Free Amanda McCabe by The Errant Earl

there.
    Since her mother’s passing, she had given up the thought of any kind of Season, and not without a measure of relief. She was perfectly content to be at home with her books and her own kind of friends.
    Now here was Marcus, declaring that all her troubles were at an end because he, her shining knight, was going to send her off to London!
    She would much rather go live in the cottage.
    However, she could not just smack him over the head with her basket as she longed to do. She had to tread carefully. And, she told herself, spring was months away. Anything could happen between now and then.
    She pasted on a bright smile and turned back to him. “A Season. Well. How good of you to think of me. But I pray that you will not go to any difficulties on my behalf.”
    His own confident smile faltered. “It is no difficulty at all, I assure you.”
    Julia shook her head. “I would never want to be a burden to you. A Season is so much trouble, such expense! I am really too old, you know, and I am sure I would not take. But it is so good of you to think of it!” She gathered up her basket and stood. “It is becoming rather warm out, and I have letters to write before supper. If you will excuse me?”
    Marcus bowed. “Certainly. We can speak further about this at supper.”
    “Yes, of course. At supper.” She nodded and smiled again, then hurried off toward the safety of the house. If she had
her
wish, they would never speak of it again.
    ***
    Marcus watched Julia’s blue-clad figure as she marched down the pathway, her back as stiff and straight as a soldier’s. Every twitch of her skirt, every jerk of her head, spoke of her irritation.
    Women!
If he lived to be a hundred, he would never understand them.
    He sat back down on the bench and ran his hands through his hair, leaving the short curls sticking straight. He was too confused by the enigma that was Julia Barclay.
    Why would she be angered by his offer of a Season? Any other woman would have been overjoyed at the chance to go to Town, to attend parties and have someone else pay the bills. Any other woman would have been relieved to know that someone was looking out for her welfare, for her future.
    Not Julia. He had the distinct impression that she was disappointed by his plans. Her hazel eyes had flashed furiously at him before she quickly veiled them in blandness.
    Obviously, he had missed something vital, and now she considered him a clumsy cabbage head who had no clue as to what might make a lady truly happy.
    That stung a bit. Certainly the ladies he had known in Paris and Florence and Cairo had been happy to receive his thoughtfully considered gifts, and had thanked him very prettily. They had never palmed him off with patently false excuses and then stalked away, as Julia had.
    For some reason, he found himself very much wanting to make Julia happy. He wanted her to smile at him again, in the easy way she had when they first met in the lane, before she knew who he was. He wanted her eyes to sparkle with laughter.
    And the damnable thing was, his desire to see her happy had nothing to do with any obligation he felt toward his father’s memory. Not that he was quite prepared to admit that, even to himself.
    How could he possibly find out what would make this woman, who was unlike anyone he had ever known, smile at him again?
    ***
    “Then
he offered me a Season!” Julia, who had gone straight from the garden to Agnes’s room, cried out the last of her tale. “Can you imagine?”
    Agnes smiled gently. “How dare he offer to pay for a Season, to help you find a suitable husband? The cad.”
    Julia peeked up from where she had buried her face in the cushions of the chaise. “Are you laughing at me?”
    “Just a bit, dear. Lord Ellston sounds quite generous to me. Doesn’t every girl dream of London balls, of capturing the attention of some handsome beau?”
    “Not
this
girl.” Julia sat up against the cushions she had been buried in. “I had thought we