Papists. Good Lord, Julien thought, as he tried not to blink with surprise, didn’t he realize that Napoleon was an atheist? Evidently not. Sir Oliver was suddenly moved to explode in religious fervor. “I would have sought them out and destroyed them and all their loathsome, filthy idols.”
“Ah, you are doubtless quite right. An England returned to Catholicism after so many centuries wouldn’t be acceptable to Englishmen.” He wondered, now more worried than ever about Katharine, wondering if Sir Oliver were not a bit mad.
Sir Oliver gave a start. Perhaps he’d been a bit too dogmatic in stating his view. He said in a more moderate voice, “We must pray that the Allies are able to keep Bonaparte on Elba.”
“As I understand,” Julien added gravely, “the French people have welcomed back the Bourbons with open arms. Louis seems quite firmly planted on the throne.”
Julien was greatly relieved to see Katharine return, followed by the butler bearing a rather discolored silver tray. He rose quickly, and she seated herself on a small sofa facing him.
While Filber served the sherry, Julien was freed for a few moments to regard his future wife. He wasn’t at all disappointed by her appearance. He’d wondered how she would look dressed in something other than her boy’s clothes, and although the gown she wore was rather outmoded, her grace and bearing were clearly evident. And her poise delighted him. The rich auburn hair hung long down her back, secured with a simple ribbon. Tendrils curled over her ears. He wished he could lightly trace his fingertips over the freckles on her nose, a very nice, thin nose. He wondered how she would react to her new station. As his countess, she would have anything that she wished. And he would have her.
He frowned as he saw her hands twisting nervously at the folds of her gown. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and gazed alternately from her lap to her father. There was no vestige of the spirited, self-assured girl who had crowed when she caught many more trout than either he or Hugh. There was no more poise. He felt hesitant to address even the most innocuous of comments to her for fear that her answers would draw the wrath of her father after he left. He contented himself with simply enjoying her presence until he would have the opportunity to speak with her alone.
“It is a pity, my lord,” Sir Oliver said jovially as he toasted Julien, “but you have just missed my son, Harry. He left but this morning to return to Oxford. A brilliant young man, if you’ll forgive a father’s natural pride. He has the makings of an accomplished scholar. Doubtless he will someday make his mark in some area, perhaps in science or mathematics.”
Harry, a scholar? Mathematics? Julien repressed another blink of surprise, but said easily enough, “Yes, a fine young man. You say he excels at scholarly matters? He enjoys history, or perhaps religion, in addition to science and mathematics?”
Kate choked on her sherry, and Sir Oliver cast a look of ill-concealed dislike at her. He remarked with some reluctance, “No, it would be, of course, my wish, but Harry is intent on being in a cavalry regiment. You know boys, my lord— they wish for adventure. I hope and pray he will return to a calling for which he was meant. If he doesn’t choose to— why, then, he is still my son and the future Sir Harry Brandon of Brandon Hall.”
“I see,” Julien said pleasantly. “Yes, Harry would become that eventually.” He took a sip of sherry, which was not nearly as good as the St. Clair sherry. It occurred to him again that perhaps Sir Oliver’s finances were in need of a healthy settlement, given the rather frayed appearance of the furnishings here in the drawing room.
Not at all a stupid man, Sir Oliver had seen the earl’s eyes on Kate as Filber served the sherry. Had his lordship already fixed his interest in her? The thought seemed preposterous to Sir Oliver— indeed, absurd— but nevertheless he decided to test his observation. After all, stranger things had been known to happen. He briefly saw his long-dead wife in his mind’s eye. Ah, she’d been so beautiful, beyond beautiful really, and he’d wanted her more than anything in those first months, been wild to have her, until he realized she was weak and not of his level in religious faith and scholarship. She’d also hated him in her bed after but a few weeks. She’d suffered him, damn her, when he insisted. And then Katharine had been born and she’d refused him. And he’d watched his daughter grow up and look what she’d become, despite all his efforts.
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