Chapter Seven
She could be no bolder or plainer. Mary waited for his answer, scarcely daring to breathe.
“Mary, I . . .” he started.
“Mr. Mayes,” Nigel said, pushing in beside them. “Why do you persist in taking my cousin away from her duties? How many times must I protest?”
Julian’s head came up, shoulders straightening, but Mary faced her cousin before Julian could speak. “Leave us alone, or I’ll scream.”
Nigel drew himself up. “Scream? I knew this man was troubling you. Come, Cousin. I will protect you. You have no need to throw yourself at this fellow.”
Anger boiled up inside her. “Give me a moment, or I shall find something to throw—at you.”
“The coal shuttle might be a good start,” Julian suggested.
Nigel flushed. “Fine. I leave you to your ruin. You can expect no help from me in the future. But mark my words—you will rue the day you made light of Nigel Rose.” He stormed off.
Julian shook his head. “He should have gone on the stage. He’d rival Kemble at Drury Lane for declamation.”
If only she could believe her cousin was as good an actor as the famed tragedian. Nigel’s threat hung in the air like smoke. He’d make her pay if he could, but she refused to give in to his bullying. She turned to Julian.
“Well, Mr. Mayes? I asked you a very important question.”
“So you did.” He took her hand and tucked it into his arm. “Give me a moment to speak to your mother, then walk me to the door.”
He was leaving? Disappointment left her sagging. She’d misread him. Even after all those impassioned words, the praise of her looks and character, he didn’t care, or at best he didn’t care enough. Still, she had some pride. She nodded, and he led her over to her mother.
“Thank you for a lovely celebration,” he said with a bow. “I want you to know that if you or Mary ever need anything, I am at your service.”
Her mother gazed up into his face, then inclined her head, a smile making her face brighter than it had been for a long time. “Thank you, Julian. It’s good to have friends.”
With a nod, he started for the door.
Mary had to force her feet to keep pace. Until that moment, she’d never realized how much she’d believed in him. She’d laughed off other young men at the assembly rooms, chased away Chester Godwin, never intended to flirt with a single fellow if she went up to London. The only man for her was Julian Mayes.
And he was leaving her behind. Like Chester, he had outgrown her. And she had no idea how to stretch herself further to reach him.
As Mr. Cowls went to fetch Julian’s coat, Julian turned to Mary. “Forgive me for not answering you immediately. A wise man once told me actions speak louder than words.” He glanced up.
Mary followed his gaze and stilled. In truth, she had paid little attention to where he led her, so dismal were her thoughts. Now the kissing bough hung right over their heads. Her gaze fell to his, and she licked her lips, trembling.
“Happy Christmas, Mary,” he murmured, and he lowered his head and kissed her.
It was like breathing in Christmas. Warmth filled her, joy surrounded her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, offering him all of her—her hopes, her dreams, her future. He was meant to be hers. She was meant to be his. How could she possibly let him leave?
* * *
What a kiss. He’d toyed with poetry, but he knew he’d never find the words to do these feelings justice. She was all fire in his arms, all joy, and any doubts he’d had about his own capacity fled in the light. He drew back and peered into her dear face.
“I love you, Mary. I suspect I always have.”
She pressed a hand over the sweet lips he had just kissed, eyes shining. “Oh, Julian. I love you too.”
He wanted to shout, to sing, to dance madly about the room with her in his arms. Instead he shook his head. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be worthy of you.”
“What nonsense!” she cried, hand falling. “You are all I want, all I need. You are perfection.”
“No,” he insisted. “I’m not. I’m vain and selfish and not entirely sure of my future. But I can do better if you give me a little while before making you my wife.”
“But why must we wait to wed?” she begged, gaze searching his as if she could not get enough of him. “We have pledged our love. I’m sure Mother would allow us to marry.”
He caught up her hands, held them against his chest. “I can’t support you, not yet. Give me time to make my mark in London. I’m to start work at a solicitor’s firm next week. Once I’ve established myself, I can treat you as you deserve. I will work hard, rise higher. I will make myself a man you would be proud to claim as husband.”
“I am happy with the man you are now,” Mary protested.
“And I want more for you, my Mary, my beautiful Mary. Will you wait for me?”
She cast herself into his arms again, and it was some time before either spoke. If people passed them in the entry hall, coming in or going out, he was unaware of it. His entire world was Mary.
At length, she pulled back. “I’ll wait. But Julian, I need help now. The physician will not speak to me about Mother’s condition. I need to advise on her treatment. Perhaps, as my betrothed . . .”
He would do anything for her. “I might better serve you as your solicitor,” he said, thinking aloud. “Is Dr. Parkins here today?”
She nodded. “He spoke to Mother earlier in the great hall.”
Julian took her hand and steered her back into the room.
They located the physician easily enough, warming himself in the glow of the Yule log. Julian requested a moment of his time and took him aside.
“Miss Rose would like an update on her mother’s condition,” he informed the fellow.
Dr. Parkins’s smile was as patronizing as his words. “I have assured Miss Rose that I am doing everything possible for her mother.”
Small wonder Mary was at her wit’s end. Julian kept his tone polite. “And what, exactly, are you treating her for?”
Parkins raised his chin. “I regret, Mr. Mayes, that I am not at liberty to discuss a patient’s care with anyone but family.”
Mary drew herself up, but Julian put a hand on her arm to keep her from speaking. “I’m glad to hear that,” he told the physician. “As Mary is her only surviving family, I’m sure you can share your findings with her.”
He nodded across the room. “I send all my reports to the male head of the family, Mr. Nigel Rose.”
Mary gasped. Julian released her to step closer, gaze narrowed on the physician.
“As Miss Rose’s solicitor, and her friend, I can assure you your trust is misplaced. Mr. Rose has neither the care nor the income required to insert himself in this situation. If you cannot find the time to speak with Miss Rose directly, I will advise her to locate another physician, and I will suggest to the medical authorities in London that your ethics are questionable.”
He stiffened. “Now, see here.”
“No,” Julian said. “You see here. Miss Rose has assumed the burden of caring for her mother. The least you can do as a physician, sworn by oath to do no harm, is to confide in her.”
He glanced from Mary to Julian. “Very well. You’ve made your point. Be at my office the day after Boxing Day, Miss Rose, and I will go over everything with you.”
Mary’s eyes brightened, but she pressed her lips together as if holding back a squeal of triumph and inclined her head in agreement. Julian took her hand and led her back to the entry hall.
There was still no sign of Mr. Cowls and Julian’s greatcoat, but he couldn’t regret the wait. Already his mind was full of plans. A townhouse in London, with room for a family. His Mary at his side, growing old together. Nothing had ever sounded finer.
“Thank you, Julian,” she murmured. “I feel as if I can breathe again for the first time in a long time.”
He pressed a kiss against the back of her hand. “If you need me, for any reason, you have only to send word.”
Her smile blossomed. “I know I can rely on you.” She glanced down the corridor. “Unlike our butler. I’ve never known Mr. Cowls to be so slow in responding.”
“Here you are, Mr. Mayes,” the butler said, stepping out from behind the stairs. “I seem to have misplaced your hat, but I’m sure I can locate it by tomorrow. Perhaps you’d be so good as to call then.”
Julian grinned. “I’d be delighted.”
* * *
Mary clung to his arm as she walked him the last few steps to the door. Her cousin and Dr. Parkins had been put in their places. That could not help but lift her spirits. But more importantly, she was going to marry her Julian. The wonder of it lifted her off her feet until she felt as if she were dancing on air like a snowflake.
He bent and kissed her again, a promise of kisses and joys to come. She could dream of a home together, a family, a future. Perhaps there would be sad times, but there would be joy, growth, love.
Still, whatever lay ahead, she knew she would always remember their Christmas kiss.