Season for Temptation by Theresa Romain Page A

earth could have kept her off that ladder once she decided it sounded fun.”
    â€œWell, I’m very sorry to have you go. But I have to say, I think she will be much more comfortable with you beside her.”
    Louisa’s smile was sweet, her eyes a bit teary. “Thank you,” she said, clasping his hands gently, “for understanding.” She wrapped him in a quick, affectionate hug that surprised the breath out of his body.
    Lady Irving was already summoning the capable Simone, who at once began to give orders to have trunks packed and the carriage brought round.
    And that was that.
    Before the afternoon was out, James saw them on their way, crammed into the carriage like tinned fish so that Julia’s injured foot could be propped up on the opposite seat. Poor girl; she leaned hard on him to walk to the carriage, and thanked him sweetly although he could see she was in pain.
    â€œI’ll never be a baboon again,” she promised.
    He laughed, and apologized again to her, and to Lady Irving and Louisa.
    The betrothed couple parted with a proper kiss on the cheek; honestly, he had been so distracted, he didn’t even try to embrace Louisa in a more romantic way. He was too busy thinking of how he’d fallen short as a host, and as a future husband.
    He had failed to keep them comfortable, entertained, and safe. He had failed even to keep them there . He didn’t think they had taken it amiss . . . but still, would any of them want to come back, ever?
    He remembered the warm, fragile feeling of Julia’s body, leaning against his for support as she walked out to the carriage. He remembered Louisa’s hug of affection.
    He wished they would all come back, so he could try again, and get it right this time.

Chapter 9
    In Which Portugal Is Lost
    To Julia’s dismay, her ankle took weeks to mend.
    The first week was unbearable. She spent what felt like every waking minute trapped on a sofa or lying in her bed. She could hardly believe her own stupid clumsiness, which had caused them all to leave Nicholls early and miss out on so much of James’s company.
    The second week began as badly, but then it brought a letter from James that Louisa read aloud to the family. The letter mentioned Julia’s name twice and inquired very kindly about her health. That day actually went pretty well.
    Weeks three, four, and five of Julia’s convalescence brought more letters for Louisa. She no longer read them aloud to the family. She hummed through the days, wrote long letters to James, and seemed delighted when she received a reply—which she always did, promptly.
    She happened to open one of James’s letters once in Julia’s presence, and Julia caught a glimpse of what looked like a list.
    â€œExcellent,” Louisa had breathed, skimming the missive.
    â€œWhat’s excellent?” Julia had been unable to resist asking.
    Recalled to herself, Louisa flushed. “I just had some questions for James. Relating to, um, Nicholls.”
    Julia instantly lost interest. She didn’t want to hear about Nicholls, about Louisa’s and James’s future life together. She couldn’t bear the thought of Louisa leaving her, though she knew that was illogical and inevitable.
    And maybe she didn’t quite like to think of James married, either. Weren’t they all content and happy as they were? Couldn’t things just continue on like this? Why did everyone have to keep talking about him and Louisa getting married all the time?
    It was six weeks and two days before Julia was able to test her ankle again. Six weeks and two days since she’d seen James, hurt herself, and left Nicholls.
    Six weeks and two days of being a fool.
    Usually she loved autumn, but this year, it seemed melancholy. She missed James’s face, his voice, his smile.
    She missed seeing him frown at her when she said something outrageous (usually unwittingly), or making him smile when she