Mysterious Miss Channing (Ranford Book 3)

by Nadine Millard

  Julia gulped, her eyes taking in the anger in his expression, the stiff set of his shoulders. The music stopped abruptly, but Charles’s eyes remained fixed on the keys.

  “Even then, I would not give up. I was a damned fool. I called him out. Railed against him. Demanded that she tell him of our love and our plans.”

  He stopped, and Julia placed a gentle hand on his tense forearm.

  “What did she do?”

  “She laughed. Told Lord Sturridge that I had developed an embarrassing tendre for her, and that she’d been trying to get rid of me for weeks.”

  “She didn’t,” exclaimed Julia hotly.

  “Of course, she did. Lady Sturridge, I came to find, is no different to most women of the ton. She will have her fun where she can and sees the whole thing as a game. My feelings must have been hilarious to her.”

  “So, that was it?”

  “Yes, I was visited in my rooms not long after by my father who personally escorted me back to Oxford. The next Season I returned to London a changed man. Still young but much less green. I understood the game now, and I made sure I played it to the very best of my ability.”

  “And Lady Sturridge?”

  “Was as beautiful as ever and had not changed in any other respect either, from what I heard. She tried to take up where we had left off, but I was no longer blinded by her. I had thought myself in love with her. I realise now it was just the hormonal feelings of an inexperienced boy. I made it clear that I was no longer interested and kept myself busy with other women.”

  “Do you see her now?”

  “Sometimes.” He shrugged casually. “But we do not speak.”

  Julia stayed quiet, not really knowing what to say to such a tale. It seemed a great shame to her that the actions of one callous woman should colour him so much against her sex.

  “You asked me why you, did you not?”

  Julia felt suddenly nervous and wasn’t sure she would be able to speak, so she nodded instead.

  Charles gazed at her for a moment before lifting a hand and pushing an errant curl back from her brow. It was only then that Julia realised what she must look like: hair tumbling round her shoulders, dressed in nothing but a night rail and dressing gown.

  But she had no time to feel embarrassed, not when she was waiting impatiently for him to continue.

  “It is because you are everything that I forgot people could be. You are kind. You are good. You are outrageously beautiful, yet you try to hide that fact rather than use it to your advantage.”

  Julia felt a blush of pleasure at his words.

  “But most of all, you’re honest. Bluntly so, at times. And honesty is something that I have come not to expect from people. You are changing my mind. Making me see that it is safe to trust people besides ones family. Making me want to trust.”

  Just as suddenly, the pleasure disappeared, and Julia felt a knot of guilt form in her stomach. He thought she was honest to a fault, but she was lying to them all.

  “And on top of all that…” Charles was continuing, oblivious to her inner torment. “…you are the most fascinating person I’ve ever met. Even the sound of your voice holds me captive.”

  Julia barely heard what he was saying. She wanted desperately to blurt out her whole, sorry tale. To be the honest person he believed her to be. To take him into her confidence, just as he had done.

  But something stopped her.

  If he knew, he would never look at her the same way again.

  He would feel either pity or horror, and neither one was what she wanted from him.

  To deceive him was dishonest and cruel. But she was not strong enough to tell him the truth. Yes, she was weak and selfish, but when he looked at her as he was looking at her now, she knew she would do anything to make it continue.

  “Why you?” he repeated, lifting his hands to cup her face. “How could it be anyone else?”

  CHARLES WONDERED IF SHE could feel his heart pound as he pulled her closer and pressed his mouth to hers.

  The feelings of rightness when he held her like this was like nothing he’d ever experienced.

  He could not quite believe that he had been so open with her, that he had told her of his past.

  But he was coming to realise that where Julia was concerned, he had no defences. She got under his skin and made him want to be open and honest. Made him want to be a better man. A man worthy of her affections.

  Julia’s mouth opened on a sigh, and Charles took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. He felt her arms lift to wind round his neck and growled his pleasure. Her answering moan was his undoing.

  The damned piano bench, he now realised, was not built for seduction. The angle was awkward, and Charles desperately needed to feel her warm, inviting body pressed against his.

  Without breaking the kiss, Charles reached round and lifted Julia from the bench and deposited her on his lap.

  He felt her gasp of surprise against his lips, but she did not pull away.

  God, he could drown in her.

  His mouth moved from hers to kiss a blazing trail down her neck. His hands roamed over her, learning her curves, desperate to feel her flesh without the barrier of clothes.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice was telling him to slow down. That she was an innocent. But the voice was being drowned in the flood of desire fuelling his touch, his kiss.

  His lips found her ear, and when his tongue darted out to lick the sensitive spot behind the lobe, she cried out and pushed herself closer still.

  Charles groaned in response.

  If she moved again, he would lose all control and ruin her. He did not want that for her.

  God, what the hell was he thinking? Was he really going to take her on a too small piano bench in the damned music room?

  She deserved more. Deserved better.

  Just as he was preparing himself to distance their bodies, he heard his name on her lips, whispering, pleading.

  Well, hell. A man was only so strong.

  His mouth found hers again, and this time, she met his passion with her own, equally strong. Her small hands began their own exploration, driving him mad as they smoothed over his shoulders, down his torso as Charles’s moved to untie her dressing gown.

  He was past rational thought. A piano bench suddenly seemed like the most logical thing in the world to make love on.

  “Ouch.” The sound of a disgruntled voice on the stairs followed by an audible thump and then a few choice swear words brought Charles crashing back down to earth.

  He almost fell over between setting Julia away from him and jumping up from the bench.

  They didn’t speak a word, though their eyes remained on each other.

  Charles struggled to get his breathing and his body back under some sort of control.

  Hell and damnation! What had he been thinking?

  If someone had come in here, he would have completely destroyed Julia’s reputation.

  And then you’d have to marry her.

  Charles was surprised by how much the idea appealed to him. But he had no time to think of such things.

  He listened intently, praying that whoever was outside would walk on by.

  “Edward, for God’s sake, I told you I am fine.”

  “Yes, sweetheart, you did. And then you almost fell down the stairs.”

  “Is there any need to be so dramatic?”

  “Is there any need for you to be out of bed?”

  “Yes, I told you I—”

  “You’re hungry. I know. I could have brought you something though. There’s no call for us to be up at this hour. Unless, of course, you want to—” Charles didn’t hear the rest as he covered his ears when Edward’s tone became seductive. Ugh. That was his sister out there.

  “Is that a light in the music room?”

  Charles’s heart leapt at Rebecca’s interruption. The candles!

  He watched as a matching horror filled Julia’s eyes.

  “Forget about the mu
sic room, sweetheart. It’s freezing. It’s late. Let’s just get what you need and go back to bed.”

  Charles listened with bated breath until he heard Rebecca concede.

  His relief was short-lived, however, as the conversation between Edward and Rebecca turned to what they would do when they got back to bed.

  For the love of God.

  Between Tom and Edward, Charles would be scarred for life.

  Neither he nor Julia spoke while they waited for Rebecca and Edward to return upstairs. When there was no further sound upstairs, Charles breathed a sigh of relief.

  “A narrow escape,” he said softly.

  Julia’s eyes darted to his, and she nodded her agreement before dropping her gaze again.

  Charles wanted to know what she was thinking. Did she think him an ogre who had taken advantage of her?

  Had she enjoyed it as much as he?

  Did she feel like her whole world had tilted, as he did?

  What was going on in that head of hers?

  JULIA WASN’T SURE IF she should say something or just turn and leave.

  The monumental stupidity of her actions wasn’t lost on her. And yet, she could not bring herself to regret it. Her body still hummed with awareness; her stomach still clenched with unsatisfied desire.

  But, as soon as common sense returned so too did the guilt and knowledge that she was keeping so much from him.

  It was enough to dim the pleasure of what he had done to her innocent body.

  “I should go,” she said hoarsely, part of her hoping that he would ask her to stay.

  He merely nodded, so, trying not to be disheartened, Julia turned toward the door.

  “Wait.”

  His voice stopped her, and she turned back. He hadn’t moved from his spot by the piano.

  “I feel as though I owe you an apology.”

  Julia felt disappointment slam through her, but she kept her face as impassive as she could.

  “Thank you, I—”

  “But…” He interrupted and drew closer. “I cannot give you one. I cannot regret doing that which I have been dying to do since you arrived here. No, since I first set eyes on you in Tom’s drawing room.”

  Julia’s heart leapt, and she felt a smile forming on her lips.

  “So, I apologise, angel, for not being a bit sorry.” His boyish grin was dazzling.

  Julia shook her head.

  “I am not an angel, Charles.”

  “Well, compared to me, you are. I find it suits you.”

  Taking a deep breath, Julia prepared herself to blurt out her whole sorry tale. Yes, it would hurt to have him regret what was happening between them. But he thought her angelic and honest. She was anything but.

  “Charles, I—”

  “Stop,” he said, lifting a finger to her mouth. “Much has happened between this morning and now. I am sure you are confused and overwhelmed. I know I am. Let us try to sleep and look forward to our trip to Dublin, hmm? I am looking forward to showing you around.”

  “Nowhere that you used to frequent, if you please,” she replied jokingly, perfectly content to take his offer of forgetting everything for now.

  “Minx,” he replied with a grin before leaning over and bestowing a tender kiss on her brow. “Sleep well, my angel.”

  Julia made her way back upstairs in something of a daze. Sleep well? She’d be lucky to sleep at all with the memory of his touch still upon her lips.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  AS IT TURNED OUT, Julia did sleep. At least a little. She could not claim that it had been restful, but it had certainly been enjoyable, with dreams of Charles dominating the rest of her night.

  The party breakfasted early and then set out at a reasonable hour, though it was a rather eventful morning.

  Caroline cried because she had never left the twins overnight before. The fact that most members of the ton did so very frequently was absolutely no comfort to her at all.

  Then Rebecca cried because Caroline was crying, and she was hormonal. Then she cried because she hadn’t cried because she was leaving Henry.

  Then she cried about leaving Henry.

  All in all, it was a surprisingly emotional morning. Unsurprisingly, the men decided to ride outside the carriage.

  The day was crisp and cool, and all the ladies were grateful for the blankets and hot bricks to warm their feet. It was, after the tears had dried, a very merry party that travelled that day.

  They stopped at an inn to have luncheon and rest the horses. Julia was more than a little happy that Charles managed to seat himself next to her, insisting that it was silly to stand on ceremony in an inn.

  All morning, she’d been hugging their secret liaison the night before to herself, taking comfort from it. Taking joy from it.

  Her lies would have to stop, she knew.

  Even if it meant that Charles would never kiss her again, never hold her in his arms. He had the right to know. And perhaps it would not be as bad as she thought. Perhaps he would hear her tale and understand why she kept her life hidden from him. Perhaps, instead of pity or disgust, he would feel sympathy and understanding. He was a good man, even if he did not believe it.

  “Julia.”

  Julia looked up to see Caroline looking expectantly at her; a quick glance showed that they were the only two left at the table.

  “Oh, I am sorry, Caroline. I’m afraid I was wool-gathering.”

  “Yes, I can see that. You must have a lot on your mind,” Caroline said with a raised brow.

  Julia chose not to respond to that particular brow.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “Just heading back to the carriage. The men went to see about the horses. Tell me, apart from the evening gown that I insist you buy for the ball, is there anything else you need to purchase?”

  Julia was about to give her usual response of no when she closed her mouth again.

  For so long now, her drab and shapeless gowns had been a sort of armour for her to wear. Something that made her blend in as much as she could, a shield between her and people who might recognise her.

  But who would recognise her here?

  And since she planned to confess to Charles and following that, to everyone else, was there really any need for her to hide behind them anymore? Was she not free to enjoy herself a little?

  Yes, it was frivolous and possibly vain. But she was a young woman who had kept herself in the shadows for so long. Perhaps she should take the chance to walk in the sunlight for a time.

  “I think,” she said as they made their way out to the waiting carriage, “that there are several things I need to purchase.”

  DUBLIN WAS A THRIVING, bustling town and so vastly different from the small village in Offaly where Charles had his estate.

  Although it was nowhere near as big as London, it had the same feeling of constant chaos. The same air of business and movement and life.

  Their first stop was the hotel where they would spend the night. It was rather too late to visit the mantua maker, and plans were quickly made for dinner and then a trip to the theatre.

  Much as Julia was looking forward to the evening, she could not help feeling a little disappointed. She had so wished that her transformation would have taken place today. That she would step out into Dublin Society as someone to be noticed, rather than a wallflower who blended into the background.

  But there was nothing for it. She had worn these same gowns for long enough, and one more night would do her no harm.

  Julia sat at the small dressing table in the room she’d been assigned, carefully unpinning her hair, when a knock sounded at the door, signalling the arrival of her bath.

  There wasn’t much time between now and when they would meet in the private dining room downstairs, perhaps two hours. Julia’s mind began to whirl.

  If she rushed through her bath, there might be just enough time to alter one of her gowns.

  It wouldn’t be enough time to do anything drastic, but maybe she co
uld lower a neckline, or… or something!

  As the maids carried up pails of water, Julia pulled one aside and requested a needle and thread.

  Perhaps she was being foolish, but she was certain that while she might not be able to improve any of her gowns, she certainly could not possibly make them any worse.

  Julia had never bathed so quickly in her life as she did then.

  As soon as she was out and wrapped in her dressing gown, she sat by the fire so that she might work whilst her hair dried.

  She opened her portmanteau and pulled out the dresses that she had brought. All serviceable, all drab, all loose-fitting.

  Julia sighed a little. What could she possibly do with these? Whatever she did, it would have to be quick enough that the gown could be pressed too, to remove the creases from the material.

  Julia cast a critical eye over the dresses and finally decided on the grey. It was a lighter shade of grey than any of her others and was infinitely better than the brown.

  The neckline was low enough to be fashionable, but Julia had sewed a panel of dark grey lace around it so it appeared higher. It shouldn’t take much to remove that. The sleeves too could be cut and maybe trimmed with the lace.

  It wouldn’t be fashionable, but it would look better than it did now.

  Determined, Julia set about trying to do what she could.

  JUST AS THE BELL rang for dinner hour, Julia placed the last pin into her hair then stood and shook out her dress. Turning to the looking glass in the corner, she cast a last look over her reflection.

  She had managed to adjust the sleeves and trim them with the lace. The neckline was square and serviceable, but it was low enough now to be more fashionable without being vulgar. There hadn’t been much lace left after the sleeves, but she had managed a small bow at the empire line of the gown, accentuating it slightly.

  Overall, it was still dreary and drab but a little less so.

  Her hair, rather than being pulled back into its usual severe style, she had allowed to curl then gathered in a loose chignon at the base of her neck with some tendrils left to frame her face.