The Worthington Wife. Sharon Page

She was not on the shelf yet apparently.

      Summerhay was a nice and charming man. For one moment, she thought: This might be my last chance to marry. And he is a good man.

      “Julia—?” He was brilliant red now, the Earl of Summerhay. “I know we have barely spent time together but I am hoping...hoping that when we know each other better, you might consider doing me the honor of... No, I’m sorry. It must be too early for that for you. But I know my own heart.”

      Could love and desire grow? Did love have to be instantaneous?

      But she thought of walking down the aisle and saying “I do” and not being in love with him. She couldn’t do it. And it would be wrong to do it to a hero.

      “I do enjoy your company, but my charitable work is taking up almost all of my time.” That was too obviously an excuse. This man deserved honesty. For she could spend time with him, let him court her, but when she searched her heart, she didn’t want to. It was wrong to judge so quickly, but she thought of being courted and she wanted to...to run, really.

      “The truth is, I had already given my heart to a doctor,” she explained, “but he has gone to London to work at a hospital. I know it takes me a long time to get over a lost love. I mean this as no slight against you. I am just not ready to move on.”

      “But you will be—someday?”

      “I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “And so I can’t ask you to wait.”

      “I want to wait.”

      “No, please. I can’t make you any promises, Summerhay.”

      “I know that. If I wait, that’s on my conscience, not yours. It’s a chance I am willing to take.” He stood, bowed. “I should go and prepare for riding. Until later.”

      Then he was gone.

      She knew in her heart she had done the right thing. She wanted the whoosh. Even if it meant no marriage at all. Which meant she’d best be prepared to make a life without a wedding.

      On the way out of the dining room, she encountered Zoe, who smiled and said, “I’ve decided that your plan to help your war widows is sound. You don’t need to worry about taking a loan against your dowry. We’ll be partners. I’ll provide the financial backing and business advice, you will work with the widows to help them create businesses that are suitable.”

      She threw her arms around Zoe, who laughed. “I’ve never seen you look so bubbly, Julia.”

      “I don’t know if I’ve ever been quite so happy. Except when you married Nigel. Good things will come of this, Zoe. I feel I am about to change the world.” Or at least her precious corner of it.

       4

      Modern Art

      Julia knew of one thing that could make a woman forget about marriage and love and all its associated problems.

      Well, two things.

      She left the house, walking briskly to Brideswell’s garage. She had money thanks to Zoe. And a list of women whose lives she was about to change.

      That was the first thing that was more important than suitors and marriage.

      The second?

      Her beloved automobile—a brand-new roadster from America with glossy paint and shiny chrome, leather seats, leather-wrapped steering wheel and an engine that roared with power.

      She was driving past the house, toward the front gate, when a young footman ran out and stopped her.

      Over the rumble of the idling engine, he shouted, “Lady Diana at Worthington Park asked if you might drive over there right away. She says they are in the midst of a disaster and only you can help, milady.”

      Julia’s heart plunged. The new Earl of Worthington—Cal—must have told them his plans. “Thank you, George.” She put her motor into gear and pressed on the accelerator. Trixie, her motorcar, roared down the gravel drive and through the open main gates.

      When Julia arrived, Diana met her on the drive. “Goodness, you look pale,” Julia gasped. “Are you ill? Is this about Cal’s—?”

      “Not here.” Diana dragged her to the music room. Sunlight flooded in on the grand piano, the harp, the cluster of gilt-and-silk chairs. A maid came in with a tray of coffee and before Julia could ask her question, the countess burst in. Her plucked brows flew up in surprise. “Why are you here, Julia—?”

      “To see me, Mother,” Diana said. “I asked her to come, since you are so upset. Julia will know what to do.”

      “Yes, I suppose Julia will.” Lady Worthington sank into a chair. “Mrs. Feathers has quit! That man went down to the kitchens and questioned everything she did. Even suggested the servants should eat better and there should be less waste in the dining room. Apparently he cast some aspersion on her character—she believed he accused her of theft. She is packing her bags as we speak. He has done this deliberately to spite us, for where can one find a cook at short notice? He fired his valet, a hall boy and a footman this morning and he has driven away our cook.”

      Julia stared, dumbfounded. Heavens, Cal had already begun.

      “This is wretched,” she said. “How can he fire the staff when work is so hard to find?”

      “Servants are hard to find,” Lady Worthington said, holding out her hand gracefully for coffee.

      Julia poured and gave the countess a cup, then handed one to Diana, who looked everywhere but at her mother and tapped her foot anxiously.

      “The earl declared they should find real work and ‘do better,’” the countess cried. “Do better than work at Worthington Park? Preposterous!”

      Cal simply didn’t understand. Many of the servants didn’t want to “do better,” which often meant long hours in gruesome conditions in factories and offices. They took pride in their work running a great house.

      The countess tried to set down her cup, but her hand shook so badly the cup overturned, spilling coffee. “Blast!” the countess gasped. Then she began to sob, burying her face in her hands. Diana stared helplessly, in shock.

      Julia quickly put her arm across the countess’s shoulders. “I will see about this, I promise. I will stop him.”

      “Stop him?” The countess lifted her head from her hands. She had turned a terrible shade of light gray and looked deathly ill. “What do you mean?”

      Julia swallowed hard. “Did Cal tell you he intended to do this? Did he speak of any plans he has, now that he is the earl?”

      “I do not care what he wants—” Lady Worthington broke off, putting her hands to her mouth. Through them, she cried, “I wish we could be rid of him! But we can’t.” She turned to Diana. “The only way I can see that we might have some protection is to have influence over him. As his wife, you would exert some control. Go and find him.”

      “Go and find him and do what with him?” Diana protested.

      Lady Worthington had been on the verge of collapse. Now she became commanding and strong once more. “We are desperate, Diana. Go at once and make him fall in love with you. It is the only hope we have.”

      “Mummy, one doesn’t just go up to a man, especially a horrible, obstinate, hate-filled man like that, snap her fingers and make him fall in love.”

      “You’ve always been a determined flirt, Diana. For heaven’s sake, put it to good use for once!”

      Diana burst into tears, turned and ran from the room.

      “The girl is being an utter fool! Does she not see what will happen to us if she does not do this? She must marry the new earl.”

      Cal’s