“I believe they’re in the conservatory. No idea where Arthur is. The games room, probably.” Aldous gestured toward a rain-spattered window. “You’ll need an umbrella.”
“No, I’ll just take a turn indoors.” Julian gave his father’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll see you and Mama at luncheon.”
Throwing another quick glance at the duchess, who was still conversing with his aunt, Julian wandered out into the hallway where he paused to gather himself. Despite what he’d told his father, he was actually contemplating a serious proposal to Miss Aitken at some point over the next couple of days. Why wait, after all? It would put an end to the speculation and pressure from eager parents. Besides, he could think of no profound or justifiable reason to refuse the union. They got along very nicely. Viola Aitken was a beautiful woman; intelligent, sweet natured, and handsomely placed in society. Quite the prize, to quote Josiah. Yet a small measure of doubt remained in Julian’s heart. A stubborn impediment that refused to capitulate to the faultless reasoning of his brain. And, if he were to be totally honest withhimself, he knew the reason for it, which meant he’d just been less than honest with his father.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
“Am I interrupting, Mr. Northcott?”
At the sound of the soft, female voice, he spun round and found himself gazing in a pair of familiar eyes. Authentic, this time. Not replicated on virgin canvas by the touch of an artist’s brush.
“Your Grace.” Julian inclined his head. “Forgive me. I didn’t realize you were there.”
The duchess waved a dismissive hand. “My fault entirely for sneaking up on you. You wandered off just as I was about to suggest to your aunt we be introduced, so I excused myself and followed you. It’s about time we met, I think, especially since I’ve heard so much about you.”
Julian flinched. “All good, I hope.”
“Mostly.” A twinkle came to those eyes. “So, am I? Interrupting you, that is?”
“Not at all, Duchess,” Julian replied. “Since the weather is disagreeable, I was about to take a turn indoors. Would you care to join me?”
“I would indeed, Mr. Northcott. Thank you.”
Julian presented an elbow. “Mostly?”
She laughed—a musical, unforced sound—and tucked her hand into the crook of Julian’s arm as they set off. “The way your wonderful aunt sings your praises, I can’t understand why there isn’t a halo permanently circling your head.”
Julian chuckled. “Lady Hutton is my godmother, so she might be a little biased.”
“Possibly,” the duchess replied. “Your brother, however, while also complimentary in his descriptions of you, is perhaps a little more realistic.”
“Er…” Julian almost gave himself away. “My brother?”
The duchess tutted. “It’s very sweet of you to feign ignorance, Mr. Northcott, but not necessary. Actually, may I call you Julian? At least, when we’re alone together. All this formality seems rather superfluous, don’t you think? I mean, given that I know thatyouknow. Or rather, I know howmuchof me you know.”
Since it appeared Josiah and the duchess were still enjoying each other’s company, Julian set all pretense aside. “Point taken, Duchess,” he replied, breathing in subtle hints of flora and citrus that surrounded her. “You may call me Julian, of course, but I’d prefer to address you in the appropriate manner, if you have no objection.”
“Josiah said you were a stickler for the rules.” Head cocked, she regarded him, a blatantly mischievous expression on her face. “So, tell me, Julian, what did you think of it?”
“It?” Of course, Julian knew exactly to what she referred, but his brain stumbled over an appropriate response. It didn’t help that the image of Her Grace, reclining near-naked on a red chaise-longue, arose in his mind.
“My portrait.”
“Ah.” Julian cleared his throat. “Well, first of all, I should assure you that I have not spoken a word ab—”
She tutted again. “I don’t doubt your discretion, silly boy, I’m simply curious to know what you thought.”
He allowed himself a very genuine smile. “Ithinkit is beautiful. Remarkable, in fact.”
“Thank you.” Smiling also, she nodded. “That pleases me.”
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“I love it.” A fleeting expression crossed her face, there and gone in the blink of an eye, too quick for Julian to identify. She glanced away. “He’s very talented, your brother.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Free-spirited.”
