The Secret Life of Lady Julia by Lecia Cornwall Read Free Book Online Page B

without comment or demure, blocking the cold wind between the vehicle and the inn’s front door with her slim figure, taking the full blast of it herself. He tried not to feel admiration for her kindness.
    It was, after all, her job.
    He hadn’t known what to expect when he agreed to take on a fallen woman as Dorothea’s companion. Julia Leighton had a child by a man she had yet to name, conceived, if scandal was to be believed, at her own betrothal ball. He sometimes found himself staring at the child, looking for features he recognized in the infant’s face, trying to guess his sire’s identity, but the boy looked like every other baby, including his own nephew, Doe’s lost son.
    He’d only agreed to hire her as a favor to a friend—well, two friends, really, if you included his debt of honor to James Leighton, as well as the favor he’d done for Nicholas Temberlay—and he’d done it knowing that employing such a woman might prove dangerous to his career. Really, how could a diplomat take a notorious lady of dubious morals to the most important peace conference in history? Yet here she was, and he’d found himself more intent on watching her for signs of impropriety than in doing his job. She’d done nothing as yet but still might prove him an even bigger fool than he felt. Once they reached Paris, surely people would recognize her as Carrindale’s ruined daughter, and his career would be over. He was glad that Dorothea had refused to any attend official state functions in Paris, since it would mean her companion would have to stay at home with her.
    And there was the issue of Julia Leighton’s unruly physical passion. What could he expect in that regard? Would she try to seduce him? He shifted uncomfortably. She was pretty enough, but he couldn’t afford such a mistake.
    Not that she’d tried, of course. She had been the very picture of propriety, the perfect peer’s daughter, treating him with cool politeness. What a duchess she would have made, yet she had taken on the role of a servant with remarkable grace. He frowned. There was that damned grudging admiration again, and she had yet to fully earn it.
    It began to rain, a sudden, coursing downpour, and Dorothea cried out at the icy deluge. Julia quickly wrapped her own cloak around Doe and hurried her toward the inn, careful to find solid footing in the slippery mud of the yard.
    Stephen reminded himself it was not his place to step forward and help her, and moved under the protection of the eaves to watch the men unloading the coaches and baggage wains. They stopped to look at Julia as the rain pasted her gown to her legs, revealing the long, lean shape of her limbs.
    He felt a moment of panic. He should send her home now, before they joined the rest of the British delegation, but he’d promised to give her a chance to prove herself—or do the opposite.
    He’d given his word to Nicholas, and James Leighton had known Nicholas as well, and given his life to save theirs. James had been as heroic as his sister was notorious. Julia was here as Stephen’s way of repaying his share of the butcher’s bill. If he were forced to send her home in disgrace, he wouldn’t hesitate. She could not count on her brother’s reputation to save her twice.
    Without her cloak, the rain soaked her gown, flattened her hair, and clung to her lashes. She had endured everything thus far, even Doe’s seasickness, without a word of complaint.
    It appeared to Stephen, at least at first glance, that Julia Leighton was just what Dorothea needed. Doe had not been well since Matthew and her infant son had died. Stephen had feared the very sight of Julia’s child would send her back into the dark days of madness she’d endured during the worst of her grief. He wondered if she would ever be able to overcome her loss, resume her life.
    Doe had known Julia slightly before tragedy touched both of them, and apparently liked her. She had agreed at once to take Julia as her companion