Chapter 9 #2
Julius said nothing, merely lifted a brow in amusement. He rather liked seeing her fingers dance over fabric, liked how she held a scarf to the light to examine the weave, her lips pursed in concentration.
He bought her a hot meat pie from a nearby vendor, and they walked along the street while she ate. Julius found the rhythm of their stroll surprisingly pleasing. Easy. She chewed slowly, occasionally commenting on a shop window or a passerby, while he kept a watchful eye on the club across the way.
After several minutes, she sighed and shifted the overcoat on her shoulders.
“I must say, it is rather warm for this much wool.”
Julius returned her smile, his gaze drawn, quite against his better judgment, to the lingering crumbs that clung to her lower lip as she swallowed the last bite of the pie.
The temptation to reach out and brush them away with his thumb was nearly overwhelming, but the reality of their charade held him in check.
No gentleman would touch the lips of another gentleman in public, and Audrey, however lovely she might be, was presenting as a boy of no more than fifteen.
Egad, it was all a confusing muddle.
No matter how well she wore the disguise, Julius saw her clearly.
The femininity in her carriage, the curve of her jaw when she turned, the graceful way she adjusted the hat perched upon her head.
He doubted anyone else would notice. She passed well enough, and the long coat helped to obscure what her attire could not conceal.
But to Julius, she was herself. Entirely and unmistakably herself.
They had crossed the street and begun to wander again past the club when her gaze caught on a passing fruit seller, his basket brimming with early strawberries.
Her face lit with childlike delight, and Julius could not help but grin.
He hailed the man without a second thought and purchased the berries for her.
It was, perhaps, an unwise decision.
Audrey bit into one, and the red juice glistened against her lips in the morning light. Julius tensed. His fists curled at his sides with effort as he averted his eyes.
“Is something the matter?” she asked, brows drawn in a faint frown as she caught him watching her.
Julius cleared his throat and gestured to his own lip before retrieving a handkerchief from his coat and handing it to her. She took it with a grateful smile, dabbing at her mouth with efficient little motions. He exhaled slowly, gathering his wits.
“I shall go check on Scott,” he said, more curtly than he had intended. He turned on his heel and strode away, jaw clenched.
Spending an entire day in idle observation with Audrey by his side was proving to be rather more complicated than anticipated. She was temptation wrapped in wool and linen, and no amount of disguises could change that simple truth.
Audrey dabbed at her lips with the handkerchief Julius had given her, trying to ensure no trace of strawberry juice remained.
The fabric of her collar, stiff with starch, might well have caught a hint of red, but she could not tell.
She straightened it with careful fingers, stealing a glance toward the entrance of the club.
Julius had disappeared inside. Tension still hung between them, unspoken yet undeniable, and she suspected they were both thinking of what they had shared the previous night.
A foolish indulgence, considering the very real dangers that remained.
There was still the matter of the murderer who had attacked Julius and the risk to herself if anyone discovered she was the missing ward of Lord Stirling.
The more she loitered about London, the greater the chance her identity would be revealed.
They ought to have been watching every shadow and minding every alley, not reliving a moment of soft lips and racing hearts.
And yet, her thoughts returned to that moment with a stubbornness that unsettled her.
She longed to pretend she was simply on an adventure—unattached, unfettered.
But she was not. Ruin waited in the wings, with Lady Astley no doubt screeching with rage by now.
Audrey had no firm plan for confronting the scandal that would soon unfold.
All she knew was that she wished this escapade to continue for as long as possible.
She turned her eyes to the street, blinking away such reckless thoughts. A figure moved at the far end of the row. She narrowed her gaze. The man wore a long overcoat, far too heavy for the mild warmth of the day. A warning bell rang in her head.
Julius emerged from the club and made his way toward her, his manner relaxed. She turned on her heel and sauntered away, allowing him to catch up without drawing attention.
“I believe we are being followed,” she whispered as they walked.
Julius hissed beneath his breath. “We shall turn the corner ahead. Tell me what you saw.”
They continued, unhurried, until the next block where they turned and pressed themselves flat against the stone wall.
“I saw a man, an overcoat too heavy for the weather. Rather like ours,” she added, unable to ignore the irony.
Julius gave a grim nod. “An excellent point.”
He removed his hat and peered carefully around the edge of the building. “You may be right,” he murmured.
“What do we do?”
“We head to Covent Garden. There are always crowds there. We can vanish in plain sight and switch our coats and hats at a tailor I know.” He paused, giving her a small smile. “We can disappear and reappear at will. Just like conjurers.”
Audrey nodded, her chest tight with nerves.
They made their way through the narrow streets, taking corners and cutting through alleys until they paused in a boarded-up shopfront. Julius surveyed their surroundings.
“There is no one,” he said at last.
Audrey frowned. “Did I imagine it?”
“Hard to say. It was strange, but I have not seen him again since St. James’s. Perhaps it was nothing.”
She bit her lip. “I apologize. I may have wasted the day.”
He shook his head firmly. “Not at all. Better to be cautious. Still …” His brow furrowed. “I am growing weary of this strategy. Following these men yields little. I wish I had a clearer memory of the blackguard who attacked me. I would far prefer to focus on that.”
“I wish I could be of more help,” she murmured. “It was so dark. He was covered from head to toe. I saw nothing distinct.”
Julius turned toward her and, to her surprise, gently lifted her chin with his gloved fingers. His eyes met hers, his gaze warm and steady.
“You have been of more help than you know. I may not be standing here without you.”
The words wrapped around her like a fluffy blanket. Audrey smiled, struck anew by the curious flecks of color in his eyes—brown, green, and something else besides. His gaze dropped to her mouth for the briefest instant, but then he released her and stepped back into the light.
The moment passed, but the memory of it lingered.
Julius was near bursting with frustration, not at her but at circumstance. They needed to return to Aunty Gertrude’s as quickly as possible. In public, with Audrey disguised as a man, even an affectionate glance might be misinterpreted.
So he quickened their steps, pausing frequently to ensure they were not followed. The streets felt longer than usual, the minutes stretched thin with waiting and wanting. At last, they reached the quiet lane and entered through the mews, Julius locking the door behind them with practiced haste.
He turned and found her watching him.
Audrey’s eyes were luminous, her expression open, unguarded. There was a moment, a heartbeat suspended in time, where neither moved. Then, without warning, she stepped forward and pressed her hands to his chest, resting her forehead just below his collar.
The contact stilled him. No heated embrace followed—only the simple, profound weight of her trust. Julius lowered his arms slowly, wrapping them around her shoulders and drawing her against him, careful and reverent.
They stood like that in the silence. Her breath was uneven, matching his own, and the sweet trace of strawberries still clung to the air between them. The yearning to tilt her chin and press a kiss to her lips stirred, but he resisted. Instead, he closed his eyes and pressed his cheek to her hair.
They were treading a perilous line. Yet, it was not attraction alone that held them so closely in that moment. It was something deeper. Something unsettling in its intimacy.
He exhaled, slow and steady, then loosened his hold and stepped back.
Audrey looked up at him, clearly struggling for composure. Her lips parted, but no words came at first.
“What is this?” she asked softly.
Julius shook his head.
“I do not know.” His voice was low and rough with the weight of his thoughts. “I am a man of leisure who has spent much of his life in pursuit of enjoyment. And you … you are a woman of character and gentle upbringing.”
She nodded, her cheeks flushed, though her gaze did not waver.
“We should …” he began.
“Collect ourselves,” she said quickly, finishing for him. “And go inside. I will tend to your wound before your friend arrives.”
Grateful for her composure, Julius gave a slight nod. He followed her in silence, his thoughts a tangle.
He wanted to hold her again. Not with desperation, but with the intention of something lasting. Yet he had no certainty to offer. He had not even spoken to her of marriage, though it hovered at the edges of every moment they shared.
What manner of husband could he become? Could he return to Town, leaving her behind in Stirling, and remain faithful to a wife he saw but a few times a year? Could a marriage built on necessity blossom into something real?
He had spent so long railing against the idea of matrimony that he had never imagined this, caring so deeply for someone that the thought of her leaving made his chest ache.
Audrey deserved more than confusion and half-spoken promises. She deserved honesty and intention.
Until he knew what he could offer her, Julius knew one thing only—he must guard her heart as fiercely as his own. That meant keeping a careful distance. No more stolen moments. Not until he could offer her something real.
And not before he knew, without question, what that something was.