Chapter Eight
“—and, of course, you will then attend tea with Miss Hollingford and her mother, a very fine woman, and I hope you will ensure to mention that, Julia, for it is imperative that she has a positive impression of—Julia, are you attending?”
Julia sighed, plastered a smile on her face, and tried to speak without sarcasm. “How could I not attend, Mama?”
Her mother glared for a moment, then smiled sweetly. “Wonderful. And then after the tea, there is an evening dinner I think will be most suitable, we have been invited to two, but I believe there will be more eligible gentlemen at…”
It was easy to allow the words to wash over her. Julia had heard it all before, anyway. The countless invitations, the dinners, dancing, balls, card parties, walks in Hyde Park, rides—as long as a chaperone could be found, naturally—all designed to elicit one thing.
A proposal of marriage.
Julia shifted uncomfortably on the sofa in the morning room as her mother continued.
“—light cerise gown if you would not mind, I know you prefer the blue, but I truly think your eyes will be highlighted a little better. I know you do not think of these things, but that is what a mother is for, Julia—Julia, are you still—”
“Yes, Mama, I am listening,” Julia interrupted, biting back her frustration and trying to smile. “I am always listening.”
Always listening. Well, that was at least true. Always hearing about how her mother’s friends’ daughters were getting married, or having a third child, or had been whisked off her feet by a duke.
A duke! Julia almost snorted at the very thought. Try as her mother might, they were not the sort to entangle themselves with a duke. They were respectable, yes, gentry, certainly. But dukes?
“—how is the younger Mr. Renwick, do you know?”
Julia blinked. Her mother, her dark brown hair growing silver with each passing month but her eyes just as fierce, just as determined, was examining her with a raised eyebrow.
“I beg your pardon?” Julia was forced to ask weakly.
Mrs. Dryden glowered. “I knew it! I knew you were not listening—Donald, did I not say—”
“Oh, what a shame, Mama, I find I am needed elsewhere,” said Donald, hastily rising and abandoning his newspaper with as much disdain with which he now abandoned Julia.
She rose, too. “I shall accompany you, Don—”
“You will do no such thing,” said their mother sternly, fixing her daughter with a look that forced Julia to fold back onto the sofa. “I have much to say to you, Julia, on the subject of your marriage.”
Donald threw her a grin as he slipped out the door, preventing Julia from scowling.
“And there is no need to look so horrifically unhappy about it,” smarted Mrs. Dryden. “Ladies your age want to get married!”
Julia swallowed. It was not a topic she wished to discuss—at least, not with her mother. Though the topic had been overwhelming her every movement for the last year and a half, it had a strange sort of resonance now.
Now that she had met…
“You’re hiding something.”
“So are you.”
“Who isn’t?”
Julia cleared her throat and swiftly picked up a book to hide behind.
Not that it would do much good. It was not just her mother’s ire she was attempting to escape but her own thoughts, and they crowded her mind as swiftly as her heartbeat raced.
Lawrence Madgwick. He was a rather unfortunate complication.
She had never considered herself romantic. Never thought dreamily of a prince sweeping her away from it all, or a tall handsome duke promising her the world.
Why, she would not have the faintest idea what to say to a duke!
But Julia was no fool. Though dukes and princes were out of the question, someone like Lawrence was equally out of bounds.
A man like that, who worked with his hands—worse, who fought for a living!
Yet something drew her to him. Something she should fight, she knew, but she could not. Julia had never been forced to decide between what she wanted, and…
Her gaze fell on her mother, who looked up as Julia rose from the sofa.
“Where are you going?”
“To Mr. Rivers, the haberdasher,” Julia lied, tasting the bitterness of the untruth on her tongue.
She hated to do it. She was unaccustomed to falsehood of any kind, but she could hardly speak truthfully about her intended destination.
Her mother’s face visibly relaxed. “Ah, that is quite understandable. Seeking a few ribbons for tonight’s adventure?”
Julia nodded, not revealing she had already entirely forgotten what that evening’s adventure was supposed to be. If she were fortunate, she could “forget” to return home…
“Well, add it to the Dryden tab, and I shall ensure to close it at the end of the month,” said Mrs. Dryden generously. “If that is what is needed to find you a husband, then it is money well spent. Go on then, dear. And take an umbrella, it is sure to rain.”
Just a hint of guilt seared Julia’s heart as she pulled on her pelisse and slipped an umbrella over her arm.
Lying to her mother…it felt wrong. It was wrong.
Yet not seeing Lawrence for so many days was so much more wrong. She yearned for him, needed to be close to him, needed to hear his voice.
Feel his touch…
By the time she had reached the Almonry Den, her feet taking her far swifter now she was accustomed to the way, Julia had promised herself two things.
Firstly, this would be the last time she would actively seek out Lawrence Madgwick. It was madness, purposefully hoping to spend time with a man! Not even a gentleman, though there was something in him that suggested good breeding, even if all the evidence pointed to the contrary.
And secondly, she would finally this evening have a heart-to-heart conversation with her mother, and tell her once and for all that if she married, it would be to a gentleman of her own choosing, in her own time.
Both of these promises fell to the wayside as Julia stepped inside, breathed in the sawdust, and saw…Lawrence.
Julia gasped. It was a side of Lawrence she had never seen before. The place was almost empty; it was too early for any fights. There was no crowd seated on the benches, no roaring, no jeering, no hasty bets being taken as fists flew through the air.
In fact, there was almost no one there at all.
Which was why, perhaps, Lawrence had considered this the perfect time to practice.
Julia slipped soundlessly onto a bench in a dark corner, eyes fixed on him. His breeches tight, his shirt missing, sweat glistening on the muscles that she had felt when they had lost their heads and kissed in Hyde Park.
Her fingers ached to touch them. To feel their strength, their mastery.
Lawrence was moving forward, his feet swift as his hands worked furiously, punching the air. When he reached a certain point, he turned around and punched his way back along the line.
Julia tried to catch her breath, but it was impossible. The physicality of the man, the strength, the power, but also the control, the restraint. He was not punching with his full strength. She could see that in the way his shoulders tensed as he pulled back the punches.
Something ached in her that had never ached before.
If only the place was completely empty.
Now she came to look again, there was only a pair of men chatting away on the other side of the ring. They were paying Lawrence no heed.
If only they would leave. Then, Julia found herself thinking most wantonly…then she could approach Lawrence. Speak to him. Touch him. Kiss him…
“Jules?”
Julia started, almost slipping off the bench. “What?”
As she looked up, she saw Lawrence had spotted her and was laughing at her astonished expression.
“Dear me, what do you think you’re doing here?” he said easily, stepping toward her with the self-assurance of a man several times his better, his body glistening with power and temptation. “This is not the place for a lady.”
Julia rose to her feet so swiftly, the earth seemed to shift underneath her. Oh, he had absolutely no idea how little she wanted to be a lady in this moment…
She was an innocent, yes, but she was no fool. She knew what ladies and gentlemen… but no, that was not quite right.
She knew what men and women, and sometimes women and women, and she had once heard men and men could do with each other. Share with each other. What delight they could give each other.
Julia shivered as Lawrence came to a stop only a few feet away. An arm’s length. If she reached out, she could—
“Watching, of course. You never know,” she found herself saying, astonished her voice managed to stay so calm. “I might want to fight one day.”
Her statement was ridiculous. Her, fight? Julia could not think of a single situation in which that would be necessary. Besides the fact that ladies simply did not get involved in such nonsense, she had her brother. Donald would fight for her, if ever a fight was needed.
But what, a small voice in her mind whispered, if you were not with Donald? What if you were with Lawrence? His arm around you while his other hand fought off attackers, and as they lay at your feet, he would kiss her hard on the—
“I pray you never have to fight,” Lawrence said easily, tilting his head slightly as he examined her. “That cannot be the reason you were watching me.”
Julia cursed the fact that she had allowed her curiosity—no, her desire, at least in the privacy of her own mind she could be honest—to overwhelm her. She did not need Lawrence knowing just how much she wanted to watch him! To look at him. To see all of him…
Flushing furiously as her gaze dropped, almost against her will, to the front of his breeches, Julia forced herself to look away—and saw something perhaps just as interesting.
The pair of men who had been discussing something by the ring were leaving. In about five seconds, she and Lawrence would be completely alone.
And he was still not wearing a shirt.
“I suppose I should learn to fight.”
Lawrence snorted. “Jules, you’ll…well. You have your brother to fight for you, and one day, you’ll have…”
A husband. The words were not spoken, but they hung in the air as clear as day, making Julia’s cheeks darken.
“I suppose so,” she said quietly.