“Thank you,” Julia replied with a brief inclination of her head and a curt tone.
He didn’t respond, just settled back with his book, the picture of patience and good will. It made her want to grit her teeth.
Shortly after, she called to the other two to come and give them kisses goodnight and, once Willie and Lizzie had accomplished this chore, Julia allowed them time to prepare for bed before she rose to go to Lizzie’s room.
“Where are you going?” Douglas asked, his eyes warm on her which made her knees go weak (a reaction she firmly ignored).
“I need to tuck Lizzie in. I do it every night,” Julia replied, ignoring his soft gaze.
She watched as Douglas got to his feet.
“I’ll do it,” he told her, surprising her, and turned to walk away. Then, after only a step, he turned back and asked, “How, exactly, do I do it?”
She forced down a smile at his disgruntled expression, too pleased that he was going to make an effort with Lizzie to be angry and she calmly explained.
He nodded but didn’t move.
“Yes?” she prompted.
“Why am I doing it? She’s twelve years old.”
“Because Gavin did it,” Julia explained quietly.
His face changed almost imperceptibly and she expected him to refuse. However, to her relief and gratitude (which Julia felt but did not express), he nodded again and left.
She didn’t creep up to see it, didn’t think she could bear it and instead she escaped to her own room and refused to allow herself to think about it or, indeed, anything at all.
The night hadn’t, thankfully, repeated itself since. Julia couldn’t have borne up against that gentle of an onslaught. She had to trust that this was a genuine effort on his part and not Douglas using the children to get to her and thus breaking their only rule.
However, it had caused a slight change in Lizzie’s behaviour as she seemed to have a bit more bounce in her step from that night onward. Julia never asked her about it but vowed that even if nothing went right for her and Douglas, she would always be thankful for his one night of kindness.
Julia turned to her dressing table and picked up her perfume. Since that day when Douglas told her (not asked her, told her), he was going to marry her, she hadn’t used her normal scent. She told herself she wasn’t using it because she didn’t want to run out. Instead she put on the expensive French perfume her mother bought her every Christmas. It was a leftover from Sean, who used to buy it for her and she loved it so much she still used it occasionally even though it reminded her of her hated ex-husband.
And, Julia decided, she could use reminding of rotten, selfish men who did whatever vile thing they had to do to get what they wanted.
Everyone was to gather in the library for drinks before dinner and when she arrived, Douglas, Sam and Oliver were there as were all the children.
“You look pretty!” Ruby shouted and Julia stopped to bend down and kiss the top of her head as Ruby ogled her shoes. “I love your shoes,” she drawled out the word “love” dramatically, giving it about five syllables and Julia laughed.
“You can have them when I’m done with them, Ruby-girl,” Julia promised her niece.
“Wicked!” she shouted Willie’s favourite word and the next thing she knew, Douglas was pressing a martini in her hand.
“‘Pretty’ is not the word I would use,” he said in her ear and she flashed him a false courteous smile. “You smell lovely, something new?” he inquired lazily, his amused grin telling her that he was on to her game.
“I’m not surprised you like it. Sean used to buy it for me. He loved it. It seems you two have things in common,” she drawled cattily and walked quickly away.
But when she made her escape and caught his eye, Julia saw he was watching her and she could tell that he was not happy. She tried to tell herself she didn’t care but she knew that comparing him to Sean was out of line and she felt uncomfortably like a screaming bitch, mostly because she’d acted like one. It was something Monique would say. Perhaps they were playing games but she’d never been one to fight anything but fair.
“When’s this feast being laid out?” Charlie, upon entering, greeted the entire room, making the children giggle. “I’ve heard about these American holidays and I haven’t eaten for a week in preparation.”
And this started a night that was surprisingly and welcomingly full of laughter and teasing. Even Monique slipped only once, confiding in a stage whisper to Charlie, “Ruby. I don’t know what possessed them. Such a common name.”
Before Charlie, who looked as if she’d just eaten something foul, or Julia, who was about ready to jump out of her chair, could reply, Douglas did.
“Obviously, Mother, you’re unaware that it’s a family name on both sides. I believe it’s Julia’s grandmother and also some distant ancestor of Father’s who shared the name.”
Monique’s eyes cut toward her son, glittering quickly with ire but then she shook it off and again ignored the rest of the table in order to act the lavish hostess to an indifferent Oliver and openly beleaguered Charlotte.