“Are you throwing me over, Julian?”
She thought she would die when he did not answer right away.
He walked over to her. He reached out and touched her cheek, his fingertips just lying there in faint contact.
“Pen, you have accepted me as the old friend helping to fight the bad memories, and as your partner in the affair of convenience. I am explaining that if we make love again, there will be no good excuse left, except that I want you and you want me. If we do not make love, it will not affect our plan. It would not matter at all.”
Except to her. If this tender touch on her face should be the last touch of all, her heart would break. A vitality flowed to her through that gentle contact. It soothed her distress and stimulated her senses. It seduced her as a more blatant touch never could.
He stood an arm’s length from her, still contained and complete. His eyes hinted that the deepest currents were not so calm, however.
“Do you want me that way, Pen? With no good excuses?”
She wanted him any way she could have him. She would grieve if he never held her again.
Admitting that increased her vulnerability to him tenfold. It made her both euphoric and afraid.
“Yes. I want you in that way, with no excuses. Very much.”
“Then when we are here alone, and the curtain descends, it must be something apart from the public drama. I do not want him here with us. We will tend to all that by day, but at night it must be only you and me.”
He began undressing her. His slow, deliberate hands released her from her garments one by one. His manner was subtly different, as if he declared a new right to her as each item fell away. By the time he slid the lacings down her stays, she was thoroughly aroused.
She learned that no excuses meant no defenses. Everything was different. The way he looked at her when her chemise dropped to the floor. The way he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. The way he commanded her passion after he undressed and joined her there.
She almost resisted the way it affected her. Her heart would not allow that. In admitting she could not lose him, she had exposed herself to a wondrous power. His warmth, his scent, his skin, his breath—her consciousness completely filled with his presence and reality, so much that even the pleasure was drenched with it.
She wanted him inside her long before she attained abandon. She longed for the intimacy more than she craved the ecstasy.
She touched his face and pressed his shoulder to let him know. He moved on top of her. It seemed that their bodies fit perfectly tonight, as his strength nestled into her softness.
She trembled when he entered her. The fullness moved her so much she wanted to weep. She pulled him down against her breast and held him tightly, savoring the powerful emotion.
“It is different when there are no excuses,” she whispered.
He rose enough to look in her eyes. “Yes.”
“There may be no excuses, but there are good reasons. Happiness is a very good reason. So are desire and affection.”
He kissed her gently. “Those are excellent reasons.”
So is love.Her heart forced the words into her mind before she comprehended what she was admitting.
Not the love for an old friend. One did not want to die at the mere thought of losing the touch of a friend. Only a heart that was in love would fear such loneliness and misery.
“This is really very astonishing, Julian.”
“We can be astonished together.”
She did not realize just how astonished. She had not guessed how admitting her love would change everything even more. Each touch and kiss and move became another bond, until she felt as linked to his soul as to her own.
He even dominated her abandon. Her cries carried his name. She submitted to the emotions that saturated her climax, so that moment of blind intensity was transformed. Afterward, as they lay entwined and exhausted, she did not move lest she disturb the beauty.
Eventually she had to relinquish him. A few hours later, he rose and began dressing.
She resented that this precious night had to end like this, with Julian sneaking out in the darkest hour. She wanted him to stay with her so they could greet the new day together.
He sat on the bed and angled down for a last kiss. She could not see his face in the dark that had claimed the chamber with the fire’s extinction, but that tender kiss revealed more than any expression or word could.
She touched his face. “I wish …”
He turned his head to kiss her palm. “What do you wish, my lady? I am yours to command.”
Her heart glowed at the playful allusion to their childhood games. Tonight had revised those old memories. They now were deep strong roots that supported this special love.
“It is a terrible thing to think, but … I wish he were gone, Julian. God help me, but I do. I wish we did not have to play out any long dramas on the world’s stage.”
His head hovered, close to hers. “He will be gone soon. It will be over very quickly, Pen. Now I must go, even if I would give up a year of my life to stay even one more hour.”
He rose and walked away, melting into the dark.
It was only much later, as her drowsy mind filled with the night’s memories, that she understood the other implications of her love.
The stakes in her battle with Glasbury had just been raised.
Julian slipped out the door of the vacant kitchen and passed through the garden.
Considering his euphoric peace, it was hard to believe the night had begun with such inner turbulence.
Sitting in the theater box, he had not minded the curious eyes turned on him, but he had resented like hell the ones that examined Pen. Señora Perez’s boldness, and Pen’s jealous pique, had only added to the feeling that he had a role in a farce.
His mind had turned stormy at how their game with Glasbury made their affair frivolous and cheap, and more a sham of reality than the play unfolding on the stage below. Their affair had been pleasurable and fun, sensual and friendly, but always a means to an end.
He had walked up those stairs to her chamber knowing he would not continue like that. He would see it all through for her, but he would not hold her again merely as part of a drama played out for society’s sake. He would not lie to himself that there was more, if in fact there was not.
She had amazed and awed him. Her words, her touch, the look in her eyes had left him with no defenses at all.
He had loved her for years, as much as his heart could love, but tonight had deepened that love so much that it shook his essence and preoccupied his consciousness.
Suddenly the real world crashed into his tranquil solitude. His instincts shouted a warning.
The dark had shifted. Two figures had emerged from the shadows to block his path in the alley. They did not approach. They merely waited for him to come to them.
He looked behind and saw another figure blocking his retreat.
Laclere had been right. The earl had other options besides divorce.
As Julian walked forward, he removed his gloves so his grasp on his walking stick would be firm.
“Have you been waiting for me all night in the damp? The earl is not very considerate of his servants.” He strode right up to them. One backed up a few paces, as if shocked by his boldness. “You are not his smartest men, however, nor very shrewd criminals. I have only to yell, and you will be in prison by daybreak.”
“They got to catch us first,” the braver one growled.
Julian sensed the arm swinging more than saw it. He ducked and swung his walking stick at the man’s knees.
An iron rod falling on paving stones makes its own sound. So does a bone cracking. The weapon clanged and the man sank. A barely swallowed howl sounded down the alley.
Bootsteps heralded the quick approach of the third man. Not waiting for another attack, Julian swung his stick again and sent the second man sprawling.
Julian stepped over both men and faced their f
inal comrade. His companions’ moans caught him up short.
“Get them out of here, and bring them to the scoundrel who sent you,” Julian said. “Give Glasbury a message from me. Tell him I said it will not happen this way, in a dark alley. If he wants to see me dead, he will have to do it himself on the field of honor.”
The last man bent to help his crippled friend up on his good leg. Julian left them to find their way back to their master.
He tapped his stick on the paving stones as he walked down the silent street. At least tonight he had not been forced to use the sword hidden within it.
It was fortunate that Pen’s abductors were in gaol back in Lancashire. The earl had been forced to resort to more clumsy and cowardly criminals.
If Mr. Jones and Mr. Henley had been waiting in that alley, someone would probably be dead now.
chapter 21
Women talk about men’s talents all the time,” Dante said.
He spoke with great authority to the other members of the Dueling Society, who had gathered at White’s at Adrian Burchard’s invitation.
It was past time for one of their nights of cards and drink. However, Julian knew that this particular meeting had been arranged for a purpose. The men at this card table sought to show the world that a certain solicitor would not be cut or dropped by some of his influential friends and clients.
Others had not been so generous. Three days after returning to London, Julian arrived at his chambers to find the first letter from a patron explaining he was moving his legal affairs to another solicitor. In the past week, three more such letters had arrived.
“I am sure you are wrong, Dante,” Laclere said. “Ladies do not speak of such indelicate matters.”
Charlotte’s warning about “particulars” had come up in the conversation. Dante had now obliged them with the least welcome explanation of what that meant.
Dante took a long puff on his cigar. “Believe what you want, but Fleur told me such things are discussed all the time. Openly. Even unmarried women hear it.”
“Fleur told you this? Fleur?”Laclere asked incredulously.
“That is astonishing,” St. John said.
“I was shocked, let me tell you. She told me this well before we married, by the way.”
“She was just goading you, Dante. Taunting you because of your amorous reputation,” Laclere said.
“I do not think she was only doing that. My impression was that she knew of what she spoke.”
“I regret to say that I have some reason to believe that Dante is correct, even with regard to unmarried women, although only those of some maturity,” Adrian said. “Before I married … well, let us just say that I had some evidence that I had been so discussed.”
A thoughtful silence fell on the group.
“Not that any man here has any concerns regarding his reputation in those matters,” St. John said.
“Indeed not.”
“Of course.”
Another pensive silence.
“Gentlemen, let us at least put each other’s minds at ease. Can we agree that in the unlikely event that Dante is correct, the ladies keep such indiscreet confidences among themselves?” Laclere said. “Do we all acknowledge that our wives have never reported to us any such gossip about another man?”
“My brother means another man seated at this table, I think.” With an expression that revealed complete confidence in his own reputation, Dante flicked more ash off his cigar.
Adrian’s hand went over his heart. “Sophia has never, ever, in any way indicated, even by innuendo, that she has heard that any man sitting here is wanting in that department, I so swear.”
St. John appeared very bored. “I am sure that Diane does not participate in such talk.”
“Don’t all look at me,”Dante protested. “Fleur told me they talk about it. She did not tell me what they said.”
“I am sure such conversations are not common, and that women talk about many other things when they are together,” Julian said.
“Certainly.”
“Gowns, children, politics …”
“This topic probably does not occupy more than, oh, a half to three quarters of their time,” Julian said.
They all laughed, and St. John started dealing the cards. His gaze rose as his hands moved. His expression hardened, and a focused intensity entered his eyes. He glanced sharply to Laclere and continued dealing.
Laclere turned his head for a second. “Glasbury just walked in. Someone must have sent word to him that Adrian invited Julian here tonight.”
Julian picked up his cards. He barely noticed their numbers. Most of his awareness was on the unseen earl behind him. He felt that man as if Glasbury were a cold spectre in the card room.
The mutinous corner of his mind had been full of Pen the last ten days. She dwelled there all the time, a beautiful voice and face that calmed and soothed. Her embraces made all the cuts and smirks insignificant.
Now she retreated, and older, harsher emotions stirred. A ruthless anger chilled his blood.
He looked up from the cards to find St. John examining him.
“You are not carrying a weapon, are you, Hampton?”
The other men at the table turned their surprised attention on him.
“To repeat what you once said to me, would you swing for this?” St. John asked. “He is watching us and will come over here soon. I am sure it is not your intention to harm him, but let us be sure you are not tempted. Pass the pistol to Adrian under the table.”
The command did not come only from St. John. The expressions of the three others demanded he do it, too.
Exhaling between his teeth, Julian slipped the small pistol from under his coat and placed it in Adrian’s invisible, waiting hand.
Glasbury took his time, but eventually he approached their table. He acted as if Adrian Burchard were the only person sitting at it.
“Burchard, I think the membership needs to address the matter of inappropriate guests being invited to the club, don’t you?”
“I see no need. We leave it to each member to make that decision himself.”
“Normally, yes. One assumes, however, that gentlemen will exercise discretion, and know better than to invite someone who is the subject of notoriety and scandal. If a member’s judgment fails him, the other members have cause to complain.”
Adrian looked Glasbury directly in the eye. “The thing about scandal is it is often just gossip. If we barred men from these chambers for that alone, we would lose half our members. Now, should you be speaking of a guest who has been officially made notorious, through evidence, I might agree with you. For example, if a man were named in criminal correspondence with a peer’s wife, other members might feel obliged to consider that peer’s insult, especially if that peer was also a member. Barring that, however, such matters are of no account to this club except as topics of conversation.”
Glasbury’s spine stiffened. “I see that you are no better than your company. I have some influence at the palace, you know. A few ears that always listen to me.”
“What does he mean by that?” St. John asked, simply ignoring how Glasbury hovered by his shoulder.
“They are thinking of giving me a title,” Adrian said. “For two years they have been debating it. My marriage to Sophia presents a conundrum. On the one hand, they disapprove and do not want to look to be sanctioning it. On the other, a duchess with a husband who is not titled—well, it doesn’t fit right, does it?”
St. John shrugged. “You never fit right.”
“They could do it for services rendered to the Crown prior to his marriage, thus ostensibly ignoring the marriage itself,” Laclere said. “Only that would require admitting what those services were, which the Foreign Secretary refuses to do. So, the conundrum deepens.”
Glasbury did not miss that his presence had become irrelevant. He might have been an extra empty chair at the table.
His face reddened. His steely glare lit on Julian.
<
br /> “You are a scoundrel. It is not to be borne that Laclere and Burchard bring you here. But then I should have expected it from men who have courted scandal themselves.”
“I trust that you are not going to get into high dudgeon of moral indignation, Glasbury. That would be both hypocritical and ridiculous,” Julian said.
“I know your game, Hampton. Penelope told me what you expect. It won’t happen. I will never let her go.”
“Then we have a stalemate, don’t we?”
“The hell we do.”
“I assume that means you received the message I sent back with those men you employed, and that you came here to challenge me.”
Glasbury’s mouth slackened in surprise that Julian had lured him to a very uncomfortable place.
“Not a challenge? Just bluster, then. Pity.”
Glasbury managed to find his sneer again. “I do not duel over whores.”
Five men were on their feet in an instant. Adrian swung out his arm to block Julian and Laclere from grabbing the earl, while St. John held back Dante. Every eye in the card room turned to the disturbance.
“Apologize, Glasbury,” Adrian warned. “Explain that your anger got the better of you, or you will leave with three challenges to face.”
“On what standing? She is mywife.”
“I don’t give a damn that she is,” Julian snarled. “If you insult her, I demand satisfaction.”
Glasbury maintained his pose for a few seconds more. Then he took one step back. “I admit it is tempting, Hampton, but I have other plans. I want you to know that today I initiated a petition to the courts demanding the return of my conjugal rights. As for the rest of you, I will be organizing votes against the Parliamentary charter for that Durham project in which you are partners.”
Silent astonishment fell on the table. Julian tried to shrug off the hands holding him so he could strangle the bastard.
Glasbury smiled in smug satisfaction at the reaction to his surprise. “My anger got the better of me, gentlemen. I apologize for calling your sister a whore no matter what appellation her behavior deserves.”
He turned on his heel and walked away. Julian clawed his way back to sanity.
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