Only Beloved by Mary Balogh Page A

do sometimes happen. I do not know if it is a possibility and, heaven help me, I do not want to know. But Philippa seems to think it is, and she may be right, she being a woman and all that. Anyway, we are in absolute agreement that we are perfectly happy with what we have and with who we are. I have rescued my own home and estate from the near ruin my father ranit into, and I have done a great deal more than that. It is thriving. I have much to leave my eldest son—if we have sons, that is—and adequate means with which to provide for Belinda and any other children with whom we may be blessed. We will not feel that we have been deprived of my birthright if you should have another son. After all, Papa was a younger son and never expected to succeed you, and I never expected it. There was always Brendan . . .” His voice trailed away and he frowned in apparent distress.
    George was moved.
    â€œThank you, Julian,” he said. “The unexpected, as you put it, will almost certainly not happen, but your assurances and the fact that you speak for Philippa too are a great comfort me. I could not ask for a better nephew—and niece.”
    He wondered for the first time if Miss Debbins really had dismissed from her mind all possibility of bearing a child—and if she would welcome such an outcome of their marriage so late in her life. Her childlessness might well have caused her some unhappiness in the past. As with all else, though, he guessed that she had dealt with any disappointment with the calm good sense that characterized her. Had his marriage offer revived some faint hope in her? He sincerely hoped not.
    And then Julian spoke again.
    â€œDid you know that Aunt Miriam’s brother is in town?” he asked.
    â€œEastham?”
George said, both startled and aghast to hear that his dead wife’s brother was in London. AnthonyMeikle, Earl of Eastham, was actually Miriam’s half brother. “But he has always been a near recluse. He lives in Derbyshire. He never comes to London.”
    â€œWell, he is here now,” Julian said. “I saw him with my own eyes just yesterday outside Tattersall’s. I even spoke to him. He told me he is here for a week or so on business. He did not seem particularly pleased to see me, however. He was certainly not inclined to settle into a lengthy chat. He was always a bit of a queer cove, was he not?”
    â€œDon’t take his unfriendliness personally,” George said. “He would have been even less pleased to see me.” A great deal less, in fact. George stretched the fingers of both hands to prevent himself from curling them into fists. His mouth was suddenly dry.
    â€œI did think for a moment,” Julian said, “that perhaps you had invited him to your wedding. But you would hardly have done that, would you? The two of you were never the best of friends.”
    â€œNo,” George said. “I did not invite him.”
    Julian frowned and looked as if he would have said more if he could have found the words. George patted him on the shoulder and pushed away from the rail.
    â€œIt is time I returned to my guests,” he said briskly. “Thank you for your words, Julian. Thank Philippa for me, will you?”
    He made his way back into the drawing room and saw that his betrothed, flushed and laughing, was still in the middle of a largish group. George smiled at the sight.
    But the great welling of inner happiness he had feltmere minutes ago had been replaced entirely by the creeping, surely baseless fear.
    Eastham might have had any number of reasons to travel to London. His coming here now probably had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that George was getting married the day after tomorrow. Why would it, after all? Coincidences happened all the time.
    But what the devil
had
brought him?

7
    D ora had discovered several times in the course of her life that time had the strange capacity of crawling