Free Lord Barry's Dream House by Emily Hendrickson Page A

never heard of such a thing.”
    “The Romans first designed them, the hypocaust, you know. And the Earl of Shelburne has steam heating in his library at Bowood, my lord. Put it in back in the 1790s,” Juliana demurely answered. “It is not precisely new, you see. Hot-air heating has been used much in Ireland, particularly at Packenham Hall. We would not wish to be thought behind the Irish, would we?” A twinkling smile peeped at him, her lips curving slightly in amusement.
    “Heaven forbid!” Edmund gave her a dark look, then strode from the room. If he remained with her in the privacy and quiet of the dressing room, he could not be responsible for his actions. Far from wishing to kiss the chit, he knew a desire to strangle her. Or at the very least, he amended, to shake some sense into her. Shower baths, hot and cold running water, and now hot-air heating! He doubted if there could be any more shocks in store for him, then reconsidered. He suddenly suspected that this was only the beginning and shuddered at the thought of what was to come. Radical! Revolutionary!
    Yet, he admitted, he did like his comfort. Any man would appreciate a soothing shower of warm water. He did not hold with the current trend in cold bathing. Too great of a shock to the system besides being dashed uncomfortable.
    Comfort. Hmm. Perhaps he might try to look at all these novelties from a different angle?
    “Lord Barry, is anything amiss? Do you wish to return to Beechwood Hall? It is growing late, and you must long for refreshment.”
    Edmund slowly turned around to face the woman who had rapidly become his nemesis. She stood not far away, a worried expression on her face. Good. He had her concerned and intended to keep her that way—on her toes. He had to gain the upper hand somehow.
    “We shall return to the hall for now. But I warn you, I take a dim view of all these radical novelties you have introduced into the original plans. Tomorrow I want you to show me the details of the so-called heating system. I suspect it is not only complicated and difficult to operate, but dashed expensive.”
    With that pithy comment, Lord Barry marched from the room and down the stairs, kicking the blocks of wood out of his way as he went.
    Juliana clutched her shawl about her as she quietly slipped down the stairs behind him. It seemed her worst fears had been realized—her patron was a provincial who was opposed to progress. Although he did seem attracted to comfort. Then another thought burst upon Juliana that brought a pleased grin. If Lord Barry hated progress and change from the traditional, he would utterly loathe the Gothic that Sir Phineas wished to foist upon him. Pity that, she concluded, feeling rather smug that Sir Phineas would scheme for naught.
    The ride home was completed in total silence. Juliana worried that if she said anything, it might irritate him even more than he was already.
    Edmund fumed in his corner of the carriage while wondering how best to extricate himself from this mess. If only he could walk away from the house and all its commitments, but he had advanced a great deal of money. He would have been better off to return to England and buy something standing, then modify if necessary. He must not lose his investment. Somehow he would have to reach some sort of understanding with the woman who sat in blessed silence at his side.
    The carriage drew up before the house, and Edmund stepped down, then offered his hand to assist Lady Juliana. She gazed at him with a most puzzled expression, one that almost amused him.
    “You find me a conundrum, Lady Juliana?”
    “Indeed, sir, I do.” She gathered her skirts and began to walk up the steps to the front door. Before entering the huge entry door, she paused and turned to study him. “I would have wagered any amount that you would be sharp and progressive, eager for innovations, anxious for the very latest in design. Instead, I find you like an old woman, loath to so much as