’s not up there. Or maybe they are all visiting the new calf. It’s sure to be one of those.” She dimpled at him. “You see, I do not do everything by any means. Or know everything about this house.”

  James nodded his acceptance, not quite able to respond to her smile. “Would you show me the way to Louisa, once you are done eating? I haven’t quite gotten my bearings in the house yet.”

  Julia stood up so quickly that James heard the thump of her knees banging against the underside of the table. She winced, but replied, “Yes, sorry, let’s go. I didn’t mean to eat so much and keep you waiting.”

  “No need for injury,” James assured her, the urge to laugh returning again. “Please finish your toast. In fact, try these preserves as well—they are delicious.”

  That was all the persuasion Julia required to sit back down and resume her meal. “Mmm,” she agreed. “You’re right, the cook’s got a knack with blueberries.”

  James looked down at his own plate again, but the food didn’t appeal to him anymore. It had been delicious, and he had been very hungry. But now, his insides roiled, and he wasn’t sure why.

  So, with no food to occupy him, he watched Julia.

  She didn’t notice his gaze, so single-mindedly was she eating. Her light hair was pulling out of its pins, and with curls around her face, she looked very young and untroubled. Now that he knew the breadth of her responsibility in the household, he could hardly believe that she appeared so carefree, or that she and Louisa were virtually the same age.

  As he watched, he felt that warmth tickle through his body as it had the day before. She really was lovely, despite her untidy hair—or maybe even, really, because of it. And she was so unexpected.

  He suddenly wanted to touch her neck, or smell her hair, or drop a kiss onto those full lips. If he only could get that blasted toast away from her for a few seconds, to draw her attention. His hand even began to reach toward her as if of its own volition, and he forced it to pick up a fork and toy with that instead. But he wanted to grab her up and kiss her until she forgot all about her breakfast. He wanted to learn all about her. He wanted to . . .

  He mentally drew himself up with a start as he realized what he was thinking. What on earth was he doing, getting heated up about a young woman who hadn’t even made her debut yet? And, more importantly, with an intelligent, elegant, would-never-talk-with-her-mouthfull fiancée waiting for him somewhere in this rabbit warren of a house, too.

  He quickly shuttered his face, annoyed with himself. Honestly, had he taken leave of his senses to let this friendly, chattery (don’t forget beautiful, his treacherous brain added) girl get to him in that way?

  He might well have, at that. But he wouldn’t let it happen again. Couldn’t he talk to her without thinking of her as a woman? He simply had to, while he was staying in her home. He couldn’t make her—or Louisa, for that matter—feel uncomfortable.

  But he couldn’t stop looking at her, either.

  Julia finally seemed to feel James’s gaze on her and looked up. “I’m sorry, I’m done anytime. You’re finished?”

  At his silent nod, she stood up and stretched luxuriantly. The taut flex of her body did nothing to help banish the thoughts that James knew, knew, he needed to put a stop to.

  “It is so wonderful to have extra meals in midmorning. I can’t thank you enough for being a late riser and missing breakfast.”

  This broke James’s feeling of internal tension; it was too ridiculous. At his sudden explosion of laughter, Julia hastily corrected herself.

  “That is, not late for town, but early. Maybe late for the country, but not really, since you are a guest. And you can do whatever you like, and not worry about it a bit, since you are a guest.”

  “Family, I hope,” James replied in his most soothing, normal, brotherly voice. “And not to be tiptoed around with special arrangements that cause you extra trouble, like second breakfasts.”

  As he said this, he thought with a pang of the hour at which he would have to rise for breakfast with the family. Eight o’clock. It simply boggled the mind. Well, if he was to run his own estate, he supposed it would be good to get used to these early country hours.

  “Right, right,” Julia was still talking on. “That’s right, you are to be family. Anyway it’s very kind of you to provide me with an excuse to eat as much as I want to.”

  With this, the pair left the breakfast room and proceeded down a corridor James remembered only vaguely from his initial trip through the house the night before.

  “I still have quite a lot to familiarize myself with,” he observed.

  “Louisa will be happy to show you around the whole house,” Julia replied with—was that a knowing smile? He arched a skeptical eyebrow back at her, but she seemed not to notice as she continued, “We’ll check the library for her first. It’s her favorite place in the house.”

  They came to a set of heavy double doors, and Julia knocked before cautiously turning the handle of one. “She hates to be startled,” she explained over her shoulder in a stage whisper.

  James nodded his understanding. “Louisa?” he called hesitantly.

  “Good heavens, come in,” said an exasperated voice from inside.

  As Julia opened the door, Louisa added, “Julia, you have got the loudest whisper anyone could possibly imagine. Good morning, James. How are you feeling today? Did you rest well?”

  “Excuse me; I will leave you alone,” Julia said in her loud whisper, and again with that knowing smile that twisted warmly through James’s stomach like a fine brandy, she melted off.

  Once outside the door of the library, Julia blew out a deep breath, her shoulders sagging. She looked up and down the silent corridor to make sure it was empty, then leaned back against the wall and slid down to the floor, folding her legs in front of her.

  “Why am I so stupid all the time?” she muttered.

  Why, she thought to herself, did she keep embarrassing herself in front of James? Good heavens, that was actually Viscount Matheson she kept insulting! It seemed as if she couldn’t meet the man without some breach of propriety, whether chiding him for his town polish or, oh yes, giving him an earful of her most unladylike vocabulary words.

  Well, they were not the most unladylike words she knew, but they were bad enough.

  He had been kind about it so far, but she knew well that it was important that he like the family and want to go ahead with the marriage. Quite simply, Louisa’s turn in London was over, and Julia was to go next if she was ever to have a prayer of marrying outside the limited social circle of the surrounding estates. Their parents had never made the smallest allusion to the fact, but she knew well that, though a London season was a heavy financial burden, an unmarried daughter—especially one of five—could be even more so.

  Julia glumly dropped her chin onto her folded knees, curling her arms around her legs. Thus far, her family had behaved quite unconventionally toward their guest—that is, their newest family member, as he had referred to himself—but then again, he did seem to like it.

  So, did he like them?

  Did he like her?

  From what Julia had seen of James so far, he was . . . well, wonderful. She couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. His clever face, his warm smile, his low laugh, his long body. She only wished she’d been able to see more of it. Of him.

 
She felt her face heat again. This time, the heat spread into her fingers, making them tingle, and into the pit of her stomach, tickling it with nervous excitement.

  James was exactly the sort of man she wanted to meet in London. Exactly the sort of man she’d like for a husband.

  She had to remember, though, that he was also the man who was going to marry her sister.

  Suddenly, she felt like using all her most unladylike vocabulary words.

  Chapter 4

  In Which Louisa Is Offered a Bathtub Shaped Like the Sphinx

  In the library, James and Louisa were completely oblivious to Julia’s fit of confusion outside the door as they enjoyed their first private conversation in, it seemed to James, the weeks since his proposal. As soon as the door had closed behind him, he strode over to the red Grecian-style sofa on which Louisa was seated.

  He wondered what type of greeting would be proper in this situation. A man should be affectionate with his future wife, of course, but he still felt the distance of unfamiliarity looming between them.

  After the briefest of pauses, he caught up her hands in his and kissed first one, then the other.

  “Good morning, my dear. You look more beautiful than ever.”

  This was no exaggeration; Louisa was a lovely woman. Her wide brown eyes were bright, and her thick dark hair was coiled up neatly and caught back from her face by a pale green band that matched her print morning dress. The color brought out the rich tones of her hair and the delicate pink of her cheeks, which blushed in response to his words.

  Louisa cast her gaze down and motioned for him to sit next to her. “Nonsense; that’s just fine talk. But it’s kind of you, so I’ll let it pass even though I know it’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s the perfect truth, I swear. I’m very glad to see you alone this morning. It has been quite a while, and we have much to talk about.”

  “Oh?” she asked, lifting her eyes. “I am glad to see you, too, of course, but what subject has arisen so suddenly?”

  “Nothing sudden; just talk about our marriage. Before I talk to your father—which is, of course, one of the reasons for my visit here—I wanted to consult your wishes as to the time and scale of the ceremony.”

  Again he reached for her hands as he moved closer to her on the sofa. Gazing at her intently, he added, “I would like to be married as soon as possible.”

  This had been his plan even before arriving at Stonemeadows Hall; a key motivation for his swift engagement had been an equally swift—though respectably so—marriage. Now that he had arrived, he was also disconcerted by his unexpected attraction to Julia, and he determined to squelch it at once by cementing his tie with his fiancée.

  Except Louisa didn’t react as he’d thought she would.

  Based on his experience with women, he expected a warm, eager response, possibly even followed by an animated discussion of where to get the wedding gown. He wasn’t sorry to be spared the discourse on fashion, but still—when Louisa only stared at him, startled, he felt his heart sink a bit.

  “I see,” was her only initial response. She hesitated a moment, then added, “There is no need for a rush, is there? Need we be hasty?”

  Her lack of enthusiasm stung, and James drew back. “Hasty? I hadn’t thought of it that way. No, there’s no reason except my own wish to be settled.”

  It was mostly true. True enough. He did wish to be settled. At once.

  Louisa bit her lip as she considered, then admitted, “If we marry soon, I shall have to sponsor Julia during her season next spring.”

  This was a total non sequitur to James, but he tried to respond as he thought Louisa would expect him to.

  “I think that would be delightful. You could begin your life as a London hostess with one of your favorite family connections.”

  His groin tightened. Delightful. Julia, in his house, nearby always, saucy and willing.

  Oh, yes. And under his wife’s supervision. The vision popped as quickly as a soap bubble.

  Unaware of his thoughts, fortunately, Louisa was struggling to explain herself. She raised one slim hand, as if to ward off James’s suggestion.

  “I would not find it delightful. In fact, I’d find it the opposite.” She shook her head. “I can’t think of it; I really can’t. I do dislike drawing attention to my own faults, James, but it cannot have escaped your notice that I fit very poorly into the world of the ton. How would it serve Julia—or my own self—to try to take a place of prominence in that world and lead an unknown young lady into it?”

  Her reluctance was startling, but after pondering her words for a few moments, James wasn’t really surprised. He knew she hadn’t enjoyed her London season; good Lord, they had met because she was hiding from a ballroom.

  But he had to persuade her to be married as soon as possible. How best could he do it?

  Well, there were always his title and his money. They were worth a try.

  “Is that all that’s bothering you?” At her suddenly mulish expression, he added hastily, “Not, of course, that I mean to belittle your concerns. But you forget, my dear, that I bring connections to our marriage as well. As my wife, the new Viscountess Matheson, you will have the respect of all you meet.” He grinned at her; his most charming grin, the one that had always caused young women to swoon and flutter. “If I do say so myself.”

  Louisa, of all young women, seemed immune to The Grin. “I know,” she replied, her expression glum. “I know that you’re very much a part of that world, and that it is important to you. But could I not be one of those wives who stays in the country all the time?” A hopeful smile peeped at the corners of her mouth. “You could tell everyone I misbehaved terribly and you had to rusticate me.”

  James responded appreciatively to her sly smile and the potential double meaning of her words. “A misbehaving wife? Surely not my wife.”

  He bent his head, intending to drop a kiss on her lips. Just a small one. Just to remind himself of what he had promised to be to her.

  Louisa permitted him to draw within a breath of her face, but then seemed to think better of it and scooted away just out of his reach. “Apparently fictional misbehavior breeds genuine misbehavior,” she teased, her voice trembling a bit.

  James was startled by her movement, and caught literally off balance. He swayed, checked himself to keep from tipping over, and took a deep breath to collect himself. “Surely a kiss is not out of place from your future husband.”

  Louisa colored again, and he smiled inwardly. This was the blushing-est family he’d ever seen. He rather liked it; it made it easy to tell what they were feeling.

  Although, judging from her appearance, Louisa now looked . . . a bit anxious? Her brows were knit over her flushed cheeks, and she bit her bottom lip in seeming agitation.

  This wasn’t working. Why wouldn’t she agree to marry him quickly? He couldn’t understand, but she seemed distressed by the idea.

  Which, honestly, was a bit lowering for a man.

  It seemed ungentlemanly to press her further right now, so James mentally shelved the topic for another time. Perhaps Louisa was always intractable in the morning, and she’d be more compliant under the charm of an evening sky. They could take a walk in the gardens, and in the presence of a romantic riot of flowers, he could broach the topic again.

  For now, though, Louisa’s thoughts were still in London. He knew this not because he was suddenly able to read her inscrutable expression. It was, rather, because she suggested, “If we are not married until after Julia’s season, my aunt, Lady Irving, could sponsor her instead.”

  So now they were talking of Julia’s season again. James wrenched his thoughts into the proper channel. But . . . Lady Irving?

  “Good Lord, that woman is terrifying,” he gasped. “She makes my mother look like the veriest lamb in comparison.”

  He realized at once that this was a rather rude thing to say about a gently bred lady, an elder, and a countess—and especially about a female who was all
of these things as well as aunt to his betrothed.

  But Louisa nodded calmly, not seeming to mind at all.

  “That is certainly an apt description,” she agreed. “I know sometimes I felt overwhelmed by the amount she had planned for me during my season. But that would be ideal for Julia’s presentation, if Aunt Estella is willing.”

  An idea struck James. “Actually, your sister Julia’s rather like your aunt.” At Louisa’s look of surprise, he explained, “Not that she is terrifying in the slightest, but she seems to say whatever comes into her head.”

  “Oh, well, that’s true. I suppose it comes from growing up with . . . rather an unusual set of parents.”

  “I expect the ton will find her honesty refreshing,” James added loyally, but he felt a pang of doubt. What if they should not take to the young Miss Herington any better than they did to the Honorable Miss Oliver? He shook off the thought, remembering Louisa’s own pain at her invisibility during the season and determining to do whatever he could to ensure Julia’s success. For Louisa’s sake, naturally.

  “I hope so,” Louisa said, her expression uncertain. “I don’t know if she cares to go at all, but of course she must marry. And probably she will enjoy London. Julia genuinely likes people, so the crush of a party may seem like a very fine thing to her.”

  They sat together in silence for a moment; James was unsure of what to say. His own relations would sooner give any amount of money, he knew, than admit that they were ever ill at ease. The ton could be quite a minefield for the socially awkward or timid.

  A thought suddenly seemed to seize Louisa. “James, what if I came to London, too, to keep Julia company, and I could look for bride-clothes at the same time? I could take part in events when I wanted, and it wouldn’t matter if no one noticed me, because as an engaged lady, I am no longer in competition with the young misses.”

  Her spirits looked as if they were lifting as she spoke, and she continued in a rush, “Oh, James, it would be perfect. Please do agree. Aunt Estella will do a much better job as a sponsor than I, and Julia would not be lonely as I was, and you could show her around at any parties that I didn’t wa—” She paused, her gaze dropping, and finished, “Um, that I was not able to attend. Due to, er, fittings with my modiste or some such thing.”