The duchess gave a soft whistle. “Gracious. I’m beyond impressed, Mr. Northcott.”
Julian laughed and paused by one of Myddleton’s fountains, its perpetual cascade sparkling like liquid diamonds in the afternoon sun. “I used to play in here as a child,” he said. “Invariably got into trouble for it as well. I’m still tempted to jump in, even now.”
“I dare you,” the duchess replied.
“I will if you will.”
“There was a time when I wouldn’t have hesitated, but those days are gone, I’m afraid.” The duchess settled on a nearby wrought-iron bench and patted the empty seat beside her. “Sit, please.”
The sound of laughter, subdued by the fountain’s waterfall, drifted down from the terrace and snared Julian’s attention. “I think we should consider getting back to the party, Duchess. You’ll be missed.”
“Nonsense! Just five more minutes.” She patted the seat again. “Humor me.”
Julian voiced a sudden suspicion. “Is it because I’m his brother?”
She flinched. “What? My wanting to spend time with you? My God, Julian, is that what you think?”
“Just a suspicion. Am I correct?”
“Of course not,” she said, scowling. A moment later, the scowl vanished, and she blew out an unladylike breath. “Oh, very well. In the beginning, yes, I’ll admit I was drawn to you because of your relationship to Joe. But, as it happens, I genuinely enjoy your company. You don’t fawn, which is refreshing. One can grow weary of the sniveling and groveling by those who claim admiration, most of which is insincere.”
“Understandable. I dislike pretentiousness myself.” He settled beside her. “Does Joe fawn?”
Her mouth quirked as she shook her head. “Your brother neithersnivels nor grovels, yet he possesses a remarkable knack of making me feel as if I’m the most important woman under Heaven. And it has nothing to do with my title. But enough about me and your shameless brother. I want to know what it is about this mysterious flower girl who made you choose her over the daughter of a viscount.”
“I’m not sure I can give you a precise answer, Duchess.” He grimaced. “It’s simply that I feel… unburdened, I suppose, when I’m with her. Being in her company is effortless. Natural. There’s no pretense, no doubts. I enjoy her intelligence, her forthrightness, and her naivety. Physically, she is lovely, but she is also beautiful in all the other ways that matter.”
“An authentic beauty.”
“Yes.”
“Miss Aitken never stood a chance,” the duchess mused.
“Under the circumstances, no, she didn’t.”
“And it seems the family is in favor?”
“I have no reason to believe otherwise.” His mouth quirked. “Granted, my aunt and uncle were bound to be gracious. They always are. The stumbling block may be my grandmother, who probably won’t put in an appearance here till Monday, when things have quieted down. As for my immediate family, I’d venture to say they approve. My mother trusts my judgment, at least.”
“Then it had better not be misplaced.” The duchess rose to her feet. “So, when will you next see this young lady of yours?”
“Monday,” he replied, rising also. “I’m here till Tuesday but I may stay a day or two longer.”
“I needn’t ask why. How old is the young lady? Will there be a chaperone?”
“I’m not sure of Annabelle’s age, but it’s certain she’ll be chaperoned, probably by her ever-vigilant maid.” An idea slid into his head, and he looked back toward the terrace. “Unless…”
The duchess followed his gaze. “Unless?”
“Just considering another possibility. Perhaps I’ll invite the twins to join us. Annabelle’s maid is a little over-bearing, and the other lady who was here yesterday—Janet is her name, I believe—made it quite clear she disapproved of my being anywhere near Annabelle. Not sure why.” He frowned. “I hope she hasn’t had a miserable time because of it.”
Chapter Sixteen
The past twodays at Ferndale had been disquieting, as if a pall had settled over the house. Mealtimes had been strained, with conversation polite to the point of insipid, any and all references to the Thursday events at Myddleton House avoided.
Janet had remained subdued and distracted much of the time, as if her mind was elsewhere. Hattie’s blatant attempts to lighten the prevailing mood, in Annie’s opinion, only served to accentuate the gravity of it. Even Ruffy seemed to sense the change, judging by his quizzical expressions, hesitant tail-wags, and the soft little sigh whenever he settled into his basket.
When talking to Hattie, Annie maintained that Janet was growing weary of their presence and that they had outstayed their welcome. Hattie insisted that wasn’t the case, but Annie remained adamant about returning to London. Her letter to Archibald Mason now sat in a sealed envelope on the hall table with the other outgoing mail, awaiting delivery to the local postmaster on the morrow.
