Chapter 8
“Good morning, ma’am.” Julian bowed to his mother in the drawing room of his old home. “You asked to see me.”
“Yes.” She didn’t invite him to sit, or offer him tea, and her expression of cool dislike was her standard response to him. She wore a plain morning gown in dark green and a matching lace bonnet and fichu in white. “Are you quite sure that color suits you? You look rather washed-out.”
“My pallor is probably due to my extravagant life, ma’am.” Julian pretended to sigh. “A bachelor around town has to keep up appearances and remain fashionable.”
“I wanted to speak to you about your brother.”
“Which one?” Julian asked.
“Aragon, of course. Anton is safely away from your influence and on his way to India.”
“My influence on Anton is one of the things I am most proud of in my life.” Julian allowed a hint of ice to permeate his reply. “He is a credit to the whole family. I am glad to have funded his advancement in his career.”
Julian rarely let his mother rile him, but his steady relationship with his younger brother was something he cherished.
She made a face. “I suppose you expect me to be eternally grateful for that small kindness, don’t you?”
“Grateful? You haven’t even thanked me,” Julian reminded her.
“Such a peevish, needy little boy. I see nothing has changed.” His mother sniffed. “One shouldn’t have to thank someone for simply doing their duty to their family.”
Julian took out his watch and glanced at it. “Is there a reason you asked me to call, ma’am, or shall I be on my way?”
“Sit down.”
Reluctantly, Julian did as she asked.
“I don’t appreciate you filling Aragon’s head with nonsense.”
“As far as I am aware, all Aragon’s thoughts are of horses, ma’am, and I’m fairly certain I had nothing to do with that. Now, if he’d suddenly developed an interest in fashion, or dancing—”
“He’s developed an interest in a woman!” she spoke over him. “A woman you introduced him to.”
“Hardly, Mother. If you recall, we grew up with the Musgroves as neighbors in the country.”
“And I distinctly discouraged any fraternization with that immoral household.”
“You might have discouraged it, but children will find a way to be friends despite adult disapproval,” Julian countered.
“You should not have reintroduced her to him, then.”
“He asked me to,” Julian said. “I told him you wouldn’t approve.”
“On that we can agree. Carenza Musgrove is not a fitting bride for my son. Her family are not at all the thing.”
“Aragon would never marry without your consent, ma’am. He adores you.” Julian couldn’t quite believe he was having to defend his older brother. “I also suspect Lady Carenza is not horse-mad enough for him.”
“You will keep him away from her.”
Julian raised an eyebrow. “He is a grown man capable of managing his own affairs, and you’ve made quite certain that he would never listen to me or take my advice over yours.”
His mother’s lips thinned, and she stared at him. “I see you intend to be as unhelpful as ever. I don’t know why I bothered to ask.”
He rose to his feet. “To be perfectly honest, ma’am, neither do I. But then, I’ve always been a disappointment to you, and I’m sure you’ll feel vindicated that nothing has changed.” He bowed. “I’ll see myself out.”
He went down the stairs, the familiar feeling of resentment and frustration settling in his chest. She didn’t like him—her own child—and she never would. He rarely allowed her to rile him anymore, but sometimes …
He nodded his thanks to the butler as he opened the front door for him. Perhaps he should go to Jackson’s and find someone to spar with, because his mood certainly wasn’t presentable in polite company. He stepped up into his phaeton and took the reins back from his tiger.
In truth, he’d like to see Carenza and take her to bed. He took a few deep breaths, his unseeing gaze on the busy road in front of him. Eventually, his groom coughed.
“Horses don’t like this standing about, guv.”
“You’re quite correct.” He clicked to his lead horse and eased his way into the traffic between a brewery cart and a closed carriage. “Hang on.”
It was one of the rare occasions when Carenza was by herself in the town house.
Allegra had gone out with Maude to the dressmaker’s, and Carenza had set herself the task of writing a letter to her parents—something that was long overdue.
The last thing she wanted was for her father to grow anxious and decide to come to London.
She was trying to think of how to detail her social timetable without mentioning that Julian had been her escort to almost every event of the past week.
Her father might not pick up on such things, but her mother would.
Carenza didn’t want to get into any discussion as to her current choices—choices that would horrify her father and probably amuse her mother.
Even in the short week since Julian had first taken her to bed, she was behaving differently.
She put down her pen and stared out the small window that overlooked the garden. There was no denying it—she was aware of him in such a different way now. When he stood behind her, she smelled his skin and yearned to lean back and rub her face against his throat until he grabbed hold of her and …
“Mr. Julian Laurent, my lady.”
“Oh!”
She stood up in something of a rush as Julian came into her private sitting room.
As usual, he looked perfect, his cravat intricately knotted and fastened with a diamond pin, his breeches tightly fitted and tucked into tall, black riding boots.
She went over to greet him, and the butler left the room.
“Am I disturbing you?” He bowed, his expression unreadable. “I did tell the butler that my visit was not expected.”
“You are practically family, sir,” Carenza said. “There is no need to stand on ceremony with me.”
She studied his face. This was another new source of awareness. She now understood how much he concealed behind his exquisite exterior. Despite his apparent ease, one of his fists was clenched, and he was vibrating like a coiled spring.
“What’s wrong?” she blurted.
He raised a perfect eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
She cupped his chin. “You’re angry about something.”
He turned his head so that her thumb brushed his lips, and he sucked it into his mouth.
“God …” Carenza grabbed hold of his shoulder.
He jerked her hard against his body and kissed her with a roughness that offered no compromise. She allowed him to back her against the door and fumbled to turn the key while he continued to ravish her mouth.
He kissed his way down her neck to her shoulder, thrusting one hand into the front of her bodice to cup her breast while the other hand rucked up her skirts. He wrenched his mouth away, his breathing as erratic as hers.
“Tell me to stop.”
In reply, she attacked the buttons of his breeches and shoved them down to bare his muscled arse.
He picked her up, drew her open thighs over his hips, and thrust home so hard that the door rattled in its frame.
Carenza closed her eyes to enjoy the sensations, the intrusive pulsing of his cock, his harried breathing, and the growing excitement throbbing through her veins that seemed to match his own passion.
For several glorious moments she could think of nothing except his physical presence and her response to it. He groaned her name as they came together in one last fiery crash that left them both breathless and clinging to each other.
“Carenza?”
Very faintly through the door, Carenza heard Allegra calling her name. She met Julian’s blue eyes and went still.
“Where are you?”
Holding her slightly panicked gaze, Julian slid one hand under her skirts to where they were still joined and set his finger over her already swollen and straining bud.
Even as Allegra’s voice grew louder, he flicked and rubbed Carenza into another climax that had her burying her face against his arm to stop herself from screaming.
Impossibly, she felt his cock filling again as she clenched around his shaft.
He eased almost free and then slammed forward, filling her completely. She forgot all about Allegra in the instinctive need to fight him to completion. She came again, and then again until he finally joined her, his body pinning her to the door with the strength of his climax.
Someone knocked about an inch from Carenza’s head, and she didn’t even care.
“Carenza?” Allegra huffed as she rattled the latch. “I told Jones this lock was faulty. I’ll have to get him to take a look at it.”
“Not now,” Carenza breathed as she heard Allegra finally retreat. “Please don’t ask him right now.”
Julian buried his face in her shoulder, his whole body shaking.
Carenza stroked his hair. “What’s wrong?”
He finally looked up, and she realized he was laughing. “I have thoroughly debauched you in your own home, which I promised not to do.”
“I’m more worried about Jones discovering exactly what is preventing entry into this room than what we did together,” Carenza said. “Can you put me down?”
“Of course.”
He eased out of her, and she winced as he set her feet on the floor.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he rearranged his clothing.
Carenza just nodded, amazed at his ability to look so undisturbed when she probably looked a complete fright. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that she was correct. She patted ineffectively at her hair, which was coming down.
“I should go up the back stairs to my bedroom and compose myself.”
“An excellent idea,” Julian said. “And I will open this door and take myself off.” He paused to study her. “Do you require my assistance to get upstairs?”
“No, thank you. If I let you anywhere near my bed, I suspect I wouldn’t let you leave.”
His mouth quirked. “There you go again, making provocative statements when you know I have to go.”
She stepped close to him. “You could stay. No one will come into my bedchamber without my permission.”