Page 58 of Forget Me Not

While Digby regaled Julia with an entertaining and blessedly appropriate tale of their time at Cambridge, Lucas slipped out of the room. Kes and Digby would sing his praises—eventually—but he didn’t particularly want to be there while they did.

Chapter Twenty

Brier Hill began to takeon a little of the feeling of home for Julia. Though Mr. Barrington had been visiting for a few days already, Julia had felt like the guest. Mr. Layton had changed all of that. He deferred to her on matters of schedules and activities, complimented her on the menu at every meal, dipped what appeared to be very sincere bows when they crossed paths. He treated her like a hostess, one worthy of admiration. That was making such a difference.

She was no longer startled by how handsome he was, but she didn’t think she would ever grow entirely accustomed to it. That any man could be thatbeautiful, for lack of a better word, boggled the mind. Yet, he put a person immediately at ease with his charm and amusing arrogance. Julia was grateful for him; he eased the sting of Lucas’s continued aloofness.

The gentlemen were spending the afternoon in the circular sitting room, as they had the last two days. She’d spent those same afternoons in the book room. Her studies hadn’t been disrupted by the arrival of another of Lucas’s friends. She’d finished the mathematics book she’d brought from Farland Meadows, the concepts that had been eluding her finally settling into place in her mind.

Lucas had said she was welcome to any book in the house. Perhaps if she asked him to recommend one, they could have another pleasant conversation like they’d had on the mountain and during their picnic. She longed for that. She had for years.

“Lady Jonquil.”

She turned at the sound of Mr. Layton’s voice. “Your Majesty.”

He made an elegant dip of his head. “Your presence is requested by the Jester and Grumpy Uncle.”

“Does royalty often deliver messages for the peasantry?”

“Constantly,” he answered dryly. “They have no respect for my position of importance.”

She rose, grateful for his lightheartedness, and moved toward the door. “I will spare your dignity and simply ask where those two louts are waiting for me.”

“In the round sitting room, my lady,” he said with a flourishing bow.

That stopped her on the spot. She turned back and looked at him. “I am specifically barred from that room.”

“Pish, my lady. You are mistress of this house. You cannot be forbidden to enter a room within it.”

“I can be if the one doing the forbidding is themasterof the house.”

Mr. Layton slipped her arm through his and walked with her out of the book room. “I don’t know if you have noticed this about our mutual friend, but Lucas has a tendency to be an idiot.”

“He can also be sweet, tender, kind, thoughtful...” She let the pent-up air out of her lungs. “And frustrating and distant and impossible and utterly confusing.”

“Hence his name among us,” Mr. Layton said.

“The Jester? I assumed you call him that because he’s funny.”

“He is,” Mr. Layton acknowledged. “But that’s not the reason for his name.”

“Then why?” Her curiosity grew tenfold as they walked down the corridor.

He shook his head. “I believe, Lady Jonquil, I will leave the solving of that mystery to you.”

They stepped through the door into the antechamber connecting Julia’s bedchamber with Lucas’s and, to her surprise, turned towardhis. Mr. Layton choosing that path made sense when she truly thought about it, but she had never been in Lucas’s room. She was not only about to breach the threshold of the circular sitting room but was also traversing his private room.

She kept her gaze decidedly forward as they stepped inside. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that the room was not terribly unlike hers: the same stark white walls and heavy drapes, furniture as sparse and utilitarian. Perhaps the simplicity of her room hadn’t been a reflection of her unwanted status but, rather, an indication of the estate’s small coffers.

“Did the Jester and Grumpy Uncle say why they wished for my company?” she asked quietly as they approached the door she felt certain led to the round room.

“They wish for you to settle a dispute.”

That was unexpected. Mr. Layton paused and released her arm, indicating she should precede him. She stepped through the door, heart lodged uncomfortably in her neck. Mr. Barrington rose from the sofa at her entrance. Lucas, who had been leaning against the mantel above the small fireplace, stood up straight. He didn’t look entirely happy to see her, but neither did he appear displeased. She never knew what to think of his unpredictable moods and unreadable expressions.

She was, however, mistress of this house and hostess of this impromptu gathering. She would fill her role despite her uncertainty. “The King informs me that I am to cast a deciding vote in a disagreement the two of you are having.”

“Indeed.” Mr. Barrington dipped his head a little.

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