An Independent Woman. Candace CampЧитать онлайн книгу.
’tis I who should apologize. You expressed only concern about me, and I became as prickly as a porcupine. I am well aware that I cannot change the world. I am also well aware that none of the fault lies at your feet.”
“I wish that I had known. I should have. I should have realized.”
“And what could you have done?” Juliana asked him, her tone light and teasing.
“I should have helped you. I should—” He stopped, unexpectedly at a loss.
“You see? It was not in your hands. If you are going to say that you would have sent me money to help me live, I am sure you can see that that would scarcely have been considered proper. I should not have cared for any of the labels given to a woman who lives off a man’s largesse.”
“None would dare think that of you,” Nicholas said decisively.
Juliana chuckled. “I am glad you think so. In any case, there is no reason to feel sorry for me. My life has been mostly pleasant. I was companion for several years to a most intelligent and generous woman, Mrs. Simmons, until she became too frail to live alone and moved in with her son and family. She treated me more like a niece or a ward than an employee. I dined with her and slept in a very nice room, and in return I had to do little more than spend several hours a day in enjoyable conversation and help her keep track of her correspondence. We traveled to the continent—and I can tell you that it was far more enjoyable than when I accompanied Seraphina and Aunt Lilith on their tour after she finished school.”
Nicholas winced. “I should think so. That sounds more like torture than travel.”
“Yes, and all the more so given that Aunt Lilith kept reminding me of my good fortune in being given the opportunity to broaden my horizons with them.”
“No good deed is left unheralded with them,” Nicholas agreed.
“It is so good to talk to you!” Juliana blurted out. “No one else would understand exactly how it was. How obligated one was made to feel for every mouthful of food and every stitch of clothing.”
“And how ungrateful you were for the wonderful opportunity of being allowed to associate with them,” he added.
“Just so.” Juliana smiled at him.
It was odd, she thought, that she should feel so instantly comfortable with him again, as if all the years that had separated them meant nothing. He was once again Nicky, her protector against Crandall’s mean tricks and bullying tactics, her confidant and friend.
And yet, at the same time, she was very aware of how different it all was. They were no longer children. He was a man now, large and hard and almost overpoweringly masculine. Being swept around the room in his arms was a far cry from sitting beside him on the bank of the brook, dangling their bare feet in the water. There was an elemental excitement in being so close to him, feeling his hand spread upon her waist. She could not help but think that he was virtually a stranger to her now, someone whose thoughts and deeds she had no knowledge of, whose past fifteen years were a mystery to her.
The music finally swept to a close. They stopped and stepped apart. Juliana looked up at Nicholas. She was a little breathless, and she knew it was not just from the exertion of dancing.
He offered her his arm, and they walked back to where Mrs. Thrall sat waiting for them. Juliana saw with a flicker of irritation that Clementine now stood with her mother. The girl was the picture of English beauty—dainty and dimpled in her demure white ball gown, blue-eyed and blond-haired, her dewy complexion touched with soft pink color along her cheeks.
Men were drawn to her china-doll loveliness, and Clementine had achieved a certain success this Season. However, she had not yet caught the eye of any titled gentleman, and Juliana suspected that she and her mother were hoping to correct that omission right now. Mrs. Thrall had obviously been gleeful at meeting Lord Barre, and Juliana felt sure she had drawn her daughter off the dance floor so that she could meet Nicholas when he brought Juliana back to her seat. One glance at the young gentleman waiting with them, scowling, confirmed Juliana’s suspicion.
“Juliana!” Mrs. Thrall said, beaming at Juliana as if she were her dearest friend. “And Lord Barre. Please allow me to introduce you to my daughter Clementine.”
Clementine looked up at Nicholas with a fair semblance of girlish shyness, dimpling into an enchanting smile. “My lord. ’Tis a pleasure to meet you.”
Juliana clenched her teeth, somewhat surprised by the stab of dislike she felt for the girl.
“Miss Thrall.” Nicholas smiled and bowed to Clementine, casting a glance and a nod toward the young gentleman behind her.
Clementine opened her fan and plied it gently, gazing limpidly at Nicholas over the top of it.
Nicholas turned back to Juliana. “I hope you will allow me to call on you, Miss Holcott.”
Juliana smiled. “Of course—that is, I mean…” She turned toward Mrs. Thrall. “If you will permit it, madam.”
“Of course, of course.” Mrs. Thrall bared her teeth in a smile so wide it was almost frightening. “We would be honored for you to visit our house.” She told him the address, adding with a deprecating titter, “Not the most fashionable address, I fear. “Tis Clementine’s first Season, you know, and I did not realize how far in advance one must let a house to obtain a truly good address.”
“I am sure that the presence of such fair ladies makes any place fashionable,” Nicholas replied diplomatically.
Clementine and her mother simpered at this remark, and Juliana was aware of a strong and no doubt childish resentment. Nicholas was hers, she wanted to cry out.
But, of course, that was absurd. Nicholas was not, could not be, hers.
Nicholas took his leave of them, with a bow and impartial smile to them all. As soon as he was out of sight, Clementine and her mother swung to Juliana.
“You did not tell me you knew Lord Barre!” Mrs. Thrall exclaimed, her tone a mixture of accusation and delight.
“I was not sure he would remember me,” Juliana replied. “It has been many years since we have seen one another.”
“But how do you know him?” Clementine pressed, moving closer to Juliana and turning her back rudely on the young man who stood with them.
“We were friends as children,” Juliana explained. “I…lived near his family.” It was, she thought, too complicated to explain the relationship between them, and, moreover, she had little desire to expose her history to their curiosity.
“It is generous of him to seek you out,” Mrs. Thrall went on, unaware, as she usually was, of the rudeness of her words.
Juliana, accustomed to the petty stings of being employed as a companion, ignored the disdain inherent in the other woman’s words. “He is a generous man,” she allowed dryly.
“Of course, he doubtless wanted to meet Clementine,” the older woman went on placidly, explaining the oddity of a nobleman acknowledging someone of as little status as Juliana. “It is quite fortuitous, really, that he knew you and could gain an introduction.”
Juliana swallowed her anger, looking away from her employer. She reminded herself that Mrs. Thrall was a woman of little sense and a deficient upbringing. She did not mean to be rude and hurtful—frankly, Juliana thought, she did not consider Juliana’s feelings enough to intend to hurt her—and she did not know what she was talking about. Nicholas had come over because he was glad to see her, not because he wanted to meet Mrs. Thrall’s daughter.
But as the evening wore on and Juliana watched Clementine flirt with her bevy of admirers, and take to the floor time and again to dance, her certainty began to erode. The girl was obviously devastatingly appealing to men, whereas she herself…
She looked down at her plain dark gown and sighed. She was dressed like a governess, her hair pinned into a plain knot. A companion was not paid to