For as long as he could remember, Ben’s home had always been a place of solace for Shep. He hoped it would be that way again, and that the ghosts of his past would not haunt him too badly here. Of course, he realized as he stepped into the large library later that afternoon that there were not ghosts here, but there were other worries, in the form of a woman with dark hair, deep chocolate eyes, and the ability to raise a single eyebrow proactively. Suddenly, he felt the presence of someone else in the room. It was actually her low laugh he heard as he walked past the divan to see what she was doing on the floor behind it.
“And did you know, Georgie, a woman wrote this.” Julia giggled, a sound Shep had rarely heard from her lips, girlish and carefree, and opened and closed the book over and over to keep the baby’s attention. Once she had giggled in Shep’s arms, her head thrown back in happiness as he pressed a kiss to the underside of her jaw, but that was a lifetime ago. Her voice brought him back to the present. “Yes, a woman. Her name is Jane Austen and she is brilliant. So do not ever forget you heard it here first, from Aunt Julia, women can do all sorts of things. Why, just look at your mama! She’s the strongest woman I have ever met…” She stopped abruptly when she realized Shep was watching her.
“I did not realize we had an audience, George,” she murmured near the baby’s ear, a sly smile on her lips, even as her eyes hardened at the sight of Shep.
“That much is clear,” he replied, surprising her by sinking to the floor near the two of them while the baby looked at him. She would not allow him to see her as anything other than perfectly calm. She did not want him to see her surprised, and she did not want him to see her sweet behavior toward her nephew.
Still, there was the baby to think of, and she could not bear to be cold in his presence. After all, he had done nothing but bring joy to Julia’s life. Though, she could not say the same for the man sitting across from her. “Can you say hello, George?” Julia asked the baby. Oh, she did not like this. She did not like it one bit. It was much too intimate, the two of them on the floor with a baby and books between them. It was too close to the dream she had hoped for as a young girl. But she had to let out a delighted laugh when George opened and closed his fist, greeting Shep.
She scooped him into her arms and held him close, her cheeks to his, before she pressed her lips to the top of his head. “Oh, George. You are just the smartest there ever was.”
“Aren’t you worried about your dress?” Shep drawled, catching her in her earlier lie.
“There was mud on it anyway from my walk this morning.” This, of course, was another lie. It came to her quickly and thank goodness that at least her quick wit had not deserted her or she would never survive his presence at Pritchford Place. She had to keep her inner self from being laid bare for Shep to see and dissect. She knew from experience he would not be gentle with her.
On his knees, Shep moved closer to her and the baby, and his fingers brushed the hem of her muslin gown for a brief instant. “I don’t see any mud.” She raised an eyebrow at him and just to annoy her, he took an entire handful of her skirt in his hand.
She snatched her skirts away from him. “Well, perhaps you are in need of spectacles.” She kept her voice as calm as could be for George’s sake, since he was curled sweetly in her arms, on the verge of sleep, his cheek against her breast. She needed to change the subject and remove herself from this situation. “Someone needs a nap.”
“I hope you are not suggesting I need one,” Shep replied with a sly grin.
She could not believe that he would consider flirting with her after everything. She wondered if he was even aware he was doing it. Though she never enjoyed giving Shep, of all people, the benefit of the doubt, they had flirted with one another for years before realizing it was more than simple teasing. Maybe he did not see it. Still, it made her angry. “Of course not. A nap could never improve your disposition,” she snapped, rocking George slightly as the baby’s eyes drooped.
“Ah. There is the Jules I know.” He laughed unkindly. Whenever she made a biting comment, she proved he had made the right choice years ago. At least, that was what he told himself. But if that were true, why did he long to hear her quick retorts? “You almost had me fooled with the baby and how sweet you are with him. But there she is, the Ice Queen I am aquatinted with.”
“You know I hate it when you call me that.” She wanted to storm off, but the baby kept her in place. How dare he accuse her of being cold or unfeeling when he was the very source of her most painful memories!
“Why?” he asked, drawing the word out, his green eyes twinkling. “Because it is true? Or because I am one of the only ones who has ever seen you thawed out?” He instantly regretted the barb, for reminding them both of a history they worked hard to forget, but like most of their fights, once it started there was little to be done. The momentum was impossible to stop, usually causing anyone listening to throw up their arms in defeat. But now, except for George, they were alone, hidden behind the divan, sitting awfully close together. Shep opened his mouth to apologize but she spoke before he could.
“It should not matter to you what or who I am.” She arched an eyebrow, which made him want to both quit the room and grab her in his arms to see if he could still make her moan as he kissed her. “You should not think of me at all. You have a wife.” Her hushed whisper stopped abruptly. It was as if ice water had been poured on both their heads. Now, they both had something to apologize for. And wasn’t this how all of their battles usually ended, the both of them going one step too far?
“No, I do not,” he corrected sadly. When he looked at Julia, she wished she could take him in her arms and soothe him along with George. His pain had always affected her deeply. When his brother died, she had cried for him in the privacy of her own room for nights on end. “She is dead, for nearly a year now. The baby too.”
“Oh, Shep,” Julia murmured, reaching for his hand. And this was the part he always chose to ignore, the fact that she was not an ice queen at all, but someone who could not ignore another’s pain, especially someone she cared for. She was someone whose touch alone had sparks flying off his hand.
He pulled away. He did not want to be cared for. He did not want her pity. He did not want the sparks of desire she brought with her. He wanted the distraction of her barbed retorts. “Stop it.” He stared at her and at the baby and it was all too much for him. She had always been beautiful, too beautiful. “If I wanted sympathy, you would be the last person I would look toward.” He breathed heavily for a moment, aware that the words he had just spoken were a lie and had always been a lie. He wondered if she would call him on it. He waited to see what she would say, something biting and cold he hoped, but she only looked at him, brown eyes full of compassion, her body rocking slightly with the baby in her arms.
He had to leave and leave quickly. He could not bear the expression on her face, which was nothing like the mask she had worn in front of him since everything had gone terribly wrong between them. Her eyes were not icy, but incredibly warm. If he allowed it, he could lose himself in them.
When he stood and left, Julia did not attempt to follow him. She only dropped her forehead to George’s blond head and sighed deeply. She hated that she hurt for him, but she also knew there was nothing she could do for him. Apparently, his feelings, despite all her best efforts, still mattered to her. She would have to be more careful from now on. She could not afford to let her mask slip again.
She was the Ice Queen, after all.
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He hated the way she still had the
ability to make his heart pound. …
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CHAPTER THREE
We Will Never Know
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Julia was tired at breakfast the next day, through no fault but her own. She had fallen asleep reading his lette
rs, trying to remember the man he had been, reconciling him to the man he appeared to be now. She had known it was a lost cause, a mystery impossible to solve. He was not worth a thought from her. And yet, she could not help it. When she awakened, she still held one of the many letters in her grasp.
10 September1816 Oxford
Dear Lady Julia,
Please tell me the reason you were so absent from Pritchford Place this summer has nothing to do with me or what happened last summer, specifically the kiss we shared. I would hate to think my thoughtless actions altered or affected your plans. I know how much you love the place, and London is not at all pleasant in July. I do not know what I would do if my actions last summer, in the midst of grief, caused you pain.
I must admit now, as I write this, at my desk where I can be a bit cowardly with this quill and paper, where I do not have to look into your rather intimidating eyes, that I have thought about that kiss so often since we parted.
I know I wrote to you soon after that we should forget it, for the sake of my friendship with Ben, even for the sake of my friendship with you…though we have not always been friendly with one another. But for that one moment when I held you in my arms, and our lips brushed, I felt as if the world tilted on its axis and it has not righted itself since.
If the kiss should be forgotten, then why have I been unable to forget it?
The few times I did see you this summer, you dismissed me without thought. You made it clear you had plenty of sweethearts who you exchange letters with. You must admit that over the years, you and I have written, if not regularly, then at least often. Do you consider me one of those sweethearts? Would you? Could you? I wonder…
Do you consider me at all?
If I get up the courage to send you this letter, I shall be incredibly surprised. I am not used to being so open with my feelings and frankly, you do not make it easy. I imagine you reading this letter with your eyebrow arched high, a twisted smile of cynicism on your lips, and I lose heart. But then I think, what if she avoided me this summer because she has not heard such words from me? What if she thinks of me as I think of her?
What if?
Yours Sincerely,
Shep
“You do not look very merry this morning.”
Julia startled a bit at the sound of Shep’s voice, still not used to hearing it regularly. She had been thinking about the letter from the night before and the question he had ended with, trying desperately to distract herself from the memory of her last talk with her mother, which included more than a little pressure to marry a man she did not have any affection for, let alone love. If she had to choose between evils, she would rather think about her heartbreak than the man her mother had picked for her.
The man in question was the Marquis of Pomfrey. He was much older than Julia would have liked and worse, he had made it clear that he would very much look forward to a wedding night with her, and in a most ungentlemanly way. The idea of being touched by such a man made her want to bathe immediately. She cringed at the thought.
For these reasons, she did not know how to respond to Shep. Nor did she have energy for another round of games between them. “I am just lost in my thoughts.”
“So many dresses to buy and so many men to devour?” Shep snorted as he sat beside her.
That he could dismiss her feelings so easily infuriated her. She should have let his question go, since it was obvious he was trying to bait her. She should have been the Ice Queen he expected her to be. But she could not, not when her mother was trying to marry her off to some perverted old man.
“You have no idea what my life is like,” she snapped, touching a hand to the back of her neck with irritation. Her gesture did not hold any of the gracefulness he was used to seeing in her. She jerked her hand back to her lap.
“Oh, do give me a lecture. I’ve always enjoyed those from you,” he replied with feigned amusement in his eyes. He knew her well enough to know that his earlier question had been a mistake, that something was actually wrong. But he also knew he would be the last person she would open up to. He could not blame her for that, not after the way he had treated her.
“It is the lecture I have been given that I am thinking of, you ham-fisted man!” Her voice sounded sadder than she’d ever meant to show him. “I am to marry the Marquis of Pomfrey. At least according to both Mama and the Marquis.”
“That old man?” Shep asked, shocked. He sat back in his chair. Truly, he had avoided imagining Julia married to anyone over the years. Intellectually, he knew it would happen at some point, but it had still been a great relief that he had not been called upon to attend her wedding yet. He did not know how he would handle it, only that he would not handle it very well.
“Stop gloating,” she scowled. “It’s very unbecoming.” She took a breath, even as he had to glance away at the dreamy look that came into her eyes as she stared off, unfocused. It made his chest ache. “Sometimes I just wonder what it might be like to be free, to love a man, and to be loved by him and… Stop laughing at me.”
“I am not laughing at you,” he insisted. He shifted in his chair, still uncomfortable at the thought that Julia would marry. “It is just that I am sure that in your mind, I am free. I have a title, though my brother died in order for me to have it. I married a woman I grew to love, although she died before we could build a life together.” He paused before looking at her, waiting for her to raise her eyes to his. When she did, he knew both of their expressions were haunted. “Life is rarely fair.”
“How dare you?” she asked, leaning nearer to him. It had nothing to do with affection and everything to do with the anger that brewed inside of her. “How dare you lecture me on the unfairness of life when it is just us two here? When there is no one here to pretend for?”
“Jules,” he whispered, realizing his mistake, reaching for her hand, which she snatched away.
“You are not to touch me, do you understand?” she whispered, seething, as her eyes burned into his. “You lost all privileges of touching me a long time ago. And do not even dare to say my name like that…like you used to…as if…as if you have any right at all.”
“Julia,” he repeated. This time he did not reach for her, but his fingers itched.
“I do not want to speak of this anymore.” She pressed a hand to her brow. “I do not know why I would even confide in you over my possible marriage.”
As they stared at one another, they were both aware they were having two conversations at once. The past was mixing with the present. Their shared history was blending into the possible future she might share with the marquis.
He persisted as his throat burned. “We would never have made each other happy. You have to know that. I am sure at one point my parents did love each other, but in the end, all that was left was arguing. You and I… We would have never made one another happy.” It was difficult to be around Julia. She made him feel as if everything else in his life had been drawn in pastel colors and she was a vibrant oil painting.
She stared at him for a moment longer. She thought of the letter she had woken up holding. What if, he had asked. What if? How stupid she had been to believe he had meant what he had written. She stood abruptly, pushing her chair back so quickly that it toppled over. Before he could stand along with her, as decorum demanded, she had leaned over, her cheek nearly touching his, her lips almost brushing his ear. He had to stop himself from shivering with pleasure at her near touch.
He held his breath. She could have been a lover whispering a secret. What was she about? What would she say?
“Well, we will never know, will we?” she hissed angrily before stalking out of the room without glancing back at him.
He let out a long breath. He hated the way she still had the ability to make his heart pound. For once, he was almost certain they were both thinking the same thing.
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“You love her. And you need to know.” …
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CHAPTER FOUR
A Ride and a Reward
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Ben had suggested that he and Shep take the horses out for a nice run, since he had a little time to himself away from estate business, which was rare for him. Once they were a good distance away from the estate, they slowed their horses to turn and look at it. The massive house was done in the French style, very old, but still majestic, set on a hill. Throughout Shep’s life, the sight had been the most welcoming thing in the world. It meant, that at least for a few months, he would have peace and even fun. It meant he would be safe.
“My father spent his life dedicated to it,” Ben said, gesturing toward his home. “I never thought I would do the same.”
“But you seem happy,” Shep noted. They had known one another a long time. “And you know my feelings about the place. I know it is not what you expected to do, but you genuinely seem more settled and happy than I have ever seen you.”
Benjamin smiled contently. Shep was glad for his friend, but a part of him was a bit envious. He had been happy once or nearly so, with Rosemary, expecting the baby, and then it had all ended. Maybe it had never been quite what Cat and Ben had, but it was something good. There had not been much good after Reg died and after things ended with Julia.
Regency Romance: The Duke’s Ever Burning Passion (Fire and Smoke: CLEAN Historical Romance) Page 3