Never Land the First Fish

Chapter Ten, Part 1

"When do you imagine she will ask me to start work, Gills?" Gills could take this hand easily—Julia's mind was not on the cards. It was not on Gills, either, more's the pity.

"I do not deign to imagine such a thing at all," he replied, trying not to sound sulky. "She will call upon you when she does, and not before."

She examined her hand and discarded. "I suppose you're right. Do you think she will see me before the night of the lecture? She must. Mustn't she? She would not just expect me to know what she needs, would she?"

"My lady, you are thinking too much." Gills let his fingers drift across the back of her hand, almost giving her a view of his hand of cards when he reached across the small table. He had begun touching her like that several days ago, casually, in the innocuous way a rake might in mixed company, a manner that almost implied seduction, but not quite—a hand at her back, one finger brushing back a lock of hair escaped from her coiffure, entwining their fingers when she took his arm while they explored the city. The sorts of things that, in a London ballroom, wouldn't push the social bounds too far, but nevertheless would become the gossip of the week.

"Do not call me that," Julia complained. "I am not a lady here."

That was another thing. She had a bee in her bonnet about surviving on her own merits. Look at the room she'd hired and would be moving into within the week. Maddox thought such independence was admirable, but Gills couldn't see it. Ladies were meant to let gentlemen look after them. He made his own discards and bid another fictional two million American dollars. "Being a lady here would get you farther than trying to keep a job," he pointed out, for the twentieth time. "At the very mention of Your Ladyship's title, I assure you, everyone you meet will be as obsequious as you please."

Julia snorted. "Obsequious until they learn I work as a performer's dresser and am running from the law." She examined her cards for a moment, and then lowered them to meet his eyes, her own intent. "We should both remain anonymous, not call attention to either of our titles for the sake of it, when it buys us nothing but momentary servility. I will be Lady Julia in America only if and when it serves us, and it does not today." Her face cleared and her eyes crinkled in the way he had come to look for. "You will be Joseph Gildeforte, ne'er-do-well and fancy man, and I will be Julia Marloughe, dresser to a famed musician..." With a sly grin and a wink, she added, "...and your keeper."

"Indeed?" He let his full hand fall onto hers, turning his cards face down on the table, letting a wolf-like leer glide across his features. "I'm not sure you understand what I demand from the ladies I serve, Your Ladyship."

Julia rolled her eyes and drew a card. "Well, let us not get all tangled up in that. I suppose we shall continue to act the sister and brother, then."

He leaned forward, sliding his chair infinitesimally closer to her. "Oh, no, my lady, we will not continue to act the sister and brother. Anyone who sees you looking at me will know better than that. And I do not believe I can be relied upon to keep my glances chaste. Not while you offer to put me to use."

With a nervous giggle, Julia picked up his cards and handed them to him.

Gills grasped her forearm. "Lady Julia, I believe we should be wed."

She yanked herself away and turned back into Haughty Julia again. "Wed?! Have you lost your mind?"

With a deep sigh through his nostrils, Gills got down on one knee, and would have taken Julia's hand, had she not tucked both of them under her crossed arms.

"Lady Julia Marloughe, will you do me the great honour of consenting to be my wife?"

Julia lifted her chin in the air. "I will not."

Gills got back up again, sliding back into his chair, and with a pained glance, he argued, "It makes perfect sense, Julia. You've been beyond ruined, but after our families sort the legalities, if we return married, no one will think twice about our flight. And you will not have to go to work."

Julia snorted. "I believe the time for discretion has long since passed, my lord."

Running a hand through his hair, he said, "Perhaps you are right."

"Of course, I am right. I have been at the centre of London gossip for almost fifteen years. I know exactly what is being said about me—about us both—and who is saying it."

"Then I do not understand why you eschew the protection of my name."

"Can you be such a dolt, Joseph Gildeforte? For the first time in my life, I have no one telling me what to do, and I intend to savour it as long as I can, before I have to go back to being disgraced in England."

Using a fingertip to brush a strand of hair back behind her ear, he suggested, "We could just never go back."

Her breath caught, and he wasn't sure if from his words or his touch. He bent himself to be as persuasive as he knew how. "I've enough money to make a fair start here. If you will do the sensible thing and marry me, we may use our titles anywhere we wish or not at all, and use my money to live a better life than you had with Soddenfeld."

"You need only say a kind word on occasion to be better than my life with him." Julia shuddered. Gills stepped back. Her breath shortened when he spoke of Athol, though she put on a brave front.

"And so it shall be. I shall tell you now how beautiful you look, and tomorrow, I shall compliment the lustre of your hair. One compliment a day, and twice on Sunday. I'll wager you'll agree to marry me before we reach fifty."

Julia giggled. He was beginning to like hearing that giggle. It reminded him of a much-younger Julia, who cried when he pulled her plait, but was appeased when her mother gave her a piece of candy.

"I am not going to marry you, Gills. I'm going to take the job with Miss Kilbrierry, and I will go where she goes. That is the life of a lady's maid. I find it hard to imagine I will attain any higher status now, and I would rather take the adventurous path than go back to England where scandal will follow me all of my days. I'll not ask some man to marry me and chase my troubles away. No, Gills. I will stand on my own two feet, as that is what is asked of me."

Gills sighed. Why could she not see that marrying him was the sensible choice? "While I admire it, sweetheart, you must give my offer much more serious thought. My fortune is not inconsiderable, though I think it unlikely I will inherit the marquisate. My brother suffers the best of health and is besotted with his bride. But still, my mother's bequest will keep us nicely, and we can Lord-and-Lady or Mister-and-Mrs, as you wish.

"You are being a nuisance, Lord Joseph."

"I concede for the day."

She huffed. "You may as well concede for always, Joseph Gildeforte, for I'll not wed you no matter what you say or do. I'm going to have my own life."

He had to step back from his offer now, for if she took the bit between her teeth, she really would never agree, and in the past few days the idea of spending his life without her had become more and more unthinkable. He set himself to sooth the raw feelings he had just provoked.

"I agree you should have your own life. Everyone should."

With a start, she blurted out, "I have not owned one moment of my life before now."

He should have understood this earlier. Clearly, he could be such a dolt. "I had not considered, my lady. I withdraw my suit, but beg you make it known to me should you change your mind."

With a sweet smile he'd never seen before and a flutter of her lashes, she said, "I appreciate the thought, Gills. Really, I do. But it is not you; it is me."

If Gills had a dollar for every time he had been rejected with those words, he would not have needed to borrow from Maddox.