While Octavia was engaged, Palafox guided his mount alongside Julia’s. He had only to murmur a few words in her ear, and the assignation was made.
Julia flashed him a look of surprise, then gave him a coy little smile.
Later that afternoon, when the party had returned to the house, and Octavia had been obliged to go to her maid for repairs, Julia went to meet Palafox, her heart pounding with excitement. As instructed, she had not washed or changed her clothes. She felt quite dirty and unsafe and completely grown-up. That her first lover should be her eldest sister’s betrothed could only add to the fun.
For his first rendezvous with Lady Camford, Palafox had chosen the Porcelain Room. To gawking summer tourists, this room was always a place of great interest, and the housekeeper took great pride in showing off some of Warwick’s most priceless treasures, but no one else ever visited the place as far as Palafox could tell. Meant to be a gallery, it offered few places to sit; just a few backless sofas covered in sheets of thick, brown holland. Even the chandelier had been wrapped for the winter, and all the candles had been removed from the sconces. A rose window of stained glass offered the only light.
He pounced on Julia the moment she entered the long, narrow room. “Alone at last,” he murmured.
Julia coyly eluded his grasp. “Did you want to be alone with me, Charles?” she asked innocently. Casting him a sidelong glance, she let her carefully darkened lashes sweep across her cheekbones. The effect was almost lost in the shadowy room.
“Yes, very much,” he answered softly. “For one thing, we need not tell such shocking lies to each other when we are alone.” Reaching about her person, he found her hand and guided her to one of the backless sofas. Seating himself beside her, he leaned over her and began an exhaustive search for her other hand.
Excited and confused by his attentions, Julia did not resist, even when she felt his hand skim over her breast. “Lies, Charles?” she said, in what she hoped was the tone of a sophisticated woman of the world. “What can you mean?”
“You know very well, minx,” he answered, almost in a growl. “I need not pretend to be happy about my fate, and you…you can tell me how you really feel about that dunderheaded husband of yours.”
Julia choked on a sob. “Oh, Charles!” she said wretchedly. “It’s just as you warned me it would be! I shall need a lover, after all.”
“My poor Julia!” he murmured, gathering her into his arms. “So soon?”
As he spoke, his nimble fingers searched along her back for the fastenings of her gown. After a moment, he recalled that she was still wearing her riding habit, and that the fastenings were in the front.
“I hate him!” she sobbed brokenly, burying her face in his shirt.
“He doesn’t deserve you,” Palafox murmured, easing her away from him until she was half reclining on the length of the sofa. “Remember, my love, he’s been a sailor his whole life. The only women he’s ever known have been dockside whores.”
“And the duchess, of course,” Julia said, with an angry laugh. “He never thinks of anything but her! You should have seen him when he found out she was trapped in Paris at Bonaparte’s return. He scoured the newspapers for any mention of her. He hired people to go and smuggle her out, but they just took his money and laughed behind his back. If it had been me, he wouldn’t have cared three straws, but he is obsessed with her.”
Palafox made all the appropriate sympathetic sounds, all the while hunting for buttons.
“He spent all morning with her,” Julia whined. “I’m not supposed to know anything about it, of course. Why is everyone so in love with her? She is old! And I never saw anything so extraordinary in her looks. Her eyes are rather pretty, I suppose, but her hair is plain brown!”
He lifted her chin with one finger. “Well, I am not in love with her,” he murmured. With his other hand, he loosened the lace jabot at her neck. “I could have had her a hundred times, but she is not to my taste. I prefer lamb to mutton.”
“Oh, Charles!” Julia cried happily. “Do you really like me better?”
“My darling girl, I was up all night thinking of you,” he told her. As she lay unresisting, he slowly opened her jacket.
“Poor Charles,” she purred. “If your horrid old aunt would just give you your money now, you wouldn’t have to marry Octavia at all!”
“Poor Julia,” he answered smoothly, opening the front of her white lawn shirt. In the reclining position, her breasts mounded over the tops of her stays. “To be married to such a simpleton. If I were rich, I could take you away from Nicky.”
Her eyes sparkled with delight. “Elope? Oh, Charles! Octavia would simply die!”
He sighed, one finger trailing down to the tiny square buckle at her waist. “Alas, I am not rich—not yet. But there’s no reason we can’t console each other. Hmmm?” Bending his head, he kissed her breasts, first one, then the other, very lightly.
“Mmmm,” Julia breathed. “I should like to see the look on Octavia’s face!” she giggled. “If she could only see us now. I stole Nicky from her, you know, and now I’m stealing you! What a fine joke!”
Charles frowned slightly as he tried to free her breasts from her corset. “Well, it is a fine joke,” he said. “But, for now, I’m afraid it must remain a private joke. If Octavia were to call off the wedding, I’d be well and truly in the suds.”
She gasped as he pinched one of her nipples between his index finger and thumb. “Do you understand me, Julia?”
She pouted. “I daresay Camford will make me a nice settlement in the divorce.”
Palafox drew away from her abruptly. “Divorce!”
“Of course, silly,” she told him, puzzled. “If you and I are to be married, I must first get a divorce. Since it is all his fault, he will have to pay.” Sitting up, she shrugged out of her jacket and twined her arms around him. “How much do you mean to get from your aunt?” she asked, nibbling his ear.
“Fifty thousand, I should think.”
Julia’s face fell. “Nicky will never give me as much as that!” she said bitterly. “He is the worse pinchpenny miser that ever lived. I should be lucky to get ten thousand pounds from him! No, you will just have to marry Octavia, my love.” Lying back, she held out her arms to him.
Charles relaxed visibly. “I fear so,” he sadly agreed, returning to the business of undressing her. “We shall have to keep our love a great secret until after I have secured my fortune. Then there will be nothing Octavia can do.”
Julia gurgled with laughter. “How I shall laugh! But we must be very careful, you know. She spies on me and reports to Mama! She’s interviewed all the servants. I wouldn’t put it past her to examine my sheets in the morning.”
Palafox was startled. “Good God! Why? Does she suspect me?”
“Oh, no,” Julia assured him. “She and Mama are hounding me to give Camford an heir. They made it their business to find out that Nicky and I sleep in separate rooms. I have been looking for a way to punish them for their meddling. This is perfect.”
Palafox snickered. “Camford does not sleep with you?”
“I will tell you a secret, Charles,” Julia said earnestly, clasping his hand to her breast. “I am still a virgin. And when I give myself to you, it will be my first time. You will be gentle with me, won’t you?”
Palafox laughed softly.
“To be sure I will,” he said. He began kissing her mouth, one hand roaming over her upper body, while the other hand found its way beneath the hem of her skirt. Tugging at her stays, he succeeded in freeing her breasts, attacking them immediately with his mouth. In the grip of sensations she had never before experienced, Julia hardly knew what he was doing until she felt his hand at the opening of her drawers.
To his annoyance, she squirmed out of reach. “What are you doing?” she cried, covering her breasts with her arms.
“What do you think I’m doing?” he snapped. Then, softening his voice, he said, “Let me make you happy, darling.”
>
“Not here,” she protested.
“Yes, here,” he murmured huskily, his hand traveling up her skirts again. “Now. I cannot wait to taste you.”
“Really?” she said, faltering.
Leaning forward, he looked her in the eyes as he forced his hand between her tightly closed legs. She did not resist much.
“Do you—do you love me, Charles?” she asked tremulously.
“I adore you,” he said extravagantly. “Now open your legs like a good girl.”
Enthralled by his male power, Julia obeyed. With just the tip of his finger, Palafox gave her pleasure beyond anything she could imagine. She actually swooned, coming to just in time to feel him drive the length of his member into her body. Julia screamed in pain.
“Bloody hell!” Palafox growled, withdrawing. “You really are a virgin.”
Julia blinked back tears. She felt betrayed, betrayed by the deep pain, and betrayed by the fact that he had not believed her. “I told you I was,” she whimpered. “I told you to be gentle.”
For the next few moments, Palafox was truly remorseful. He comforted Julia as best he could, holding her in his arms and murmuring endearments. “I’m so sorry, my love. I should not have doubted you. But it is almost incredible that any man could resist you.”
Clinging to him, Julia began to sob. The pain in her loins was virtually gone, but the pain of her husband’s indifference to her never seemed to go away. “He does not want me. The only woman he cares about is her. The duchess.”
“Lord, your husband is a fool!” Charles said angrily. “Only a fool would neglect a little beauty like you. He has neglected you shamefully.”
“He has neglected me,” Julia moaned. “He never loved me. He never even gave me a chance. Oh, Charles! If only you were the Earl of Camford! How happy I would be!”
Pushing her face against his, she kissed him wildly, tears streaming down her face.
The needs of the moment overruled any guilt Palafox may have felt in taking advantage of the neglected wife. Julia offered her body and he took it. Afterward, he gave her his handkerchief. “You must go to your maid now,” he told her as he put his own clothing to rights. “She will be waiting to dress you for dinner. Tidy yourself up,” he added as he left the room. “You can’t go walking the halls looking like that.”
He did not mean to be unkind, but Julia felt his words were cold and curt. It stung to be left alone so abruptly. He hadn’t even kissed her good-bye properly. With stiff, trembling fingers she dressed herself. He had given her pleasure, to be sure, but the pleasure had not lingered. She had imagined herself wrapped in the mantle of Charles’s love, but that comfort had been ripped away at his departure. There was not even the satisfaction of revenge; Octavia did not know she was betrayed. As for Camford, he would not care, even if he did know.
All that remained of the encounter was cold shame. She was now an adulteress.
Julia finished dressing and fled the room as if it were the scene of a horrible crime. She ran to the safety of her room, hoping for consolation from her maid.
Instead, the Duchess of Warwick was there, waiting for her.
Already dressed for dinner in a black silk gown, Emma was seated in the window seat leafing through one of Julia’s magazines. The sight of her sent Julia into a rage. Defiance replaced all feelings of guilt.
Crossing the room, she tore the magazine from Emma’s hands and threw it to the floor. “What are you doing in my room? Am I to have no privacy whatsoever?”
Emma was taken aback by Julia’s violence, but she said calmly, “Forgive me, Julia. I have been looking for you everywhere. I knew you must return to your room to dress for dinner. I wanted to speak with you privately.”
Julia regained control of herself. She knew that her hair and dress were disheveled, and she knew that the duchess had noticed. Turning on her heel, she strode to her dressing table. Seating herself, she reached for her hairbrush, a pretty ivory-handled object that had been a wedding gift from her mother. “Really?” she said coolly. “What about?”
“I’ve spoken to your mother,” Emma said quietly. “She told me you are thinking of leaving your husband.”
Julia half turned in her seat, her eyes glittering with hatred. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like it if Nicky and I were divorced. Then you could have him all to yourself!”
“No,” Emma said firmly. “Absolutely not. I assure you, any feelings I may have had for your husband vanished in a puff of smoke when I learned how he’s been treating you. I am on your side, Julia. I would like to help you.”
“You would like to help yourself to my husband!” Julia accused her.
Emma sighed. “No, Julia. A thousand times, no.”
“How he has been treating me,” Julia muttered, turning away. She laughed bitterly, pulling her hairbrush through her hair with rough, jerky movements. “You know perfectly well he’s never touched me. I’m sure it was all your doing. You would not marry him yourself, but you could not bear to think of him touching his own wife. Did you make him promise to be faithful to you? Is that it?”
Emma sat stunned. “What?” she said faintly. “What are you saying, Julia?”
“He’s never touched me,” Julia hissed. “My marriage has never been consummated, and it’s all because of you! How dare you sit there telling me you’re on my side!”
Emma was on her feet. “What do you mean he’s never touched you?” she cried in disbelief. “You told your mother he never let you alone! You described a living nightmare!”
“What was I supposed to tell her?” Julia said sullenly. “That my husband doesn’t want me? That he is in love with another woman? A woman ten years older than he?”
Emma shook her head. “That is not true.”
“You were with him all morning, ma’am! Do you deny it?”
“There is nothing going on between your husband and me, Julia,” Emma said firmly. “That was finished long before he married you. I am shocked—shocked—to hear that your marriage has not been consummated.”
“Shocked, and saddened, I am sure,” Julia said sarcastically. “Pardon me, ma’am, if I don’t believe a word you say! Now, if you don’t mind, I should like to dress for dinner.”
“Yes, of course,” Emma said mechanically. “I beg your pardon for the intrusion.”
Julia loudly summoned her maid, and Emma hastily left the room. Reeling from the unpleasant scene with Julia, she went back to her sitting room. She sat down at the pianoforte and began fingering the keys for relief, her thoughts racing.
“There you are,” Colin said, breezing in. “I heard your noise. Shall we go down together? What do you think of my cravat this evening? My man is trying something new.”
Emma closed the instrument with a bang. Within moments, she had poured out the whole story to her twin brother.
Colin was obliged to sit down. “Not consummated?” he repeated in astonishment. “Well, there is one bright feature, at least. They will require no divorce. They can simply have the marriage annulled.”
“Julia blames me. She thinks Nicholas is in love with me, that he loves me still. Do you think it might be true?” Emma asked him quietly. “He told me he loved me last year, of course, but I never took him seriously! But if he’s been in love with me all this time—I mean, really in love with me! How he must be suffering.”
“And how you long to relieve his suffering,” Colin drawled.
“But I cannot,” Emma whispered. “Even if the marriage were to be annulled, I—I could not marry him.”
“Why not?”
“I am as good as thirty-one,” she explained. “He is twenty-one. When I am forty, he’ll be thirty. And when he is forty, I shall be—”
“Don’t say it! I forbid you.”
“And, of course I have my children to think about,” she said.
“They need a father figure, don’t they?” Colin said.
“No,” said Emma. “They would hate it. At my age, a w
oman should live for her children, shouldn’t she?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Colin agreed. “You are Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi. You cannot marry again. You should kill yourself for even thinking of it.”
“I am not thinking of it,” Emma said firmly. “Oh, Colin! How could he let me believe that he’d brutalized Julia? The things I said to him—!”
“Did he admit it?”
“He didn’t deny it.”
“But that’s not the same thing,” said Colin. “Aunt Harriet taught me that.”
“But why would he let me go on thinking it? Why didn’t he tell me the truth?”
Colin pronounced himself equally bewildered. “You’ll have to ask him for an explanation. I never let people think the worst of me.”
Emma shook her head. “I don’t think I should talk to him. It’s too dangerous.”
“Dangerous for whom? You or him? Are you in love with him, Emma?”
“Of course not.” Emma rose from the pianoforte. “I don’t know. In any case, it doesn’t matter. Even if I loved him, I could not marry him. It would be cruel to excite his expectations.”
“It would be cruel to let him think you do not care for him,” said Colin.
“I never said I cared for him,” she said sharply. “I—I am not indifferent to him, but that is not the same thing, you know. It’s hopeless. Oh, why cannot he be a normal, selfish, heartless, promiscuous man?”
“Ah,” said Colin, “but, then you would be indifferent to him.”
Emma frowned at him. “I think your cravat looks ridiculously complicated,” she said petulantly. “It looks like it took you all afternoon.”
“Thank you,” he said, pleased. “I like it, too.”
At dinner, Charles Palafox was seated to Emma’s immediate right. The conversation turned on the planned visit to Wingate. “The duke has proposed that we make the excursion on Sunday, the seventeenth. Would that be convenient for your grace? If not, I fear it will have to be postponed until after Christmas Week.”
Emma could think of no excuse, and on the day after the hunt took place, a large party, comprising three vehicles, set off for Wingate at an early hour. Mr. Palafox gallantly drove his fiancée and her mother in his smart black-lacquered phaeton. Colin drove his nephew Grey in his curricle. Princess Elke, Julia, and Augusta Fitzroy were to go on horseback with the duke and Major von Schroeder. Emma and Flavia Fitzroy were just settling into the duchess’s barouche, when Nicholas appeared.
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