terribly concerned with her convenience. She lifted her chin and closed her eyes for a long moment.
Grace under fire.
She returned to the parlor to find the four men ranged like a firing squad, facing her. Fire, indeed. From the glare in Lord Liverpool's eyes, she rather thought brimstone might also be in her future.
"Gentlemen, have you come to the obvious conclusion?" Careful. She might have the upper hand, but they'd never work with her if she alienated them completely.
Lord Reardon bowed. "My lady, I fear the only conclusion we have come to is that we cannot currently come to a conclusion. We request a fortnight to deliberate upon it."
A thrill went through Julia. A tie vote, then? Who might be voting on her side—Reardon and Greenleigh? The two were reportedly very happily wed. They would likely have a higher opinion of a lady's abilities.
So… it was the Prime Minister, of course, and the sharply handsome Lord Wyndham.
She curtsied low in return. "Then I shall remain here at Barrowby to await your verdict, my lords."
If someone had been watching—and someone was—they would have seen four very thoughtful men leaving the grand house of Barrowby.
Now what in that house might have brought about such pensive brows?
The afternoon sun glanced off shining golden hair, drawing the watcher's attention to the woman standing at the top of the grand steps, watching her guests leave. His gaze passed over her, then was drawn sharply back.
No.
There was an unfamiliar sensation in the watcher's midsection. He spared a moment to analyze the feeling, only to determine that it was deep and bone-chilling shock.
He slipped silently through the trees, moving closer than was truly wise, but he must know…
She turned slightly, lifting her face to the day and letting her shoulders droop wearily for a moment. He could see her clearly now—the same eyes, the same chin, the same shimmering hair. It was impossible. How could this be?
More to the point, what had she to do with the men who were now riding away? After he'd followed them thus far the truth seemed no clearer. She was obviously the lady of the house and she wore black, so she must be in mourning. Had they been merely consoling the widow of a peer?
No, it could not be. It was merely a chance resemblance, some trick of the light, a similarity in bearing—
Then he saw the locket gleaming in the hollow of her throat. He knew that locket well, for he'd ordered the jeweler to make it just so, with the design of the golden serpent's coils cradling an emerald.
Ah, so it was true. When there was no other explanation for the impossible, one must accept it as possible.
His eyes narrowed as the woman turned to reenter the grand house.
Then one must consider how to turn it to one's advantage.
A new plan, a perfect new plan, blossomed in his mind. He would take her back with him—but he must take care that she went more or less willingly.
He could merely steal her away, but how to control her? He was a bit short of treasonous minions at the moment, nor did he have the gold to bribe the mercenary sorts.
On the other hand, she obviously possessed a plenty from her generous, elderly husband. He almost smiled, for he did appreciate such ruthless ambition. She could afford two passages on a fine, if highly illegal, ship.
If he could convince her to come away voluntarily, at least until he could imprison her aboard a ship and keep her drugged for the journey to Paris, then his long arduous penance might come to a close at last.
He could see the difficulties already. She would want to stay, for although he could promise much, who would leave such luxury unless they were forced to?
Then again, if the burden of playing lady of the manor became too much—
He would begin immediately, then, to make sure she would have no reason to stay.
Julia stayed where she was for a long moment as the four men on horseback rounded the turn in the long drive.
In moments, they were
Grace under fire.
She returned to the parlor to find the four men ranged like a firing squad, facing her. Fire, indeed. From the glare in Lord Liverpool's eyes, she rather thought brimstone might also be in her future.
"Gentlemen, have you come to the obvious conclusion?" Careful. She might have the upper hand, but they'd never work with her if she alienated them completely.
Lord Reardon bowed. "My lady, I fear the only conclusion we have come to is that we cannot currently come to a conclusion. We request a fortnight to deliberate upon it."
A thrill went through Julia. A tie vote, then? Who might be voting on her side—Reardon and Greenleigh? The two were reportedly very happily wed. They would likely have a higher opinion of a lady's abilities.
So… it was the Prime Minister, of course, and the sharply handsome Lord Wyndham.
She curtsied low in return. "Then I shall remain here at Barrowby to await your verdict, my lords."
If someone had been watching—and someone was—they would have seen four very thoughtful men leaving the grand house of Barrowby.
Now what in that house might have brought about such pensive brows?
The afternoon sun glanced off shining golden hair, drawing the watcher's attention to the woman standing at the top of the grand steps, watching her guests leave. His gaze passed over her, then was drawn sharply back.
No.
There was an unfamiliar sensation in the watcher's midsection. He spared a moment to analyze the feeling, only to determine that it was deep and bone-chilling shock.
He slipped silently through the trees, moving closer than was truly wise, but he must know…
She turned slightly, lifting her face to the day and letting her shoulders droop wearily for a moment. He could see her clearly now—the same eyes, the same chin, the same shimmering hair. It was impossible. How could this be?
More to the point, what had she to do with the men who were now riding away? After he'd followed them thus far the truth seemed no clearer. She was obviously the lady of the house and she wore black, so she must be in mourning. Had they been merely consoling the widow of a peer?
No, it could not be. It was merely a chance resemblance, some trick of the light, a similarity in bearing—
Then he saw the locket gleaming in the hollow of her throat. He knew that locket well, for he'd ordered the jeweler to make it just so, with the design of the golden serpent's coils cradling an emerald.
Ah, so it was true. When there was no other explanation for the impossible, one must accept it as possible.
His eyes narrowed as the woman turned to reenter the grand house.
Then one must consider how to turn it to one's advantage.
A new plan, a perfect new plan, blossomed in his mind. He would take her back with him—but he must take care that she went more or less willingly.
He could merely steal her away, but how to control her? He was a bit short of treasonous minions at the moment, nor did he have the gold to bribe the mercenary sorts.
On the other hand, she obviously possessed a plenty from her generous, elderly husband. He almost smiled, for he did appreciate such ruthless ambition. She could afford two passages on a fine, if highly illegal, ship.
If he could convince her to come away voluntarily, at least until he could imprison her aboard a ship and keep her drugged for the journey to Paris, then his long arduous penance might come to a close at last.
He could see the difficulties already. She would want to stay, for although he could promise much, who would leave such luxury unless they were forced to?
Then again, if the burden of playing lady of the manor became too much—
He would begin immediately, then, to make sure she would have no reason to stay.
Julia stayed where she was for a long moment as the four men on horseback rounded the turn in the long drive.
In moments, they were
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