“I withdraw my accusation, my lord. May I go?”
“If anything, I loved you too much,” he snipped. “How could I damn you to a life of poverty?”
A snort proceeded her laughter. She covered her mouth, but it was too late.
“I am telling the truth.” Merrick threw his hands in the air for emphasis, as if strength of emotion verified his claim. “What choice did I have? I was third in line to inherit my uncle’s title. If I could predict the future, I would have stood my ground with your father. I set aside my own wants and desires to ensure your happiness.”
“It sounds like I should thank you.”
His bluster died a quick death. He blinked several times as if trying to decipher her sincerity. “Yes, well, you are welcome. One must practice gallantry to be deemed a gentleman.”
“Indeed.” She slanted her head for one last assessing glance. What had she ever found appealing about him? He was a shallow, arrogant, and petty man. She was ashamed to have ever believed Julius was anything like him.
“Very good then.” She skirted around him. “I will be off.”
“Elisabeth, if I may ask a favor.”
She owed him nothing, but curiosity got the better of her.
“Since you are a friend of the family,” he said, “Sally wonders if you would speak with Lord Treyhurst about her sister, Miss Mary Chambers-Wallace. Perhaps you could recommend her to him? Mary is a lady of quality with a sweet disposition. Invite her to tea and you will see for yourself.”
Finally, the motive for his faux apology made sense. Merrick was henpecked. If his sister-in-law was anything like Lady Aberglen, Julius’s brother should run in the opposite direction.
“Lord Treyhurst does not require my advice on marriage,” she said. “Lord and Lady Seabrook will provide all the guidance he needs to choose the perfect bride.”
“Wise.” Merrick tapped a finger against his temple and winked as if they shared a secret. “I will suggest Sally cozy up to the marchioness.”
“You do that.” Bess swept from the room and paused. Now, which direction led to Julius? She gathered her bearings and went left.
As she neared the ballroom, Julius shot into the corridor and came up short. He exhaled; the worry lines between his brows disappeared. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I thought I’d lost you.”
Heavens. She couldn’t adore him more. Flashing a bright smile meant only for him, she linked their arms. “You found me.”
A gong sounded from the ballroom.
“It is time for supper,” Julius said. “Do you need another moment?”
“Right now, this moment. It’s perfect.” She leaned her head against his shoulder as they strolled toward their place in line for the procession.
A gentleman pulled Julius aside to ask a question. Bess retreated to a few feet away while they discussed horses. She loved how animated Julius became when he spoke about a topic he found stimulating. He noticed she was no longer at his side and motioned for her to join them. She shook her head. “I will wait for you.”
Julius’s mother approached. Her towering height and regal bearing could be intimidating, but a smile softened her face. “You and my son appear to be having a merry Christmas.”
“It is the best Christmas I’ve ever had, my lady.”
“How splendid to hear.” Lady Seabrook flicked her gaze toward her son. “I see Julius has been waylaid. Did he present you with his gift?”
“Yes, and it is lovely.” Bess smiled, hoping she’d not hurt Julius’s feelings. The necklace was a thoughtful gift. “I asked him to keep the cameo safely tucked in his pocket until the festivities end.”
Lady Seabrook nodded in approval. “A sensible young woman. Lord Seabrook will be pleased to know Julius has partnered with a lady such as yourself.”
Bess assumed she was referring to their business venture, because no mother would speak casually about a son’s romantic affairs.
“I am looking forward to a long and prosperous future together,” Bess said.
“Thank heavens. This might be my best Christmas.” Lady Seabrook, whom Bess had been told rarely smiled, laughed. One could describe her as giddy. Too many glasses of mulled wine perhaps?
“If you will excuse me, Lady Hadley, I must allow the Duke of Foxhaven to escort me to supper before our guests grow restless.”
Julius returned to Bess’s side shortly after his mother left. Bess scrunched her nose when he met her gaze.
He chuckled. “What have I done wrong now?”
“You had me afraid of your mother with all your tales.” She linked their arms. “I find her delightful.”
Chapter Twelve
Julius stole another glance at Bess before spearing a Brussels sprout with his fork. She was engaged in pleasant conversation with his uncle seated on her right, and one would never know she’d been in tears less than an hour earlier. The situation was puzzling, and her refusal to confide in Julius came as a blow to his confidence.
Last night they had talked until dawn about everything—her favorite books, trips she’d taken with her husband, the harmless pranks her younger brothers had played on one another. Had Julius missed a clue that could have predicted her reaction to the necklace?
His sisters often claimed he was incapable of noticing subtle nuances, but their accusations were bollocks. He’d mastered the skill of reading others at Oxford when he and his classmates had gambled with homemade sweets and risked losing them on a hand of vingt-et-un.
With his sisters, he chose to ignore signs one or more of them was upset. Otherwise, he was dragged into a conflict that did not involve him. In the end, he always came out the loser when the quarreling sisters teamed up to accuse him of showing favoritism. He tried hard to read Bess, though. He wanted to learn the meaning behind every mannerism and champion her causes whenever she was wronged.
He slanted another look in her direction and was treated to a view of the back of her head. He suppressed a sigh of frustration.
“I’ve never seen Uncle Gunther say more than a few words to anyone,” his sister Mercedes said. “I think he has taken a liking to Lady Hadley.”
Julius’s older sister was seated on his left and hadn’t missed his growing agitation with their uncle monopolizing Bess’s attention. He was under no allusions Ammie had kept his secret, at least not from their eldest sister or her twin. There was a chance the two youngest didn’t know he was heels over arse for Bess, but he wouldn’t gamble on it.
He lowered his voice to minimize others overhearing. “If Gunther wasn’t twice her age and still chasing after Lady Kelynen’s skirts, I would be jealous.”
“Now Julius”—Mercedes performed a perfect imitation of their mother, complete with pinched mouth—“as you are aware, Uncle Gunther and the dowager viscountess enjoy a dear friendship and nothing more.”
“A special friendship,” he countered. “Mother always calls it special.”
“Oh, that is right.” Mercedes’s dark eyes glittered under the chandelier light. She, like all of his sisters besides Ammie, shared his coloring. “I assume the word is a euphemism?”