The Romantic Read online

  Tonight that struck her as odd. After all, she had known him since they were little more than children. He was a good friend of her brothers, and the family solicitor, and was usually present at their parties. But his private life remained a mystery, just as he was in many ways an enigma.

  A large watercolor on the left wall caught her attention. Despite the low lighting, she recognized it as a study by Turner. This wash of hazy, romantic brushwork was even looser and more amorphous than his oils.

  It was not the kind of painting that one would expect Mr. Hampton to favor. His crystalline reserve implied that he would prefer clearer, more classical works. Yet she had always sensed that other things lurked in him, and this watercolor appeared to confirm that. She had always suspected that with Julian Hampton the waters not only ran deeply, but they also carried unseen currents. The potentially dangerous lure of those depths had always made her slightly uncomfortable with him.

  There were other little touches that fascinated her. Some Turkish pillows and a long narrow painting that looked Chinese. Had Mr. Hampton chosen those items himself, or had his friends, Adrian Burchard and Daniel St. John, who had traveled to those exotic lands, given them as gifts?

  The library distracted her enough that she was startled to realize she was no longer alone. She sensed a vital presence, as if an invisible power began affecting the air.

  Her spirit reacted in the oddest way, as it had for years with this counselor and friend. Indescribable calm washed through her, but other emotions pricked her instincts, too. Happiness. Fear. Melancholy. There was also that unsettling something that had no name but which placed her at a vaguely breathless disadvantage.

  She turned her body on the divan to look to the door. He stood there, tall and dark and strongly lean, dressed as if he had just returned from a dinner party even though she suspected she had woken him from his sleep.

  It had been a long time since she took specific note of how handsome he was, but she did tonight. Perhaps that was because she had not seen him in half a year. His dark hair and smoldering eyes and crisp features created a very romantic image. Her dear friend Diane St. John had once said he looked as if he would speak in poetry, should he ever deign to speak at all.

  His expression was both curious and stern. She realized that the veil still obscured her identity. Balancing her hip against the divan’s back cushion, she folded the veil back from her face.

  “Countess.”

  The greeting did not even carry a tinge of surprise. It acknowledged her presence and welcomed her as if they had arranged this meeting.

  He came forward. Still twisted on the divan, half kneeling, she extended her hand. He bowed to kiss it. She could feel his warm lips through her glove. Little sparkles danced up her arm.

  “I apologize for intruding at this hour, Mr. Hampton. I know that it was a reckless thing to do, but events have left me no choice and I did not know where else to go, or whom to consult.”

  He was not a man who smiled easily, but he did so now. It was a nice smile, rather dazzling in its subdued, masculine way. It was a wonder he did not use it more with women, considering the girlish flutters it inspired.

  “I would have been wounded if you had even considered turning elsewhere.” He made a little twirling gesture with his finger to suggest she should right herself on the divan. As she did he walked around it and sat in a comfortable, heavily upholstered, wine-colored chair that he angled to face her.

  Those keen eyes slowly took her in. “I have sent for tea, but you appear so distraught I wonder if something more fortifying is in order.”

  A liquid much more fortifying than tea would have been welcome an hour ago, but she did not need it now and said so.

  His long look made her awkwardness spike. She wondered what conclusions he was drawing with his inspection. That she was showing her age? That she wasn’t very pretty at all? He had not seen her in half a year either, and no doubt was noticing such things anew just as she had.

  “I did not realize you had returned to England.” His voice had a wonderful timbre. It always had. Even as a girl she had loved hearing it. “Laclere said nothing.”

  “My brother does not know I am here. No one in my family does. I have only been back several days and have been staying at Mivert’s Hotel. I thought I could hide there while I contemplated what to do, but I was wrong. I am fairly sure that I was recognized today despite the veil. That is why I came to see you tonight. Once it is known I am back in England, I fear my situation will become perilous.” She heard her own voice, not at all calm like his.

  His lids lowered in a way that she recognized. The mind that had protected her better than any sword was sharpening itself to meet the challenge.

  “Since you risked both our reputations and your own independence visiting me like this, I assume you are in great need of aid, madame. Tell me what has happened.”

  Fear and frustration branched inside her. So did guilt, that she was so helpless that she had indeed risked his reputation for her own need.

  “Glasbury is trying to abduct me. After all these years, he wants me back and is demanding that I give him his heir.”

  chapter 2

  The valet brought them tea. Penelope felt abashed for being such a nuisance that the poor man had been reduced to such duties. Once all had been set out, Mr. Hampton dismissed him.

  Which meant they could speak freely and would not be overheard or interrupted. They were alone.

  Again the awkwardness pressed on her. It was foolish, really. As one of his clients, she had conducted many conversations in private with Mr. Hampton.

  Yet this privacy was subtly different. The chamber and mood held an intimacy that both lured and confused her. She did not completely feel like a client seeking advice, but instead too much like a woman boldly visiting a man at night. Her awareness of their situation created a peculiar little simmer inside her.

  Nothing in his manner encouraged that sensation. This was not a man who wore his opinions on his face. If he was as constantly conscious as she of how improper this was, he would never let her know.

  “The earl wrote to me in Naples while my brother and Bianca were still there,” she said. “Perhaps Vergil mentioned that to you.”

  “In passing. He did not give that as your reason for remaining there after he and Lady Laclere returned.”

  “What reason did he give?”

  “He indicated that you found the society there more amiable for a woman in your circumstances.”

  She felt her face blushing.

  That was a gentle way to put it. She suspected that her brother Vergil, the Viscount Laclere, had alluded to the men who hovered around her in Naples, offering fun and flattery.

  “Was it more to your liking?” He asked the question casually but his gaze met hers quite directly.

  “Yes.”

  “Then why have you returned?”

  “I came to believe that the earl sent men for me. I felt I was being followed. I did not think it was safe to remain there.”

  He absorbed that, thoughtfully. “What was in the letters he wrote to you there?”

  “The first two came early in my visit. They were his typical nasty notes, with threats to cut off my support if I did anything to bring disrepute to his name.”

  “And the others?”

  “One more came, right before we were to sail for home. It was different. He demanded my return to our marriage. He said the law was on his side and he could force me to come back if I did not see reason. He said that he wanted the heir I owed him.” It rushed out, every word of it just as repulsive as the man who wrote it.

  Mr. Hampton leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees so that his body angled toward her. For a moment she thought that he would reach over and touch her in a gesture of reassurance. He had done that once before, at another private meeting, when she was so distraught that her composure had left her.

  To her astonishment he did reach out. He did not touch her a
rm, however. His hand covered hers where it lay balled on her knee. He gave a reassuring squeeze before he broke the contact.

  Her body reacted as if he had not let go. The warm press of that palm and firm grasp of those fingers continued, invisibly.

  “I wish that you had written and told me this.”

  “You said he would never dare such a thing,” she said, a little resentfully. “You said he had too much to lose.”

  “And he does.”

  “It is very obvious that he is willing to call your bluff about exposing what I know.”

  “It was no bluff, and he knew it.”

  “Then he is so desperate for an heir that he is willing to take the scorn and scandal.” The restlessness of the last few weeks returned. She got up and paced away to the windows. “So I remained in Naples, thinking I would be safe there. Then, a month ago I began to sense that I was being watched. Followed. I noticed a man, Neapolitan or Arab, always in the background when I went out.”

  “Could you have been mistaken? I doubt that even the earl would be so bold as to abduct you.”

  “You told me years ago, when we formed our plan, that it was legally impossible for a husband to abduct a wife because he had a right to her.”

  He had said more than that, and the rest of it hung in the air unspoken. He had explained that it was also legally impossible for a husband to rape a wife.

  “Perhaps I was mistaken, but my peace was over. I could not stay there after that. I booked passage and came home.”

  Instinctively, she parted the drapes and gazed down at the street. It had become a habit, a precaution of the hunted. The way below was silent and empty.

  “Are you thinking of returning to him?”

  She swirled around, stunned by the question. “Never. I did not return for that reason. In fact, this is only an interlude on my journey. I have decided to go to America. He will never find me there. I will disappear into that vast land and—”

  “No.” The interruption was abrupt, firm, and resolute.

  “I think it is the best course of action. In fact, I can think of no other.”

  “I do not advise it.”

  “I do not care what you advise. We are beyond that. Unless you tell me that the law will protect me from him, I am leaving England forever.”

  He did not respond. He knew better than she that the law would not protect her at all. Quite the opposite. Only the threat of exposure and scandal had kept the earl at bay this long, and evidently he had decided he did not care about that anymore.

  “I want you to go to my brother and get me some money so that I can live once I am in America.”

  “Since you are in London, you can ask him yourself.”

  “I do not want him to know I am here. If he does, and the earl confronts him, I do not want him to have to lie.

  Let him think that I am still in Naples and have asked you to speak for me. Once I have the funds, I will—”

  “Laclere is not stupid.” He rose and walked toward her. “He will suspect something is wrong. He will demand to know the truth.”

  “You must not tell him what Anthony is trying to do. Vergil may fight him if he learns of it and it will create a terrible scandal and—”

  “I do not think your brother cares overmuch about scandals. His own choices in life have proven that.”

  “I will not have him facing one for me. I won’t have him fighting duels for the sister who made a shambles of her life by marrying an evil man for all the wrong reasons. This is how I want to do it. Just go to him and get the money.”

  He was near her now, looking down with those unfathomable eyes. His face rarely showed his thoughts, but in his eyes one had glimmers of the mind. Women found that intriguing. There had been much discussion among the ladies regarding Julian Hampton over the years. Did the depths boil and churn, or were they cold as ice?

  Looking in his eyes now, she saw something that made her heart sink. “You are not going to help me.”

  “I am not going to lie to my best friend for you. However, I will help you.”

  “You know some other way to get the money?”

  “You are not going to America.”

  “I think that decision is mine, sir.”

  “You will have no family there. No friends. No protection at all.”

  “I will escape himthere.”

  “If the earl is so confident that he has you at a disadvantage, there is a reason. I will find out what it is and remove it.”

  She half turned from him. “By the time you discover that, he will have found me. I cannot risk that. I will not return to him.”

  The vehemence of her words echoed around them.

  “I will discover how things stand, and then you can make your choices. If you are truly at risk, we will assess what those choices are.”

  “Then you will help me leave if necessary?”

  “I will do whatever is required to make sure that Glasbury never forces you to return. Now, until I learn what he is up to, we must find a safer place for you to hide than Mivert’s Hotel.”

  “There is no safer place. There is no place at all that is safe.”

  “Yes, there is. For the next few days, you will remain right here.”

  The suggestion stunned her.

  Mr. Hampton left her to her astonishment. Excusing himself, he walked out of the library.

  As soon as he came back, she would have to refuse. She could not stay in this house. If anyone found out, if Anthony discovered she had resided here, Mr. Hampton would be ruined.

  She should not have to point that out. Normally Mr. Hampton saw all the eventualities and costs. He had the kind of mind that instantly appraised matters and carefully weighed factors.

  He returned in a few minutes.

  “If I can think of another safe place, we will move you there,” he said, jumping right to the end of the argument. “For tonight, there is none.”

  “Diane will take me in.”

  “With her and St. John’s brood, and the size of their household, your presence would not remain a secret even one day. I think that St. John would insist that your brothers know, too.”

  She fingered the edge of her veil. “I can hardly wear this all the time here, either. You, too, have a household.”

  “Mrs. Tuttle, the housekeeper, will see to your needs. Only she and Batkin will know you are here. There are chambers in this house that are not used, not open for care by the servants. Batkin is preparing one now. You will secretly stay in it until I discover what the earl is doing, and why.”

  She was torn between embarrassment and a gratitude so deep that she wanted to weep. The latter flooded her, making her realize how tired she was of being afraid, and how good it felt to be here with a friend.

  “You will stay here and all will be well.” He held out his hand. “Now, please sit and have some tea while we wait for Batkin to finish. Tell me all about Naples.”

  She did not tell him allabout Naples. She described the beauty of the bay and hills, and the outings to Capri and Ischia. She spoke of the people who surrounded the king’s court and of the opera and balls. She told him a lot, but not everything.

  He could tell what she avoided. For example, no man was mentioned more than once. There were no indications that she had favored someone. He only knew that she had because of the careful way she did not indicate it.

  Well, she had not told him about Witherby, either. He had learned about that just by watching her moods and manner. He had seen his good friend’s addresses bear fruit. He had guessed the very week that they had become lovers.

  That affair had been another disappointment for her, maybe worse than the earl. She had been old enough to really fall in love with Witherby. The betrayal, when she learned of it, had been devastating.

  “So, you can see why I would have liked to stay,” she said by way of conclusion. “The weather, the scenery, and the society were all most congenial.”

  He had never met another mature w
oman whose normal expression was so soft and open. She had always been incapable of dissembling or displaying hauteur. Her kind heart would not allow the distance and chill that such strategies demand.

  Her face was soft in form, too. A little round, but with high cheekbones that kept it from being too much so. Those bones drew attention to her sparkling blue eyes. Even now they glinted with little stars glowing beneath the night of her hair.

  “If you contemplated going to America, it must have wounded you to know that you were leaving Naples for good.”

  “It was hard to leave, but I always knew I would.”

  “You never thought to make your life there?”

  She gave a little shrug. “I never considered it one way or the other. Eventually I expected to return here, probably before winter came. There are some projects that I began before I left England that are demanding attention.”

  He really shouldn’t press, but he wanted to know. “There was no friend whom you mourned leaving?”

  She tried to assume a worldly, bored expression, but could not successfully hide a deeper sadness. “I will never mourn a man again, Mr. Hampton.”

  Batkin appeared at the door just long enough to cast him a meaningful look.

  “The chamber is ready, Countess.” Julian offered his hand for her to rise. “I will show you where it is, if you will permit it.”

  “I confess that I would prefer that you did. It would embarrass me to have your valet escort me, since I am sure that he disapproves.”

  “He knows you are a lady in distress, as will Mrs. Tuttle. There will be no disapproval. However, we will avoid the embarrassment completely this way.”

  The wide skirt of her ice-blue twill dress brushed his legs as he escorted her. With its low waist, snug bodice, and full sleeves, it flattered her form. An ecru fichu obscured the upper swells of her breasts from his eyes but not from his mind.

  Her lovely blue eyes took everything in as they walked to the staircase. “It is a large house, Mr. Hampton. It surprised everyone when you moved here.”