Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

J ulia froze in astonishment, her fingers tightening around her glass of champagne as she listened to three ladies casually outline a devious trap they had in mind—for the Earl of Ashton! What was even more inconceivable was that the lady orchestrating the scheme was the sweetly demure Lady Roslyn. Julia instinctively drew back into the shadows of the conservatory as the women drifted closer, their voices barely above a whisper.

What rotten luck that she would encounter them. Julia lowered the glass to the stone bench. Only a few minutes ago she had decided to leave for Penporth for the rest of the season. She could not bear the feeling of listlessness anymore and wanted to return to her home in the countryside. What was the point of attending balls if she would merely sneak away to sit somewhere alone?

"Are you certain the earl is in the library on the second floor?" Lady Roslyn asked, her tone filled with excitement.

"Yes," another voice, unfamiliar to Julia, replied eagerly. "I saw him enter it myself. The earl always slips away from the ballroom and disappears for an hour or two. I must say it was rather brilliant of me to discreetly follow him this time. This is the perfect moment, Ros. You must not let it slip away from you."

Julia felt a sinking feeling in her chest as she realized they were truly committing to their reckless plan. It had been a little over a week since Lord Ashton kissed her in the gardens at another ball, a kiss that had lingered in her thoughts far more than she cared to admit. She had seen him at a picnic in Kensington Gardens and at another ball, where they had carefully ignored each other. Though Julia considered him her enemy, she couldn't bring herself to exact petty revenge as her sister Penny might have done to those who wronged them.

Instead, Julia had simply tried not to stare at the earl or acknowledge the confusing ache in her chest whenever he was near.

"Are you certain you should do this, Lady Roslyn?" a third voice interjected, hesitating. "Perhaps it does not mean anything that he took Lady Millicent out in his phaeton. She is very lovely, and—"

"He also danced with her twice this week and only once with me," Lady Roslyn snapped, her tone sharp with jealousy. "It was enough to garner a mention in the scandal sheet."

Julia bit her lip, recalling the scandal sheet's speculation on the earl's interest in Lady Millicent, a woman many gentlemen found captivating. It seemed this potential interest threatened whatever tendre Lady Roslyn had developed for Lord Ashton.

How silly . How could Lady Roslyn long for a gentleman who might be attached to another? Julia wondered if she should find the hostess of tonight's midnight ball, the Marchioness of Rigsby, and inform her of the plot afoot under her roof.

"I will do it," Lady Roslyn said with excited determination.

Julia shook her head, truly shocked at their audacity. As the ladies dispersed, Julia found herself dithering.

"I have no need to warn him; he is my enemy!" she muttered crossly to herself.

Yet, the notion that the earl might be forced to marry Lady Roslyn sent a pang through her heart. Huffing in frustration, Julia rushed back inside, scanning the ballroom. Relief washed through her when she spotted her sister Fanny holding court with a few friends. Julia discreetly beckoned her over, and Fanny left her friends and walked over.

"Julia, what's wrong? Your cheeks are flushed, and you appear very out of sorts," Fanny said, her brow creased with concern.

"I have an urgent matter to attend to," Julia replied quickly, glancing around to ensure no one was listening. "Please, keep Lady Roslyn from leaving the ballroom. I will explain everything when I return."

Fanny's eyes widened in alarm. "Julia, what is happening?"

"I will explain soon," Julia insisted.

Without waiting for a response, she turned and slipped out of the ballroom. She hurried down the hallway, her shoes barely making a sound on the polished floor. She reached the staircase and ascended it quickly, her breath coming in short bursts. The second floor was dimly lit, and Julia felt a flicker of unease as she moved through the shadowy corridors, searching for the library. She knew she had little time to waste—Lady Roslyn and her co-conspirators could be on their way at any moment.

Finally, she found the library, its door slightly ajar. She pushed it open and stepped inside, sweeping her gaze around the room until it landed on the earl, who was seated in a leather armchair near the fire, a book in his hands. The flickering flames cast a warm glow over his features, but his expression was one of deep concentration, entirely absorbed in his reading.

"Lord Ashton," Julia said urgently as she approached him. "You must leave at once."

The earl, startled by her sudden appearance, lowered his book and stood, his eyes narrowing. "Miss Fairbanks? What are you doing here?"

"There's no time to explain everything," Julia said, her words rushing out in a breathless stream. "Lady Roslyn is planning to enter this very room and compromise you. Witnesses will arrive, including a notorious gossip. You need to leave now—"

Before she could finish, they both heard a faint click , followed by the unmistakable sound of the door locking from the outside. Shocked, Julia whirled around, staring at the door in disbelief. Her heart sank as the reality of the situation set in—they were trapped.

Lord Ashton's expression darkened, and he moved swiftly toward the door, testing the handle. It didn't budge. He jerked it hard, frustration flashing in his eyes as he coldly snapped, "Open this door. Lady Roslyn is not inside here with me. It is someone else."

Silence met his demand, and Julia realized whoever had locked them in had likely already fled.

The earl turned back to her, his gaze sharp with understanding. "You overheard Lady Roslyn planning to compromise me and came to warn me."

"Yes," Julia replied, her voice barely above a whisper, her fear and anger mingling in equal measure. "Another lady was supposed to close the door the moment Lady Roslyn entered. I cannot fathom why it was closed now !"

"That accomplice must have been right on your heels and presumed you were … Lady Roslyn," he said, his tone unreadable as he took a step closer. "Why did you come to warn me? I thought we were enemies."

She met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. "I have the silly belief that no one should be forced or pressured into a lifelong union."

His expression grew inscrutable. "I see."

An awful heaviness pressed against Julia's heart. "I tried to save you, and now we are trapped together." She sniffed, the absurdity of the situation dawning on her. "I don't understand this kind of ill-luck."

A dark brow winged upward. "Ill-luck?"

"What else could it be?"

"Fate," he drawled, his voice tinged with a sarcastic bite.

"I thought you a man who didn't believe in something as whimsical as fate."

"You are indeed correct," he said softly, a small frown touching his face before his expression once again turned impenetrable.

"There is a window. One of us could climb out."

"Has it escaped your notice that we are on the second floor?" he replied dryly.

"We could search for something to tie together and lower me down."

Lord Ashton laughed, but the sound held no humor. Nevertheless, he obligingly started to look around the library. Julia was painfully aware of him and the ever-present dread that, at any moment, the door could open, and they would be discovered. Perhaps Lady Roslyn had changed her ridiculous plan.

"There are no sheets here, and no one will be climbing out the windows and risking their limbs and lives," he said tightly.

Julia could hardly control the panic thumping through her heart. "Perhaps there is a way to pick the lock from the inside?"

"Are these skills part of your repertoire?"

Julia flushed at the caustic remark. "No. I thought you might have some hidden knowledge."

A soft grunt of irritation left him. He parted his lips to say something, then snapped his mouth shut, canting his head as the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hallway. Panic flared in her chest, and she instinctively moved closer to the earl, her mind racing for a way out of their predicament. But with the door locked and the key held by someone on the other side, their options were limited.

Lord Ashton's jaw tightened, and he glanced around the room, his mind clearly working through the situation.

"We need to think quickly," he muttered, his voice low and urgent. "Stand at the far end of the room. It is best we are found with considerable distance between us."

Julia hurried to the other side, pressing herself against the wall as her heart raced. The doorknob rattled, signaling that whoever was on the other side was about to enter. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, bracing herself for what was to come. The door creaked open, and five ladies framed the doorway, all wearing varying degrees of scandalized shock.

"Ashton!" a voice cried out.

Julia's heart clenched painfully. It was the earl's mother, the formidable Countess of Ashton.

"Ah, Mother, you've come to the rescue," Rafe said with chilling indifference as he stepped forward. "Allow me to escort you downstairs, where I will attempt to explain this ridiculous farce."

The ladies crowded the doorway, and his mother and two others ventured further into the room. The countess's gaze swept the library, unerringly finding Julia. A shocked gasp escaped her before she stiffened her spine, peering down her elegant, aristocratic nose at Julia as if she had seen something most disdainful.

"It always befuddles me that some people have such low breeding as to plan these obvious compromise traps and expect to triumph."

"Do not be silly," Julia drawled, pushing aside the hurt to her pride. "I am far too delightful to ever want to trap myself with an undeserving wretch like your son."

A garbled sound of outrage came from the countess. "Brazen and impudent!"

"Is there any other way to be with those who make erroneous judgments toward people they do not know?" Julia retorted, her tone equally sharp.

"You upstart—"

"Mother," Rafe snapped, his tone so cold that Julia winced.

"You will always speak to Miss Fairbanks with civility, or you will hold your tongue."

Julia stared at him in helpless shock, quickly averting her gaze when the other ladies tittered. The countess's eyes narrowed dangerously, but Rafe continued, unperturbed.

"This was a plan meant for me to be found with Lady Roslyn."

"I do not believe such nonsense," his mother said tightly, her voice quivering with controlled anger.

"Your belief does not change the truth of the matter," Rafe replied, his voice hardening. He walked forward without sparing Julia another glance, making it clear he intended to prove there was no tendre between them.

"I do not expect any of this to be made into a scandal or gossip," he said, pinning the ladies with a glare that could cut glass. "If anything is done to ruin Miss Fairbanks's reputation, my anger will not be checked."

Warmth bloomed in Julia's chest, and she folded her hands before her to disguise their trembling. The earl escorted the ladies from the room, his presence commanding and unwavering. Once in the doorway, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. For a moment, it seemed as if he was about to speak, but he merely dipped his head in a short bow and vanished down the hall.

Trembling, Julia leaned against the bookcase, pressing a hand over her chest as she struggled to calm her racing heart. Somehow, she knew that her mad dash to warn the earl had altered her life irrevocably; she just didn't know how yet. But an instinctive sense warned her that whatever lay ahead, it would not be without its challenges—and perhaps, its disasters.