“The crimson is too bold for an unmarried woman. Why your father lets you order those outrageous colors—”
“The crimson it is.” Julia grinned, unable to suppress her excitement. “I feel like being bold.”
Nora grumbled as she helped Julia into the dress. “I should have said the pink made you look like a harlot, so you’d be sure to choose it.”
“You should have. You’re slipping, Nora.”
“It’s that Lord Bellamy. He makes me nervous. They say things about him, you know.”
Oh, Julia knew. They said he was one of the most sought-after lovers on the continent, where he chose to spend most of his time. Men and women alike tried to catch his notice. Only the most remarkable succeeded. And here he was, alone in the country with her. Just the thought was enough to keep her awake all night.
Nora stepped back with a sigh. “You’re readier than any decent woman ought to be.”
“Thank you. Now, go tell Winthrop.”
The maid grumbled her way out of the room. Julia checked her hair in the glass one last time, and followed—only to stop short at Lord Bellamy waiting in the hallway outside her room.
He smiled. “Each time I see you, you are even lovelier than the last.”
A flush heated her cheeks, and she cursed silently. Sophisticated women did not blush. “I was covered in mud before.”
“And you were still more stunning than any woman for miles.”
She accepted his arm with a sideways glance. “Oh? You’d already met every woman for miles by the time you got around to meeting me?”
“Every darling one of them. None compared to you on your worst day.” He didn’t miss a beat.
“You haven’t seen me on my worst day.”
“Then I hope you’ll let me, so that on that day I can reiterate your magnificence.”
That produced another wave of warmth across her skin. Julia was going to enjoy sparring with him almost as much as she enjoyed the way he looked at her, like she was some kind of marvel.
At the top of the stairs, all thoughts of flattering glances vanished. If she held Lord Bellamy as tightly as she usually held the railing, he would think her indelicate. If she didn’t, and she fell, she could very well meet her death at the bottom of the stairs. And then there was a matter of pace. Having already fallen once today, a second time would be tempting the devil too much for even Julia’s reckless spirit. They started down at a much faster rate than the one she set for safe travel up and down steps.
“Perhaps you should go down without me, I think I—” Her fingers clamped down on his arm as she fumbled. Her heart went into a lurch as she pitched forward, but his arm snapped out and hauled her back. “It’s all right. I’m all right. I just lost my footing for a moment.”
“Well, I’m not all right. I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes, and it wasn’t the enjoyable parts.” His hands slid to her shoulders, steadying her.
His touch was intoxicating, changing the reason for her rapid heartbeat. “Perhaps we could go a little slower. If you lose your footing, we’ll both be done for.”
Lord Bellamy’s eyebrow raised imperiously. “A less confident man might take that as an attack on his athleticism.”
“It’s fortunate, then, that you’re very self-assured.” She gave him what she hoped was a teasing smile.
“Very.” There was a slight upward curve at the edge of his mouth. “You’re quite right about taking it slower—I should have been mindful of your ankle. Hold me tightly. None of this timid grip nonsense. If I still have feeling in my hand, you’re being remiss.”
Her smile this time was genuine. “All right.”
“Let’s move to the railing. There’s no one here to see that we’re not gliding gracefully down the center.” His grumbled tones made her laugh.
She leaned into him once she had a firm grip on the railing. “There are only five steps left.”
He cast her a sideways glance. “Those could be the most treacherous ones.”
“I think we’ll manage.”
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, her tension disappeared. Until she realized stairs were just one of many complications. She hadn’t thought about what having him here would mean—only how to keep him from finding out the truth. There were a number of things she navigated every day that could give her away. Even if they didn’t, she would be constantly worrying that they might.
“This was not how I planned the beginning of our evening.”
“Oh?” she asked. “I’m sorry.”
The edge of his mouth tipped up, giving him away. “Oh, yes. You clearly tried to hurl yourself down the stairs. I didn’t realize you were a daredevil.”
If you only knew. Every step, every sniffle, every childhood tumble that left her mother gasping, white as a sheet. Any little thing could have been the end. It still could be, though the threat was much diminished now, and for the most part her family had stopped treating her as if she were on the brink of death.
She shook off her dark thoughts. “I like to live dangerously, Lord Bellamy.”
“I shall do my best to keep up.” His dark-brown eyes shone in the chandelier light as they entered the parlor. “Now, I think we ought to change the subject to what a vision you are in crimson silk.”
The damnable heat returned. “Thank you.”
“Was your visit with the doctor helpful?”
“Not particularly.” She arranged herself on the settee while he poured their drinks. “I’ve suffered no lasting damage, but there is nothing to be done about my ankle except to wait it out.”
“Will you think me a terrible villain if I admit to delight at the idea of being called upon to carry you again?”
No matter how much she enjoyed his touch, it was time to put an end to that particular concept. “Villain? No. Perhaps a bit of a rake, but I should tell you—I don’t much enjoy being carried.”
“Oh.” His face fell. “I’m sorry. I should have asked.”
“I do enjoy your company,” she rushed to assure him. “Very much.”
His smile returned as he took the chair across from her. “How bold of you, Miss Fairchild.”
It was a perfect opening. “Does boldness offend you, Lord Bellamy?”
“Not in the slightest.” He sipped his drink, watching her over the rim of the glass. “If you don’t mind a little boldness in return—what brought you to Berkshire?”
Bother. “Must I have a reason?”
He grinned. “Never. I just wondered. Kent is lovely in spring, and it can’t be very exciting to sit in an empty house waiting on your cousin’s return.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I nearly died, and a handsome stranger followed me home.” She smiled down at her glass. “I can’t imagine a more exciting day.”
As a connoisseur of exciting days, Lord Bellamy had no doubt experienced more outrageous adventures, but this was by far the most diverting day of Julia’s life.
“But you can’t have known that would happen. I certainly didn’t.”
“And you know everything?” she teased. “Fine. I am attempting to escape a scandal. What do you think about that?”
“I think you’re in grave danger. Just being near me is a recipe for scandal.”
She laughed; if he only knew. “It seems we have that in common, then.”
He studied his glass thoughtfully before looking back up at her. A dark lock of hair fell across his brow, and the full curve of his lips stole the entirety of Julia’s attention. “May I sit by you?”
Goose bumps of anticipation raised on her skin. “Do you intend to misbehave?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Then, by all means.” Julia shifted in her seat, corralling her skirts to make room for him to sit deliciously close.
Like something out of a dream, Lord Bellamy gently lifted her hand and placed it palm upward in his own. Her lips parted at his touch. He stroked his finger across the surface of her skin. She shivered. Th
is was not happening. She truly had hit her head, and she was imagining it all.
If it was a dream, then may it never stop.
Julia’s eyelids fell closed as he stroked the length of each finger, each line on her palm. He investigated the bones of her wrist, tracing their outlines. When his thumb snuck under the fabric of her sleeve, circling against the sensitive skin there, she whimpered.
“What foolhardy chaperone left you unattended?” he murmured.
The words barely made sense. None of her imaginings could capture the sensation of actually being touched like this. How could the brushing of hands feel so wicked?
“There’s no point to my having a chaperone,” she managed.
Any moment, the entire charade could come crashing down. Until then, she needed as much of this feeling as he was willing to provide. Enough to last her a lifetime, as it would likely have to.
“Why is that?” He lifted her wrist to his lips and placed a kiss against it.
“What?” The word left her mouth as a breath. To think she might have missed this.
Lord Bellamy hummed his approval. The kisses continued—the pad of her thumb, the tips of her fingers. Each new feeling drew an oh from Julia’s mouth. It was everything she’d ever wanted until, suddenly, it wasn’t enough. He smiled against her skin. “Why is a chaperone pointless?”
“I’m not…” Julia realized what they were talking about. She’d almost given up the game without realizing it. “I do as I please. My reputation was ruined long ago.”
He pressed another kiss against her palm. “And yet, you still blush when I compliment you.”
Julia’s thudding heart skipped a beat. “There are many ways for a reputation to fall to ruin. Not all of them are…”
“Sensual?”
Julia’s breath caught. “Yes.”
“That’s a shame.” He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb against the corner of her lip.
It was truly going to happen. Julia Bishop, society outcast, was going to be kissed by a handsome rogue. Would it feel strange? Would her entire body tingle? Would he attempt to put his tongue in her mouth? If he did, would she like it? She almost wished she hadn’t mined Mia for so many details, because then there would be less to worry about.
His fingertips brushed against her cheek, dragging little sparks of pleasure with them as they slid into the hair at her temple. He leaned forward with a mischievous tilt to his lips.
“My Lady, it’s—” Nora’s voice sounded in time with the opening door.
Lord Bellamy leaned back, putting distance between them as his hand dropped away.
“For God’s sake, Nora!” Julia was going to strangle her. “Were you listening at the door?”
The maid’s attention shifted between them. Her mouth tightened with disapproval. “Seems like maybe I should have been. It’s almost time for dinner.”
“And?”
“And there’s a matter we need to take care of, unless you’d like—”
“No!” The last thing Julia wanted was Nora blurting out Julia’s chamber pot schedule. No doubt she would find a way to throw in a mention of the leg and back massages Julia underwent for mobility out of spite. “All right. I’ll be there in a moment.”
Nora narrowed her eyes at them one last time before turning to go—leaving the door open.
“I swear, she was put on this earth to menace me,” Julia grumbled and stood up. “I should go.”
Lord Bellamy’s grin was crooked and impossibly charming as he stood up with her. “I think you’d better. Your Nora seems a very serious sort of woman. But Miss Fairchild?”
The honey of his tone rolled over her skin, making her want to stretch into the sound. “Yes?”
“Come back soon? I’m looking forward to your company for dinner.”
As was she. Julia left the room, meeting Nora in the hallway and letting herself be ushered into one of the side rooms in Nicholas and Amelia’s house that didn’t seem to have any particular purpose.
Nora shoved the chamber pot into Julia’s hands.
“We could have done this before I left my room.”
“It wasn’t eight o’clock before. The schedule says—”
“I know what the bloody schedule says.” Julia loathed the schedule, but she knew better than to trifle with it. That was how infections happened, and days spent miserable, trapped in bed. Why did reality insist on ruining what would otherwise have been a perfectly romantic evening? She finished the necessary actions and straightened her skirts. “Happy?”
“Rarely.”
Wasn’t that the truth. Julia left the maid behind and went back to the parlor, where her dining partner was finishing his drink. “Shall we go in, Lord Bellamy?”
He rose with a smile, putting her hand on his arm once again. “On one condition. You must stop calling me Lord Bellamy. It’s only fitting that you use my given name if we’re to be partners in danger.”
Jasper. Just thinking it sent a delicious shiver through her. She’d whispered it a thousand times alone in her room before they’d met, but now she had the right to say it where he could hear it.
“And you must call me—” Damn.
“Juniper.” He rolled it from his mouth with poetry, but it fell like a rock to Julia’s ears.
Julia. She wanted to shout it to the frescoed ceiling. She wanted to hear her name on his lips. “I’ve never liked my name very much.”
“What would you like me to call you?”
Darling. Dearest. My love. “I don’t know.”
“Then I will endeavor to find something that suits you. How do you feel about Chaucer’s Thisbe?”
Julia could not have kept the grimace from her face if her life had depended upon it.
“What’s wrong with Thisbe?” Jasper asked, as if it was a legitimate question.
“Aside from everything?” She gestured her frustration with the hand that wasn’t resting on the crook of his elbow. “She hides while Pyramus stabs himself in the chest. It’s ludicrous.”
“He thought she was dead—he was overcome with grief.”
“He was an idiot. There was no body. I’d like to think the sort of man I’d fall in love with would do a little more investigating before deciding to end it all.”
Jasper snickered. “All right. No Thisbe.”
“What about Victoria?” Julia asked.
It was Jasper’s turn to grimace.
She gasped. “Victoria and Albert have a love for the ages.”
If he had unkind opinions toward the royal couple, Julia might have to rethink their entire association. She was a devoted follower of all things Victoria.
Jasper lifted his hands in a defensive gesture. “It would just be a little awkward, since Victoria is a relative of mine.”
“You and Queen Victoria.”
“Her father and my mother were cousins.”
Julia stopped abruptly.
The kinship she felt to the queen could not be understated. Julia and Victoria were only a year apart in age, and they’d both grown up in isolation. Not to mention that Julia was obviously meant to be a royal. She’d spent every spare minute absorbing as much gossip on Victoria and Albert as she could. The idea that she was in a full-fledged flirt with one of Victoria’s family members…
“You’re in line for the English throne.” It was too much to process.
“I mean, it’s not a short line and I’m hardly at the front.” Jasper winked at her. “And I’m surprised to hear you chose Victoria as your idol. She’s very reserved.”
“She’s the queen.” Julia shook her head. The entire situation was beyond belief. Julia Bishop, outcast, was having an unchaperoned adventure with Queen Victoria’s handsome cousin. It couldn’t be more of a dream come true unless Julia suddenly became the regent herself.
“I’m far more interested in you than I am in talking about my cousin.”
Julia was wrong. Having Jasper DeVere declare her more intriguing than the monarch was a dre
am come true—and if there was any justice in the world, she would never wake up.
Chapter Three
Jasper pulled open the door, but stopped at the tug of Miss Fairchild’s hand on his elbow.
“This isn’t the dining room.”
“I know. Since it’s just the two of us, I thought we might try something less formal.”
Juniper took in the pillows and covered dishes arrayed in front of the fireplace in the small library. Tiny creases formed between her eyebrows.
“You don’t like it. Not to worry, I’ll just have the footmen—”
“It’s fine.” She smiled. “It’s lovely, actually. I was just surprised.”
“You’re certain? It’s really no trouble to move our meal somewhere else.” There was nothing romantic about a fireside picnic if she was only agreeing to it out of politeness.
“Perfectly. Where would you like me?”
Jasper paused, and the corner of his mouth quirked up as he rejected a few of the more vulgar answers that sprang to mind.
She saw it, and blushed.
He waived in the direction of the cushions by the fire as he poured them both wine. “Just there would be lovely, Cleopatra.”
Her laughter rang out. “Are you Antony or Caesar?”
“Antony, certainly.”
“So it’s another double suicide, then.” She shook her head as he handed over the glass. “I’m beginning to think you have a very dismal outlook on love, Antony.”
Jasper frowned, lowering himself to the floor next to her. Perhaps it was recent events coloring his suggestions, but he wasn’t about to say so and ruin the lovely mood building between them. “I can’t help if the world’s famous love stories usually end in tragedy.”
Like his parents.
“But why? Why couldn’t Cleopatra have demonstrated her love by escaping into hiding and plotting to avenge Antony’s death? By going on to live and love again, as anyone who cared for her would wish?” Juniper’s animated gestures were delightful. Wisps of hair escaped her pins with the movements, and her eyes lit with intelligence and challenge. “Why should one great tragedy be the end of everything?”
A Scandal by Any Other Name Page 3