She swallowed, extending him his handkerchief. “I expect you may need this.”
His hands closed over hers. “Keep it. Think of me.”
She bit her lip to stave off another wave of tears. “Always.”
“I will return to London and call on you. Wait for me.”
Julianna gave him a tremulous smile. “I will.”
He kissed her swiftly, then released her and backed away, looking as if he wanted to say more. “I must go.”
Yes, he had to leave. Time was running out for him, for his grandmother.
For us, whispered an insidious voice she promptly quashed.
“I hope you arrive in time to say your goodbye,” she said, her voice trembling.
She clutched his handkerchief as tightly as she had held him, all she had left until he returned. He bowed, cast one last, lingering look in her direction, and left her chamber.
When he had gone, she pressed the linen to her lips to stifle her sob. Life was unfair and cruel. She would miss Sidney.
Oh, how she would miss him.
* * *
Sidney returnedto London a fortnight later and what felt like a century wearier. By the time they had reached Grandmother in Buckinghamshire, she had only hours left to live. She spent her final moments surrounded by family.
The sole comfort was that she had not died alone and that she would be joining Grandfather at last. Her funeral had been simple, as she had wanted. Sidney had adorned her grave, beside Grandfather’s, with red roses from Farnsworth Hall. He had made the return journey in a trance of grief. Traveling by rail had not soothed him. Nor had returning to an empty house at Farnsworth Hall, bereft of all the gaiety which had so recently occupied it.
Bereft of her.
Before collecting the roses for Grandmother, Sidney had done something for himself. He had torn a page from the visitor’s book—the one containing Julianna’s picture and her signature. Her picture gave him comfort as he waded through the days of sorrow. Kept him company on the journey back to Buckinghamshire, and then on his trip to London.
It was still tucked inside his waistcoat pocket now, carefully folded to avoid creasing her photograph. He had looked upon it so many times over the past two weeks, he saw her when he closed his eyes. The barest hint of a smile on her lips, those brilliant eyes framed with long lashes, the elegant way she held herself, the creamy column of her throat. There was an aura of mystery about her, the suggestion she alone knew a secret that made everyone who gazed upon her want to be privy to it.
God, he could not wait to see her again. To hold her in his arms. To ask her to marry him. But before he could go to her in good conscience, he needed to break ties with his mistress, Baroness Richards. The first order of business would be to pay her a call.
He had already sent a note round to her, giving her the courtesy of knowing he had returned to London and that he wished an audience with her. Putting an end to their understanding was necessary before he proposed to Julianna. He would not dream of dishonoring her by such an oversight. He intended to marry her—and soon—but he wanted to do everything right.
What he had done at Farnsworth Hall had decidedlynotbeen right.Hell, he was still not proud of himself for failing to behave as a gentleman. Sidney raked a hand through his hair and heaved a sigh. The stack of correspondence on his desk, neatly sorted by his secretary, taunted him. All he could think of, however, was her.
He never should have made love to Julianna, and he knew it. But he had been overwhelmed by the way she made him feel. Spurred by his love for her. From the moment he had spied her in the library with that book of Keats, she had charmed him. He had fought against it mightily, but in the end, his efforts had proven futile. This summer at Farnsworth Hall, he had finally given in to temptation. The day he had come upon her in the lake had sealed his fate.
A knock sounded on his study door, tearing him from further ruminations. He threw down the letter he had been attempting to read.
“Come.”
Wentworth hovered at the threshold. “Lady Richards for your lordship. I have seen her to the salon.”
Christ.Alice was here. Although he had not objected to her calling on him in the past, that had beenbefore. The last thing he wanted now was for any taint of scandal when he was about to become a betrothed man. He would sooner cut off his own ear than hurt Julianna in any way.
He ground his molars and pressed his fingers to his already throbbing temples. “I will be with her momentarily, Wentworth. Thank you.”
“Will she be joining your lordship for supper?” his butler asked, the soul of discretion.
Lady Richards had been a frequent guest at Cagney House. And ordinarily a most welcome one. But much had changed since this moment and her previous visit. Everything had changed. Sidney had too.
“No, she will not. I do not expect her visit to be a lengthy one.” He was grim as he rose from behind his desk and headed toward the salon.
