Page 68 of Forget Me Not

She shook her head. “I don’t mind.”

“The other three Gents are here at Brier Hill,” he said. “I am hoping you don’t mind that either.”

“Oh.” The Gents. The friends he’d not neglected all the years he’d forgotten about her. And they were there, in the house, poised to claim his time and attention again. Julia pasted a smile on her face. “Mr. Layton was so certain he was the only one of your friends who would make the journey. He will be forced to eat his words.”

Lucas laughed. “The other Gents will make certain he does.”

Julia slipped carefully off the bed, attempting to look as dignified as possible in her nightdress and with her hair uncombed. Thank heavens she had recently retained the services of an abigail. “I should ring for Lucy, especially if I am to meet your friends. I would make an unfortunate impression looking like this.”

“I’m glad you get to meet them, Julia,” he said. “And I’m glad they’re here.”

She moved toward the door of the circular sitting room with no intention of stopping until she was safely in her bedchamber. Breathing through her growing worry proved difficult. He might be glad his friends had come, but she wasn’t. He had only recently begun to act pleased at her company, to give the impression that he liked being with her. She knew that thread was too fragile to endure the pull he must feel to return to the life he’d led with them that had so fully excluded her.

Doubts kept running through her mind as she prepared to meet his friends. She chose her silver-blue dress—it was the one in which she felt the most confident—and Lucy spent a little extra time on her hair. She would face her competition for Lucas’s loyalty with head held high.

The lot of them were in the sitting room when Julia made her way down the stairs. She could hear their cacophony of voices and laughter. To her dismay, she enjoyed the sound. A house filled with life and merriment would do her a world of good, filling her heart with all the joy it had known before death had emptied the rooms and corridors and grounds of her childhood home. But these voices would not stay, and Lucas would follow them when they left, and heaven only knew how long he would stay away this time.

She assumed the welcoming smile of a seasoned hostess and stepped into the room. All eyes turned immediately to her, and the conversations ceased.

Despite herself, she instinctively searched out Lucas, looking to him for support. She was perhaps not so confident as she wished to be.

His valet had put him to rights. Every wave on his head sat precisely where it ought, more was the pity. Her heart still fluttered at the memory of his boyish dishevelment that morning.

“Julia.” He crossed to her, appearing perfectly pleased to see her. “Have I told you how much I like that dress?”

“You have.”

“Good. I would hate for you to not know how impeccable my taste is.”

She so enjoyed when he was in a teasing mood. “Your good taste is noted.”

His expression softened. “I do love to see you smile, Julia.”

Lucas had always possessed a knack for making her smile, even in the most trying of circumstances. She truly loved that part of him.

“I want to introduce you to some friends of mine,” he said.

“If it is a monarch or a disgruntled family member, we’ve already met.”

He laughed, and she felt lighter despite her worried mind. Lucas’s arm wrapped around her, and he turned them both to face the gathered gentlemen.

They were an impressive, if mismatched, group. Mr. Layton, looking loudly fashionable, as always, stood beside a gentleman who somehow managed to appear simultaneously elegant and humble. Near them stood a gentleman built on a larger scale, commanding in both appearance and air. Close to him stood a gentleman one would be entirely excused for taking no note of. He wasn’t even much smaller than the others; he simply drew little notice. The differences between her jovial, jesting Lucas and the very matter-of-fact Mr. Barrington were equally obvious. How had this band of opposites ever forged such an impenetrable friendship?

“Sweetheart,” Lucas said, “these are the Gents.”

She held up her hand to forestall the remainder of the introductions. “Allow me to guess.”

Lucas’s eyes danced. “Please do.”

Julia turned toward the most imposing of the gentlemen. “You, I am certain, are the one they refer to as the General.”

He bowed in acknowledgment.

“Lord Aldric Benick,” Lucas supplied. “Younger son of the Duke of Hartley.”

“A pleasure, Lord Aldric.”

“What is your next guess?” Lucas asked.

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