"Who is the other invitation from?"
She drew back and lifted the card. "Oh yes. That is for a small gathering this evening at Lord and Lady Nesbitt's home." Grandmother's eyes took on a distant gaze. "I suppose Bennett will be there."
Julianna took hold of the card and examined the fine penmanship. "You’ve seldom visited with friends since you began caring for Abby and me and now you wish to spend more time with the Nesbitts?" She eyed her grandmother knowingly. She was almost content to come to London, but she wasn’t at all certain of this Bennett business.
"That’s because," Grandmother said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "You and Abby keep me very busy. But you must realize, I have known Lady Nesbitt since I was but a girl."
Julianna smiled. It seemed strange to envision Grandmother as a debutante. But looking at her now, she could see from the beauty that lingered, she had indeed been something to behold.
"Who else will be in attendance?"
"Bennett of course, his sister Jane, and a few others. I believe there will be games and singing. I'm sure a good time will be had by all."
"Well most everyone, anyway." The words were out before she could prevent them. She cursed her dourness, cursed herself for ruining Grandmother’s fun.
Grandmother sat on the edge of the burgundy settee, her lips pursed. "You will as well. Maybe not this time, but it's good practice until you begin to heal. It will be a very intimate affair. It's perfect really. And Jane is just a little older than you. By all accounts she’s a very fine girl. And you do realize that Bennett is one of the most eligible bachelors in all of England."
Julianna shifted in her chair. "I'm not ready for all of this. I'm not over Jonathan."
"Oh child," Grandmother scolded. "To Hades with Jonathan Denbigh. I am certain that if he hasn't realized his loss yet, he will be mourning it very soon. However, if he doesn’t, you must move forward with your life and I can think of no one more suitable than Bennett Nesbitt."
***
Jonathan stood at the door of Oak Park, pacing back and forth wondering if he dared knock or if he should give the flowers he clutched tight in his fist to the next maid that walked by. After all, only two days had past. But those were two days without a word from Julianna. He realized immediately that his actions had been ridiculous and judging by her reaction, painful.
Still, could her feelings for him really have been so strong? How had he not seen it before? And despite the kiss that had him wanting to take her virtue on the garden path, he had too much pride and too much respect for the friendship to let the lusty beast he felt himself becoming loose. Blast her supple lips and soft curves and blast his body for reacting to them.
But regardless, he had to at least try to salvage what they had whether or not he wanted to pursue more. He was, after all, an intelligent man and he knew that if he lost Julianna he would surely miss her.
She gave sound advice in matters of business. Had often read over his contracts after his solicitor and found errors that could have cost him hundreds of pounds.
She sat back on that pale yellow settee, her sewing in her hands as he railed against this problem or that. Merely listening and allowing him to relieve his anger.
She was an excellent dance partner, saving him from the drudgery of waltzing with daft chits with nothing but marriage on their minds.
He squeezed tight to the flower’s stems. But hadn’t Lady Chesterfield pushed Julianna toward him, insisting on all or nothing? Wasn't he guilty of pushing her too? To admit she loved him or let go of the notion? He set his fingers to his lips. The memory or her mouth against his and his mood lightened. She did taste good, her tender lips, her soft moan. Damn her for ripping his oblivion away. Until he kissed her, he had been only half aware of her beauty, only partially aware of how wonderful she smelled. Damn, damn, damn, was he actually becoming aroused at the thought of her leaning into him, her cool fingertips woven into his hair?
"Bloody hell!" he growled.
At the sound of the rattling door handle, he drew in a sharp breath. Time to end this nonsense. Perhaps it was all machinations devised by the old woman. Surely, Julianna knew him well enough. Knew he would never hurt her on purpose. Blast it, hadn't he done that already?
He raked his fingers through his hair and wished he had never left Denbigh Hall. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t be thinking the unthinkable.
The friendship they shared brought her closer to him than his own brother.
"No, no," he whispered. It was the old girls doing. By God, why did Lady Chesterfield have to strip him of greatest acquaintance?
He shook his head. One simply didn't marry their best friend. Did they?
Damnation, he wasn't going to wait for Lady Chesterfield to relent or for Julianna to forget the silly notion. He was going reclaim his relationship.
Enough was bloody well enough. He squared his shoulders and readied for battle against the old biddy.
But as the door opened, all the bluster that filled his sails evaporated. For before him stood not his Julianna but Constance Whitcomb, her oval face sparkling with blue eyed delight.
"Why Lord Denbigh how wonderful to see you. Are those lovely posies for me?"
Constance didn't give Jonathan an opportunity to answer. She grabbed the bouquet and held it to her ample bosom. Blast his eyes for noticing the creamy white mounds that rose above the pale blue bodice of her gown. She was a beauty but he realized that when she smiled, it was not her smile he longed to see. In fact, if you set her beside Julianna, she paled in comparison.
Her blond curls seemed bland next to the rich brown locks that framed Julianna's heart shaped face. Her expression vacant. Lips that begged to be kissed were thin, not soft and pink. How had he not seen the grandeur of Julianna? How?
And was the grandeur he was now seeing real or an illusion put into play by a conniving old woman and her ruthless granddaughter?
Ruthless…indeed. Anger surged through his body. He was being played by an aged master and her young minion. Had Julianna played up to him, gained his confidence and then pulled the rug out from under his feet? Well by God, he wouldn’t come crashing down.
"Do come in, Lord Denbigh. My mother will be happy to see you. We are about to sit down to tea."
"Your mother?" Hell, this day was getting better and better.
"Yes, she and I are vacationing here at Oak Park while Lady Chesterfield and Lady Julianna are away."
He froze over the threshold. "Julianna isn't here?" Damn it, did his heart just sink in his chest? What the bloody hell was going on with him? He was acting like a jilted lover. Not the best friend he always supposed himself to be.
But no, Julianna played a game and perhaps he stumbled but he refused to fall for the manipulation.
"No, she and her grandmother have left." She stepped back into the house. "Why don't you join us? I'm sure mother would love to hear all your news. It has been ages since you last called on me."
Jonathan remained still, his mind racing. Where had they gone? He knew Lady Chesterfield meant to find Julianna a husband. But why leave Surrey so quickly? Julianna was but three and twenty. She was hardly a moldering gourd.
"May I ask where Julianna and Lady Chesterfield are?"
Constance lowered her gaze and smoothed the skirt of her turquoise gown. "I do not know. But I do know they won't be back for a month, maybe two." She lifted her chin, her attention fully on him, her gaze direct and filled with longing. "So, you see, Lord Denbigh, I am your new neighbor and I would very much like for you to join me for tea. Perhaps Mother knows where Miss Julianna is."
He lifted his brow and stared back at her. At least her game was obvious. But if he were going to uncover Julianna’s whereabouts, he'd have to play along. And when he found his friend he’d blast her for her treachery and if she were with another man, he’d punch him in the nose for good measure.
"All right. I would very much enjoy a cup." Oh how he wished he had a flask of whiskey in his pocket. F
or it had been his experience that Constance Whitcomb was more easily digested with a bit of alcohol.
***
"And they both fell off their horses and into a large mud puddle!" Jane laughed, her freckled face animated with her merriment.
Bennett looked to Julianna from his perch on the edge of a wing back chair, his eyes flashing with cheer. "Indeed, we were both covered in mud. Needless to say, Miss Eliza Sinclair didn't wish for me to dine with her that evening."
"No!" Jane giggled, her auburn curls bouncing around her pretty face as she enjoyed the joke. "In fact, she never even asks me about you at all. You may as well have been buried in that mud. For to her you are as good as dead." She leaned against Julianna from her cushion on the settee, her lips to her ear as if they were long lost friends. "And he wonders why he's still a bachelor."
Bennett shrugged his shoulders. "If you can't laugh at mishaps, you're destined to cry." He offered Julianna a brilliant smile. He was indeed a handsome man. Dark curls, angular features and green eyes that gazed upon her with such passion, her stomach fluttered each time she looked at him. "Have you ever been coated in mud?"
"No," she said with a grin. "I can't say that I've had that particular experience. But I did once stumble into a creek and lost not only one of my favorite slippers but my grandmother's silver comb."
"Oh," Grandmother said, lifting a glass of sherry to her lips. "That's what happened to that comb!"
Julianna frowned. "Really, you knew I lost it. For you had Cook take a switch to my legs."
Grandmother nodded. "Yes, but only because I couldn't bear to hurt you myself."
"I know," she admitted, gazing down at the lace trim of her plum colored gown. "You have a tender spot for me. That is certain and appreciated."
"I can understand that sentiment," Bennett said standing. "You are a gem to be sure."
Heat shot to her cheeks and she felt suddenly breathless. "Thank you, sir," she managed, taking in his form as he moved toward the gray marbled fireplace. My, but he was a tall man, his physique every bit as elegant as the black suit he wore. He stood taller than Jonathan but where Jonathan's body was strong and sinewy, Bennett was slender and graceful.
Jonathan. Why could he not think her a gem? And why did every road lead back to him?
"I'm going to pop out into the garden for a moment of fresh air. Jane? Julianna? Would you care to join me?"
Jane sprang up from the settee and grabbed hold of Julianna's hand. "Yes, let's!"
Julianna looked to Grandmother for approval, a soft smile greeting her. "Enjoy the cool evening air and your friends."
"All right." She brushed a kiss across Grandmother's forehead. "But I won't be long. I don't wish to keep you out too late."
"I'll be just fine," Grandmother said, shooing her away with a weathered hand. "Lady Nesbitt and I have a lot to talk about."
"Indeed," Lady Nesbitt inserted, snapping open her fan and fanning her large, round face. "You children run along and have a grand time."
Bennett walked down the hall ahead of the girls, Jane and Julianna close behind. The parlor had been warm and the idea of fresh air appealed. But now, without the protection of her grandmother, unease seemed to plague her steps.
Turning the corner toward the double doors that led out into the dimly lit garden, Julianna's discomfort eased and she couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement in the pit of her stomach. It had been a long while since she was able to act as young as she actually was. Since the loss of her parents, she had often lost sight of her youth. But Bennett and Jane, they certainly did know how to laugh and play.
Stepping out into the garden at the back of the modest home, Julianna savored the feel of the spring air as it cooled her skin.
Jane lifted her arms wide and spun around. "Oh do you smell the lilac?"
"Yes," Bennett answered. "Why not go gather a few sprigs for the grandmothers."
"Yes, indeed," Jane replied, scurrying down a narrow path and disappearing behind a large boxwood.
Alone with Bennett, Julianna felt nervous and exposed. She crossed her arms over her chest. "She is so full of life," Julianna commented, keeping her attention focused on the path.
"She is," Bennett said, stepping a little closer to her. So close she could smell the spice of his cologne, feel the warmth of his body. "She's lucky that way. But you, my sweet Miss Julianna, you seem very sad. Your blue eyes give much away."
There was a tenderness in his voice that sent a chill racing across her body. She slid him a glance. "I'm well."
"Whoever has burdened you with such sorrow should be ashamed. For when I said you were a gem, I meant it."
He stepped in front of her, that intense gaze coming to rest upon her face. She hugged herself tighter for he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. A kiss that set fire in her belly, but not with want of him. But with longing for Jonathan.
She pulled back. "Bennett, please."
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm too forward. But I want nothing more than to strip your misery away and replace it with joy."
Could she do it? Could she forget Jonathan and start over? Looking at Bennett with his handsome face aglow in the bright moonlight, she realized that it felt good to have a man look at her the way he did. Felt more than good. It was something she could become accustomed to quite quickly.
"Thank you." She smiled and he wrapped her fingers in the warm fold of his.
"Be assured, dear Miss Julianna, tis indeed my pleasure."
Chapter Four
"Where is Julianna?" Jonathan glared at Constance. She sat on the yellow settee at Oak Park, in Julianna's favorite spot, and smiled. A smile that enflamed every nerve in his body. She held all the cards. She was in control and damn it all, it set his blood to boiling.
He tightened his jaw and his fists. Damn her. Damn the staff. Damn the lot of them for feigning ignorance as to Julianna’s whereabouts. He was beyond frustrated and if he didn’t need to know where she was he would have easily vowed never to return to Oak Park.
"I told you, she's vacationing. Has probably left England by now."
"Where? I need to know." The frustration at having had to sit through teas and dinners was more than he could bear. If he didn't get answers soon, he was just going to jump on his horse and start looking for Julianna. He needed to see her. To tell her how very angry he was with her. And yet, watching Constance trying to replace Julianna infuriated him more.
"Why do you need to know so badly?" she asked, tilting her head in a vain attempt to appear charming. He had fallen for that once, months ago. But the glamour had worn off and all he saw before him now was a simpering brat who always got what she wanted. And she wanted him. "Are you in love with her?"
He pushed himself up from his chair his hands shaking with upset. It was a simple question yet it bore so many implications. "You ask too many questions and you do not answer enough."
"I'll tell you all you need to know, Lord Denbigh," she replied. "All you have to do is kiss me." She too stood, boldly walking toward him, those sizable breasts threatening to fall from the bodice of her white linen gown. Three months ago he would have not only kissed her but made love to every inch of that curvaceous body. But that was three months before Julianna had moved from the corner of his life to front and center.
She stopped, but inches from his. He could smell the soft scent of lilac, feel the warmth of her breath. "Kiss me, Jonathan."
He leaned in, and she closed her eyes, her lips moist and slightly parted, ready. She could be his, right there on the settee at Oak Park. All she offered, his for the taking. And yet, he didn't want just anyone.
Realization hit him so hard he thought he may double over. Julianna's kiss, her leaving, the sight of another woman in her house. He wanted Julianna. The old bird had been right. Had she been right all along?
Constance opened her eyes, her disappointment had her face falling her and lower jaw trembling. "You aren't going to kiss me?"
"No,
Constance. There is only one woman I wish to kiss."
Her mouth twitched with her irritation. "Julianna?"
He smiled and gently pushed her away, clearing his path toward the door. "Yes, Julianna. Now you simply must tell me where she is. I need to see her."
"Oh my God! You are in love with her, aren't you?"
He stared at her dumbly for a long moment. The question was pointed and direct. He sank down onto the seat of Lady Chesterfield's chair and stared out the window into the back gardens. Did he love her?
He missed seeing her face that was certain. Missed the warm scent of her cinnamon perfume. Longed to hear the sound of her laughter. The thought of never sitting on that settee by her side had his stomach tied in knots.
The memory of Julianna in his arms as he swept her on the dance floor filled his mind. How soft her body curved against his. A body that he realized fit next to his with a perfection that only God could have planned. And the kiss. A kiss meant to educate her had taught him the most valuable of lessons. By God, she was meant to be his. How had he not seen it before?
He swallowed past the lump of realization that settled in his throat. By God, he did love her. Loved her with all of his heart.
A small chuckle popped from his lips and he sprang to his feet. "Yes."
Constance's mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wide with disbelief. "You do? But…"
"But nothing." He leaned over her, kissing her cheek. "And thank you helping me to see that."
Her eyes grew wide with disbelief. "You can't love her."
He straightened. "And why not?"
"B-Because you're supposed to marry me!" she exclaimed, the shrillness of her tone set his teeth on edge.
Still he laughed, the sound so loud that it sobered him. "Supposed to marry you? Where did you get that notion? Certainly not from my neglect of our short lived courtship."
"Well why else would I be here?"
"I don't know. For the natural beauty of the country? For the fresh air? Because if you're here with the absurd idea that I would ever propose, you're wasting your time."
His For The Taking Page 3