Heart's Desire

Chapter Twelve

A slight, Scottish accent coupled with the nickname gave away the speaker's identity. Even as his head turned, Julian knew it'd be Lord Blakemoor whom he spied at the entrance. With a silent curse, he released his wife's waist and moved away. Making a polite bow, he gritted his teeth. The other man's interruption at this place and time annoyed. He'd been enjoying himself, disturbing Cherry's peace of mind. With the earl's presence, all play had to cease.

"Lord Wrotham, may I make known to you my wife, Lady Blakemoor?"

"My lady," Julian addressed the small, delicately beautiful woman at the earl's side. She had hair darker than his wife's and kind, powder blue eyes.

After pleasantries were exchanged, Charity moved forward to clasp Millicent's hands. "It's so good to see you out and in town."

"Yes, Ant said we needed to make an appearance at Lord Middleford's ball." Millicent's tone was weak and breathy. It was clear the trip to Belford had sapped much of her strength. "We've come to see if the dress I ordered was near completion."

Overhearing the statement, Mrs. Brown told Millicent, "Your gown should be ready for its final fitting in a few days."

As she led Millicent to a chair, Charity explained, "We're here to order my gown. We received our invitation just today."

The two women shared a look, then smiled at one another. "Miss Middleford?" Millicent guessed.

A short, humorless laugh came from Charity. "Yes," she stated while Millicent sat. "Had it not been for Lord Wrotham's presence, I may have escaped again this year."

After a hand pat in commiseration from the seated woman, Ant spoke up, "We'll be stopping at the tavern for luncheon. You're more than welcome to join us."

The worry in her dear friend's eyes had Charity accepting the invitation. It wasn't until she'd done so that she realized she hadn't considered Lord Wrotham's wishes on the matter. Under her lashes, she cast a glance his way. As usual, she couldn't discern what he was thinking.

Sighing, Charity went back to the counter and picked up the pattern book. "Maybe you'd like to help me with my gown's design?" she asked Millicent.

"Of course," Charity's dear friend replied with some enthusiasm.

Julian motioned for Lord Blakemoor to step away with him. Since he could no longer move forward with his wife's wooing, he decided to take advantage of her preoccupation. With his friends still scattered about England, Lord Blakemoor was the only ally he had. Julian wanted to share with the earl some of what he'd learned since last they'd seen one another. Perhaps he'd also learn more about one suspect in particular.

"Cherry seems happier," Blakemoor murmured once they found a quiet, far-off corner. The man's dark eyes lit upon the two ladies. A smile wrinkled their outer edges.

Blowing out a breath, Julian said, "I apologize for how we left things at the End."

Those deep brown orbs shifted to Julian's. After a moment, Blakemoor's dark head dipped once. "Apology accepted. I can't entirely blame you." A slight cringe passed over his features. "I may have overstepped."

A low chuckle came from Julian. His eyes, as they seemed to do quite often of late, found his wife. As he watched her animatedly discuss designs with Lady Blakemoor, he found he couldn't blame the earl for feeling overly protective. Charity hadn't had an easy life, and he now knew he bore more than a little blame for that.

Giving the earl his attention once again, Julian told him, "It's understandable. My wife has been ill-treated. I'm happy she found friends in you and Lady Blakemoor."