Veiled in Blue Read online

Page 2


  He meant it. She was terrified of him, and she had good reason. Without a house in sight, they were alone together. It would be a matter of moments to overpower her.

  Fortunately, Julius had no such intention, but he had no way of proving that to her. Normally he’d provide his card. Not in this case. He had no visiting cards, and if he started flaunting his wealth, his low profile would not last for long. Money didn’t just talk; sometimes it screamed.

  “How far do you have to go? Will the next village suit you?” If it did not, he would travel farther. “I will not leave you to be accosted by a real ruffian. Please, ma’am, let me help.”

  “Who are you, sir? What are you doing on this road? It hardly leads to anywhere important. If you are heading for Bath, I am afraid you have lost your way.”

  Smiling, Julius shook his head, rapidly inventing a history for himself. “I’m a man of business, and I am travelling to see Lord Ripley. I have some papers for him to sign.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders slumped when she breathed out. “Lady Ripley has just been brought to bed.”

  “You know them?” he said quickly.

  “No, that is, I have met them once, but I cannot claim acquaintanceship. Lady Ripley’s…illness precluded that.” She sighed, her bosom swelling enticingly under her plain blue gown. “Your name, sir?”

  “Julius Vernon.” He would not stray too far from the truth in case he was found out. Hiding under a completely false name would make this enterprise too shady. He wanted this woman to trust him.

  No recognition of the shortened version of his name shaded her eyes. She touched his hand briefly when he held it out to her. “Eve Merton. My father was the vicar here before his death.”

  “I’m sorry.” Julius’s sympathy came automatically, but inside he was crowing his triumph. His luck had held. His quarry had fallen into his hands. The stars were in alignment, and the gods favored him today.

  She shook her head. “I’m over the first grief of his passing. He died five years ago.”

  He nodded. “Still, losing a parent is never easy. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Eve Merton. Can you ride astride?”

  She gave him a derisory glance, her mouth turned down, her eyes scornful. “I can claim it as one of my skills.”

  He cupped his hands. “Then please take your seat, Eve Merton.”

  She placed her foot in his hands and allowed him to throw her into the saddle. Before she settled properly, he swung up behind her. She flinched, but said nothing. He would love to know what was going on in her mind. Did she know who she was? Whose daughter she was in truth?

  * * * *

  Apprehension clutched Eve’s insides, tightening her throat. Would he prove honorable?

  She had taken a rational decision, the only practical one in the circumstances, but she had not reckoned for him riding with her.

  Had it not been for tripping on that wretched rut, she would have been home by now, but her foot pained her more than she had let herself dwell on. The hedgerows were of the annoying tight-knit kind with the brittle twigs, so she could not even cut a branch to help her progress. If not for that, she would have been home before nightfall.

  Dusk was falling quickly. A female alone on a country road was ripe prey for footpads and highwaymen. If this man was a villain, so be it. Better one than a gang.

  Mr. Vernon felt strong and protective. He had to curve his arms around her to control the reins, giving her an unaccustomed sense of being cared for. Normally she did the protecting.

  He even smelled good, of soap and something subtle, like an aromatic wood. He used cologne. She found that deeply intriguing. She did not know any men who used perfume. In this district, any that dared would be labeled effeminate, but this man was far from that. Power remained leashed in him, but the easy way he moved and the sheer strength surrounding her demonstrated his essential masculinity.

  “Are you staying with Lord Ripley?” she asked.

  A pause followed before he laughed. “No indeed. I was hoping I could find somewhere to stay. Do you know of a respectable inn?”

  “I do.” The nearest stood opposite her house on the village green. “I can direct you to one, if you wish.”

  “I would appreciate it. I confess I’m not used to sleeping in the open.”

  “Oh!” She couldn’t allow him to do that.

  She felt churlish for not complimenting him on his excellent horsemanship, but she was on edge. His proximity was sending prickles along the length of her spine. She had to lean back, because she would unbalance them and mar his vision if she tried leaning away from him. At least, that was what she told herself when the horse stumbled and she was jolted back against him.

  Had she imagined the hum of appreciation rumbling in his throat?

  Oh, no, no. She would not succumb to such idiocy. She was far too old for that kind of foolishness, after all. Having attained the advanced age of seven-and-twenty, she should have been long past flirtation and foolish imaginings. Besides, her foot hurt, though she had to admit, not half so much as it had before.

  She clutched the handle of her basket to stop herself reaching for his arms to test their strength. The urge to touch him grew unbearable. Before she could stop herself, Eve asked, “Do you own your own business, sir?”

  He sucked in a breath, the sound loud in her ear. “In a small way. What made you ask?”

  “You have no assistant with you. Men of business often travel with clerks.”

  “I have a special relationship with Lord Ripley,” he said promptly. “The matter is fairly trivial, but he will wish to know of it.” He huffed a laugh. “You are very perceptive, Miss Merton.”

  “Thank you,” she said primly. “And you have an excellent way with a horse.”

  “Thus indicating that not all city men have the same facility. Neatly done.” He shifted in the saddle.

  That was when she felt it. She was not the only person affected by their unusual proximity. Knowing she would be walking home, Eve had left off her hoops and wore but a softly padded roll to give her skirt some fullness. Consequently, she felt it. Felt him.

  A hard ridge, like a rod under his breeches, pressed against the curves of her bottom. Mr. Vernon was sporting an erection. A considerable one, by the feel of it. Eve had never, ever been so close to a man in a state of excitement, at least not knowingly.

  She should be shocked, move away, or insist he put her down. He must know his body was misbehaving. What did that mean? She had no idea. Men responded with a physical immediacy foreign to women, or that was what Eve understood.

  She did the only thing she could. She pretended not to notice. Holding her body rigid, not moving cost her a great deal of effort, but it was worth it.

  Perhaps if she talked about something that might help him. Searching frantically in her mind for something to distract him, she fell on the one sure-fire subject—the weather. “They say this will be a fine summer.”

  “Do they? I am beginning to think it will be.” The horizon glowed, the redness of the setting sun coloring the undersides of the clouds scattered over the rapidly darkening sky. “So tell me, Miss Merton, why are you walking alone at dusk? You’re evidently a respectable woman. Surely you should have an attendant with you?”

  She laughed. “The maid has better things to do than taking me to and from town. If I had not hurt my ankle, I would have been home hours ago.”

  “It can’t be right,” he said.

  That was true. Her mother was always criticizing her for taking too many liberties with her person. “One day,” she would say and then launch into a number of blood-curdling and totally imaginary situations.

  Her body heated when she thought of this man laying her on the hard ground and taking her. Knowing she would probably never have a man in such a situation, Eve had treated such possibilities as harmless fantasies, but now they appeared all too real. She must not turn and press her mouth to his, as the fantasy Eve might.

  He had firm, warm lips. They were most likely warm, though how could she know? She never would, and she would not try to find out. But if she had not imagined it, she would not be in this predicament, feeling a man’s member hard against her and knowing what it meant. His body wanted hers. Perhaps he hadn’t had a woman for some time, or she had given him thoughts he should not have. Then shame on her for thinking them.

  Mr. Vernon slowed the horse and picked his way carefully along the uneven road in the growing gloom.

  “I am not of marriageable age,” she said. “I am of the age when I should be reading to old ladies.”

  “Is that what you were doing?” He gave no apology for his curiosity.

  “As it happens, yes.” She swung the empty basket. “There is a home for poor, respectable women in the town. I took some scones and read the newspaper to them. They like to discuss the latest on-dits and scandals.” And go on and on and on about Eve finding a husband—as if that would ever happen. Eve’s portion was so small as to be miniscule, not enough to attract any man. She had reconciled herself to the fact. Even Eve’s mother did not create such a fuss, at least not on such a regular basis, but the ladies at the home thought their seniority conferred special privileges on them.

  “Just like the fairy tale. And have you come across the big, bad wolf, I wonder?”

  “Not until I started to walk home.”

  His chuckle vibrated against her in the most intimate way imaginable. She forced herself not to squirm and closed her eyes, forcing concentration.

  “I have been called many things, but not that.” He paused, guiding the horse around yet another rut. “Or maybe I have. But a man of my position has a reputation to consider.”

  “As a man of b
usiness? Are you financier or lawyer?”

  “A little of both,” he said, “But mostly concerned with land. I am not qualified in law, if that’s what you mean.”

  He spoke to her as an equal. She found his attitude a pleasant change from the men who either took no notice of her at all or treated her like some kind of idiot who couldn’t hold a sentient thought in her head for more than five minutes. She would far rather talk to him about anything but the embarrassing staff that reared between them.

  “How much farther do we have to travel?” he said.

  “Another two miles, perhaps, sir.”

  “I had travelled farther than I thought, then, when I came across you. I must have been lost in my own imaginings. It’s a wonder I didn’t stumble long before.”

  “You’re paying attention now.”

  “I have more than myself to consider.”

  His words made her feel cared for, if only on a casual, temporary basis. Her anxiety subsided.

  “Do you stay long in Somerset?”

  “Longer than I had at first imagined.” He spoke dryly, as if reluctant.

  Her defensive instincts rose. “It is a lovely county, sir. Have you visited before?”

  “I have. Yes, it is indeed lovely. Somerset boasts some glorious views. Bath is not far, is it?”

  Much to her relief, he spoke about general things and let her tell him about Bath, the kind of people who could be seen in the pump room and the delicacies obtained there. “I have not seen everything Bath has to offer, despite living there for a time and living so close for most of my life.”

  “I have lived in London for some time, but I have not yet seen it all.”

  “Did you ride all the way here, sir?”

  He paused. “Not all. I hired this horse locally. Travelling in a coach can become tedious.”

  Especially a stagecoach. They must have been invented to torture ordinary people. “Do you have to send the horse back?”

  “Not immediately. I will use it to travel to Lord Ripley’s house. I’m looking forward to my visit. He insisted I come, despite his wife’s condition.”

  Had his voice softened when he talked about Lady Ripley? She was a lovely woman, it was true, and stylish with it. Her husband adored her.

  “She had no idea what she was getting into when she became involved with an Emperor.”

  “An Emperor?”

  “The Emperors of London,” he said, amusement touching his voice.

  She wished she could see him properly, because the other half of his tone sounded wry, almost jaded.

  “Ah, yes. A nickname.” She had heard it, but had not taken a great deal of interest in it. Nicknames were, in her opinion, a frivolity that only the rich could afford to spend time on.

  “Their parents took an oath to name their children after emperors of the past,” he said, drawling his words in a way she had not heard before. Then it was as if he had snapped back to attention and his tones regained their crispness. “Lord Ripley’s given name is Alexander.”

  “The greatest emperor of them all,” she said.

  “Perhaps. Do you have a classical education, Miss Merton?”

  “No, sir. By profession I am a governess, so I do have a reasonable education. I was taught the rudiments of Latin, but I teach the feminine arts.”

  “Dancing, deportment and flirting?”

  She took umbrage at his response, bridling. “Women must know more than the graceful arts if they are to live a fulfilling life.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” He chuckled. “Are you surprised at my response?”

  Her heart sank. He probably had a wife. “And your wife is of that ilk?”

  “My wife is—” He paused, and the muscles in his arms stiffened. “My wife died six years ago.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

  “Thank you.” His voice was steady. “Now we are both sorry for the death of someone we did not know.”

  It took her a moment to untangle the sentiment. At first, she’d imagined—but that could not be what he intended to say. “It’s always sad when we lose someone.” She had the sensation of moving on uncertain ground, and resorted to the trite comment in order not to make a faux pas.

  He answered with a grunt, and silence reigned for the last part of the journey. Even his erection had subsided, or he had managed to move it out of the way. She did not dare lean against him to discover the truth.

  At last, they ascended the final gentle rise that gave them the view of the church tower.

  “That’s the village,” she said.

  He sighed, though whether from regret or hopeful anticipation she couldn’t tell. Probably the latter. The horse was certainly tired, its head drooping and its gait slower than ever.

  “Appleton.” He drew a breath, as if to say something else, but must have changed his mind.

  “It’s a sleepy little place,” she said.

  “Have you ever been anywhere else? Apart from Bath?”

  Some villagers had never even crossed the parish boundaries. “I’ve been to Wells. I haven’t visited London, although I would like to. Perhaps I can get work there.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, but he sounded guarded, as if he didn’t think she could do it.

  A spark of irritation flashed through her. “I’m a very good governess!”

  “I’m sure you are,” he answered, and this time his smooth tones sounded perfectly sure.

  This annoyed her more than his doubt.

  “Are you concealing your true feelings?”

  “In my position, I have to do so from time to time.”

  That didn’t exactly answer her question, but she would not press him further. He was a stranger, after all, although this ride into the village had made her better acquainted with his more personal assets.

  Her own arousal had settled into a simmering want, a vague sense of emptiness that she still had a great deal to experience in life. She would probably not have that pleasure, or otherwise, since she was in a limbo of respectability that demanded marriage and without the financial wherewithal to attract a suitor.

  Her situation left her as the perpetual spinster, of which England had a distressingly high number. She had accustomed herself to the notion, at least she told herself as much. Only in the dead of night did she allow herself to dream about finding a handsome, young, wealthy man who would adore her. In clear daylight, she knew how impossible that was.

  They rode over the rise and down to the village. Closing her eyes, Eve allowed herself a few moments of imagined pleasure. She snatched them from life, but she had to admit that being cradled in the arms of a handsome man was not something she would object to if circumstances were different.

  His warmth lulled her into a false sense of security, and it was a jolt when he spoke again.

  “Is that the inn?”

  When she opened her eyes, the glow of the building confronted her. “Yes, you should find a room there.”

  The inn blazed its welcome, torches shining brightly outside and lamps in the yard, as well as the lighting inside the main rooms. Upstairs a few lights flickered where guests must have been in their rooms.

  “Thank you. Where do you live?”

  “Oh, not far. I can manage from here, truly.”

  “I must escort you to your door. No, I would not hear of abandoning a respectable female to the night.”

  What would her mother say? However, short of leaping from the horse’s back, Eve had little option but to direct him to the other side of the green.

  In her house on her side of the green, the curtains were open. A light flickered in the window, but only one. “I live here,” she said.

  “Here?” He sounded surprised, his usual baritone rising.

  The house was perfectly respectable, if a little on the small side, but it was far from a rough cottage. Brick built with a good slate roof, the place lacked only space. Her mother had pointed that out when Eve had returned home after her brief sojourn as governess in Bath.

  It was almost fully night now. “I must have been mad to think I could get home before dark.”

  “You will not do that again.” He spoke with certainty, as if he had some say over her movements.

  He swung from the saddle and reached for her. The horse was too weary to take advantage of his lightened load and stood patiently while Mr. Vernon slid his hands around her waist and lifted her effortlessly to the ground. He did not release her immediately.