“Mr. Wolf, I believe my party has left.” Those words were so hard to speak! Julia paused to compose herself. “Would you be so good as to call a hackney for my transportation home?” Not waiting for an answer, Julia coldly gave him her back.
With all the dignity she could muster, she walked across the quiet dance floor, kid slippers barely making a sound. She did not look to the side, nor did she look back. People stepped aside, creating a path for her exit.
Her fingers lightly touched the opposite wrist and traced the scars that were her shackles. Chester and Emma had told her she could start over, that her life had purpose and value.
Right now, she thought they were wrong—very, very wrong.
In the dark interior of a private coach provided by Wolf, the elegant Lady Julia Markham, the reigning Incomparable for three London seasons, broke down, her hopes dissolving in the anguish of tears.
Four
Feeling cold and alone in the musty vestibule of the old church, Julia shook the rain from her old fur-lined pelisse. The dampness from the rain outside permeated her green wool dress, the same dress she’d worn when she’d first met Wolf. Julia had taken nothing with her when she left Markham House that morning except the clothing she’d brought from Danescourt.
Ahead, up the aisle in the dim light, she could see Brader waiting for her with the parson. Self-conscious at arriving alone without even the benefit of a lady’s maid, Julia squared her shoulders and moved forward toward her future.
She tried to appear relaxed and natural as she walked up the aisle to the man she would marry. The stone floor of the church echoed her footsteps. At one time, Julia had dreamed of making this trip up a church aisle, but the dream had included flowers, a lovely dress, friends, and her parents. But she had given up those ideas when she eloped with Lawrence.
She had given up more than thoughts of a lovely wedding when she agreed to marry Lawrence.
Her naïveté, for one thing.
As she came abreast of Brader, she vowed she would reclaim her future. The candlelight playing on his face cast eerie shadows and filled her with foreboding. A chill ran up her spine.
He frowned. “You’re alone. Did no one come with you?”
Julia took a deep breath and answered, “No,” daring him to question her further.
She didn’t add that since the night of the ball, her parents had not spoken to her. Neither her parents nor her brothers had expressed an interest in the date or time of her wedding. Even the servants tiptoed around the Markhams, aware that the tension would ease once Julia left the house.
Still in a defensive mood, she asked, “Did anyone come with you?”
He looked past her shoulder, and Julia turned to see three women, one petite and heavily veiled. She could have bit off her tongue at her next words. “Are they your mistresses?”
Anger leapt into his eyes to blaze with golden fury. “Are you always this waspish?” Abruptly he turned toward the slight man in spectacles and cleric’s collar. “Let us get this farce over with, Reverend Burton.”
Julia’s face suffused with heat, but she refused to apologize. She lifted her chin, her tone matching his. “Yes, let’s proceed.”
The long-faced parson pushed up his spectacles and looked woefully from Brader to Julia, no doubt wishing himself somewhere other than between two angry titans. Clearing his throat, he said timidly, “I customarily ask the couple to join hands for the vows.”
Brader’s jaw tightened. He gave Julia a measuring look and then held his hand out to her. Hand in hand, the rest of their lives—the words formed in Julia’s mind before she placed her smaller hand in his larger, stronger one.
“Are you not going to take off your glove, or are you afraid I will sully the fair Julia?” His eyes were hard and bright.
“I didn’t mean—” Julia closed her mouth with a snap. She didn’t have to explain herself to this man or remove her gloves either, but she did, shooting him an angry glare. His hand felt warm encasing hers.
“That’s better.” Reverend Burton nodded his approval.
Julia bit her lip to keep from smiling at the irony of the parson’s statement. Reverend Burton was obviously rattled by their animosity. His actions, comical considering the circumstances, relieved a bit of the tension Julia was feeling. Sliding Brader a look from the corner of her eye, she noticed a suspicious twitch to his lips. The irony was not lost on him either. Her shoulders relaxed with the knowledge that Brader was not without a sense of humor.
The ceremony proceeded without incident. Brader did not look at her as he repeated his vows, but his voice was strong and sure.
Julia repeated her vows in a voice less steady. She kept her eyes lowered on her hand, held in Brader’s strong grasp. As she pledged her troth to be a dutiful and loving wife, Julia squeezed his hand ever so slightly but could not bring herself to face the intensity of his eyes.
So deep were her thoughts, the parson had to clear his throat several times to gain her attention. “I’ve just named you man and wife,” he stage-whispered. “It is customary at this point for man and woman to seal their troth with a kiss.” He blushed beet red with his words, while Julia’s lips formed a big O.
She turned to face Brader, who watched her with a guarded look. Seeing he was not going to make the first move, Julia straightened her back and, placing her hands on his upper arms for support, stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his lips.
The feeling of his mouth against hers was different from what she had expected. Were his lips soft and fluttery, or was that the sensation in her stomach? He did not move, and after a few seconds she broke off the kiss, finally daring to look up into his eyes. She lowered her heels to the ground.
But Brader had a different idea. His arms came around her body, capturing and lifting her inches off the ground. His lips came down on hers but they felt different. Gone was the softness, replaced by firm demand and the quest for an answer.
And Julia’s body answered. The flutters in her stomach slowed to something warm, fluid, hungry. His kiss felt right. So neatly did their bodies fit together, she could swear she’d been born to kiss him.
Her hands moved from his upper arms, which she’d clutched for support, to wrap around his shoulders. He deepened the kiss and her lips parted. The texture of his tongue touching hers first shocked her and then drove all sanity from her mind. She leaned closer to the muscled strength of his body. She could stay this way in his arms forever.
Brader broke off the kiss. He stepped back and, feeling as a person drugged, Julia wobbled from the loss of his support.
Embarrassed, she stole a glance at his face. He looked wary and his cheeks were tinged with color. The thrill of triumph flowed through her, steadying her own nerves. So! He wasn’t as unaffected by their kiss as he would have her believe. The blood sang through her veins. There was hope for the future. If he could find pleasure in her kisses, then she would have her baby.
Julia flashed a dazzling smile that succeed in winning the mousy parson’s heart while bringing a black scowl to Brader’s face.
“We have no time to dally here,” Brader growled, “if you are finished, Reverend, my”—he paused a moment—“my wife and I will be on our way.”
“Oh! Oh, yes, Mr. Wolf. Yes, we are finished,” answered the parson, still befuddled by Julia’s smile.
Brader frowned, took Julia’s arm at the elbow, and walked her down the aisle. They walked past the three women, who were also preparing to leave. Brader did not pause to introduce them but finished escorting Julia to the vestibule. “I’ll return in a moment,” he announced curtly.
He turned and walked back up the aisle toward the women. Solicitously, he bent over the petite woman and offered her his arm, his large body comical against her smaller size. Their progress down the aisle was at a snail’s pace, leaving Julia to conclude the veiled woman was much older than the other two.
His attitude was one of deference and respect—far more respect than Brader W
olf had ever shown her. No, they couldn’t be mistresses. Nor were they dour and unattractive women.
As he escorted them down the aisle toward her, the veiled woman on Brader’s arm made a comment that brought answering smiles and remarks from her companions. Even Brader chuckled, and Julia was struck again by the marked change in his appearance when he smiled and his eyes sparkled with humor.
So intent was she in her study, she didn’t hear her brother step up behind her.
“Julia.”
Startled, Julia turned toward the shadows of the stone church vestibule where Lionel stood.
“Come to wish me happy, Lionel?” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice.
“Don’t sound that way. You know I never meant you any harm.”
“What do you want?”
“Do you always think I want something?”
“Don’t you?”
Lionel studied her for a moment before his lips twitched. “Yes,” he conceded.
“Then let us speak plain between us, Lionel, without your games.”
“You are so hard, Julia. It’s amazing a woman can be so hard.”
“What do you want?”
The knuckles of his fists holding his hat turned white at the tone of her voice, but his face did not change from the friendly expression Julia’d learned years ago not to trust. “I need help.”
Julia did not answer.
“I lost bad. Night before last. I got into a game with Markley, Abbott, and Bartholomew.”
“Those names mean nothing to me.”
“They play deep. But I don’t think they play honest.”
“Lionel! Every time you lose, you cry foul. Don’t take me for a fool. What is it you want of me?”
“I need the blunt to pay the debt.”
Julia’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve run through a thousand pounds in two weeks?”
“We were playing deep.” At the skeptical lift of his sister’s eyebrow, Lionel’s voice changed to a plea. “Julia, these men want their money and are not willing to accept my marker.”
“Why come to me?” she asked, in a voice as cold as the winter wind whipping through the church’s vestibule. “It is my husband you must petition.”
“I already have.” Seeing this was news to Julia, he rushed on. “He said you had pin money; if you chose, you could advance cash to me. Julia, please, I beg of you. My luck is changing, I know it is, and if you can pay off Bartholomew and advance me a little extra, I’ll pay you back in a fortnight.”
Julia laughed, the bitter sound echoing in the vestibule. “You’ve never paid back a soul in your life.”
“Jul—”
“No. You listen to me and mark my words well. I wash my hands of the lot of you. What money I have is mine, and not for you or any of the others to gamble away.”
“Julia—”
“No! I said no and I meant it.”
Lionel stepped back, the ugly look on his face for once matching the meanness she knew lived in his soul. “Very well, madam. If you wish to turn your back on a family that cared for and nourished you while all the world branded you a harlot, so be it.”
Julia shook with anger. “Get out. And if I never see you or the rest of my ‘loving’ family again, it will be too soon.”
“Brave words, sister dear. But I wonder if you’ll be so bold when Geoffrey returns—and he will return, soon. We’ll see how you react to my requests then.” He slapped his hat on his head and slammed out the church door. Rain and wind whipped her skirts as her brother stormed out of her life.
Julia released the breath she held with a sigh, turned, and was shocked to discover she had an audience. Brader, the veiled woman, her two companions, and the ever-present Hardwell were standing in the vestibule entrance. Julia wondered just how much they had heard.
“Hardwell, please escort the ladies out to the first coach. My wife and I will take the second.” Brader’s eyes did not leave Julia’s face the whole time he was talking, and Julia felt herself a hare before the hound, unable to move her eyes or cry out, mesmerized by impending doom.
The veiled woman patted Brader’s arm, a gesture of concern, and then stepped forward to accept the waiting arms of two footmen Hardwell had summoned. The companions followed and Julia found herself facing Brader alone in the vestibule. He picked up her pelisse and held it open for her.
Slipping her arms into the coat, Julia turned. “Well?” She defied him to challenge her.
“Did I say anything?” He smiled grimly. “Far be it from me to interfere with the comings and goings of the aristocracy.”
Julia frowned in the act of pulling on her gloves. His voice held a touch of censure. What right did he have to censure her? “You don’t know my brother. If he were yours, you would treat him the same.”
She’d struck a nerve. His eyes grew dark. “If he were my brother,” he echoed, “I would give him every penny I own, thankful he was still alive.”
Julia stopped, stunned. “Brader, I don’t want you to think—”
“You’ve already made it very clear you don’t care what I—or anyone else—think.” A muscle twitched angrily against the side of his jaw.
“You’re wrong.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. But my telling you won’t make it right.” When he made no comment, she asked, “What do we do now?”
“Now? Now I have a meeting to attend,” he answered in a velvet voice edged with sarcasm. “And you have all the money any Markham could ever wish to spend.”
Anger blazed through her. He mocked her. For him their marriage was one more business transaction in a day full of business transactions. But before she could retort, Brader pushed open the door to the gray, rainy day outside the church. “Come, the world awaits Mrs. Brader Wolf.”
With the air of a queen, the former Lady Julia swept past her husband and hurried to the waiting coach outside the church. He was wrong about her, but she’d cut out her tongue before she explained herself to a cit!
Julia’s hand shook as she pulled the brush through her hair. Angry with herself, she slammed the brush on the bedroom dressing table and took a deep breath. In the mirror, her eyes, large and luminous, looked as if they would swallow her face. “I am not afraid.”
Her denial didn’t make the lie truth.
A sharp rap on the door leading from his room broke the silence.
Julia jumped. The maid assigned to her earlier in the evening had shyly informed her new mistress that the master’s room lay beyond that door.
She started to say come in, but no sound came out of her mouth. Slowly, Julia rose and turned to face the door. This was her wedding night, her chance to start over. The pad of one thumb brushed the faint scar on the other wrist. Courage.
“Come in.” Good. Her voice was strong. Now, if she could still her trembling knees…thankfully, her long white flannel nightgown covered them. She would not be afraid.
As the decorated brass handle on the door turned, Julia’s heart pounded in her ears. Never in her life had she felt more vulnerable than when the door swung open. There, in the portal, stood Brader Wolf. Still dressed in the street clothes he’d worn when he had stopped earlier in the afternoon to ensure she had everything she needed, he smelled of the rain and the night air. He’d brushed his hair straight back from his brow, but tiny drops of rain caught the candlelight and winked at her.
His expression was severe.
Julia took a step out from between the bench and the dressing table, thankful her trembling legs supported her weight. She lifted her chin and whispered to herself, “Do not be afraid. This is your husband.”
“What did you say?”
Julia gasped, embarrassed that he’d heard her. Her cheeks flaming, she answered, “I said that my husband is home.” Home. The word filled her with a warm feeling. She’d said nothing of which she need be ashamed. Her days of shame and loneliness were behind her.
Brader cocked his head, eyeing her warily. He moved i
nto the room. Slowly, his eyes studied her, from the tips of her bare toes, peeking from beneath the lace ruffle at the hem of her nightgown, to the top of her head, and finally rested upon her face.
“I hope you found everything satisfactory.” His tone was formal.
“Yes.” The word hung between them. Julia felt naked standing before him in nothing more than her nightdress. Nor could the usually glib Elegant Julia think of a word to say with her husband’s presence dominating the room.
Only moments ago, she’d thought the room slightly chilled. Now the force of his personality electrified it. Feeling awkward and gauche, Julia studied her toes, afraid to move closer to him lest he discover how nervous she was.
“You’re beautiful.”
Her gaze flew to his face, her lips parting in surprise. The compliment gave her hope until she saw the flat uncompromising line of his mouth, the hint of anger in his eyes.
“Thank you.” The word came out in one breath. Intuition told her it would be up to her to divine his thoughts. Brader Wolf did not strike her as a man who answered to many people.
“The room is lovely,” she ventured, lifting her hand to indicate furnishings, tastefully appointed in cream accented in blues and greens. “Emerald green and marine are my favorites colors.”
Brader nodded, as if confirming something in his own mind. “That’s what Hardwell discovered in his research.”
“Did he also discover that the veal in cream sauce served for dinner is my favorite?”
The light of amusement stirred in his eyes. “Yes.”
A new kind of heat crept up her spine, the heat of indignation. “I see. Then I believe it is Hardwell I must thank for his thoughtfulness and not my husband.”
Her anger eased something inside of Brader. He relaxed his stance. “Your husband?” He made a pretense of searching around the room. “Who are you playacting for, Lady Julia? A person would almost believe we were a love match, to hear you.”
Julia saw red. “A person would almost believe I was nothing more than that vase on the table, to hear you talk. You didn’t want a wife, you wanted a possession.”
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