* * *
J.T. buried himself in his work. He felt as if he were fighting for his life, that he was the one drowning—but there was no one to save him. She was getting under his skin like no one ever had before. Every day she changed dramatically. She laughed; she danced; she made jokes. He had shown her plans for the ships and she had understood everything he told her. She was smart and sexy and funny. And she was not his. He tried to remember that but then he would make a fool of himself when another man so much as looked at her.
He just wanted to stay away from her and try to get her out of his mind, so he stayed at work and slept on the ratty couch outside the officers’ mess. But it didn’t help much. He dreamed about her.
As if he didn’t have enough trouble in life, he received a telegram saying his mother was coming to visi
t. J.T. knew Amanda Montgomery had hundreds of friends, and no doubt she had heard of her son’s marriage from one of them. It was not going to be pleasant because he knew she was going to tell her son what she thought of his marrying and not telling his family.
“Women!” J.T. muttered. He wished he could row out to an island and spend some time alone. He groaned at that thought when he remembered his last time “alone” on an island.
He braced himself before he went to see Aria to tell her about his mother. Aria was wearing a sundress with little bows on her shoulders, her neck and arms bare, and she was as delicious looking as a peach. He tried to explain to her that he would like her to not request his mother to kiss her royal hand, but Aria stuck her nose in the air in that way that only she could do, and it made him so mad he ended up slamming from the house.
* * *
Aria hadn’t counted on two whole days of J.T.’s absence. He didn’t come home at all that first night and the next night he stayed less than an hour—only long enough to lecture her.
“My mother sent me a telegram and she’ll be here Saturday. She’ll come to the house first, then the three of us will attend the Commander’s Ball. Do you have anything proper to wear? Do you know how to ballroom-dance? Do you know the proper forms of address to navy officers?”
Aria was too astonished to answer. She was a royal princess and he was treating her as if she had just come in from the fields. “I believe I can manage to not disgrace myself,” she murmured. But her sarcasm didn’t reach him.
He went on to tell her about his mother, this woman who was a cross between Attila the Hun and Florence Nightingale. She was a Daughter of the American Revolution and a Daughter of the Mayflower.
“And she married a Montgomery,” J.T. said as if that explained everything else.
“Perhaps we should send her my family tree for approval. I am descended from every royal house in Europe thanks to the English Queen Victoria. Or do foreign kings not matter when pitted against your American heroines?”
J.T. glared at her then left the house.
He came back the next morning to change clothes, barely said anything to her except to remind her that his mother was arriving and he wanted the house spotlessly clean, then left for work.
Dolly came over at one o’clock, just after Mrs. Humphreys left. “What’s going on?” she asked by way of greeting.
Aria had always lived surrounded by servants and she knew that the only people in whom one could confide were blood relatives. “I was about to have luncheon. Will you join me?”
“I’m not interested in food. Floyd told Gail who told Bill that J.T. was out all night last night. You two have a fight?”
“There is a lovely shrimp salad and cold tomatoes.”
“Honey,” Dolly said, putting her hands on Aria’s shoulders. “I know everything. I know you’re a princess and I know you want to get back to your country and I know how this marriage came about. But I also know something bad has happened, and I want you to talk to me.”
Perhaps Aria was more American than she thought. In the last few days she had sat by quietly while the other women talked and revealed the most intimate secrets about themselves.
To Aria’s disbelief, she burst into tears. Dolly’s arms about her felt good and Dolly led her to the couch.
After Aria had regained some control, Dolly urged her to talk.
“He…he made love to me.” Aria sniffed, part of her mind not believing what she was revealing. Royalty could never trust anyone not royal, as outsiders tended to write books—one couldn’t even trust the aristocracy. “But then he hated me. I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?”
“Absolutely nothing. Bill and I fought about it but he finally told me some of what J.T. said. Who is Count Julie?”
“That is Lieutenant Montgomery’s name for the man I was engaged to marry.” She blew her nose.
“Did you know J.T. thinks you’re still going to marry this count?”
Aria didn’t answer.
Dolly leaned forward. “Why does J.T. think that?”