Audrey patted her hand. "Of course, dearest. Do you want me to accompany you?"
"No, no, I prefer to sit alone to allow the ache to subside," she replied and hurried away.
After a moment of meandering along, she glanced over her shoulder, relieved to see Audrey speaking with her husband, and without Lord Dentington, who was probably finding another woman's bosom to ogle.
The deafening aristocratic nonsensical chatter lessened the minute she turned the corner toward the hall. She passed a large open window and took a deep breath of the warm April air as she peered into the night. On the terrace, a woman stood with a man, her head thrown back in laughter. Julianna sagged. She had been one of those women once, with an easy smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes, laughing gaily with her friends and dancing with her darling husband. Her stomach clenched. Coming tonight had been a dreadful mistake. Julianna did not want to find a new husband. If she were to be totally honest with herself—and since she was the only one who could hear her thoughts she could be truthful—most days she wished she would not wake up. Ever again. But then she would think of her daughter.
"Lady Barrows," a deep voice whispered, causing warm breath to tickle the back of her ear.
Flinching, she turned to find Lord Dentington standing so close that she could smell the scent of the soap he used. "Whatever are you doing?" she demanded, her heart thudding in her ears.
"Following you," he whispered and grinned. "Isn't that what you wanted?"
Julianna frowned. "No. Why would you think that?"
"I clearly heard you say that you never want to marry again. And then you made a point to say you wanted to be alone somewhere quiet. Naturally, since you are a widow, I thought—"
"Don't say another word," she commanded, surprised by the force of her voice. His gaze, on her bosom once again, told her exactly what he had thought. Her stomach turned. "I don't care for a dalliance now or ever." She swirled on her heel and rushed down the corridor. As she turned another corner, she crashed into Lord Summerton, who had once been good friends with Henry. Sagging with relief, she smiled at him.
"Lord Summerton, I'm so glad to see you." At least he would not try to seduce her.
"Are you?" he said, in a low voice that made her instantly wary, but not half as guarded as the way his gaze had left her eyes and was fixed on her chest.
"Shall we stroll to the library and peruse Davenport's collection of books together?" Lord Summerton asked.
"I prefer to peruse with gentlemen who can look me in the face," she said through clenched teeth. Lord Summerton snapped his gaze to her, and she gave him a very satisfying glare. "If you would be so kind as to send my brother-in-law to me in the library, I've developed a megrim and wish to leave," she said in the coldest tone she could manage.
He jerked his head in agreement before turning away. Once he had disappeared around the corner, she rushed to the shadowy library, and closing the door, sagged against it. A lone candle burned in the room, reminding her suddenly of the single candle that had been lit by Henry's bed the night he succumbed to consumption. A shiver passed over her and she hugged herself, but her coldness continued to grow. Her teeth began to chatter, so she forced herself to trudge to the balcony doors that were ajar. Stepping into the warm air, she pulled the doors almost all the way closed behind her. Her chill subsided a bit, but the draft inside of her would be there forever. It had started the moment Henry had taken his last breath. Likely, she'd feel icy inside until the day she took her last breath and joined him.
Below her in the gardens, a laughing couple darted down a path. Julianna gripped the banister, her chest aching so that every breath she took burned her throat. She would have gladly followed Henry down a dark garden path for a scandalous liaison if Henry had ever asked, but he had been so honorable and considerate he would have never risked her reputation like that. She would never find a man like Henry again, which was good because she didn't want to. He'd been her everything, her life's breath. If it wasn't for Liza—immediately her daughter's sweet smile came to mind—Julianna wouldn't even get out of bed day after day.
She gazed up at the stars, hopelessly wondering if Henry could see her as Liza had asked tonight while Julianna had been tucking her in. Liza's other question, why was she sad all the time, had sparked an unwanted realization. Just getting out of bed was not enough anymore. Her inability to be happy was affecting her daughter, and now that she really thought about it, that realization was probably the real reason she had come tonight. She had wanted to try for Liza's sake.
But this world was no longer the world she had known, the one she had lived so comfortably in on Henry's arm. She was a stranger in a land she had once loved. How was she ever going to be remotely happy again when people looked at her either with pity or with lust? She no longer knew her place. She was not a wife, and she did not want to be the type of widow the gentlemen were clearly expecting. Yet nor could she simply go along day to day with the older set. They were worse at trying to match-make than anyone.
She tried to look up into the sky and picture where her future might go, but all she saw was blackness, as if the stars had suddenly faded. Behind her, voices startled her. She moved toward the balcony doors, expecting to see her brother-in-law and his wife looking for her in the room, yet as she set her hand to the edge of the door to open it, she blinked and stilled. A woman stood with her back to Julianna, which would have been perfectly acceptable, but the woman had her dress slipped off her shoulders and was working to pull it down the rest of the way.
Julianna sucked in a breath, and crouching low so as not to be seen, tried not to listen, but really, how could she help it? Carefully, she peered between the crack in the doors. Was there any way for her to escape without being seen? She pressed her fist to her mouth to smother her moan. There was no hope of escape. The woman stood in the middle of the room and a man faced her.
With the woman's back to her and the man's face cast in shadows she couldn't see either of them properly, thank goodness. She'd rather not know them from this moment if she ever came face-to-face with them. There would be no way to hide her embarrassment, and then she would turn splotchy and red all over her neck.
"Pull up your dress, Lavinia," the man growled.
Julianna stared at him. His voice, deep and commanding, held an underlying note of steel. There was something about his accent that was off, different, not as polished as she was used to but rather rough under the surface. Though, he certainly was dressed like a gentleman, from all she could tell.
"Don't be a bore, Nash," the woman purred, pulling her dress lower so that it was crumpled at her waist.
Julianna really needed to look away, but she was finding it hard to believe that the woman seemed to have nothing under her gown. No chemise. No stays. Nothing but skin. A streak of envy for the comfort such shocking behavior must afford the woman gripped Julianna.
The man advanced in two long strides and tugged the woman's dress over her arms and onto her shoulders before Julianna could blink. She could just make out his fists clenched at his sides.
"I didn't come in here to service you," he snapped.
Lavinia dropped to her knees, her hands gripping the man around his waist. "Then let me service you. I remember exactly what sort of wicked things get you in the proper mood, Nash," she purred, and then chuckled.
Julianna's pulse sped at the scene in front of her. She and Henry had always had passion between them, but Henry had been insistent that there were some things proper English ladies did not do. He had told her he wanted to protect her, never shock her, and she had appreciated that, even if there was the tiniest part of her that had wondered what Henry's hands on her body doing wicked things might have felt like. She had heard enough of Audrey's outrageous recounts of her and her husband's bedroom adventures to know what some of those wicked things involved. Or at least she thought she knew.
The gentleman, Nash, yanked the woman to her feet, a clear note of disgust eman
ating from his throat. Gripping Lavinia's arms, he said, "If you remember that, then I'm damn certain you remember that particular mood of mine is precisely what produced our daughter, whom you have not seen since the day you birthed her."
Julianna frowned. That made no sense. How could Lavinia not have seen her own daughter? Even if these two had partaken in a scandalous liaison, surely the woman had kept her daughter and raised her.
Lavinia wrenched her arms out of Nash's hands but faced him still. "I liked you much better when you were a street fighter trying to claw your way out of the gutter. You're no fun now."
"And I liked you better before I knew who you really are. Before I realized you could have our babe and then want to throw her away like yesterday's trash."
Lavinia shrugged. "We've been through this. What do you want me to do? Bring the child home to my husband and say, Look dear? Look at the bastard daughter from my affair with the man I slept with the year before marrying you? I won't risk his ire. He's on his death bed and I'm going to stay in his good graces and make sure I get every farthing I deserve. I was very clear to you that if you went and took her from the orphan house I left her in I would never play mother to her."
"For God's sake, Lavinia, I grew up in that place, and even if I hadn't had the misfortune there was no way I was going to leave my child there. I'm fairly certain it's the gateway to hell."
"This conversation is the gateway to hell," Lavinia said, her boredom evident in her tone.
Julianna's heart thudded so hard each beat pulsed at her neck. There was something dreadfully wrong with this woman, any woman, who could have a child and then pretend the child did not exist. And the man, Nash… Her gaze lingered on him. He stood with his legs spread—powerful legs by the way his trousers clung to the contour of his muscles—and his hands still fisted as if he was just barely holding his anger in check. She understood completely.
"If this is why you asked me to meet you in here, I'm going," Lavinia snarled. "Stanhope's brother is here and will be looking for me, and I'm not going to risk being found here with the likes of you for a mere lecture."
Julianna bit her lip. What a dreadful thing to say, and she knew the words had stung Nash because he'd flinched. So this man was not of the ton apparently?
Lavinia started to march past the man, but he clasped her arm and stopped her flight. "Please come see Maggie. I know your heart will soften if you will just meet her. She's lovely and spirited and—"
"Oh, do quit!" Lavinia snapped. "You sound sappy, and I much prefer to think of you as the rough and dangerous man who takes what he wants. Remember him? The one who took me on the steps of his home, and on the grass, and in the water?"
The water? Julianna tried to picture how that would work and nearly laughed aloud.
Lavinia pressed her lips to Nash's cheek. "When that man returns send me a note. I'll meet you anywhere you desire, darling, as long as it's for pleasure and not talk of your brat daughter. I'll be counting the days," she purred.
"Then you'll be counting for the rest of your life," he replied.
"Brava, darling. There's the Nash that I desire. I knew the forceful boxer I met had to be lingering behind the exterior of the gentleman you are now trying to portray. Don't be too smug, though. Soon Stanhope will die, and I'll be free of the old duke. I predict you'll be in my bed within a fortnight. And I'll welcome you, darling; truly, you are the best lover I ever had."
"That's quite a compliment since I know you've spread your legs for many."
Lavinia threw back her head and laughed, the sound devoid of joy or happiness but full of spite. The hairs on Julianna's neck stood on end. The hideous woman raised her hand and ran a fingernail down Nash's chest stopping just above the edge of his trousers.
"I don't remember you being cruel, but I like it. Maybe we would suit in marriage after all. Remember when you asked me, darling?"
"I remember," he said flatly. "You told me you'd never marry a mere gaming hell owner, because I was utterly beneath the life you had planned."
"You sound like a wounded child."
"And you sound just as I remember—heartless. I want to thank you, actually."
"What for?" she demanded, her voice sharp with irritation.
Julianna leaned so far forward to hear his answer that suddenly her balance was off and she teetered forward. Her heart jumped to her throat, as she caught herself with her palms and pushed herself backward. As Nash spoke, all her attention was riveted on him.
"Your turning me down was the nicest thing you ever did for me. It left me free to find a true lady to raise my daughter."
"Is that what you're doing here? Looking for a lady to marry?" Lavinia's high-pitched snicker filled the room. "Darling, no respectable lady of the ton would want to marry you. Bed you, yes. Marry you, never."
Julianna couldn't take it anymore. This Lavinia woman was cruel and needed to be put in her place. Jumping up, Julianna shoved the balcony doors open and barreled into the room. Nash and Lavinia turned her way at the exact same moment. Lavinia's eyes rounded, and Nash's dark eyebrows raised high.
Julianna's legs trembled, but she stepped forward and narrowed her gaze on the lady who, now that they were face-to-face, Julianna was sure she did not know.
"I'd marry him, if I were looking," Julianna said, glad her voice came out steady. "In fact, he's exactly the sort of gentleman any highly regarded lady of the ton would wish to have as a husband, which probably explains why you declined his offer."
"Who are you?" Lavinia spat.
For a second, Julianna thought of lying, but really, she had done nothing wrong and she had no reason to fear the woman was going to say anything about this encounter to anyone. "I am Lady Barrows," Julianna replied, her heart lurching with the words that brought her thoughts sharply back to Henry. Shoving his memory away for the moment, she set her hands on her hips and gazed down her nose at the woman who was pretty in a cold, statuesque way. "I'm not inclined to gossip, and I'll likely forget you the second you're gone, rather like yesterday's trash, unless you continue to stand here glaring at me. Then, darling"—she purposely used the endearment the woman had twisted into something ugly when addressing this man—"I will commit your face to memory and be sure to learn who you are, so I can tell everyone of your rather colorful past. I'm sure your poor, dying, husband would be all ears."
The woman's eyes grew stony. "My, my you're certainly the curious cat disguised as a plain mouse. Careful, dear. I think like a fox, and if you persist in getting in my way, I won't hesitate to destroy you."
Before Julianna could respond, the woman snarled at Nash, "This isn't over," then turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.
As the door slammed shut, Julianna's breath caught in her chest and her knees almost gave. She locked them in place and pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting back the roaring in her ears. A large, warm hand settled on her arm.
Turning toward Nash, she peered up at him and their gazes locked. Her breath caught again, but this time in her throat with a sort of wonderment. He had the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen; the color, greyish blue, reminded her of the sky during a summer storm, dark on the surface with the promise of something light underneath, if only the clouds would part.
"We haven't been properly introduced," he said in a voice rich with sensuality.
Sensuality? The most beautiful eyes I've ever seen?
Julianna froze and tried to pull Henry's face to memory. For a horrifying moment, she couldn't. And then he was in her mind, and she gulped in a breath.
"I'm Nash Wolverton, and if you're looking for a husband, I'd be happy to oblige," he said with a wink.
After Forever: Chapter Two
WHEN LADY BARROWS'S DELECTABLY FULL MOUTH parted in shock, Nash struggled not to smile. The lady had given him quite the surprise championing him, and he simply could not resist teasing her in return. Conjuring what he hoped was a wounded tone, he said, "That's not the reaction I was hoping for."
>
She twisted her lovely, delicate hands together. "I'm terribly sorry. You see, that speech I just gave, well…" Her words trailed off as she eyed him, a small crease marring the alabaster skin between her russet eyebrows. Gasping, she said, "You're trying not to smile!"
He clenched his teeth, but he could feel his cheeks jumping.
She pointed at his face. "I can see your mouth quivering."
He couldn't contain it anymore. His cheeks ached with the need to grin. And when he did, she returned the smile, her emerald eyes sparkling with her amusement.
"I'm sorry," he said, schooling his features. "I've never had a woman come to my rescue, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see how far you'd go to protect my honor."
With a smirk pulling at her lips, she said, "I shocked you, didn't I?"
"Indeed. A rare thing, I assure you."
She cocked her head, and a wisp of coppery hair slipped from her chignon. He resisted the urge to reach out to see if her tresses were as silky as they looked. He may not be a true gentleman, as Lavinia loved to remind him, but he knew better than to touch a lady without invitation.
Lady Barrows licked her lips. "Tit for tat, I suppose?"
The fact that she knew the term surprised him. "Yes, I suppose so. I'm sorry, Lady Barrows. It's likely the boxer in me that has to return every blow or maybe it's the former street urchin in me. You have to find humor in odd things to survive the streets of London."
"I suppose you do," she mused. "But I'm the one who should apologize, Mr. Wolverton. I shocked myself by barging in on your private conversation. I was caught on the balcony, when the two of you came in. I would have made my presence known, but when I peered through the doors and realized there was someone in the library besides me, well… That woman was already, um, in a state of dishabille."
"You mean to say she was undressing," he teased, enjoying Lady Barrows's lovely pink cheeks.
Once Upon a True Love's Kiss Page 2