“I am happy to have you.”
“But are the others? I gather that this trip has been a long-standing masculine tradition.”
“If Clementine and Olive Morgan could gate-crash—that’s your terminology, not mine—last year’s Earls Trip, you may do the same this year.” He smirked. “Perhaps next year will be Simon’s turn.” The smirk turned into a genuine guffaw.
“What is so amusing?”
“The idea of Simon doing anything so disrespectable.” He shook his head. “No, next year’s Earls Trip will be a return to form, just the three of us gents. I would bet my title on it.”
Julianna refrained from pointing out that by his own admission, Effie didn’t value his title very highly so perhaps he ought to find something else with which to wager in favor of saying, “What is disrespectable about my staying with you? You just got done explaining that I’m your ‘sister’ and that everything is in fact very proper.”
“Everything is very proper as far as the household staff is concerned.”
“But not as far as we’re concerned?”
“Oh, pish, we don’t care about propriety.”
“We don’t?”
“Are you not the one who made a speech on this very topic not two days ago?” He made a silly face as he raised his voice and mimicked her. “‘I am not a refined lady whose reputation is a fragile glass bauble in need of protecting.’”
She rolled her eyes—fondly. She wished she had a pillow to throw at him.
He grew serious. “Of course you must not stay if you truly do not want to. And of course I care about propriety insofar as it is important to you.” He paused before revisiting a previous question. “And wearefriends. It’s only that sometimes it feels as if you are a friend I can never be without. I am terribly afraid that when this trip is over, you will insist that we go back to the way we were before. That I’m to climb back into my cage and communicate with you only through letters.”
She thought it was curious he’d used the image of climbing back into a cage. She herself had been thinking of them as birds in adjoining but separate cages. She had used the wordsfreedomandliberationwhen they’d been swimming together. If she felt liberated when she was with Effie, did if follow that she was going to feel imprisoned when they parted ways? Which they were going to have to do, of course. Being left heartbroken was one thing. Being left heartbroken because your beloved had plans to marry someone else was quite another. Now that she understood that, she merely needed to integrate this truth into her conduct. Into her plans.
“Don’t confirm my fear. Or deny it.” His tone was growing increasingly urgent, and he took her hands in his. “Don’t say anything. Just let me be with you, whether that’s only for the rest of the afternoon, or until you have to go back to London.
“And if you are truly harboring fears that the others wouldn’t welcome you, please set those aside. They themselves said only a few hours ago that they would be happy to have you, and they don’t lie.”
Julianna could feel herself softening. No, she was already soft. Effie made her soft and had been doing so for quite some time. What was happening now was a process by which she let himseethat she was soft. Not knowing how to put any of this into words, she tried a small smile.
He heard what she wasn’t saying and smiled back. “It’s only three more nights, yes? You said you had to be back in London on Wednesday, in order to be at the printers for Thursday morning.”
“Yes.”
“So it’s settled. Stay.”
“All right.”
How easy it had been to agree, to simply acquiesce. She ought to take that as a warning. She could stay for the rest of her holiday, but then she was going home—alone.
He rolled over onto his back and stared at the sky. “Now tell me about November. Or December.”
He didn’t have to ask her twice to get her to talk about the magazine, especially after her episode of inner turmoil and startling self-discovery. “I have the most wonderful fashion catalog planned for December. There is one dress in particular that is most extraordinary, or must be in person.” Effie closed his eyes as if to better picture the dress she was about to describe. “The accompanying text explains that the overskirt is lemon yellow and the underskirt burnt orange. Can you imagine? The wearer would look like a sunrise.”
“Like this morning’s sky.”
“Like this morning’s sky,” she echoed.
He grinned and opened his eyes. “I do so love your year-end fashion spreads.”
“I do, too.”
He rolled over, propped his head up on one hand, and regarded her with a quizzical expression.
“What is the matter?” she asked.
