The Secret Life of Lady Julia Read Online Free PDF Page B

She pulled her woolen shawl tight around her throat against the wind.
    “Then I’ll not keep you from your duties,” Lord Stephen said, dismissing her.
    Julia followed the maid below. Would she ever get used to being addressed as plain Miss Leighton? She was not Lady Julia any longer. She was Lady Dorothea Hallam’s paid companion.
    It wasn’t an unpleasant post. She had known Dorothea slightly in happier times, like regimental sisters, since Dorothea’s husband Matthew had also been a Royal Dragoon. They attended some of the same parties, danced at the same balls. But Dorothea lost her husband and newborn son to fever, and had barely recovered herself. Her grief had made her a recluse, and Lord Stephen could not leave her behind when he accepted his posting, so Julia was hired to keep her company.
    Julia knew he hoped the trip to Vienna would improve his sister’s health and lift her spirits.
    She opened the door to Dorothea’s cabin, and a second maid looked up gratefully, then thrust a clean basin into Julia’s hands before taking her leave to empty the full one. Dorothea was as pale as the fog outside, still retching.
    Julia put a cool cloth on her forehead.
    “Will the boat sink?” Dorothea moaned, clutching Julia’s hand. “Death surely couldn’t be more horrid than mal de mer .”
    Julia rubbed Dorothea’s hands. “It won’t be long until we land in Antwerp.”
    Dorothea sank into the pillow and stared at the low ceiling. “D’you remember the last ball you attended?” she asked dully.
    “Yes,” Julia said carefully. She would never, ever, forget that night.
    Dorothea sighed. “I can’t. I know I must have danced with my husband. I must have been happy, but I don’t remember anything specific about the evening. I’m afraid I will forget the details, the little things, about our life together.”
    “The room was filled with flowers, and everyone was drinking champagne,” Julia said. There were flowers and champagne at every ball.
    Dorothea smiled wanly. “Oh yes, of course. I remember dancing with Matthew, laughing at something he said.” Her brow furrowed. “What could he have said? I should have committed every word to memory, just in case—”
    “He told you how beautiful you looked,” Julia said.
    “Yes. I was probably wearing that blue silk gown he liked.”
    “The night was warm, and he brought you champagne on the terrace,” Julia went on, seeing another party, another face, in her mind.
    “Did he?” Dorothea asked.
    Julia fixed her eyes on Dorothea. “Of course.”
    “I suppose he must have,” Dorothea sighed. “One ball is so like the others, but I would have liked just one memory I was sure of, our last waltz, our final supper together. It happened so fast, at the end. Matthew said he had a headache, and the baby was fractious, and then I was trying to keep both of them alive, but I couldn’t. I remember very little about that day either, or any day since.”
    “You will,” Julia soothed. Dorothea would remember everything when she was ready, but right now her stricken face showed Julia that she couldn’t manage it. Lord Stephen had told her how fragile his sister’s health was. She had resorted to laudanum to sleep away her grief, and the drug left her a shell of herself. Julia held the basin as Dorothea called out her husband’s name and was sick again.
    Hours later, Dorothea was still green and queasy as Lord Stephen carried her ashore and put her in the waiting coach.
    “A few more hours, Doe,” he said, trying to sound jaunty. “We’ll be stopping for the night in Brussels.” His sister lay back against the squabs and shut her eyes.
    He handed Julia into the coach. “I trust you were not affected by seasickness on the voyage, Miss Leighton?”
    She wrapped a rug around Dorothea’s knees. “Not at all.” He shut the door and the coach lurched forward.
    “Where’s the baby?” Dorothea murmured.
    Julia glanced at her. Did she mean her own child or