Julia thumbed the Messier's Catalogue she'd secretly brought with her to London. It'd been wedged between her underthings and her nightgowns, hidden far away from the prying eyes of her Mother.
Curling up at the window seat in the library, she stroked the words lovingly, old friends that had accompanied her through the seasons of time. Closing her eyes, the words she'd memorised long ago coalesced with the images she saw through the telescope in her mind's eye. The beautiful colours of the M1 came together in perfect harmony and she savoured the memory of the joy at having seen it for the first time three years ago.
"Miss Marlowe?" Her eyes flew open at the deep voice and her hands contracted in fright as a squeak of surprise flew out from between her lips. "I beg your pardon, Miss Marlowe," Shearing bent down to retrieve the book that had tumbled from her hands, "for having startled you." He glanced at title, and she saw the questioning look in his green and brown eyes.
Embarrassed to have been frightened so, she snatched it from his hands. "Why are you here?"
"I...uh..." he clasped his now empty hands behind his back. "I..." Julia frowned at his nervousness. He had no reason to be flustered, unlike her. "Is that Messier's Catalogue?"
"As it so says. I wasn't aware you'd suddenly become illiterate in French."
He nodded agreeably despite her haughty tone. "Yes, I...I was merely surprised you have it."
What was he on about? He'd been the one to gift it to her! "Because you think that a silly, flighty woman like me shouldn't possess such an intellectual book as this?" She leapt to her feet, all rage and ire. "If that be the case, why send this as a present all those years ago?" She lifted the hardcopy book and slammed it down on his arm repeatedly. "Why? Were you taunting the poor little girl who had no friends? Who liked to climb trees and ride horses? Who hated dancing?"
"What?" He tried to duck her blows. "No! I didn't mean that. Ow! Stop!"
"No, you stop! Stop talking to me! Stop calling on me! Stop-" She pulled at the hold he had on her wrists as the book clattered to the floor once more. "Release! Me! Unhand me this instant, you...you brute!"
"Only if you promise to stop hitting me."
She snarled the way a wounded cat hissed, refusing to let anyone near it. "Believe me, hitting you is the least painful thing I want to do to you."
"Then what is the most painful punishment you can think of?"
"Your beating heart carved out and served on a platter."
"I never knew you to be so bloodthirsty." He murmured as he laid her hand on his chest, and she felt the organ thundering beneath. Even in her wrath, the sensation of the firm muscle under her fingers did strange things to her insides. "Here, take it. It's already yours, Julia."
The fury drained from her like snow melting in the heat from a fire. "Wh-what?"
"My heart, Julia, it's always been yours."
Her fingers curled and her throat constricted as tears pricked her eyes. "I...I don't understand." A single drop rolled halfway down her cheek before he caught with his thumb. "You said-"
"I know and I've regretted those words ever since." He released her other wrist to withdraw his handkerchief. "I never should have said them to you. I know an apology can never fully mend the hurt I've caused." He folded it so he could dab away the tears that were flowing down her cheeks. "But I wish only to atone for my sins of having caused you pain and be restored to your good graces. If that is possible at all. Though I will count myself fortunate if you merely hate me less."
Julia's heart squeezed at the weak smile that graced his lips. No! Don't fall for his tricks! A voice within her shouted loudly. He doesn't really mean it. He's going to turn from you hurt you again! Spurn him, Julia! Just like he did you. Make he feel the agony you lived with for all those months!
Julia, don't listen to her! Can you not see the sincerity in his eyes? He truly means to beg for your forgiveness.
Though she desperately wanted to believe his words, a part of her knew better than to trust him fully again. She took the cloth from his hand and stepped away. "H-how do you intend to make amends?"
His hands, having fallen to his sides the moment she was no longer in his arms, opened and closed repeatedly. She moved away from him to the window seat. Collecting her wits, she sat, regal as a queen. "Do tell, Shearing."
"I-" he ran his hand through his hair. "Even if it takes me my entire life to do so, I will devote myself to your happiness so that you might once again be able to see the sincerity and depth of my love for you." He went down on one knee and her heart faltered before she could reign it in.
"If you think that by proposing again I will forgive you," her voice cutting like the sharpest sword, "you are sorely mistaken."
"No, Julia. That is not my intention at all." At her gritted teeth, he grimaced. "That is to not to say I will never want to marry you again. No, I kneel before you, as your humble servant, ready to do your bidding. Whatever it is you desire, whatever punishment you wish to inflict upon me, I will gladly accept."
"As I said earlier, your heart on a platter."
"It is already yours, Julia." She gripped her hand tightly, willing her own heart not to react. "Ask of me something else."
"I did not give you leave to use my given name."
"Then how should I address you who are my mistress?"
"Since you style yourself as my servant..." she tapped her cheek, "then you may address me as...'Mistress Marlowe'."
"Certainly, Mistress Marlowe." He bowed his head. "I await your first order."
"If I say I never want to see you again, will you accede?"
She caught the wince on his downturn face but he nodded. "Although that will make it difficult for me to atone, but if that is what you wish, I will obey it."
"That is what I wish."
"As you command, Mistress Marlowe," but he did not rise from his position.
"Did you not-"
He lifted his head to look at her. "Mistress Marlowe, if I'm far from your sight, would it not be difficult for you to serve you? Would it not be difficult for you to witness the effect your punishment has on me?"
There was some measure of truth to his words. "Fine. Then kneel here until I return." Spinning on her heel, her pale cream dress swishing at her ankles, she sauntered out of the library, not sparing him a single backward glance. She'd see how long he'd be able to endure this ridiculous request.
She went about her day after explicitly telling the housekeeper to have all servants bared from the library for the rest of the day. There was no need to encourage any gossip. And although she tried to put him from her mind, Shearing kneeling like a knight-errant in front of his lady love, was an image she couldn't seem to erase. But she didn't trust that he'd do as she said the moment she left the room. Regardless, she'd let him stew a bit in his thoughts.
Letting out a breath, she tried to refocus her mind on the embroidery she was suppose to be working on although she disliked needlework. But as it was a hobby women partook in during afternoon calls, she followed convention. And because it kept her mother from sending her glances that ranged from pithy to resignation.
However, in a nod to her own tastes, she'd tried to embroider a comet flying among stars. Holding it a distance from her, she turned it this way and that. Maybe she ought to use a different colour thread.
"My lady," a footman entered with the tray for calling cards, "Lord Healey is here." Julia's brows drew together, wondering why he'd come when they would see each other in a few hours' time. She hoped he wasn't going to abandon her tonight. He needed to be present for her plan to work.
When he entered the drawing room and they'd exchanged greetings, he took the seat adjacent to her. Her mother kept him occupied, chatting inanely. Her contribution consisted of single words and nods until the tea arrived and was poured out.
Then he turned to her, seriousness in his eyes. "Miss Marlowe," he said in a low voice, "there is a grave matter I require your assistance in. Could you engineer an opportunity for us to speak about it privately?"
She nodded, then said loudly, "Mama, his lordship is enquiring about our garden. He so admires the flowers you planted and wishes to know more about them. Might I bring him to the back?"
When they were out of earshot, Healey grinned, "where have I heard this excuse before?"
She winked conspiratorially at him and then led him to the garden bench. "Now what is this grave matter you speak of, my lord?"
"It is to do with your friend, Mrs Brookfield."
"Oh no! Is she well? Did something happen to her?"
"She is well. As for whether something happened to her, only you will be able to tell me, Miss Marlowe."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"I will speak plainly." His solemn tone unsettled her. "Are you aware that she is a widow?" At her nod, the blue in his eyes deepened to that of twilight. "Then she has been untruthful to only me."
"I'm certain Mr Shearing is unaware as well."
"But did she deliberately mislead him?"
"That I do not know. Did she do that to you?" He nodded and her brows knitted. "But why?"
"That is what I would like to find out as well." He told her of his conversation with Dover. "There must be a reason for her subterfuge. Are you privy to the information?" She shook her head regretfully.
They sat in silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts. "I know!" Julia clapped her hands. "It might have something to do with her search for the Earl of Brackley."
When she completed her recount of the night at the opera, Healey leaned back against the bench. "Why does she have something that belongs to him? They are in no way connected at all. Are they?"
Julia lifted her shoulders. "I did not have the chance to ask her how she came by this valuable object of his. Maybe we could do so when we see her tonight."
"What?"
She realised her error and mirrored his confusion to hide her blunder. "What?"
"Did you not say that Mrs Brookfield will be present at Vauxhall Gardens tonight?"
Blonde curls danced merrily. "I did not. You misheard, my lord. Only I will be present tonight." She stood hurriedly, forcing Healey to his feet. "Do be on time, my lord!" And she fled back into the house, letting out a breath at the close call.
Hurrying up the stairs, she stopped at the door to the library, which was ajar, the way she'd left it. From her vantage point, she couldn't see the window seat where she'd left Shearing kneeling so she stepped into the room.
And found him still on one knee, right where she left him. Gasping, she hurried over. "What are you doing?"
"I merely did as commanded, Mistress Marlowe."
"Are you able to stand?"
"I can't feel my legs. I fear I'll fall if I do."
"Then sit on the floor." He slowly manoeuvred himself into position. When he was on his bottom, she helped him to move his legs so they were stretched out in front of him. Crouching down, she began to knead his calves through his trousers while he rubbed his own upper thighs so that blood would flow. His breaths came out in long hisses between gritted teeth. The feeling must be coming back into his legs.
Her fingers soon began to tire for his leg muscles were hard as a rock. And there were nicely shaped too, from what she could feel through his trousers. "You needn't continue if you're tired."
"I..." she stopped and placed her hands upon her knees. There really was no reason for her to continue to help him. He'd brought it upon himself for being idiotic and following her instructions without question. Her request had been asinine after all.
"Did you really kneel for all the hours I was gone?"
"Yes."
"But...but why? It'd been unreasonable. Surely after a while you'd realised I wasn't returning. It'd have served no purpose for you to continue in your position."
"I had promised I'd do anything as you commanded." He looked down at his outstretched legs. "The pain inflicted upon my body is nothing compared to what you endured in your heart for months."
She huffed and looked away. She didn't think her heart could bear the earnestness she knew she'd see in his eyes. Knowing herself, she'd forgive him his transgressions too easily.
Then she remembered her conversation with Healey about Frederica and related it to Shearing. "Did Frederica reveal that she's widowed to you?"
Shearing shook his head. "We never spoke about her marriage...does she require some manner of assistance?"
"Apart from the situation with Brackley, I'm not certain...actually, she does. With Healey."
"What about the man?"
"It's not him per se. It's about Frederica and him." She leaned closer, lowering her voice, as if she were conversing with a co-conspirator. Which she suppose she was, what with the plan she had in mind. "They have a shared history. And I think there's some unrequited love between the two of them. It'd explain why she deceived Healey."
"It would? I'm afraid I do not follow."
"She has a reason for keeping her widowhood from Healey, and her reactions to any mention of him are odd."
"She's admitted as much to me that she still cannot give up her feelings for him though she's trying."
Julia clapped her hands. "I knew I had the right of it! And I know Healey still feels something for her too. But either of them do not want the other to know." She sighed wistfully. "This is so romantic." At Shearing's puzzled frown, she rolled her eyes. "No, do not ask me to explain it to you again. You wouldn't understand either way."
"Yes, I'm still unsure as to how that is considered romantic but who am I to naysay a woman's mind? But that's not what perplexed me. Does it not bother you that Healey courts you in the hopes of marrying you while still harbouring romantic feelings for another woman?"
"No, because I've decided I will not marry him."
Shearing became as still as a statue. "Then who will you marry?"
"You needn't bother yourself with it." She stood, brushing away the creases of her dress. "But I will make a match of them tonight! Will you help me?"
Shearing stared at her strangely. "You wish for my assistance?"
She shrugged. "You can serve as my excuse to leave the two of them alone at Vauxhall Gardens."
"Vauxhall..." Shearing's eyes narrowed. "What exactly are you intending to do?"
"Only after I have your agreement that you will follow what I say and not intervene."
"This is a terrible idea."
"No, it's a brilliant idea!" Scowling, she crossed her arms. "If you're simply going to criticise me even before I can share, I will retract my invitation."
"I apologise. I will do as you say."
"In any case, you have to. You're still my servant, are you not?"
He nodded as he stood. But, suddenly, he stumbled, careening into her. They tumbled to the floor with her sprawled all over his torso and most of his thighs.
She stared into his eyes, forgetting just how deep and rich they were. She'd seen them this close only once — the first time he'd kissed her. Her fingers found his cheekbones of their own volition and she traced them gently. She'd always marvelled at how they made him look both ethereal and masculine at the same them.
When her thumb accidentally brushed against his soft lips, she stilled, her breath leaving her at once.
"Julia." The rumble of her name vibrated through her chest and down to her core, and her nipples peaked against her shift instantly. She licked her lips for they'd suddenly gone dry and she saw his gaze flick down then up again to her eyes. The heat she saw made all of her tingle at the memory of him pressing his lips to hers, chastely at first. Then wantonly, irrationally, demandingly.
"Do I have permission to kiss you?"
"Miss Marlowe! Miss Marlowe! Where are you?" Dimly, her name registered in her mind and she quickly scrambled off Shearing, brushing out her skirts as she moved away from him hastily.
"Here. I'm here!" She repeated when the first word came out on a croak. Turning back to Shearing, she said, "Tonight. Half past six at the start of the Grand Walk. I will tell you my plan then."
"As you wish, Mistress Marlowe." She ignored the shiver of pleasure that ran down her spine, as if he'd caressed her bare skin through her dress, and hurried out of the room.