Lord Barry's Dream House Read Online Free Page B

lingered on Henry Scott’s face. Edmund wondered at that. What were those two hatching? Or did the chit merely seek a chance to have a romantic word or two with her smitten swain? Edmund decided he did not care for Henry Scott — on general principles, of course.
    As the coach set off along the avenue, Juliana followed behind, Henry close by her.
    “Henry, I must speak to you. Did Uncle George tell you what happened after dinner last evening? We met in the library where Lord Barry informed us that he had studied the original house plans—brought them with him, as a matter of fact—and intends to go through the house with an acute eye, no doubt hunting for changes. What am I to do?” she cried in true distress.
    “He’s a sharp one, make no mistake,” Henry said with a slow nod. “I suspect you will wish that you either had not made changes or at the very least consulted with him over them.”
    “That would have taken precious time, and things are slow enough as it is,” Juliana said with a rueful shake of her head. “Were it later on, it would be far too late to make changes. Now it can be done, and I believe he has the right to make me pay for any work that must be done to make corrections—if they are my fault.”
    “I noticed that he watched you rather carefully just now — before he entered the coach. I don’t know what to do about the changes you have made,” Henry said with a glance at the vehicle that p receded them down the lane.
    “Well, you must try to match your story to mine,” she said with a frown. How complicated this all was. Her main desire was to build a house, and she wanted nothing to interfere with that. At the moment it was her entire life. Or it had been. Lord Barry had changed everything, the dratted man.
    For the remainder of the ride, the two compared notes and decided what they would say on every matter either could think of should one or the other be asked.
    “I fear we have forgotten something,” Juliana said with a worried glance at Henry.
    “You will simply have to do the best you can. You are rather clever. Just twist him around your finger as you do every other male who crosses your path,” Henry said with a resigned air.
    “Do not be absurd,” Juliana said absently, watching the coach draw to a halt before the construction site. “Barbara is the one who captures attention, not me.”
    Henry shook his head as though to say that Juliana ought to pay more attention to those around her. She would not, of course. She had her head in the clouds, or was far too deep in contemplation of a problem with the construction to notice that a man had given her his regard.
    “Here we are, my lord,” Juliana sang out in what she hoped was a gay voice.
    He left the coach and stood, feet planted firmly on his own bit of English soil, to gaze his fill at the front of the house. It was an elegant structure. Solid Portland stone gave the house a feeling of permanency, while the divided stairs winged upward to meet before the central door with an airy grace. This sense was enhanced by the elegant wrought iron balusters just partly installed.
    Four pillars graced the portico before the front entry, their Ionic capitals nicely picked out in the morning sun. Workmen swarmed about the place like so many ants, each intent on his own particular mission, paying only slight heed to the visitors. Lady Juliana was far too familiar to cause the least comment; and strangers came to see the work in progress too often to spark curiosity from the carpenters who chanced to be near the front door.
    The group walked at a leisurely pace toward the house, Juliana darting swift glances at Lord Barry, trying to catch every nuance of change in his expression. The man gave away nothing of his inward feelings; his face was a mask of polite interest.
    “Fine house,” Uncle George commented at long last when the suspense became too much for them all.
    “Indeed,” Lord Barry replied in an undertone.
    He walked