by Joanna Shupe
At the moment, however, he needed to vanquish the heart-wrenching vulnerability he saw in her eyes. He hadn’t told the story in a long time, hadn’t even let himself think on it in eons, but he’d willingly crack open an old wound if it helped her. “When I was seventeen I worked as a clerk on the exchange. My boss, an older man with the disposition of a cockroach, had a young, pretty wife named Charlotte. He liked for her to come to the office—to show her off, no doubt—and I began to notice Charlotte staring at me. Coy, flirtatious glances.” He grimaced at the memory of his youthful naiveté and took another sip of his brandy. “One day she waited for me outside in her carriage and offered me a ride home.”
“I can see where this is headed.”
“Possibly anyone could but at the time I had no idea. It started innocently at first, I swear. Her marriage was an unhappy one and I was eager to oblige. I never wanted to marry and here was this attached, safe, beautiful woman who would never ask for more.”
Nora shifted toward him so their knees were almost touching. “And what happened?”
“I fell in love with her. God above, I was like a puppy trailing after that woman. Eager. Delirious with both the secrecy and the newness of it. She was older and experienced, and I worshipped her. But her husband soon found out.”
“He did? What did he do?”
“Fired me straightaway. All things considered, I escaped relatively unscathed. It could have been much worse.”
“Losing your source of income must have been difficult.”
“Not in the least. What he didn’t know was that I’d already saved up enough to buy my own seat on the exchange. Just hadn’t worked up the nerve to do it. I was still young and inexperienced. But losing my position pushed me forward to buy the seat and begin trading on my own.” Success had come quickly after that; he’d made his first fortune not even two years later.
“And Charlotte? Did you ever see her again?”
“I did not. He sent her to Paris, I heard. While I was heartbroken I knew this had all happened for a reason. I required a push and life offered me one.”
She sipped her brandy and watched him over the crystal rim. When she lowered the glass, she said, “You are saying life is offering me a push. What, through you? Through this engagement?”
The way she said it, as if the idea were ludicrous, stung more than he would have thought. His tone sharpened. “Possibly. I couldn’t say. But I can tell you that if I had been the one entrusted with your heart, you would not be sitting alone with another man in a turret.”
“Even if that other man was merely a friend?”
There was that word, the one he’d hoped to never hear from her lips again. Friend.
Setting down his snifter, he reached for her free hand where it rested on the cushion between them. She hadn’t yet put her gloves back on after dinner, her skin soft and delicate in his rough, brutish grasp, and he lifted her hand to his mouth, turning it over. He bent his head and placed his lips on the inside of her smooth wrist. She smelled of lavender and soap, the most delectable treat he’d ever encountered, and his cock began to thicken inside his trousers. Unable to resist, he touched the tip of his tongue to her warm flesh, the merest hint of what he’d like to do all over her naked body. A harbinger of all the pleasure he longed to shower on her. He heard her gasp as her hand trembled.
“Make no mistake, my lady,” he whispered, looking up through his lashes to lock eyes with her. “We are not friends. I plan on seducing you, but when I do you’ll come to me willingly and eagerly. And when it’s over, I promise you’ll not regret a single second.”
Her eyes glazed over with desire, and Julius nearly lunged forward to kiss her mouth. But they had been gone long enough from the others and once he started kissing her, he wasn’t certain he could stop.
Furthermore, returning a ravished Nora to her aunt and uncle would only precipitate a very real wedding date.
Releasing her, he stood. “We should return downstairs before they send a search party after us.”
I plan on seducing you, but when I do you’ll come to me willingly and eagerly.
Now in the drawing room, Nora fanned her face vigorously as Julius’s words rang in her head. Based on the promise she’d seen in his gaze, she did not doubt his intent. It was his arrogance that bothered her. To assume she would ever go to him with the intention of seduction . . . It was laughable.
Wasn’t it?
A small part of her suspected he might be right. When he’d kissed, then licked, the inside of her wrist earlier tonight in the turret, she had nearly melted into a pool of desire right there in front of him. The buzzing in her blood had yet to cool, even several minutes later.
She sat next to her aunt on the sofa, while Julius and her uncle conversed over a glass of port on the other side of the room. Rebecca and Agatha were cloistered near the window, whispering. Most likely about Nora’s reckless disregard for propriety in stealing Julius away after dinner.
Out of the corner of her eye she could see her fiancé, tall and powerful next to her average-sized uncle. Every now and again Julius sent her a glance, one laden with secret knowledge and mysterious promise.
“You seem distracted,” Aunt Bea noted, tipping her chin in Julius’s direction. “Though I can hardly blame you. Your uncle is quite a handsome man.”
Nora laughed and tried not to blush at being discovered. She sipped her coffee and considered her aunt. Nora’s mother had died when Nora was young, much too soon to provide advice and motherly guidance, and Nora had come to love and respect her aunt these past few weeks. Perhaps Aunt Bea could offer insight to Nora’s current situation without growing suspicious of the reason. “You and Uncle James appear so happy with one another. Really quite different than the couples I’ve witnessed back in London. When you first met him, how were you so certain he was the only man for you?”
“Oh, goodness. I wasn’t, not at all. I had a handful of suitors that season, even one that I seriously considered. In the end, however, James was irresistible.”
“Who was the one serious suitor?”
“The catch during my debut was Lord Hartford, heir to an earldom. Looked like Byron, sounded like honey on warm toast.” She leaned back and stared at nothing, an amused twist to her lips. “Smart and witty, and not a terrible dancer, either. Do not tell your uncle but”—she put a hand in front of her mouth and whispered—“Hartford was my first kiss.”
“No,” Nora breathed, enthralled. “I know Lord Hartford. He has three sons and a daughter who is close in age to me.”
“He married a lovely girl from Surrey, a viscount’s daughter. They’re happy, from what I hear.”
“So why did you not marry Hartford instead?”
She lifted a shoulder and reached to drop one more sugar cube in her cup. “Hartford was the infatuation of a girl who hardly knew herself. I realized it as soon as I met Cortland. The two men were vastly different and, more importantly, the way I felt about each of them was incomparable.”
Nora understood perfectly, though her situation was not exactly the same. Robert was warm and cozy, like her favorite velvet cape. Julius was a fever, one that invaded your bloodstream to make you delirious. Neither were terrible, merely at odds.
You are fearless, Nora.
Was that only how Julius saw her, or had she grown more determined and independent since living in America? Her life here was drastically different than her life in London, which had been filled with duty and obeying the rules. New York was adventure and exploration. Excitement. And a large reason for those feelings was lounging against the mantel on the other side of the room.
Was Robert a mere girlish infatuation? She could admit now that he had bolstered her, made her feel attractive and desirable at a time when she’d felt overlooked. He’d spoken to her as an equal, not as if she were silly or thickheaded, and had been genuinely interested in hearing her thoughts. Sweet and sensitive, he’d not pressured her for physical intimacies but let her set
the pace for their relationship. When she finally decided to take him to bed, it had not been decided lightly. In fact, she’d agonized over it for months. She resolved to after they discussed marriage and decided to remain together forever.
So how could she consider doing the same with Julius, a man who would not marry her? A man who did not love her. A man she barely knew. What was wrong with her?
Her fiancé raised the port glass to his lips, the thick column of his throat working as he swallowed. Tingles raced along the insides of her thighs and she shivered.
“I’m so pleased you have settled on Julius,” her aunt said, regaining Nora’s attention. “It’s clear you’ll never need worry about the temptation of another man or second-guessing your choice.”
That is precisely what I am doing. “I won’t?”
“Based on the way the two of you stare at one another when you believe no one is watching, I’d say not. Hatcher is a man who knows his mind and has strength of character. Takes care of his mother and sister even though they treat him abominably. That tells me he tries to do the right thing, no matter how unpleasant. He’ll do whatever is necessary to keep you happy.”
If I had been the one entrusted with your heart, you would not be sitting alone with another man in a turret.
Only, Julius had no interest in her heart. He’d made that perfectly clear.
But how do you feel about him?
Like the world shone brighter each time he walked into a room.
Like she might expire if he never kissed her again.
Like her entire life had been turned upside down.
She closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath. This was no passing fancy. Even though she may never act on them, the feelings she had for Julius were entirely real. Keeping the truth from Robert, allowing him to believe she still pined away for him, was intolerably cruel. The time had come to be honest.
Tears stung her lids and she dug her nails into her palms, hoping to stem the rise of emotion until she could be alone. No good ever came from crying at a dinner party.
Julius’s mother and sister suddenly sat, forming a small circle around Nora and her aunt. They helped themselves to coffee. Mrs. Hatcher’s gaze locked with Nora’s. “Lady Nora, I fear I must speak plainly as I am uncertain when I’ll have another chance. Has Julius told you of his father’s death?”
“Yes, he has. You have my sincerest condolences on the loss of your husband.” A loss that must still pain her, considering the woman remained in mourning dress all these years later.
Mrs. Hatcher dipped her chin in acknowledgment. “I’m afraid that Julius has inherited my late husband’s obsession with money and material things. That obsession was . . . a difficult part of my marriage. I never asked for a better lifestyle or more wealth. However, my husband assumed these were things I wanted. He drove himself, often recklessly, to improve our circumstances, though improvement was hardly required. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“If you are worried Julius will act as reckless as his father, I can assure you he’s quite levelheaded when it comes to business matters.”
“As was my husband, once. But greed is a powerful emotion, one that most men cannot resist. I have watched Julius surpass every hardship, every dream. But still he works. Strives for more. When will it be enough?”
Nora grew annoyed on Julius’s behalf. “I hardly see it as greed. He excels at finance, at reading the market. Why should he not put such expertise to good use?”
Agatha made a noise in her throat. “Good use? Look around you. Do you call this house good use? There are portions that remain locked, completely closed off. It is wasteful in the extreme.”
“Is that not the American way?” Aunt Bea said with a chuckle, a clear attempt at a joke.
“What happens,” Mrs. Hatcher continued, “when the markets plummet? Or when his skills dull and he loses all his money? When you are out purchasing new gowns and expensive jewels each week?”
The tips of Nora’s ears burned and she heard Aunt Bea’s quiet intake of breath. Was his mother intimating Nora was marrying Julius for his money? Her family was not nearly as wealthy as Julius, but they were not paupers, either. Many British families had fallen on hard times in the last fifteen or twenty years, but the Parkers were not one of them. She would know, as she’d overseen their three homes for eight years.
Remember, you are not truly marrying him.
The reminder should’ve calmed her, yet she still bristled. She suspected her feelings for Julius could no longer be categorized as friendly or businesslike. Which was terrifying, but did not prevent her from leaping to his defense. “I have no intention of frivolously spending Julius’s fortune. And if you are concerned he’s about to make a mistake in his choice of bride, perhaps you should take the matter up with him.”
“I have. He assures me my concerns are unfounded.”
Her tone indicated she still didn’t believe it to be true. All this anxiety over an estranged son struck Nora as odd. Was his mother concerned about Julius’s happiness or her own financial security? It did not take a genius to deduce that, if he lost his money, then the property in Albany might need to be sold.
She opened her mouth—and Julius suddenly appeared at her elbow, his hand extended. “Lady Nora, a word, if you please.” His tone brooked no argument, a stern gaze fixed on his mother.
Smothering a frustrated sigh, she allowed Julius to lead her out into the hall.
Tamping down his anger, Julius held tightly to Nora’s arm and directed them toward the dining room a short distance away.
A few footmen were there, cleaning up dinner. “Give us a moment,” Julius told them. “I need the room.”
The footmen disappeared, the door closing with a soft click. “I suppose it was your turn to rescue me,” she said in an attempt at levity. He did not laugh, not feeling particularly amused at the moment. He’d taken one look at her face in the drawing room and known something had been said, something that had upset her. Hadn’t taken a genius to assume his mother or sister had been involved. “Tell me what happened in there.”
Nora rubbed her forehead, her shoulders slumping. He had the sudden urge to comfort her, to wrap her in his embrace and hold her tight to his chest. He fought the impulse and forced himself to stand still.
“I really tried, Julius. I was prepared to like her, to win her over. Yet I failed. Miserably, I’m afraid.”
“Hardly your fault. She is impossible. Still, I would like to know what she said to upset you.”
“I do not wish to add to the rift between the two of you. Please, let it alone.”
“Absolutely not. You cannot make the rift worse, Nora. She has disapproved of me ever since I pursued a career in finance years ago. And regardless, I’ll not allow her to distress you.”
“What career path did she hope for you instead?”
“A factory job or something on a farm. A career with less risk, as she called it.”
Nora nodded as if this made sense, her dark hair nearly bronze in the torchlight streaming through the terrace doors. She was lovely, this English rebel. That sniveling coward back in London hardly deserved her. If she were truly Julius’s woman, he would never hide her or sneak around. He’d marry her and keep her in his bed as long as possible.
The idea of Nora in his bed caused a slow heat to wind its way through his blood. Unable to help himself, he shifted closer and reached for her hand again. He laced her delicate fingers with his and held on. “Now, tell me what was said.”
Her mouth flattened, eyes losing some of their shimmer, and it hit him. His mother hadn’t insulted him. She’d insulted Nora.
Every muscle clenched, anger filling his every pore, every crevice, up to the roots of his hair. His free hand cupped her jaw and gently forced her to face him. “Tell me,” he said carefully. “Please.”
She bit her lip, drawing his attention to her mouth for a brief second. The strong urge to kiss her resurfaced, threatening to distract hi
m, until he found her eyes. He didn’t like the distress reflected there. “It’s not so unbelievable, all things considered. She is worried I’m marrying you for your money. That I’ll spend you into the poorhouse.”
He couldn’t help it—he threw his head back and laughed. She tried to squirm away and his grip tightened. “Nora, you couldn’t possibly spend me into the poorhouse. Not if I married six of you.”
“You’re not even marrying one of me,” she snapped, pulling free and taking a few steps to the side. “In case you’ve forgotten, this is not a real engagement.”
The amusement instantly died and a twinge of disappointment erupted under his sternum. He hardly recognized the feeling and, even worse, didn’t care for it. Not when he should’ve known better. “Indeed. How could that have slipped my mind?”
Rubbing her arms as if she were cold, Nora drew in a deep breath. “I have no idea.”
Her frosty tone stung. Even if they were not friends, they were friendly. He liked Nora. Enjoyed spending time with her. She challenged him like no other woman he’d met. He never had to impress her or pretend to be someone else. If not for finding his father’s investors in society, he’d be showing Nora every saloon, dance hall, and beer garden in New York City. God knew she wouldn’t shy away from it.
He studied the tips of his black leather shoes. He needed to keep his head on straight, not become tangled up in his increasingly complicated thoughts and feelings over this woman. She was having no trouble remembering where things stood, obviously, so why was he?
Clearing his throat, he tried to understand her reaction. “Why do you care if my mother believes you an opportunist out for my money?”
“I wish I knew.” She lifted her arm and let it fall against her side. “It shouldn’t bother me, of course. We are not truly marrying and therefore her fears are unfounded on multiple levels. Yet I cannot stomach it. Does she assume any woman marrying you to be a money-grubbing opportunist, or merely me?”