Chapter Four #2
“You intrigue me almost as much as I think I intrigue you,” he said. “And you are right. Looks can be deceiving. I still do not understand why a woman who looks like you decides to spend her evening here, when she undoubtedly has received a good many far better invitations.”
The compliment caused heat to rise in Julia’s cheeks, though not perhaps the one the handsome man beside her had intended.
Yes, she had plenty of invitations, all stacked along the great marble mantelpiece in the drawing room, some of them gilt edged, some of them with fancy calligraphy, some with impressive titles.
But it was not the recognition that she was a sought after member of the ton that had delighted her.
“I still do not understand why a woman who looks like you…”
Looks like her? Why, that had to mean something, did it not?
Strange that a passing compliment the man had evidently not considered meant more to her than all the fripperies thrown at her by wheedling gentlemen at dinners.
“Perhaps I have other places I could be, but I chose to be here.”
“Why?” His response was swift, challenging, intrigued.
A flutter of excitement grew in her stomach. He was interested in her—in her!
“Because you are nothing like any of the gentlemen I am forced to converse with,” Julia found herself saying, words spilling out as the unfortunate soul below them was dragged out of a boxing ring and replaced by another.
“Because you make me feel. Feel alive, alive in a way I have never felt before. And I think you feel it, too.”
For a moment, she was convinced she had gone too far. Lawrence examined her closely, his dark eyes flashing.
Julia swallowed. What did she think she was doing, saying such—
“I have never met a woman who spoke her mind so openly,” Lawrence said quietly.
Perhaps it was a coincidence. Perhaps the man on his other side jolted him. But Julia was certain Lawrence had leaned closer, his shoulder brushing up against hers.
A spark of something she was starting to recognize seared through her.
“Truly?” she breathed.
Lawrence nodded. “Why, if I did not have—other things to attend to, I could see myself getting rather distracted by you, Miss Dryden.”
Julia had not expected to feel disappointment at such an intimate sentence, but he had not called her Julia.
“Julia, please.”
“I prefer Jules, but I—I should not…” Lawrence appeared to lose his tongue for a moment before turning back to the fight and resolutely continuing without looking at her. “How do you like his chances?”
She knew why he had done it, of course. It was not seemly for the two of them to be talking so closely—they had not even been formally introduced!
Julia stifled a smile at the idea of dragging someone like Lawrence Madgwick, in his oft-mended jacket and mismatched waistcoat, to be introduced at Almack’s.
The very idea…
“Chances?” she said vaguely, trying to focus on the fight.
From what she could see, the bout was one sided. One of the men looked like the brute who had knocked Lawrence out. The other was a sprightly looking man, all sinew, no muscle.
“Surely it must go one way,” Julia said quietly. “I mean, the smaller man cannot possibly win.”
“You think so?”
She glanced at Lawrence. There was a knowing smile on his face, one that made her lungs tighten, just for a moment.
“And you don’t?”
Lawrence shook his head, lowering his voice and most unaccountably leaning to her.
To ensure that she could hear him, Julia tried to tell herself. But then, why lower his voice in the first place?
“Look at him, really look at him,” Lawrence murmured, voice low and full of meaning. “He is underestimated by those around him. People look at him and assume they know all about him—and what’s best for him.”
Julia’s heart was beating frantically now, the intimate nature of their conversation and its scandalous content drawing palpitations and a rush of tenderness.
Oh, this was what she had thought of when she had read about romances, when she had thought what it would be like to sit in the presence of a man one simply could not stay away from—
“And they are wrong?” she breathed.
Lawrence’s eyes met hers. There was such intensity there, such devotion, that Julia’s lips parted. “Oh, the world thinks it knows best, and he could easily obey, could he not? Only do what he was told, be what they wanted, go only where they said he belonged.”
Julia’s mouth was dry. “And he won’t.”
“He won’t,” said Lawrence with a smile. His hands had somehow moved to his left knee, right beside her own. Tantalizingly near. “That’s when you know you’ve met someone special. When they are told by the world what to do, how to be, who to associate with…and they refuse.”
Julia could barely breathe. She was intoxicated with him, what he was saying, who he was. How could he say those words with such calm?
“Those are the sorts of people I wish to know,” Lawrence murmured. “That is the type of person I wish to be.”
Julia blinked, trying to force reason into her mind, but she could not. Oh, to be such a person as Lawrence would admire, to see herself through his eyes…
For was she not such a person? Was this not, in truth, a very clever way of flattering her?
“And is that,” Julia whispered, “why you are here? Why you risk everything to find him?”
And all of a sudden, the moment was broken.
She did not know how, did not believe she had said anything to warrant such a change, but in that instant, Lawrence moved away. He leaned back and affixed her with such a sharp look, she felt pinned to the bench.
“What in heavens do you mean by that?” he barked.
Julia stared, utterly at a loss. “I—I just meant, you said you were looking for people like that, to be a person like that, and I thought—if I misunderstood, if I offended—”
“No, no, it’s my misunderstanding,” Lawrence said hastily, a brief smile creasing his lips, but it was gone again in an instant. “Never you mind.”
Another cheer. Another man must have fallen in the boxing ring.
At least, that was what Julia assumed. She had not looked round, unable to drag her attention away from the man who looked unsettled, a wild look in his eyes, a sense of shock not yet dissipating from his features.
What had she said to so disturb him?
“Never mind my mutterings,” said Lawrence. “Come, let us focus on what is before us.”
Julia swallowed. “Us?”
It was a heady thought. Us. Her and Lawrence. A strange sort of courtship, one her mother would certainly not approve—
“The boxing ring,” said Lawrence, gesturing at it lazily. “I believe Tom is up next—ah yes, there he is.”
Julia’s shoulders slumped. She should not have lost herself in imaginings—in remembrances of that ridiculous dream she’d had.
Reality was before her, and that reality was clear. She and Lawrence may meet at the Almonry Den, may marvel at the boxing before them…
But they could not be more different.