The Captain's Disgraced Lady

‘Get off me!’ she said, finally finding her voice. She gave him her fiercest look, no longer afraid. Now that she knew it was him, her heart was racing in a very different way. This was not fear, but a novel excitement. She could feel the length of him with every part of her chest, stomach and hips. He was warm and solid, and heavy. She had never experienced anything like it.

‘This is an interesting dilemma,’ he said smoothly. ‘You have attacked me and I have disarmed you. I think I should get some answers before releasing you.’ He shifted his weight slightly, but did not get up. His slight movement was excruciatingly pleasurable. Juliana resisted the unexpected impulse to move a little herself, just to feel it again.

‘I have asked you to release me! People may come in at any second—my mother and Miss Langley are taking tea just outside—and if they came in and saw us like this, they might think—they might not understand—’ Her voice tailed away.

‘Why, what might they think, beautiful Juliana?’ He was looking intently at her mouth.

A new, disturbing feeling swamped Juliana. It was altogether confusing. Was he going to kiss her? Her heart, deaf to all sense, leaped in anticipation. Rejecting it, she hissed at him, ‘Let me go, if there is anything of the gentleman in you!’

His jaw clenched. ‘I am the one who was attacked without reason!’ As he said it, thankfully he rolled off to sit beside her, his hand going to the back of his head. ‘Ouch! A lump as big as an egg!’ He glared at her. ‘What did you mean by it?’

She sat up. ‘You were skulking. I saw you, sneaking through the shrubbery, trying to find a way in. I know they have been bothered by thieves before on Public Days. I thought—’ She broke off. It seemed unlikely, now she had time to reflect, that he was a thief.

‘You thought I was a thief, trying to steal from Chadcombe?’

She looked at him, then bit her lip. She nodded.

‘That has to be one of the greatest insults I have ever received.’ He reflected. ‘No, I think it is truly the greatest.’ He stood and offered her his hand.

She thought about rejecting it, then, realising how ungainly she would look if she tried to scramble to her feet without his assistance, she placed her hand in his.

He pulled her up—and into his arms! Her hands came up to his chest and for some reason she didn’t push him away. Her heart was pounding loudly and she had the strangest feeling in the pit of her stomach. His deep-blue gaze pinned hers and she knew—just knew—something was about to happen. She held her breath.

He gazed down at her, then his expression changed. ‘What did you hit me with?’

‘Er—what?’ Her brows knitted in confusion.

‘Your weapon. What was it?’

‘Oh—a spade.’ Why was he asking about that?

‘A spade! You are jesting, surely?’ He released her and looked around. ‘This spade?’

She crossed her arms around herself, suddenly feeling a little cold. ‘It was all I could find.’

He picked it up, tested its weight, then looked at her with a gleam of humour in his eyes. ‘Permit me to tell you, Miss Milford, you are an unusual young lady.’

Was he laughing at her? Her chin went up. ‘And permit me to say, Captain Fanton, you are the most irritating man I have ever met! And you still haven’t explained why you were trying to sneak in!’

‘You’re right, I haven’t,’ he said smoothly, setting the spade down again. ‘Come with me.’

Eyeing him suspiciously, she accompanied him to the eastern door of the Orangery, the one she had come in by. Outside, they found Mama and Miss Langley, still calmly drinking tea.

He winked at Juliana, then cleared his throat.

Both ladies turned. Mama’s face lit up when she saw him. ‘Oh! What a pleasant surprise!’

Miss Langley, a little slower to respond, smiled broadly when she saw who it was. ‘Harry!’ She rose to embrace him. ‘What brings you home? And so unexpectedly!’

Home? Had she just said ‘home’? Juliana’s jaw dropped in shock.

‘Ah, Great-Aunt Clara, I am so happy to see you!’ He kissed her wrinkled cheek. ‘I am fixed in Horse Guards for at least two months and thought I would come to Chadcombe for a few days to see you all. It was only when I got here I realised you were in the middle of a dashed Public Day. Why Adam had to start them up again I shall never understand!’

‘Oh, dear, Harry, I do remember how you always hated Public Days!’

‘Well, I hoped to avoid everyone by coming around by the Orangery.’

His great-aunt smiled fondly at him. ‘I remember, this was how you avoided your tutor, too, when you wanted to. No one ever could find you when you wanted to hide.’

Juliana snorted. He hadn’t been very discreet while skulking through the bushes today! Hearing her reaction, he sent her a sideways glance, his eyes brimming with humour.

Miss Langley turned to Mrs Milford. ‘Mrs Milford, may I introduce you to my great-nephew Harry—Adam’s brother. Harry, this is Mrs Milford and Miss Milford—dear Charlotte’s school friend.’

‘But we have met before,’ cried Mama, smiling broadly. ‘Captain Fanton and his friend were of great assistance to us while we were in Dover.’ She offered Harry her hand. ‘How wonderful it is we should see you again and that you are Charlotte’s new brother! Is it not wonderful, Juliana?’

‘Indeed it is, Mama,’ said Juliana smoothly, lying without a blink. ‘Quite wonderful.’

* * *

Juliana settled into the corner of the carriage with a sigh. She was not looking forward to today. Mama was ill—just a cold, but she had stayed in bed today. Juliana hated to leave her. While she knew her mother was enjoying the best of care and attention from Miss Langley and a flurry of chambermaids, it still felt wrong to abandon her like this. Juliana had been really torn, for Charlotte needed her, too. Her mother had seemed to understand.

‘Mama?’ Juliana had spoken softly, unsure if her mother was awake or asleep.

‘Yes, my love?’

‘Do you remember I told you about the Wakelys?’

‘That boorish couple from the Public Day?’ Mama shuddered. ‘What of them?’

‘Charlotte plans to visit them today—they live only a few miles away. I do not wish to leave you alone, but I think she would be easier if I accompanied her.’

‘Of course you must go with her!’ Mama patted her hand. ‘If you stay, you will only keep me from sleeping anyway.’ Mama smiled to soften her words, but Juliana was unconvinced. ‘Go, Juliana! You cannot abandon Charlotte when she needs you. You will be of no use to me today, but a great deal of use to Charlotte!’

Reluctantly, Juliana had agreed—only to discover, just now, that Harry also intended to accompany them. It was much too late to back out, but it galled her to discover she hadn’t been needed after all. She wondered if Harry had deliberately ensured she would not discover his plans until she was committed.

Charlotte took her seat beside Juliana, then finally Harry entered, sitting in the centre of the rear-facing seat, opposite them. In the small, confined space, Juliana could not but be intensely aware of him. At a glance, she took in his well-fitted coat, pale breeches and gleaming boots—one of which was threateningly close to her own foot. She moved slightly, further away from him, and resisted the urge to tuck in her dress protectively around her. His nearness disturbed her—though not in the same way that the unctuous Mr Wakely had. No, she felt under no threat from Harry. Rather, she was altogether too aware of him—and was conscious of an incomprehensible urge to enjoy the proximity.

She and Charlotte were both wearing pretty day dresses of sprig muslin, with matching spencers. Charlotte wore a becoming cap, as befitted a married lady, whereas Juliana had opted for a high-poke bonnet with blue satin ribbons. Harry had paid them both extravagant compliments just now. Charlotte had smiled fondly at him, while Juliana had thanked him coolly.

Juliana had managed to keep a polite distance from Harry over the past few days, navigating with outward equanimity the warm welcome and surprise with which his arrival had been greeted. He had suffered no lasting ill effects from being clobbered with a spade, and the bump on his head had been a just reward, Juliana thought, for skulking.

It was clear Harry was well loved at Chadcombe—and not just by his relatives. The staff, Juliana noted, held him in high regard and Charlotte adored him as a brother. Charlotte had squealed with delight when she and Adam had first seen him, outside the Orangery. They had come looking for Great-Aunt Clara and the others when the last guest had gone, and found Harry being plied with cake and questions.

Harry’s younger sister, Olivia, had also now returned to Chadcombe and was equally warm towards both her brothers. Juliana was quite envious of the clear bond between them and the fact that Charlotte, it seemed, had been fully welcomed into their family.

While she could only be glad Charlotte had found such a loving home, it had made her consider again her own situation. Growing up as an English child in Brussels, she had never felt she truly belonged there. And the years at school in Vienna had added to her sense of being rootless. It was partly the lack of family, she knew. Growing up without a father had not helped—she felt responsible for Mama and had taken on the obligation for making decisions that would normally fall to one’s parents. It had made her wary, old beyond her years and perhaps a little more ready to fight when threatened. Being in England was also unsettling. Though she, of course, had her dear Mama, she had often wondered about her own family background.

Mama rarely talked about her husband. His name, Juliana knew, was John Milford, and he had died while in active service during the Flanders campaign, soon after Juliana’s birth. Wounded in a skirmish with French forces, he had succumbed to infection a week later. Mama had said the bitterly cold winter had probably not helped. ‘I often wondered,’ she had told her daughter, ‘if I could have saved him. He was all alone, with no one to properly care for him. The army was in retreat and very few of the wounded survived.’

Juliana had been almost afraid to breathe. Mama so rarely talked about her past. ‘Could you not have gone with him?’ Juliana had asked tentatively. ‘I know many army wives who travel with the campaign—Charlotte’s mother did, for a time.’

‘Your father insisted I remain in Brussels with you,’ Mama had replied. ‘I was unwell after the birth, and he said he wanted to know we both were safe.’

Juliana had swallowed hard. ‘So it was because of me that he...died?’

Her mother had hugged her fiercely. ‘No! Never! He adored you—adored us both. It was simply the timing.’

‘Why did you not return to England after Papa’s death?’

Her mother’s face had crumpled. ‘Oh, I could not! To be subject to censure and control from—’ She swallowed hard. ‘I would have been punished and criticised for going away in the first place—I simply could not have borne it! I am not strong enough, you see.’

Mama had decided to stay in Brussels and focus on raising her daughter. Since then, she said, she had had no reason or desire to return to Kent, where she grew up.

Juliana had had a thousand more questions, but, since that day, almost two years ago, Mama had refused to disclose anything further about her past. She had begged Juliana not to press her, saying even after all these years it remained too painful to talk about. Juliana, conscious of her mother’s vulnerability, could not risk pushing too hard for information. She assumed Mama’s family had not approved of John Milford—or, perhaps, his decision to take his young bride to Europe to follow the Army. Perhaps there was some scandal there, which had made Mama anxious even all these years later.

Now they were in England, Juliana resolved to try to gently question Mama again about it all. Mama had been an only child, she knew, but surely someone remained. Was the estrangement so strong they could not have any contact with them? Could they perhaps visit them? When she was younger, she had often created visions in her head of being welcomed into a warm, loving home and that she would be the one to bridge a reawakening of her mama’s relationship with her own family. For who could fail to love Mama?

And what of her papa’s family? Was it possible she might have Milford grandparents or cousins? Would her mama be more willing to talk about it, now that they were in England?

‘I apologise to both of you that we are making this journey.’ Charlotte’s voice intruded on Juliana’s thoughts. ‘I am sure visiting Glenbrook Hall was not how you hoped to spend the afternoon—especially as we are to travel to London in two days.’

‘No need to apologise,’ said Harry cheerfully. ‘I am decidedly looking forward to it. I have heard much of our new neighbours and I confess to a certain curiosity.’

Juliana eyed him balefully. Quite apart from his deceiving her this morning, she still hadn’t forgiven him for being so rude and arrogant in Dover, and resented his seeming popularity with the entire family circle. He had been welcomed, fêted and exclaimed over by everyone in Chadcombe, including—the ultimate betrayal—by her own mama.

Everyone had thought him fixed in France and expressed their delight in animated tones at his unexpected arrival. Juliana had held back, a polite smile masking her disdain, until he had made a sly reference to her ‘falling over herself to greet him’ and how much of a pleasure it had been to meet Mrs Milford and her ‘charming daughter’ again. Charlotte, who had not been present when Harry had explained himself to Miss Langley, had looked confused.

‘But, when did you meet?’ she had asked innocently, failing to notice the daggered look Juliana had been sending in Harry’s direction.

‘In Dover,’ explained Mrs Milford, who had then gone on to describe their encounter in the warmest terms. Juliana had clamped her mouth shut and closed her hands into fists, for fear she would tell the truth—or that he would. He had known how she felt, of course, and had looked highly amused by her reaction. Charlotte had seemed astonished, then thoughtful.

‘Your curiosity is well warranted, Harry. The Wakelys are an interesting couple.’ Charlotte grimaced slightly as she spoke.

‘Interesting? Come now, Charlotte!’ Harry’s tone was lightly teasing. ‘You may speak plainly with me. And with Miss Milford.’ He looked directly at Juliana and she felt the impact of that steady gaze kick somewhere in her middle.

Charlotte shook her head. ‘I cannot say what I really think, for I do not wish to speak ill of people whom I barely know.’

‘Your discretion does you credit. Perhaps Miss Milford will oblige me. What is your impression of the Wakelys, Miss Milford?’

‘They are rude and encroaching, and not the sort of people Lady Shalford should be visiting.’ Juliana spoke bluntly, hoping to shock him. He was undaunted, humour glinting in his eyes. She turned to Charlotte. ‘Must you visit them?’

‘I fear so,’ said Charlotte sadly. ‘Mrs Wakely caught me unawares when they were leaving Chadcombe and I had agreed to call upon her before I knew what was happening.’

‘Did you discover the tale behind their move to Glenbrook Hall?’ Juliana hoped the Wakelys would be in the district only temporarily. She did not want anything to spoil Charlotte’s happiness and feared Charlotte would be too kind-hearted to repulse the strange duo.

Charlotte nodded. ‘Adam has been informed there is a dispute about the inheritance, and the Wakelys have been allowed to live there while the executors establish Mrs Wakely’s claim. It is known she has been given a generous allowance, too—the old Baron, Cowlam, was extremely wealthy, I understand. That might account for the diamonds.’

Juliana giggled. ‘And the peacocks!’

Charlotte laughed. ‘Lord! I wonder if they will have bought some?’

Harry smiled broadly. ‘Come now, you must tell me more of this! What peacocks?’

Juliana couldn’t resist, for it was too good a tale not to be told. Eyes dancing, she told him of the Wakelys’ plan to purchase peacocks. His reaction was gratifying, and for a few moments she actually felt in charity with him. She allowed him to be charming—indeed, she had admitted it from the first. And he was now part of her dear Charlotte’s family. Begrudgingly, she admitted he seemed genuinely loved by those at Chadcombe and that he must, therefore, have some good qualities she had not seen. She was sure of one thing, though. She would never wish to be close to him.

* * *

Harry watched Juliana as she told her tale, enjoying her animated features and sparkling eyes. He felt an unanticipated thrill as she spoke—this was the most relaxed he had ever seen her in his company.

Since his arrival at Chadcombe, she had tried to keep him at a distance, something which he had taken as a personal challenge. Her coolness was no match for his confidence in his ability to charm young ladies. The only time she had been openly angry and disdainful was during their encounter in the Orangery. Still, he mused, that event had had its compensations. He still remembered how it felt to have her beneath him, for those brief moments. Even the bump on the head now seemed a price worth paying. She was undoubtedly a daring woman!

Finding her installed in his family home had been an unexpected delight. He knew she was determined to dislike him, but somehow, it did not bother him. His instincts told him that, at a deeper level, her feelings towards him were much more mixed. He saw it in her awareness of him—a responsiveness which was entirely mutual. They came alive in each other’s company, politely throwing barbed comments, false sentiment and, occasionally, undisguised insults in each other’s path. He suspected Juliana was feeling the same exhilaration he was enjoying during these spirited encounters.

This was more than mere flirtation, though flattery was one of the main strategies which Harry was using to irritate her. He had realised quickly she was uncomfortable receiving compliments and that it was the easiest method of getting a response from her. As an accomplished flirt, he had developed the knack, he thought, of persuading young ladies to succumb to his charm—while avoiding, of course, any risk they might fall ‘in love’ with him. That was a complication he must avoid. With Juliana, he was sure there was no such risk, so his way was clear to see if he could charm her—or outwit her—into warming to him.

He squirmed slightly at the direction of his own musings. He sounded arrogant, even to himself. Deep inside, the monster of his self-loathing began to stir. Sensing the chasm opening up before him, he diverted his thoughts from the depths. Better to focus on the challenge of fencing with Juliana. The last thing he wished was to observe his own soul.

As each day passed, he grew to know her better. After just a week, he could now read the play of emotions that crossed her features with increasing accuracy, while Juliana was becoming ever more skilful at scoring hits on him.

Their battles—fought with word and gaze—were different to anything he had ever known and he found himself looking forward to each day with greater energy than he had known since—

‘And so,’ Juliana concluded with a flourish, ‘we may discover today whether Lord Cowlam’s wealth has been used to purchase peacocks for Glenbrook!’

‘Why, this sounds like a high treat!’ he declared. ‘I thank you both for allowing me to accompany you. There is nothing I enjoy more than absurdity!’

‘I know exactly what you mean.’ Juliana nodded. ‘People can be so humorous—even when they do not mean to be!’

Harry was startled by her straight answer. Honesty—without the hint of a barb—was a rare occurrence between them. He found himself agreeing with her. ‘Especially when they do not mean to be!’

Unthinkingly, they smiled briefly at each other in a moment of mutual understanding, then both broke off eye contact. They stared fixedly at the countryside for the rest of the journey, each lost in their own thoughts. Charlotte, after a keen look at each of them, smiled slightly, but said nothing.

In truth, Harry was a little disturbed by the sudden, unexpected harmony between himself and Juliana. They had each triumphed in various skirmishes, but which of them had won this latest round was unclear.

Chapter Six

‘We call this the Blue Drawing Room,’ Mrs Wakely tittered. ‘As you can understand, for everything is blue, even the rug!’

Juliana suppressed a yawn. How she disliked this ritual, touring people’s houses so they could crow about their wealth, furniture and—in Mrs Wakely’s case—rugs. She had done it many times around Brussels and Vienna, and knew the behaviour expected of her. She was to exclaim and compliment, and agree with her hostess, all the time understanding that she, who had no property or wealthy relations, was to be grateful even to visit such a wonderful dwelling. This occasion, Juliana recognised, was slightly different, for Mrs Wakely knew Glenbrook Hall was nothing compared to Chadcombe. Juliana was quite enjoying the reflected glory—and Mrs Wakely’s feeble attempts to seem humble, yet crow about her fortune.

‘As you see, it has blue hangings and the sofas and chairs are all done in blue. The fireplace, you will notice, is white.’

‘A most pleasant room, Mrs Wakely.’ Charlotte was all politeness. Juliana did not know how she could stand it. Since their arrival, Mrs Wakely had maintained an incessant flow of inconsequential chatter, interspersed with impertinent questions.

Thankfully, after tea, Harry had been taken off by Mr Wakely to inspect the stables, so Juliana did not have to endure the company of either man. Mr Wakely, on their arrival, had raised his quizzing glass to inspect both ladies with uncomfortable intensity, before pronouncing them to be ‘fine young ladies’, in a voice that made Juliana shiver slightly.

‘...you think, Juliana?’ Realising belatedly that Charlotte was addressing her, Juliana started.

‘Yes, delightful,’ she said generally. It seemed to fit, for no one reacted with surprise.

Mrs Wakely rang the bell. ‘The portrait gallery is next and I confess I do not know much of the family history, so I have asked our housekeeper, Mrs Campbell, to be ready to explain it to you.’

They stood, listening with seeming interest to Mrs Wakely’s description of the pleasant view out of the window, until the housekeeper appeared. Mrs Campbell was a stout, kindly-looking woman in her sixties, with a lined face and iron-grey hair contained in an orderly bun. Her black dress was neat and tidy, and she wore a large bunch of keys at her waist.

‘Mrs Campbell,’ said Mrs Wakely imperiously, ‘please take us to the portrait gallery, and explain everything to my guests. The same way you explained it to me when I first became your mistress.’ She turned to Charlotte. ‘Lady Shalford, you will know what a trial it is to find good staff and how one must establish dominance over them from the start—especially the “old retainer” types. One would not want to be cheated by dishonest staff!’

Juliana’s jaw dropped in shock. What an insulting thing to say, and in front of her own housekeeper! Mrs Campbell’s face remained expressionless, but Juliana knew from the brief flash of pain in her eyes that Mrs Wakely’s cruel arrow had found its mark.

Charlotte, she saw, was equally taken aback. ‘I know how important it is to find—and to keep—good staff,’ she said softly. ‘I declare I would be lost without my own housekeeper at Chadcombe.’ She smiled gently at Mrs Campbell.

Juliana spoke up. ‘I would be delighted if you would be so kind as to show us the portrait gallery, Mrs Campbell.’ She smiled broadly at the housekeeper, hoping to signal her outrage at Mrs Wakely’s rude behaviour.

Mrs Campbell looked at her fully for the first time. Her eyes widened briefly, then she schooled her features into impassivity. ‘Thank you, miss.’

Juliana followed as Mrs Campbell led them through two interconnected rooms. Why had the housekeeper looked at her with such surprise? Was she so unused to receiving kindness? Juliana could not imagine how difficult it must be to work for a mistress as coarse and unfeeling as Mrs Wakely.