Chapter Six
The Arrangement
By the time she’d put the children to bed Sunday evening, Julia’s sense of calm had gone.
She’d woken up that morning in the Kensington house feeling refreshed. She’d put on a long, A-line skirt of dove grey wool, a matching turtleneck that was ribbed from the waist to just under her breasts and from wrist to elbow, the effect making her waist look tiny. She added a pair of soft, soot-grey, suede boots and the diamond studs her brother and Tammy had bought her for her birthday years ago. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck and went forward to face the day for the first time in a long time in a light-hearted, maybe even good mood.
She found Douglas, not in his study but in the lounge reading the paper. He wore dark brown corduroys and a matching turtleneck and he looked casual and relaxed and, for once, was not working.
“Good morning,” she said as she walked into the room.
He looked at her over the paper.
“Julia.” His face betrayed nothing but his eyes again slowly trailed the length of her body.
She ignored his gaze and smiled at him. Charlotte’s words about him protecting her through Tamsin’s bizarre last wishes and his quiet assumption of the duty of protector were still at the front of her mind.
At her smile he dropped the newspaper and lifted an eyebrow asking without words what was on her mind.
“So… today?” she inquired.
“Today,” he said shortly, folding the newspaper and throwing it on the table in front of him, “Carter is taking you and the children to Patisserie Valerie for breakfast. I’ve a couple of calls coming through, so I’ll need to stay behind. You’ll make a few more stops with the kids to see the sights. You should find something to bring home for lunch. Then we’ll go back to Sommersgate.”
She wasn’t listening; instead, she was looking at the paper he’d thrown on the table. In it, a large, colour photograph of her and Douglas was displayed.
They were walking into the gallery, their hands clasped firmly, their arms stretched out between them as Douglas pulled her forward. He was in profile, his expression hard and showing nothing. She was staring at the ground, her pashmina had dropped off one shoulder and was hanging in the crook of her elbow. To keep up with Douglas, her stride was long and the slit at the side of her skirt had opened to accommodate it, showing a shocking expanse of leg.
Regardless of the distance between them and their expressionless faces, the clasped hands conveyed a closeness that could easily be misunderstood. In fact, if she had been looking at two other people in the same positions, she would have assumed they were lovers. Friends or siblings didn’t walk together like that, hands clasped tightly, the man forging through the crowd leading, and protecting, the woman.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, losing her composure as she stared at the photo.
Douglas’s eyes dropped to the paper.
“Forget it,” he said in a tone that Julia was beginning to wonder if he expected would be readily obeyed regardless of the ridiculousness of his demand. She just couldn’t “forget it” simply because he told her to.
It was the first time in her life she’d ever had her picture in the paper, for one thing. They looked like a couple of lovebirds on a night on the town, annoyed at being trapped by the paparazzi.
What would the children think if they saw it?
“But –” she started.
“It’s nothing,” he interrupted her, rising from his seat and then he prompted her, “Children. Breakfast.”
And that was all he said, leaving her in the room alone with the photo and his final command to see to the kids.
She stared in complete disbelief and diminishing calm at the doorway he’d walked through. Then she grabbed the paper and ran upstairs with it, shoving it in her bag so none of the children would see it.
Leaving Douglas behind, they’d had a beautiful breakfast at a fabulous patisserie. Afterwards, Carter drove them to Buckingham Palace to the now unhidden delight of Veronika. The children had seen it before, save Ruby who walked hand-in-hand with Veronika and gazed in awe upon the palatial estate with its huge black gates with gold crests. Instead of being driven, Julia decided they’d walk the short distance to Westminster Abbey and Big Ben, then across the bridge to stand in line for what seemed like forever eventually to take their spectacular ride on the London Eye.
A fight ensued between Willie and Ruby as to what was for lunch, burgers (Willie) or fried chicken (Ruby) which Julia solved by making Lizzie decide. She’d been trying to draw out her older niece and although she’d managed to force her to take a shower every morning, wash her hair and have more than a few bites to eat, Lizzie was still resolutely withdrawn.
Upon Lizzie’s verdict, they took home a big bucket of chicken and Julia helped Veronika get the children settled, then Carter and Veronika disappeared.
Julia went to find Douglas who was in his study on the phone. She knocked and, at his command, opened the door. He was standing rather than sitting behind his desk, his arm outstretched and pointing to a place on a piece of paper when he looked up at her.
Having his gaze levelled on her made her legs feel like jelly. He was so damned attractive, tall and compelling, his dark eyes intense.
She recovered her composure, setting such silly thoughts aside with a silent curse to herself.
She stood politely in the doorway and used the universal sign language to communicate silently that food was available (in other words, she pretended to fork food into her mouth and chew). Realising what she was doing, feeling like all kinds of fool, she quickly left him to his call.
The kids were devouring the fried, fatty, forbidden treats that had been a hallmark of the weekend when Douglas walked into the dining room.
“I saved you a leg!” Ruby announced by shouting at him and Julia tamped down her awkward feelings from before. She was letting strange things get to her and she allowed herself to trot out what were becoming familiar excuses – exhaustion and homesickness – and she felt marginally better.
After they were done, Veronika cleared the table and Julia made certain the children were packed and they all trooped to the cars. Douglas had his Jaguar in London and he decreed in his usual bossy manner that Julia was to ride with him. He then swept her in the car so quickly she had no chance to call good-bye to the children.
She had wanted Lizzie to ride with him. Lizzie who looked at him with a longing that tore at Julia’s heart. She was looking to replace Gavin, Julia knew, and the only replacement available was Douglas. However, it was clear Douglas was entirely uninterested.
Julia turned in her seat and looked back at them. Lizzie was climbing in the backseat of the Bentley while Veronika was settling into the front. Willie was impatiently dancing behind Lizzie, waiting his turn, and Ruby was jumping up and down, waving at Julia.
Julia waved back.
Douglas expertly manoeuvred through the streets of London and finally found the motorway, all this was accomplished in complete silence.
Once they made it to the far right lane, flying by the two other lanes of traffic as if they were going a snail’s pace, to her chagrin, the smooth ride of the car and constant sleep deprivation caused her to fall asleep, her head on the window.
She was awakened by a hand on her thigh squeezing it gently. Her eyes flew open and she saw that Douglas was leaning over her, his face close to hers, his hand still on her.
“Wake up, we’re home,” he said, his deep voice strangely, and invitingly, soft.
She glanced around dazedly, shaking her head and cursing herself for falling asleep. She hoped fervently that she hadn’t drooled or snored or done anything else utterly humiliating.
They were parked in the drive at Sommersgate. The sun was setting but light still covered the house, gardens and the rolling fields to the west. They’d enjoyed wonderful weather all weekend, chilly but dry and mild.
Once she’d pulled herself together, she realised both the jelly-feeling legs and the pleasant warmth in her belly were present at his proximity.
Therefore, Julia announced, “Great!” in order to dispel the intimate mood in the car and turned to let herself out but Douglas’s hand on her thigh tightened.
“Julia.”
She turned back even though she didn’t want to. In fact, she really didn’t want to.
“Yes?” she asked when her eyes met his.
I am innocence and light, blithely unaware of his hand on my leg, innocence and light, innocence and light, she repeated in her head.
For some reason, he grinned, the effect was a shock to her system and she watched the wrinkles crinkle handsomely at the corners of his eyes and those same eyes warmed lazily as they stared into hers, so very close. She felt her stomach flip nervously as that familiar thrill chased up her spine.
To hide it she repeated, “Yes?” Clipping the word’s sibilant end tersely to try and convey an impatience she really didn’t feel. In truth, even though she hated to admit it, she could have sat there forever.
His grin widened to a smile as if he knew her thoughts exactly, the brilliant flash of his teeth against his tanned skin and that deathly alluring scar on his lip disarming her completely.
“We’ll talk tonight,” he said, leaving her to think that he had thought better of what he was about to say… or do. Thankfully, he removed his hand and she exited the car with all haste, practically running into the house (after a brief struggle with the impossibly heavy front doors) and straight to her rooms.
Tonight they would talk about their “arrangement”.
This was good, she told herself. They had to get some things settled.
No, she had to get some things settled. She had to get herself sorted, get some rest, get her thoughts together and get her body under control and find out where the rest of her life was taking her.
One place she was determined it wasn’t going to take her and that was into some ill-advised fling with the man she was forced to live with for the next however-many years.
No matter how damned handsome he was.
Or how beautiful his smile.
She changed from her lovely outfit into a pair of faded jeans and an equally faded, tight-fitting black t-shirt that said, “Harry’s Chocolate Shop – Home of the Great Indoorsman” in yellow printing which promoted a popular bar at Purdue University where she and Gavin went to school. They were comfortable clothes and reminded her of home.
She donned them like armour.
To prepare herself, she gathered her notes and wrote more, reading through them carefully.
When the kids arrived a half hour after Julia and Douglas, she and Veronika dealt with them, their bags, their homework, their dinner and then put them to bed. Douglas emerged only during bedtime, looking in on Ruby, who had already been in bed for an hour and was sleeping, and taking care of Willie while Julia tucked Lizzie into bed, all the way down her sides, like she’d been doing since the first night she arrived.
“Are you okay, Auntie Jewel?” Lizzie asked to Julia’s surprise.
Julia’s first response was to kiss the girl on the cheek and smooth her dark hair back, smiling into her sad, worried eyes. She’d underestimated her niece, no doubt in her sensitive state she was sensing Julia’s agitation.
Julia decided to be honest. Honesty, Patricia always told Julia and Gavin, was the best policy.
“No, Lizzie-babe, but I will be. Don’t you worry about it though, go to sleep.”
Julia kissed her niece again and left the room with the unfortunate timing of joining Douglas at the head of the stairs.
“Is it time for our chat?” she asked with studied politeness as they walked down together.
“I’ve a call to make,” he responded.
“That’s okay,” she said airily, as if she had all the time in the world, “I’ll wait.”
She went directly to her rooms, looked in the mirror and ran her fingers through her hair. She found herself wishing she had a stash of liquor for some liquid courage and then shook the thought off.
This was a good thing, she told herself, they had years of this ahead of them and they needed some ground rules.
She sat in the turret, went back over her notes and she waited.
Then she waited some more.
She supposed he would come and get her when he was ready but, after thirty minutes, she heard nothing. And with each passing minute, her anger increased.
This was his house, of course, but did this mean she had to wait for his bidding, like Mrs. K or Veronika? Was this to be her life?
Not bloody likely.
Angrily, she grabbed her notes and headed to his study.
The door was open and she walked straight in without knocking. He was on the phone again, sitting behind his desk and at her arrival he lifted his dark-eyed gaze to her.
She had to steel herself against the gaze and just how perfectly he fit in the richly-appointed, masculine room. It, too, had an enormous fireplace that took up most of one wall, beside it an ornate cabinet sat, topped with intricately cut, crystal decanters filled with liquor surrounded by sturdy, cut-crystal glasses that were built to be held in a man’s hand. The opposite wall was lined with bookshelves and filled with books, liberally interspersed with (most likely priceless) objects d’art. An enormous, comfortable couch faced the fireplace, covered in a rich, tan suede and flanked by two matching wide-seated armchairs. In the centre of this was a heavily carved, rectangular table, its wood buffed to a dazzling shine. Two more chairs faced his desk and there was an ancient standing globe in the corner beside the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the garden. The highly-polished wood floors were covered with deep-pile, patterned carpets that screamed money.
As she stood there, Julia wondered for a moment what to do. She knew she was being rude but she’d had enough of working to Douglas’s schedule. She came to England on a Tuesday, Monique gone, he arrived well into the night, offered no help, no direction and then he left on Wednesday not to return for days. No phone calls, e-mails, nothing. He planned her weekend for her without asking her thoughts on the matter. And it was Sunday night, for goodness sake, who worked late on Sunday night?
Her options flitted through her mind. Sit comfortably on the couch and appear like she had all night to wait while he rudely did exactly what he wanted? Make herself a drink? Make him one? Sit in one of the two chairs that faced his enormous, aptly-described baronial desk and stare at him pointedly?
She liked the idea of him not being able to ignore her, which she knew he could and would do. Instead of sitting in a chair, she walked to the front of the desk, positioning herself right across from him and she twisted her hip slightly to rest it against the edge. She bent her head to read the notes in one hand while the long fingernails of the other tapped impatiently on the surface of the desk. She would have whistled if she could carry a tune but she thought that might be overdoing it.
“Something’s come up.” She heard Douglas say and when she looked down to him, he was leaning back in his chair watching her, his eyes inscrutable, “No. I’ll call you.”
Without saying good-bye, he replaced the receiver.
“I gather you want something?” he asked.
“Yes… you.” His right eyebrow rose arrogantly and her stomach lurched. “That is… to talk to you,” she finished.
She could have kicked herself. Not a great start.
He rose and walked around the desk.
“Would you like a drink?” he inquired.
“Yes.” She so very much wanted a drink, she wanted to shout it (but she did not).
“Whisky?”
What she really would like was a shot or two of tequila but she doubted any of the unquestionably invaluable crystal decanters held anything as common as tequila.
“That’ll do,” Julia replied.
He poured the drinks and brought one to her. After he handed her the glass, he took a sip from his and shoved his other hand in his pocket, rocking back on his heels.
“Would you like to start? Or shall I?” he asked politely.
She watched him carefully. As far as she could tell, in the last week he’d spent approximately two hours in the company of the children. What he had to say she could not imagine and curiosity almost made her let him go first.
Instead, she took a sip, winced as the fiery liquid went down and said, “I’d like to start, if you don’t mind.”
“Be my guest,” he said and motioned courteously to the couch.
She sat, thinking he, too, would sit, but he stayed standing. She realised her mistake immediately as she’d have to look up at him. She hid it by pretending she didn’t care. She casually pulled her legs up on the couch, tucked them beside her as if this was a cosy little arrangement and she was as comfortable as if she was ensconced in front of the television in Patricia’s living room.
He again put his hand in his pocket and surveyed her and she had the distinct feeling she wasn’t fooling him, not one bit.
“I have a list,” she announced.
“I can see that.” His voice was carefully controlled but she had the impression that he wasn’t biting back anger but rather hiding amusement. She shot a sharp glance at him but his face was just as blank as his voice was controlled.
With no further ado, she launched into it. The children’s food, their schedules, their boarding school, the time they were allowed on the computer or in front of the television, the unnatural quiet they had to observe.
She had a few things to say about Monique as well, but she did so carefully. She made no accusations but instead made it perfectly clear who, exactly, had been chosen to raise the children and how that was going to carry on from this point forward.
She also informed him that she needed to settle in, for herself and for the children. She needed a bank account, a job, a means of making money and continuing her contribution to her pension for the time when she was back home, alone and facing the wrong side of middle age (although she didn’t share that last bit). She explained her concerns about health insurance, the urgency of getting a driver’s license, a car and an open-ended visa and work permit.
She also told him she’d like to contribute financially to the house and the children’s expenses and asked him to assess a monthly figure she could pay and they would discuss it.
When she finished, she was very proud of herself. She had been succinct, logical and controlled. For his part, he listened patiently and without interruption.
He walked back to the drinks cabinet and poured himself another whisky. She took a cautious sip of hers that had heretofore gone forgotten.
He turned back from the drinks cabinet, leaned his thigh against its edge and regarded her.
She regarded him right back.
Moments passed.
Finally, she could stand it no more.
“Well?” she asked, her tone more sharp than she would have liked and she berated herself for allowing him to shake her control. She needed that control, for a variety of reasons.
“Julia, the children go to boarding school because it’s far superior to anything the government could offer them. They take lessons because they should have accomplishments outside of school. That won’t change.”
“Douglas –”
He lifted a hand to stop her interruption and she shut her mouth only because he’d let her speak her piece uninterrupted. She should give him the same opportunity and then let him have it if she didn’t agree.
“As for their food, what lessons they have and how many, their schedules, television…” he trailed off, obviously beyond these petty details, “I leave that in your capable hands.”
She immediately felt relief flooding through her; he wasn’t going to argue with her.
“And how will Monique feel about this? Will you talk to her?” she asked.
“I’ll control Mother,” he answered in a tone so implacable, Julia almost felt sorry for Monique. “As for your job, visa, license, I’ll get Sam on it. And I’ll ask her to clear my schedule so I can take you to the bank and get you an account.”
“Thank you,” she said and she meant it. She was so relieved, if she could trust herself and her crazy emotions, she would have given him a hug and a big, sloppy kiss. “Speaking of Sam, she’s already helped a great deal, she’s been a godsend. She got me a phone, a computer…” Julia sifted through her lists and quoted to him how much she figured she owed him. “I’ll need to pay you back right away. Can Sam help me arrange a transfer to your account?”
“Don’t be absurd,” he replied in a way that would make Einstein feel ridiculous for presenting his theory of relativity.
“You can’t buy me computers and –” Julia started.
“Even suggesting you’ll pay me is insulting,” Douglas cut in. “You gave up your entire life to be here, the least I can do is make it convenient and comfortable for you.”
That shut her mouth. She didn’t know whether to be pleased or annoyed. It was a lovely sentiment but she most certainly didn’t want to feel indebted to him.
He seemed not to notice her warring emotions and carried on. “As for a car, you’ll take one from the garage. I use the Jag, Mother the MG, Carter the Bentley. You can have one of the others and, if you don’t like them, just tell Sam what you want and she’ll arrange for it to be delivered.”
Julia’s mouth dropped open.
He’d have a car delivered?
That was too much, any thoughts of lovely sentiments went out the window and her relief was chased away as quickly as it came.
Before she could say a word, he continued. “And we won’t even discuss a monthly…” he hesitated then went on, “payment for living here.” He said the word “payment” like it tasted vile. “That idea is even more absurd than the other.”
“But I can’t –” Julia started again.
He threw his whisky back and put the glass down with a thud, effectively interrupting her.
“I can provide for my family, Julia,” he announced inflexibly and while she was trying to wrap her mind around the extraordinary fact that he thought she was family, he continued. “I’m uncertain why my sister trusted me with a task for which I have no skills or desire, but the one thing I can do is provide for you and the children. And on that point, there will be no discussion.”
He told her there will be no discussion as if that was the end of the discussion just because he said so.
She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, let it go. It wasn’t in her nature or her upbringing. She’d been working since she was sixteen, getting a job at the local Dairy Queen so she could buy herself clothes and go out with her friends and not put a strain on her mother’s already seriously strained finances. She wasn’t about to let him “provide” for her.
She pushed it. “Douglas, I understand but –”
“The subject is closed,” he announced.
She stared at him, not knowing whether to laugh out loud or scream, wishing she could do both at the same time.
“I can’t –” she began again.
“How, may I ask, do I get you to do what you’re told?” he queried calmly but he didn’t look calm. His eyes were glittering and she was so used to Douglas’s complete indifference she couldn’t tell if he was enjoying himself or if he was immensely annoyed.
“I never do what I’m told,” Julia informed him, having decided that, for her part, she did not find this amusing at all.
“That does not bode well for the next thirteen years,” he declared, his tone showing he had chosen the opposite.
“I’m sorry, I can’t just live here and contribute nothing.”
“You’ll be taking care of the children.”
“One day, I’ll be working too. What then?” she asked.
“We’ll cope, people do these things every day,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Yes, but I’ll need more commitment from you with the children. Especially now, especially Lizzie. I think she’s looking to you –”
He stiffened, all amusement gone, and he interrupted her again, his words curt. “I have no idea how to heal her grief and further I have no intention of filling Gavin’s shoes.”
“But –” Julia began, stunned at his reaction and his words.
“Have we covered everything on your lists?” he asked politely and pointedly, this discussion, according to Douglas, was obviously closed.
“Yes. But, Douglas –” Julia tried again.
Douglas interrupted again. “Good, I have a phone call to finish.”
And to her amazement, he walked to his desk.
She was dismissed.
She stood there not knowing what to do. She’d never met the like of him. One minute, he was so good-looking, so damned sexy that he made her legs tremble and her stomach pitch, the next minute he was so impossibly autocratic, she felt like throwing something at him.
He picked up his phone as he rifled through some papers and she realised that he didn’t even intend to acknowledge her presence in the room.
She’d been there less than a week, she’d left her entire life behind, the life before her was still uncertain and in the midst of all this she had three children who depended on her and, by the way… him.
She wasn’t supposed to do it alone. Tammy and Gav wanted her to have help and that meant far more than a free meal ticket, the use of a car and Douglas publically bestowing his “favour” on her at art galleries.
She didn’t even wage the battle to control her temper, she just let it lose. She downed the contents of her whisky, gagged momentarily as the fire hit her throat and stormed his desk.
“Excuse me!” she slammed her glass down on its shiny surface making his head come up with a jerk. “I’m sure you’re used to strolling into a board room or wherever you work and making everyone do your bidding but I’m afraid that does not work with me. May I remind you that your sister and my brother expect us, no, they trusted us, no, they honoured us by allowing us to raise those children together and I’m not going to let you throw money at it and then get on with your life like nothing’s changed. You’ll pull your weight, you’ll get involved and you’ll damn well quit telling me what to do all the time, because I’m up to here…” she indicated her chin with an angry thrust of her hand, “with it.”
He had the receiver in his hand but, after she finished, he slowly returned it to its cradle.
“Are you finished?” he asked, his tone completely civil.
She took a deep breath.
Was she finished? She didn’t know. Maybe she went too far.
“No, Julia,” he said quietly, “that was too magnificent to question. Simply score your point and go.”
She faltered. “Did I?” He raised his brow in question. “Score a point,” she explained.
He inclined his head briefly.
She was stunned. She was pleased.
For some reason, she was also scared.
One point meant only one point which meant there was a game afoot here. And she did not want to play games with Douglas Ashton. Douglas Ashton always, always won.
Nevertheless, she thought it prudent to take his advice.
“Well then, thank you for the chat. I feel much better,” she lied. “Goodnight.”
She turned to go but his voice calling her name stopped her.
She turned back.
“Yes?” she asked.
He was looking at her in that pleasant way again, something akin to admiration in his eyes, a look that stole her breath away.
His voice was smooth as silk when he spoke. “Last time you said goodnight to me in this room, it came with a kiss.”
The pleasant tremor slid so far up her spine, it went up her neck and made her scalp tingle just as her stomach flipped.
With a supreme effort of will, Julia ignored it.
“I wasn’t annoyed with you last time,” she informed him haughtily.
There was definitely a game afoot and even after this discussion of their “arrangement”, she wasn’t sure of the ground rules.
“I’ll bear that in mind the next time we have a late evening conversation,” he replied, then he picked up the phone and she felt her best bet at that point was to flee the room.
Which was exactly what she did.