Where the hell was his cousin? Julian would fight any man who wished to harm Miss Halliday, but he was at a loss as to how to protect her from himself.
Tugging down the sleeves of his jacket, he cleared his throat. He assumed the seat beside her and tossed a napkin across his lap. The action proved ineffective at hiding his desire because it only formed a tent for his soldier.
A telling blush colored Miss Halliday’s cheeks when she glanced down then quickly returned her attention to the plate in front of her.
Gads. What did one say in a situation like this, or did one hold his tongue? Miss Halliday was no whore, but neither was she a lady. He had ventured into unfamiliar territory.
“My apologies,” he mumbled, feeling he should say something.
“It’s all right, Mr. Beckford. I am well versed in human anatomy.” She smiled kindly at him then squared her shoulders as if warming up to deliver a lecture before an assembly. “An erection is simply an involuntary response causing the penis to become engorged in preparation for copulation. It is all perfectly natural.”
He must say, he had never attended any lecture as stimulating as Miss Halliday’s. “Anatomy is a fascinating topic, but perhaps you could finish your teachings at a different time.”
“I wasn’t teaching—” She chuckled softly. “Forgive me, Mr. Beckford. I have a tendency to forget myself when discussing certain topics. I didn’t mean to sound condescending or tedious.”
“Not at all, Miss Halliday. I could listen to you speak of male anatomy and copulation for hours.”
She laughed fully, the tension in her posture melting away.
He could never imagine having a similar discourse with any other female. There was something so familiar about Miss Halliday, not necessarily her features, but how she made him feel. He was comfortable in her presence, like they had known one another in a previous lifetime.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” he asked.
“That would be lovely. Thank you.”
Julian filled her goblet then reached for his own glass.
She sipped quietly for a moment. Returning her glass to the proper position, she turned to look at him. “May I ask you a question, Mr. Beckford?”
“Yes.” His heart sped up in anticipation of what she might ask. He hoped she wasn’t like most females who tended to inquire into what was on a gent’s mind. Particularly since all he could think about was pulling her onto his lap and ravishing her wine-tinted mouth.
“Will your grandfather force Lord Penlow to marry me if he discovers our deception?”
Julian studied her to see if he detected any interest in marrying Pen. His cousin was destined to inherit an earldom and land that generated a good yearly income. He was sought after by marriage-minded mothers seeking a solid place in society for their daughters. A woman in Miss Halliday’s position would have to be daft not to hope for a match with Pen.
“Danby would never allow a marriage with someone from a lower class,” he said with more callousness than required.
She dropped her gaze and nodded slowly. “Of course, you are correct, sir.”
A painful squeezing began beneath his ribs. Julian wished to retract his words. He hadn’t intended to hurt her, but rather to discourage any budding thoughts of a romantic entanglement with his cousin. Julian was too selfish by half, for he wanted Miss Halliday for himself.
“Forgive me, Miss Halliday. I didn’t mean to—”
Pen swept into the dining room with a smile as wide as the Thames. “I’m famished. What say you? Shall we feast until we burst and drink our fill until wine flows through our veins?”
Somewhere between the first and second floors, Pen had recovered his good humor. Before he reached his seat, the door to the private room swung open and a gentleman entered with a rather plain woman on his arm.
Julian stood as Pen waved them inside. “Come on. Join us, and I shall make introductions.”
The woman carried a book. Her thin fingers were wrapped around the spine and held tightly to it as if she couldn’t dare to be parted from it, even for a meal.
“Lord Keswick, may I present my cousin, Julian Beckford. And you have met Miss Halliday, my bride.” Pen winked at Miss Halliday as though they shared a private jest. She regarded him blankly, revealing nothing of what she was thinking. “Julian, this is Colin Barclay, Earl of Keswick. He and I were in the same class at Oxford. Perhaps you remember him?”
“Vaguely. How nice to make your acquaintance again, my lord.”
“Likewise.” Keswick’s manner was cool as he acknowledged Julian and ignored Miss Halliday’s presence completely.
Julian felt the slight on her behalf and his fingers coiled into fists at his sides.
“And lest I forget,” Pen said, “allow me to introduce the ever-enchanting Miss Nibbs, the late Lady Keswick’s sister.”
“Thank you for graciously allowing us to dine with you this evening,” Miss Nibbs said as she lowered to a chair at the far end of the table. She possessed a genuine, albeit shy, smile. Her spectacles magnified her pale, blue eyes ringed with nearly translucent lashes.
Julian resumed his seat. “Miss Nibbs, please allow me to complete introductions. This is Miss Halliday, a guest traveling to Danby Castle for the holidays.”
When she met Miss Halliday’s gaze, her smile widened. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Julian appreciated the woman’s graciousness. So far, she was the only person in the room to treat Miss Halliday with any respect. He included himself among the group of pompous arses gathered around the table.
Pen and Keswick sat across from Julian and Miss Halliday.
Moments later, a serving girl carried in a platter of lamb chops and a steaming bowl of parsley potatoes followed by a loaf of bread and butter. The fare was rather decent for a meal on the road.
The women ate in silence while Pen dominated the mealtime conversation. His chatter filled the room like the early morning discourse of a barn swallow until Julian wished to shove the entire loaf of bread in his mouth to quiet him.
Keswick appeared to be a somber gent not given to displays of levity, but occasionally he chuckled under his breath when Pen’s animated storytelling accompanied grand arm gestures that nearly took off the earl’s head.
“Watch yourself, Lee,” he said after a close call, but there was no censorship in his tone. They seemed to be rather good friends. Julian wondered at his cousin’s failure to ever mention Keswick to him. At one time, Pen had shared everything with Julian.
Miss Halliday politely excused herself at the conclusion of the meal, claiming fatigue. Julian had wished for a moment to apologize for his harsh manner and would have offered to escort her to the room, but Pen claimed her.
Julian stayed below stairs in the sitting room a couple of hours with his cousin, Lord Keswick, and Miss Nibbs, who had found a comfortable seat beside the fire and was immersed in her book. He couldn’t concentrate on the conversation, however, and eventually retired to his room with the intention of sleeping. He was still staring up into the darkness after the inn had quieted and everyone else had found the rest that was evading him.
Would Danby really forbid a marriage to Miss Halliday? Her weathered attire and need to earn a living marked her as a woman with nothing to bring to a union. No dowry, anyway. But she possessed value that could not be measured by pound notes. She was intelligent, gracious, and exceedingly beautiful.
She may not have received the type of instruction most ladies of Quality did, but Julian found sewing together flesh to be more useful than creating frivolous bits of lace and embroidery. If Julian were in Pen’s position, he would marry her at once without any regard for what Grandfather thought. He sure wouldn’t have her pretending to be his wife without the benefit of copulation.
A knock at his door cut short his soft chuckle. Climbing from the bed, he lit a candle then slipped on the breeches he had tossed on the chair and hurried to the door before his cousin woke everyone. Ju
lian tugged the door open, ready to scold Pen for bothering him, but his breath stuck in his throat.
Miss Halliday stood in the corridor with a blanket pulled over her head like a cape. Wide, honey-colored eyes peered out from her pale face. Her gaze seemed frozen on his bare chest. Her lips parted in surprise.
“Miss Halliday, is something wrong?” he whispered.
She snapped from her trance and stopped ogling his body, not that he had minded. “Lord Penlow snores like a hound. I can’t sleep.”
Julian’s grin widened. “Then by all means, please come inside.”
~ 7 ~
Felicity stole another peek at Mr. Beckford’s muscled chest and forgot the lesson her father had ingrained in her during her medical training. No matter how foul the air, no matter how ghastly the sight, a doctor hides his reaction behind a mask of professionalism.
Well, that was fine and good for Papa to say, but Felicity had never seen anything quite like Mr. Beckford’s physique in all of her years of practice. He was neither foul nor ghastly. He was breathtaking.
Literally.
Felicity struggled to draw in each breath. They came faster, grew more ragged. Her pulse hammered in her ears at a deafening rate. Coming to his room was a mistake.
She backed away slowly. “I will put the pillow over my head. Then I won’t hear Lord Penlow’s snores. Sorry to have disturbed you.”
“Come here, woman.” Mr. Beckford’s strong fingers encircled her wrist and tugged her into his room. “You’ve done nothing but disturb me since the night we met.”
“Oh!” She made a feeble effort to free her arm, but her feet carried her over the threshold. “I did apologize, did I not? For your—” her gaze dropped lower— “you know.”
“Could we please cease discussion of my you know? He’s beginning to think you like him.”
Felicity had an insane urge to point out they had never been properly introduced, but her words would be viewed as an invitation to bed her. “Really, I should go, Mr. Beckford.”
“Call me Julian.” He pushed the door closed with his bare foot. “Seeing as how you are responsible for my inability to sleep, you could at least extend the courtesy of keeping me company while I’m awake.”
Company implied companionship, and her presence in a gentleman’s room dressed in nothing but her nightrail could only be construed as consent to—
Yes, seeking out Mr. Beckford was a colossal mistake. She had thought to request he switch places with her, but how foolish she was.
The absurdity of guarding her innocence as if it was a precious possession was not lost on her. Saving herself for marriage was no longer necessary, but she was well aware of what a careless moment could reap. There were enough lives dependent on her. She wouldn’t bring one more into the world.
His hand slipped around her waist, his fingers wrapping around her hip to anchor her against him.
Felicity shivered. “I could mix a sleeping tonic if it pleases you, sir.”
He ushered her towards the bed. “You appear as if you are already under the influence of a tonic. Are you certain you are not sleepwalking?”
“Fairly certain.” Every inch of her vibrated with awareness. She was not sleeping. Her arms and legs were heavy, however, and her eyes stung as if fine grains of salt had been flung into them. She wasn’t simply fatigued, she was dead tired, and Mr. Beckford’s bed did look inviting.
He paused and turned her to face him before easing the blanket from her head and shoulders. Her breath caught, his nearness interrupting even the most basic function of human existence.
He tossed the blanket across the foot of the bed then folded the covers aside to make room for her. “I would venture you are unaccustomed to travel.”
She nodded, entranced by his softly spoken words. “There haven’t been many opportunities to go on holiday.”
Grabbing her by the shoulders, he gently pushed her down to sit on the bed then bent to capture her ankle. The warmth of his fingers imprinted her skin and sent tingles dancing up her leg. Felicity tried to jerk her foot away, but he held firm and removed her slipper. He repeated the same motions with her other foot.
“We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow, Miss Halliday.”
Felicity was less concerned about the morrow than the night stretching out before her into infinity.
“Get some sleep.” He snatched up the blanket that had slid halfway off the bed and moved towards the chair.
“What are you doing?”
He lowered his lean frame onto the wooden seat and tucked the blanket up under his chin. “I am going to bed, Miss Halliday. I advise you to do the same.”
“You can’t sleep there.”
His golden brow arched. “I can and I will. Now, extinguish the candle and hold your tongue.”
Felicity felt her nostrils flare on a huff. How easily she had forgotten Mr. Beckford’s origins, but his imperial tone reminded her of his superior lineage. She held back a retort.
Blowing out the candle, she stretched out on her back. The quiet rang loudly in her ears, every noise amplified in the dark. The rasp of sheets against her nightrail as she covered herself. The creak of wood and soft groan from Mr. Beckford as he adjusted his position.
Her fingers curled into the sheets. She would rather listen to Lord Penlow’s thunderous snoring than the crackle of tension on the air.
Come, share the bed. The words bubbled up inside her, but she swallowed them. She couldn’t sleep beside Mr. Beckford. It wasn’t done. Her heart thumped heavily until she swore the bed shimmied with each beat.
She squeezed her eyes together and bit down on her tongue.
He shifted in the chair again, the wood protesting his weight with a sharp crack.
“Oh, for the love of Pete, Mr. Beckford—”
“Julian.”
“Julian.” She drew in a deep breath. His name sounded foreign when she spoke it. It filled her with longing. “Please, share the bed with me. You will not be able to walk come morning otherwise.”
Julian held perfectly still, debating the wisdom of honoring her request. Come morning, the lovely Miss Halliday might be the one unable to walk if he climbed into bed with her. He didn’t trust himself with her in reach. Even across the chamber, he struggled with the temptation to ravish her. He wanted to kiss her lush mouth, caress her soft curves, lose himself deep inside her.
“I don’t think it would be prudent.” His voice assumed a husky quality.
Although she didn’t truly belong to Pen, his cousin had staked a claim. Julian wouldn’t make a cuckold of him, even if the marriage was pretend. If he was wise, he would send her back rather than risk upsetting Pen.
The sound of the mattress dipping and her feet padding across the chamber caught his attention. “If you will not share the bed, I’ll return to Lord Penlow’s room. My conscience won’t allow me to relegate you to such uncomfortable accommodations.”
Julian flung the blanket aside and leapt to his feet. “Wait!”
The door cracked open and stalled. “What is it, sir?”
Dear Lord, he was as fickle as the wind, but Pen could sod off.
“We shall work out an arrangement,” he said. “Close the door and come back to bed.”
“Only if you will.” Her determination nearly undid him. To have a beautiful woman demanding he climb into bed with her was arousing in the extreme.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “As you wish, but I warn you. If you so much as drift across to my side, I cannot be held responsible for abandoning my manners.”
“I won’t drift, Julian. I promise.”
Damnation. Why had he issued such a stern warning? “Very well. Get under the covers and stay there. I’ll sleep on top of the counterpane.”
With the lady tucked into bed, Julian climbed in and turned his back to her. “Good night Miss Halliday.”
“My name is Felicity. You have my permission to address me as such.”
Julian rammed his
fingers through his hair and pulled. The dull pain was only mildly distracting. “Stop talking.”
Her soft gasp reached his ears and the bed jostled as she rolled away from him. She said nothing else, but it seemed like an eternity before her breathing evened out, and she surrendered to sleep.
Julian was not as lucky. He slept in borrowed snatches of time, his awareness of her heated body next to his barely fading within the moments of unconsciousness. When the grey morning light filtered through the window, he was awake again. His gaze rested on her peaceful face. Her honeyed lashes fanned against ivory skin, and her lips turned up in a diminutive smile, reminiscent of the Mona Lisa, accommodating even in slumber. It was as if he had looked upon her face a thousand times.
A forgotten memory nagged at him. Felicity with her head resting on her forearm, hunched over the side of a bed, her burnished locks falling down around her pink cheeks.
The still room.
A frail hand in hers, so weak, seeking comfort.
Felicity’s eyes, large with compassion.
The images rushed him at once. Aunt Alice’s illness, the sights and sounds he thought he had banished forever. There had been but one glowing beacon during those dark days five years ago. A kindred spirit had laid her hand upon his shoulder and shared his sorrow as the woman who had been like a mother to him faded a little each day until she was no more.
Felicity was Aunt Alice’s angel.
A surge of tenderness flooded through his heart. He reached out to push a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes fluttered open and her brow creased in confusion for a moment until her gaze found his and recognition sparked in her amber depths.
“Felicity,” he murmured. “Dr. Halliday’s daughter. Aunt Alice’s nursemaid. Whatever has happened to you, my darling?”
~ 8 ~
The rawness reflected in Julian’s voice and expression ignited a burning in the back of Felicity’s throat. His caring touch fractured the wall erected between her mind and heart. She was practical. Always. Rational thought was the framework that kept her on her feet rather than broken on the floor, a quivering puddle of emotions.
A Summons From the Duke (Regency Christmas Summons Collection 2) Page 13