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Julia spread honey on a roll to give herself time to collect her thoughts, then answered as though the situation was as uncomplicated as everyone else believed it to be. ‘Of course I have changed. I have been alone for three years and I have just had a severe, but very welcome, shock.’ That was not entirely a lie. ‘You try hiding so much as an extravagant piece of shopping with Aunt Delia’s beady eye on you.’ Will gave a snort of laughter and she added, ‘Any woman would be wary if her lord and master had been away for so long and then returned unexpectedly.’
He paused, one hand outstretched to the fruit bowl. ‘Is that how you see me now you have had time to think it over? Your lord and master?’
‘Certainly not,’ she answered with as much composure as she could summon and was pleased to see the amuseme
nt vanish from his face. ‘It is how society views you. I regard you as an unknown and very uncertain factor in my life.’
He was peeling an apple, his eyes clashing with hers as the peel ran slowly over his fingers. The chocolate threatened to slop over the cup. Julia put it down carefully before he noticed the effect he had on her. ‘I have no idea if I will be happy married to you. Or you to me. But I will do my level best.’ She braced herself for an explosion of wrath.
‘Happiness? You aim high. I was hoping for mere contentment as a starting point. An absence of scandal would be desirable.’ There was an edge to that, she noticed, puzzled. He could have no idea what she was hiding, so why the reference to scandal? ‘Well, we will see. My experience of marriage is as brief as yours, but I have no doubt you will point out to me where I am going wrong.’
All very calm and polite, Julia thought, but under the civilised words was more emotion that he was keeping hidden from her. Which was fair enough, she supposed. She had no intention of making her own emotions any more transparent than most of them undoubtedly were just now, not yet.
‘Your own childhood memories will guide you, I imagine,’ she replied with equal calmness.
‘Do you? If you mean I should seek for a model of the ideal husband in my own parent I am afraid you would not be very happy with the result. He gave me these eyes and he left me the only thing I love: King’s Acre. I suspect you would want something more from me in the way of conjugal virtues.’ He drained the coffee and tossed his napkin onto the table. ‘Have you finished, Julia?
‘Certainly.’ In the face of that matter-of-fact bitterness there were no words of comfort to offer to a virtual stranger. She waited as he came round to pull her chair back. ‘What do you wish to do first?’
‘Any number of things, but please do not let me interfere with your morning. I will go and speak to my steward.’
‘Mr Wilkins will wait on us at eleven o’clock. Mr Howard from the Home Farm will be here after luncheon. I have sent for Mr Burrows, the solicitor, but I would not expect him until tomorrow.’
‘You have been very busy, my dear.’ The blandly amiable expression had ebbed from Will’s face. Those strong bones she had been so aware of when he was ill were apparent still, the stubborn line of his jaw most of all.
‘I habitually rise early,’ Julia said. ‘And not just because unexpected noises outside my room waken me.’ Although not, normally, as early as she had got up that morning to pen letters to all the men of business who must wait on the returning baron. She had just sealed the last letter when the sound of his fist on the nursery door had brought her into the corridor. ‘But before you do anything else we must call on the Hadfields.’
‘Must we, indeed?’ There was more than a hint of gritted teeth about his polite response.
Julia swept out of the breakfast room, along the corridor and into the library. ‘If you are going to shout, please do it in here and not in front of the servants,’ she said over her shoulder.
‘Was I shouting?’ Will closed the door behind him and leaned back on the panels. ‘I do not think I raised my voice.’
‘You were about to. We need to call because it will appear very strange if we do not, and as soon as possible.’
‘You will find, Julia, that I very rarely shout except in emergencies. I do not have to.’ He crossed his arms and studied her as she moved restlessly about the room. ‘You are very busy organising me. I am neither an invalid nor Cousin Henry.’
‘You have been away for three years.’ She made herself stand still and appear calm. ‘I am in a position to bring you up to date with everything. I am only trying to—’
‘Organise me. I do not require it, Julia. I am perfectly fit and able. You have done very well, but I am back now.’
‘Indeed you are, you patronising man!’ The words escaped her before she could bite them back. ‘I apologise, I should not have said that, but—’
At his back the door opened an inch and slammed back as it met resistance. Will turned and pulled it wide. ‘Gatcombe?’
‘I beg your pardon, my lord. Mrs Hadfield and Mr Henry have arrived and are asking to speak to you, my lady. I was not certain whether, under the circumstances, you are At Home.’
‘Yes, we are receiving, Gatcombe.’ Her stomach contracted with nerves. This encounter was not going to be pleasant, especially if Will continued in this mood. And if she could not keep Delia from blurting out something about the baby it might well be disastrous.
The butler lowered his voice. ‘Mrs Hadfield is complaining about a stupid hoax and rumours running around the neighbourhood. I did not know quite how to answer her, my lady. I did not feel it my place to apprise her of his lordship’s happy return.’
‘I quite understand. You did quite right, Gatcombe. Where have you put them?’
‘In the Green Salon, my lady. Refreshments are being sent up.’
‘Thank you, Gatcombe. Please tell Mrs Hadfield we will be with her directly.’
‘Will we?’ Will enquired as the butler retreated. ‘This is an uncivilised hour to be calling.’
