The rumors about her forthcoming marriage to Oliver had been flying thick and fast through the ton in recent days; Julia suspected she had Caroline’s loose tongue to thank for that. Their effect was so beneficial that she could not regret her secret’s loss of secrecy. The wife of so influential a man as Lord Carlyle would be a person to be reckoned with in Society, and these ladies were prepared to take her to their bosoms. Once the marriage actually took place, she would be part of the crÈme de la crÈme of the ton.
The ballroom was long and narrow and burningly hot already, though tall windows at the rear had been opened onto the terrace and a light breeze stirred the tied back curtains. The orchestra was in place, and the strains of a lively country dance filled the air. Couples skipped merrily to the music in the center of the room, laughing and calling to one another as the movements of the dance gave them no opportunity for private talk.
More people milled around the edges of the floor, where the debutantes waited until they should be asked to dance and the dowagers sat as chaperones. It was incorrect to permit a gentleman who was not one’s husband or fiancÉ to claim more than two dances in one evening, but still the popular ladies were always surrounded while the less popular ones languished.
As the gentlemen who usually paid court to her perceived Julia’s arrival, she was immediately surrounded. Oliver frowned a little at all the compliments the gentlemen showered on her as they bantered good-naturedly over her dance card, but as he was not officially her fiancÉ there was little he could do besides putting his name down for the maximum two dances and for supper. As his first dance was not until right before supper—served at the fashionable hour of midnight—he was forced to relinquish her to Viscount Darby, who had put his name down for the first dance. Julia smiled an apology at Oliver as the thin young man led her away, and was rewarded by his reluctant smile. Oliver, it seemed, was not the type to be overly jealous.
Julia danced every dance, laughing and flirting with her partners and calling out to those of the ladies who had become her particular friends. Caroline spent more time than was proper in the arms of Lord Rowland, leading Julia to hope for a romance there. The dowager countess didn’t dance, but instead sat amongst her cronies at the edge of the floor, looking like an icicle in a room full of spring flowers. Julia felt those cold blue eyes on her once or twice, but she deliberately ignored the shivery sensation they caused. She would not let that horrid old woman intimidate her.
Supper was marvelous, and Julia thoroughly enjoyed herself gorging on chilled salmon mousse and lobster patties, roast goose and CrÈme Bruille. But by the time it was over and she had danced a couple more dances, her hair had started to fall from its pins and her feet had started to hurt. She began to find her partners’ chatter silly, and when the honorable Mr. John Somerset trod on a trailing flounce of her gown and ripped it, the magic of the evening disappeared completely.
She had to go to an antechamber and pin the flounce up. When she returned to the dance floor, she stood for a moment looking about her. She had lost her dance card sometime after supper, so except for Oliver, who had claimed the last dance, she had no idea who her partners for the rest of the evening would be. She looked over the crush of people talking and laughing, trying to divine who might have a claim on her for the dance that was just striking up. She spotted Tim Rathburn, looking forlorn on the other side of the room as he scanned the crowd, and she seemed to remember that he had signed her card. So she made her way toward him, weaving through the throng. He saw her coming at last, and his thin dark face lit up with relief. Quickly he pushed toward her until he was at her side.
“I’d thought you’d gone and forgotten our dance, Mrs. Stratham,” he said, smiling down at her as he took her elbow.
“Certainly not, Mr. Rathburn,” she replied, now having to force the gaiety that had come so easily to her at the beginning of the evening.
He pulled her into his arms, chatting about inconsequentials as Julia mentally sank into the movements of the waltz. She loved this dance, probably because it always reminded her of Sebastian and how he had danced her down the long gallery at White Friars.
“By Jove,” Rathburn said, sounding odd as he looked at something over her head. Julia, turning around, saw that everyone else on the dance floor was, one by one, doing the same thing. As heads turned and steps faltered, she too craned to see what was causing so much commotion. Then she did see, and caught her breath. It was Sebastian.
He was clad in impeccable black evening clothes that molded his broad shoulders and long muscular legs, and contrasted spectacularly with the gleaming silver-gilt of his hair. He appeared completely at his ease, and seemed impervious to the attention he was attracting. To Julia’s knowledge he had not attended a ton party since Elizabeth had died, and she doubted that he had been invited to this one. He was very much the social pariah, and people, particularly the ladies, were drawing back from him on all sides as he passed among them.
But if he noticed the silent hissing, he gave no sign of it. He looked remote and confident as though he were the only aristocrat amongst a roomful of peasants. His air of cold hauteur, combined with the dazzling good looks that made Julia’s heart speed up and completely eclipsed every other man in the room, set him apart quite as effectively as the silent withdrawal of the others.
Julia saw the dowager countess sit up a little straighter as she became aware of her son and the treatment he was receiving, but other than that she made no sign that she was even acquainted with him as he stood there, quite alone at the edge of the dance floor, surveying the awkwardly turning couples.
Then he saw Julia. She saw those blue eyes fix steadily upon her, and she felt suddenly, fiercely glad that he had come. Despite everything…. She smiled at him brilliantly, defying the shocked stares of the curious and her partner’s sudden intake of breath.
Sebastian saw that smile and looked at her for a long moment, his blue eyes blazing into her gold ones with an intensity that sliced through the heavy, largely silent air that had fallen over the crowded room. He started walking toward her, and the other dancers parted like the Red Sea before Moses. She watched him come and her heart swelled. She had wished for him, oh, she had wished for him….
“Excuse me, but I believe this is my dance,” Sebastian said politely to Rathburn as he came to a stop beside them.
Rathburn looked indignant, and his hand clutched Julia’s tighter, but she freed herself from him impatiently. Not even looking at him, she left Rathburn standing alone on the dance floor as she turned into Sebastian’s arms.
Sebastian looked down at her, a faint smile playing about his chiseled mouth, his blue eyes gleaming. He swung her around into the crush of couples who were staring and dancing at the same time to the haunting melody of the Blue Danube Waltz.
And, for Julia, the magic was back in the evening.
XXIX
He waltzed expertly, as he did everything else. Julia felt the hardness of his broad, black-clad shoulders beneath her fingers, felt the strength of his hand grasping hers in the correct posture for the waltz, felt the muscular length of his legs brush against her skirts as he whirled her around in the movements of the dance, and thought that if her heart beat any faster she would surely die of it right there on Lady Jersey’s dance floor.
“Does that brilliant smile you sent me mean you’ve recovered your temper since last we met? Or do I have to be on guard against a swift kick in the shins?” Sebastian’s voice was so close to her ear that she could feel the warmth of his breath. His words were whimsical, but there was something odd about his tone.
Julia dared another look up at him. She was so conscious of her own reaction to him that she feared that it must blaze as plain as daylight in her eyes. He was looking down at her with a faint, twisted smile, and she felt her heart give a queer little jerk as she was caught and held by that almost tender expression.
“What are you doing here?” She almost whispered the question that she was afraid to
ask, mindful of the straining ears of the twirling couples all around them. Sebastian appeared completely oblivious to the sensation he was causing as he smiled down into her upturned face.
“I’ve come to fetch you,” he said as the teasing glint deepened. “Will you come away with me?”
Julia did not trust that mocking gleam. She felt her heart slow a little bit with disappointment. “Be serious, if you please.”
“I am very serious. Never doubt it.”
Julia looked up at him uncertainly. Her head did not reach far past his shoulder, and she had to tilt her head back to see his eyes. They were gleaming with amusement and something else. Something that made her heartbeat speed up again.
“You’re teasing me,” she accused, then caught her breath as the blue eyes suddenly heated to the bright blaze of sapphires as he shook his head.
“I just got into town an hour ago after riding hard all day to get here. When Smathers told me where you were, I was even willing to brave the wrath of the august ladies of the ton who so despise me to come to you here. Does that sound like I’m teasing?”
He was smiling still, but beneath the glittering blue his eyes were not. They were hungry as they met hers and curiously vulnerable.
“Why did you want to see me so urgently, Sebastian?” she managed, feeling as if the rest of the world had vanished and she was alone with him in a great whirling void. Her heart was knocking in her rib cage. Was he trying to tell her in this roundabout, maddening way, that he had realized that he cared for her? That he loved her? Her lips parted in breathless hope as she waited for the declaration that was surely coming. But suddenly he laughed, and cast a quick look around the crowded ballroom.
“Oh no,” he said, “not here. If you want to finish this very interesting conversation, you’ll have to come with me. I have a carriage waiting outside. I told you I’d come to fetch you away.”
Julia stared up at him as if mesmerized as he swept her around the floor toward the open French windows that led outside. He took her silence for the consent it was. She was still staring at him as he waltzed her out onto the stone terrace. And she was still staring at him, her eyes locked to his, as he stopped dancing and lowered his head.
Her arms went around his neck before his mouth ever touched hers, and then she was on tiptoe, straining against him, locking him to her forever as she kissed him with a passion that was all the stronger because of the weeks she had tried to deny it. He kissed her too with shaking intensity, his lips and his tongue making promises that he had never put into words. The kiss seemed to last forever, and Julia was lost in it as all the while the scent of the sweet roses that grew in the garden beyond the terrace wafted about them and the lilting strains of the waltz that was still being played inside drifted through the air. At last Sebastian lifted his head, and Julia slowly, reluctantly let him go. Her hands slid down from his shoulders to rest against the solid warmth of his chest. She could feel his heart beating against her palms even through the thickness of his shirt and coat.
“I love you,” she said, clearly, and even through the moonshot darkness she could see his eyes gleam.
“I know,” he answered, and bent his head to kiss her again. This time it was a brief, hard claiming of her lips, and then his hand was on her arm, turning her about to lead her along the terrace away from the house. He walked close by her side, and Julia was so aware of him that the scandalized stares of the other couples who had also sought the privacy of the garden did not cause her to turn so much as a hair. She was with Sebastian, and suddenly her whole life had meaning again. She saw now, as she hadn’t before, that she belonged with him forever. Oliver was a nice man, a kind man, but he wasn’t the man for her. For better or worse, as wife or even mistress, forever and ever, she belonged to Sebastian and he belonged to her. Had he finally realized it? She thought that he had first gotten an inkling that he might be growing fonder of her than he wished on the morning after he had first made love to her at White Friars. The knowledge had frightened him into running from her. It was only now that she realized just how telling his flight had been. The very fact that he had run from her shouted that he cared so much that it scared him, and his subsequent coldness was his way of fighting the way she made him feel. But now—now it seemed very much as if he had stopped running. As if he was ready to admit to himself and to her that he cared.
“Where are you taking me?” She didn’t really care; she would have gone with him to hell itself tonight if he had asked her. But she wanted to hear his voice, to reassure herself that he was really beside her, her arm tucked into his as he led her toward the tall iron gates at one side of the walled garden. It had rained that morning, and the roses that brushed against her skirts were dewy. Their heady scent filled the air. Overhead scudding clouds passed before the moon, casting silvery dark shadows everywhere. Curious eyes followed their progress, but Julia no longer even felt them. She had room in her heart and mind for nothing but Sebastian.
“I find I have this overwhelming urge to make love to you, my own. Will you trust me as to where?”
“I would trust you with anything, Sebastian,” she murmured softly, not one whit disconcerted by his avowed intention to love her. It was what she wanted, too.
She looked up at him with her heart in her eyes. His breathing seemed to stop for a moment; then he bent and kissed her again, another brief, hard possession. Then they were through the garden gate.
On the other side of the narrow cobbled street waited the same closed carriage that had conveyed her to town all those weeks ago. A driver whom Julia could not recognize because of the tall collared greatcoat that muffled him sat stoically on the box while Jenkins jumped down from the rear to open the door as he saw them approach.
The street was riddled with puddles from the recent rain, and Julia was picking her way between them when suddenly Sebastian swooped her up in his arms and carried her the rest of the way. After her momentary surprise she smiled at him, and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“This would be a hell of an inconvenient time for you to get your feet wet and come down with a chill,” he muttered in her ear. She laughed and hugged him. Jenkins didn’t blink an eye as his master deposited his burden inside the carriage, then jumped in behind her. The door closed with a soft click, the carriage swayed as Jenkins jumped up behind, and then they were moving, the horses’ hooves clip-clopping over the cobbles as they drove away.
Inside the carriage the claret velvet curtains were drawn over the windows and the lamp was lit, enclosing them in a cozy cocoon. Sebastian lounged in the seat opposite her, and Julia looked over at him with her heart in her eyes. He was so very handsome with his silver-gilt hair gleaming in the lamplight, his long powerful body clad in the elegant black evening clothes and his eyes burning out at her from that impossibly beautiful face.
“I’ve missed you,” she said softly. His eyes darkened on her face.
“It must be true what they say about absence making the heart grow fonder because I’ve missed you too. Damnably.”
The admission, in a low, almost expressionless voice, made Julia’s eyes glow with soft radiance. It was the closest he had ever come to admitting that he cared. Would a declaration follow? The very thought of Sebastian admitting to something as warm and human as love made her go weak at the knees.
“Well?” she said when he showed no disposition to say anything else.
“Well?” He lifted his eyebrow at her, a slight smile curving his lips, and she understood that he was not quite ready to state his piece yet.
“Why are you sitting way over there?” Her voice was throaty with invitation, and her eyes were flirtatious as they met his. She was teasing him a little, but she meant it, too.
“Because if I come any closer, my own, I’ll take you right here in this exceedingly cramped carriage. I’m sure that you would prefer that I wait.”
“Are you? Sure, I mean?” She batted her eyelashes at him in mock flirtation. The reaction she got b
oth surprised and excited her, His eyes burst into bright blue flames, and his hands clenched where he had jammed them in the pockets of his breeches.
“You’re asking for trouble.” The gritty warning was delivered between clenched teeth. Julia eyed him with satisfaction. Here was her so handsome lord brought low from wanting her.
“Maybe I want trouble,” she purred, and before he could say anything more she moved with a rustle of skirts to sit beside him.
He eyed her askance for a moment, his hands still jammed in his pockets, while her hands stroked the lapels of his coat. Suddenly his mouth twisted into a wry smile, and his hands came out of his pockets to close over her upper arms and pull her into his lap.
“On your own head be it then,” he muttered, and as Julia smiled into his eyes he kissed her.
Her arms slid up around his neck as she opened her lips for him, and then his tongue was in her mouth, exploring all the dark wet surfaces that he had claimed before. She kissed him back with a fierce sweetness that ignited a fire in them both. His arms quivered as they strained her to him, and Julia felt that quiver and reveled in it. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him.
“Enough,” he muttered suddenly, pushing her off his lap so that she was once again sitting on the velvet seat. His mouth was compressed into a hard straight line, and his eyes were glittering so brightly that Julia thought that at any moment they might burst into flames. His hands were clenched into fists again and jammed into the pockets of his breeches as if he did not trust himself to keep them off her.
Loving Julia Page 27