“I beg your pardon, Mama.” Assuming a contrite expression, Evie gave Julian a retaliatory prod in the ribs. “I didn’t mean it.”
“I should hope not.” Grace peered past them to where the Whitcombe’s were exiting the carriage. “There’ll be no more such comments, young lady, spoken, whispered, or even thought of. Understood?”
Evie nodded. “Understood, Mama.”
Grace regarded Julian. “It’s just as well no promises have been made,” she said, echoing his thoughts. “Even so, your father and I feel obliged to inform Lord and Lady Whitcombe of your change in circumstance.”
“Of course, Mama,” Julian replied. “And I’m certain Miss Aitken will not be lacking future suitors.”
*
The sun putin an appearance that afternoon, tempting a number of Myddleton’s guests to venture outside, where they now mingled on the Grand Terrace. Julian, leaning against the balustrade, straightened as Miss Aitken approached. They had spoken briefly at luncheon, which had been a casual self-serve affair, but the opportunity to speak privately had not presented itself.
Till now.
“At last,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her as she halted beside him. “I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to speak with you alone, Mr. Northcott. I’m not intruding, am I?”
Julian breathed in her subtle floral scent. “Not at all, Miss Aitken. Would you care to walk with me, perhaps?”
“A pleasant thought, but I regretfully must refuse.” Chewing on her lip, she glanced away briefly and then turned back to him. “Thing is, I am not one for beating around the bush, so I shall simply say that the young lady who has stolen your heart is very fortunate, and I wish both of you much happiness.”
Unprepared for such forthrightness, Julian stumbled over a response. “Miss Aitken, I never meant… that is, I hope you don’t—”
“You are not obligated to atone, sir,” she replied. “After all, there has been no agreement between us. But I have been made aware of a change in thepotentialof our situation. That being the case, I wish to acknowledge it now, so we may place any awkwardness behind us and enjoy this splendid party. I trust this meets with your approval?”
Julian regarded her, his frown dissolving into a resigned smile. “Yes, it does, Miss Aitken, and I appreciate it. Thank you.”
She returned the smile, though a touch of regret seemed to linger in her expression. For a moment, Julian had the impression she was about to say something else, but she merely turned and walked away.
Julian filled his lungs and then breathed out, slowly.
“Well, that’s that, I presume,” said a familiar female voice. “How do you feel?”
“Somewhat winded, but relieved, Your Grace,” he replied, turning to see the duchess approaching from behind. “How much did you hear?’
“Just that last part.” She moved to his side. “No regrets?”
“None at all.”
Head cocked, she regarded him. “You’re besotted with this flower girl, aren’t you?”
“I am certain of her,” he replied, after a moment. “There’s a lot to be said for not having any doubts.”
The duchess parted with an audible sigh. “Yes, I should imagine there is.”
Julian cursed inwardly. “Forgive me, Duchess. That was thoughtless of me.”
“Nothing to forgive.” She snapped open the parasol she’d been carrying. “No one, male or female, has ever forced me to do anything I didn’t want to do. I have calculated, I have considered, and I have made my choices, admittedly not all of them good. Any doubts I’ve had, however, were set aside in favor of those choices. Now, walk with me, will you? I overindulged a little at luncheon and besides, I believe you owe me a story. I want to hear all about this young lady; where you met, how she came to be arranging flowers at Myddleton, and why she ran off the way she did.”
Julian smiled and presented his elbow. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
“What a remarkable coincidence,” the duchess said, sometime later, as Julian finished his tale. “And so deliciously romantic! I’ve always been curious about what attracts a man to a woman. And before you say anything, I’m not talking about the frivolous bits, although they do, of course, play a part.”
Julian arched a brow. “Frivolous bits, Duchess?”
Eyes twinkling, she peered up at him from beneath her white lace parasol. “The bits that stimulate a man’s body rather than his brain.”
Julian frowned. “Ah, those bits. There’s no denying their appeal,but they’re not necessarily an indicator of a woman’s authentic beauty.”
