Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
Spilled Tea
T hroughout the years, James had found himself waking up in various states. Tangled between the sheets with a woman. In his carriage just outside his home. In the middle of a gambling hall still holding cards. And of course, with a punishing headache and upset stomach from drinking too much. But this? This was new.
Never had he woken up restless. Every day was a new day no matter what had happened the night before. He never dwelled on a moment or lingered on a person. Only this time, he was still hung up on exactly that. What had happened the night before.
He could still taste her. He could feel the heat of her. He was still fixated on how small she felt in his arms and yet so perfect. How small but strong, fragile yet firm. A contradiction that intrigued him. How bravely and yet timidly she had agreed to his game. How her lips felt on his. How she kissed him back.
Oh, when she kissed him back…
He felt the moment, the exact second any doubts she had flickered and died. Only to be replaced with something more dangerous.
Sure, James expected uncertainty, but he had confidence in his skills. He could easily replace any reservation with at least curiosity. What he hadn’t expected was the yearning.
He groaned in the stillness of his room at the thought. He had barely held himself back when she surrendered to the sheer sensation of the kiss. If he hadn’t, he would have shown her the whole worth of the lessons in a matter of minutes. Which would have made the game so much… less.
And James? James was determined to savor this. Every little thing, every little moment of it.
“Oh, little wallflower. You learn fast.” He smiled to himself. “You’ll make such a good student.”
He chuckled. He had four promenades to teach her the true meaning of pleasure. A true challenge. But when had he ever backed away from a challenge, especially one so delectable?
He straightened his waistcoat and continued getting ready for breakfast. He was to meet with her that day, and he was nothing if not a dutiful tutor. Yet, his mind demanded that he remember one more thing from last night. The one thing he avoided to think about.
He could still hear her say, “I want you.” It wasn’t the first time that a woman breathlessly told him that. It wasn’t the ‘want’ part. Women always wanted him the moment they saw him. They would show him their desire with flushed cheeks and shameless looks.
Yes, he knew want well.
It was the ‘you’ part. The way she said it, the fact that he knew it was not a hollow word. Like there was no other option. Only him. And why did that make his stomach tighten? Why did that not make his pride flare? And why was fear crawling up his spine?
You, she had said. The real him.
“James?”
His grandmother’s voice brought him back to her little sanctuary, away from a certain balcony on which he still lingered even during breakfast. He could tell that his grandmother knew that his mind was wandering, and she was wondering where he was off to.
He gave her that boyish smile that got him lemon drops and sweets when he was a boy.
“So”—Euphemia slipped into the role of an interrogator—“how was the Hexters’ event last night?”
Satisfying, James was tempted to admit. Lady Diana asked me to show her pleasure, and I gladly agreed. All in all, it was a great evening.
But he decided to spare his grandmother a possible heartache. And spare himself a long scolding.
“You know the Hexters. They like to show off,” he said offhand.
“They got money and no idea what to do with it. Maybe they lack… refinement, but ever since their unassuming son took over, their estate has expanded. He has a knack for business, and his wife is happy to spend his money.”
“It amazes me, Grandmother, how you are always so well-informed even though you are confined in the house. You should accompany me next time.”
“Then I would have a firsthand account of your conduct.”
“You know me. I conduct myself with dignity, upholding our family name.”
“Ah, dignity . The first word people use when they talk about you, I am sure.”
“That is fairly unkind, dear grandmother.”
“But accurate.”
James cocked an eyebrow. He didn’t have to look far to see who he got his attitude from. He filled his cup with more coffee, since he had to admit that although he was not drunk, he had a hard time sleeping.
“Now, tell me. Did you meet Lady Diana?”
He almost choked on his coffee. His grandmother was for sure a menace. He looked upon her, the frail old woman petting her cats. One could mistake her for a fool, and that would make him the fool in her stead. James was smarter than that.
“Grandmother, if I didn’t know you any better, I would think you are prying.”
“I am prying.”
“So, all of this is not a thoughtful inquiry about my well-being?” James pretended to be hurt.
Euphemia looked at him over her teacup. “Your being has constantly been well, boy. I am always more worried about the well-being of the people around you.”
James couldn’t help but laugh and put his hand over his heart as if her words truly hurt him.
“I am sure you will survive.” His grandmother waved him off like a spoiled child.
“I do feel the need to warn you, Grandmother.” The look in his eyes was playful but also serious. “Keep prying, and I might indulge your curiosity. It doesn’t mean that you will like what you will hear.”
Euphemia gaped at him and perhaps blushed. “Anyway, Lady Diana…?”
“I did meet her,” James proceeded carefully. “She was accompanied by her brother. We had to discuss some business venture.”
“Did you dance with her?”
“It was only polite to do so.”
“And you are one for propriety, right? Especially when there is something to gain?”
“Grandmother, you wound me.” James smiled. “You have no regard for my virtues.”
“But I can always rely on your vices.”
James chuckled at that.
Euphemia Bolton had her way of getting you to reevaluate your life choices while showing you immense love. James made sure he always appreciated the love she had showered him with. It was with love that he regarded her as she poured her millionth cup of tea.
“I don’t think I have met the girl,” she continued. “I knew her mother. A beautiful woman, she was.”
His grandmother was a shrewd one. Either he admitted Diana was beautiful or not. Either way, she would have what she needed.
“I can’t say whether her mother was beautiful or not.” He took a sip of his coffee.
Euphemia narrowed her eyes in a way that said, Don’t toy with me, boy.
James shook his head. “But,” he relented, “if I were to judge from her daughter’s looks, it’d be fair to say that she must have been lovely.”
“Lovely? What an interesting choice of words.”
James decided that the best course of action was to drink more of his coffee. He wasn’t ready to ask his grandmother what exactly piqued her curiosity. It would only entangle him and incriminate him further.
“And you are going to do business with her brother. How interesting, indeed.”
“Grandmother,” he simply said with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh, please, my handsome boy. You know I only wish to see you happy. Married, with a family.”
He was ready to tease her when the door opened and his father walked in. James’s back stiffened, and his smile dropped. It felt like an invasion to have him here.
This had always been their moment, the little quirky breakfast that the two of them had here. Only the two of them, he and his grandmother. In the house they lived in, a house he had to manage so young along with the rest of his duties. Now, his father was here and was getting in the way all the time, claiming everything that was his.
“Good morning, Mother.” Solomon kissed Euphemia’s cheek.
James watched as the old woman’s eyes lit up. This was her only son, after all. He was absent, and now he was back. Who could blame the old woman?
“James.” Solomon nodded, seeming at a loss.
James didn’t move, eyeing him over his coffee cup.
“Ah, you came at the perfect moment,” Euphemia chimed in.
Not at all, James wanted to protest, and it showed on his face. Solomon had the decency to refrain from trying to inject himself into their conversation.
“James was telling me about last night’s ball. Because I have it on good authority that he only danced with one lady all night.”
James clenched his jaw. The mirth was gone. He had really hoped to pretend that his father was not there till he finished his coffee and left.
“Do you know of Lady Diana, Solomon? She is the sister of the Duke of Westall, and her eldest sister is the Duchess of Seymour.”
“I can’t say I do.” Solomon was careful to avoid James’s gaze.
Euphemia was no fool. Her old bones must have felt the chill between the two men, but she was on a mission. If she desired to see James married, then she desired even more to see her son and grandson mending their broken relationship.
“Our James”—Euphemia was glad to include him, of course—“bid at an auction on five promenades with her.”
Solomon shot his son a dark look. James returned it tenfold. The sunlight filtering through the windows was making a futile attempt to warm their cold looks.
“I am not surprised you don’t know of her. She is a rather reserved lady.” Euphemia was happy to keep the conversation going. “Understandable, of course, after what happened to her. If I was so publicly humiliated, I’d want to make myself invisible.”
“Grandmother!”
It was too late, though.
“Humiliated?” Solomon’s tone was cold.
“The poor girl saw the man she was supposed to marry confess his love to another. The whole ton was present. I can only imagine the mortification and the heartbreak she must have been through.”
Solomon’s eyes snapped to James’s. A true collision. The room grew smaller and smaller.
“A woman who has already been abandoned,” Solomon said coldly. “Not exactly a promising prospect, is she?”
“Funny,” James retorted in a way that conveyed that he found nothing in their conversation amusing. “You speak as if I ever asked for your opinion on this matter. On any matter.”
“I am merely stating the obvious. Why would you involve yourself with a woman who has a reputation? Even for a man of your… character, that is a bit too much.”
James’s pulse quickened, but his expression remained perfectly composed. He tilted his head slightly, a lazy smile curling at the edges of his mouth.
“And here I thought experience might have taught you not to judge a person by what Society thinks of them.”
The words fell in the space between them like a boulder that completely broke Solomon’s composure. Mainly because they were true, and everyone in the room knew that.
His eyes widened, and he had to gulp his tea the same way he would swallow poison. He swiftly recovered, though.
“I merely meant that there must have been a reason that she was rejected and abandoned.”
Even Euphemia was shocked to hear those words.
James slowly set his cup on the table and dipped his chin in a way that made him look like a predator ready to attack. “Interesting. Some might say you are an authority on abandoning one’s responsibilities.”
Solomon’s fingers tightened ever so slightly around his teacup, the fine porcelain straining under the pressure.
James watched with the same hard look as his father’s jaw twitched and his shoulders stiffened.
“Boys,” Euphemia cut in. “It’s such a lovely day to spoil it with harsh words over lukewarm tea.”
She rang for more tea, but James was already up.
“Are you leaving, my sweet boy?”
James buttoned up his coat, breathing deeply to remind himself that his grandmother was not the one to blame. She was merely trying to mend the unmendable.
“Yes, Grandmother. I am expected.”
“Expected?”
“Ah, yes. You see, I committed to five promenades with Lady Diana.”
He adjusted the cufflinks on his shirt and threw one last look at his father. A look that was a cross between dismissal and something far colder.
“And I never run away from my commitments.”