Chapter 8 #2
He kissed her gently on the forehead. “And your father would quite rightly shoot me if he found out I’d been taking advantage of you in his own house.”
She stiffened. “Taking advantage of me? Are you suggesting that using my bed is somehow different from fucking me against the door?”
His slight smile disappeared. “Don’t start.”
“And what does that mean?” Carenza raised her chin. “I am entitled to my opinion.”
“Indeed, you are, and in any other circumstances I would be delighted to argue the point, but we are in something of a hurry right now, and we need to move.” He unlocked the door, peered outside, and beckoned Carenza forward. “All’s clear. You go, and I’ll see myself out.”
She stomped up the stairs to her bedchamber, which was empty, undressed without any help, and got into bed.
She was very wet between her thighs and would request a bath before she dressed for dinner.
She slid her hand between her legs and cupped her mound, which was still throbbing and sensitive from Julian’s attentions.
Should she have allowed him such liberties in the family home?
From the moment she touched him, she’d forgotten all about propriety and simply existed in the physical realm.
She pressed her palm against her mound and felt an instant response.
If he’d come upstairs with her, she would’ve taken him again.
… She trembled as she set off another climax, one sadly lacking the expertise of Julian’s tongue, cock, and fingers.
But he hadn’t been polished today, had he?
He’d arrived in a state and one touch of her fingers had ignited his desire.
There had been no pretty words or deliberate lovemaking, just an emotion that needed to be satisfied.
Carenza closed her eyes. Should she have behaved like that? Probably not in society’s opinion. Did she care? Not particularly.
Everyone had always expected her to show her common ancestry. Perhaps she would oblige them in this.
Olivia and Maude joined the sisters for dinner and sat in the drawing room afterward, discussing Gerald’s supposed return and Maude’s ambivalence about his coming home.
“He can’t expect you to simply fall into his arms as if nothing has happened,” Olivia pointed out. “You’ve barely seen each other for two years.”
“Men don’t think like that,” Maude said. “As far as Gerald is concerned, nothing has changed.”
“She’s right,” Carenza said. “Men can be very difficult to understand sometimes.”
“Don’t tell me that Julian Laurent has … faults?” Olivia gasped. “But he’s the perfect gentleman.”
Carenza fought the blush she knew was rising on her cheeks as she remembered exactly how ungentlemanly Julian could be.
“No one is perfect,” Allegra said firmly. “But we should all strive to do better.”
Eager to divert the conversation away from her lover, Carenza turned to Olivia.
“How is your naval officer?”
“Gone.” Olivia waved her hand dismissively. “And good riddance. He was remarkably stuffy. I already have someone else in mind.”
“That’s remarkably fast,” Carenza said.
“Actually, it’s one of your castoffs from the advertisement we placed in the newspaper. He wrote you a long and very well-thought-out letter stating all the reasons why he believed your behavior would ultimately reflect badly on you.”
“How kind of him.” Carenza rolled her eyes. “Did you write back?”
“Yes, and we have entered into an interesting correspondence about the rights of women.” Olivia sat back. “I am looking forward to meeting him in person one day.”
“I do hope you won’t pretend to be me,” Carenza said.
“I promise I won’t sully your good name.” Olivia looked unrepentant. “Although you should be aware that there are some rather unpleasant rumors going around about you.”
Carenza frowned. “Not about Julian.”
“No, about you blatantly stealing the Smythe-Harding tiara.”
“I told you that woman would be unable to keep the matter to herself.” Carenza sighed. “And I cannot refute what she says, because I was in the wrong.”
“You don’t need to say anything,” Olivia said. “She is a nobody.”
“You don’t understand,” Carenza retorted. “Because of our parentage, Allegra and I are held to impossibly high standards. If we fail to be less than perfect, we are instantly condemned.”
Olivia raised her eyebrows. “That’s rather melodramatic, dearest.”
“It isn’t,” Allegra said. “You have no idea.”
“Then your friends will do everything in their power to quash her little stories, and it will quickly be forgotten when the next scandal comes along,” Olivia said firmly.
“I forgot to tell you that the new countess pointedly ignored me last time we were in the same company, Carenza,” Allegra said. “She was with that woman who was Julian’s mistress, and they seemed very close.”
Carenza frowned. “You mean she’s made friends with Lady Brenton? That can’t be good. She’ll be seeking out Percival Walcott next.”
“Oh, she already knows him,” Allegra said. “He was in the same party as Lady Brenton. But as no one knows about you and Julian, there aren’t any connections or rumors to exploit, are there?”
“One would hope not,” Carenza said. “I must warn Julian to be on his guard.”
“I’m fairly sure he’s already aware of any threats to his person or to yours,” Olivia said. “One thing Julian Laurent is not, is a fool.”
Julian sank lower into his bath, his gaze on the wavering light from the candlestick in front of the mirror in his dressing room. All was quiet around him. Proctor had finished laying out his nightclothes, they’d discussed his morning attire, and he had no immediate worries. But yet …
He tipped his head back and rested it on the edge of the tub.
He’d been foolish, reckless, and downright stupid to make love to Carenza in her own house, where her family or servants might discover them.
He wasn’t a green, young sprig desperate to sow his oats.
He was a disciplined man who thought before he acted and rarely made errors.
After his meeting with his mother, he should’ve listened to his first instinct to take out his annoyance in the boxing salon and never gone near Carenza.
One touch of her fingers had set him off, and he’d taken her up against the door without caring for the consequences.
Not that she’d tried to stop him. He liked to think that if she had, he would’ve stepped back immediately and apologized. But she hadn’t. In truth, she’d encouraged him.
It would not do.
He had to find a way to regain his composure and give her what she’d asked for—the sexual expertise of an accomplished rake.
The kind of man who enjoyed performing and giving pleasure without engaging his own feelings.
The next time they met, he wouldn’t apologize, but he would reestablish the rules.
He didn’t like feeling out of control, and he suspected it was the same for Carenza.
Perhaps a reasonable conversation between two old friends would be enough to ensure that neither of them felt out of their depth again. Slightly reassured by this notion, Julian dunked his head under the water and came up blinking to discover someone looming over his bathtub.
“Thought you’d drowned for a minute,” Aragon said cheerfully. “Was wondering whether I remembered that Dutch trick that was all the rage to pump the water out of your lungs.”
“It’s almost midnight,” Julian said. “Why are you in my bedchamber and, more importantly, which one of my staff let you in?”
Aragon handed Julian a drying cloth. “No need to get on your high horse, brother. I came through the garden, went in the back door, and came up the servants’ stairs.”
“Well, if you intended to enter the house unannounced in order to murder me, you’ve missed the perfect opportunity.” Julian dried off quickly and put on his silk banyan.
“Good Lord.” Aragon frowned. “You’re right! I could’ve held your head under the water until you drowned and just skipped off without anyone realizing I’d been here.” He paused. “I am your heir, aren’t I?”
“No, I’ve left everything to my favorite charities.” Julian sat down beside the fire to dry his hair, and Aragon joined him.
“Blast it, Julian. You know I need the money more than some ill-nourished brats.”
“But with my fortune, those children won’t be starving, will they?” Julian answered. “And I’m shocked at your lack of Christian values.”
“Mother says I just have to marry someone rich and all will be well,” Aragon said. “But none of those women want to have anything to do with me. When I do succeed in dancing with them, all they do is ask questions about you.”
“At least that gives you something interesting to talk about,” Julian said. “I hate to be inhospitable, but is there something you wanted? I was about to go to bed.”
“Oh! Yes.” Aragon sat up straight. “Lady Carenza.”
“I can’t help you.”
“Come on, Julian. You’re a friend of hers.”
“And I am under strict instructions from our mother to avoid the connection at all costs.”
Aragon’s color rose alarmingly. “I’m a grown man. Mother has no say in my personal life.”
“Tell that to her,” Julian advised. “Or else she’ll continue to rule your life as she sees fit.”
Aragon stared at him, slapped his thigh, and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll tell her what you said.”
“Please don’t, or else I’ll be in trouble again,” Julian said. “Form your own opinion on the matter and present it to her in your own words.”
“But it’s much more fun when she gets annoyed with you.” Aragon stood up.
“Not for me.” Julian met his brother’s gaze. “Have you any idea how it feels to constantly be held responsible for all the sins of the family?”
Aragon looked surprised. “I suppose she does pick on you rather a lot.”
“She’s made me the scapegoat for as long as I remember,” Julian said. “Why do you think I left home?”
Aragon stared fixedly at him as if trying to solve a mathematical equation.
Julian rose to his feet and headed for the door. “Good night, Aragon.”
His brother strode toward him and then stopped. “Wait. I haven’t told you what I came for yet.”
Julian repressed a sigh. “If it has to do with Lady Carenza, I am not interested.”
“I’ve invited her and her sister to a picnic in the park.”
“I’m sure you’ll have a delightful time.”
“You have to come.” Aragon looked pleadingly at him.
“Did you not listen to a single word I just said to you?” Julian demanded.
“Not really.” Aragon shrugged. “Things go in one ear and out the other.”
Julian opened the door. “Good night, Aragon.”
His brother made the mistake of stepping to one side, which allowed Julian to close the door in his face. He had no regrets in doing so and hoped Aragon was finally beginning to understand that he refused to be a go-between who incurred everyone’s wrath.
The peace and resolution he’d reached during his bath had deserted him. He’d been too honest with Aragon. He’d probably go home and tell their mother everything Julian had said, which never went well.
He returned to the bath and stuck a finger in the water. It was tepid. It was too late to expect his staff to lug more hot water up the stairs, so he might as well go to bed.
He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to tell Aragon how he felt about being the unloved middle child.
To his brother, it was just the way things were and thus not worth questioning.
And why Aragon was still interested in Carenza, who had given him no encouragement, was a thing of mystery.
Perhaps his brother really was beginning to chafe at their mother’s leading strings.
He got into bed and blew out the candle.
There was still some light from the streetlamp, but his house was relatively quiet for Mayfair.
The scent of the burned-out candlewick drifted across him and he closed his eyes.
Carenza would never entertain an offer of marriage from Aragon.
Julian was certain about that. But his brother’s courtship would prevent other men from pursuing her as well.
He opened his eyes. Even if Carenza currently believed she had no wish to marry again, should he be preventing her from exploring that option?
She saw him as a dalliance to provide for her physical needs, but at some point, surely, she would want more.
She wasn’t the kind of woman who should remain alone for the rest of her life.
Surely Hector hadn’t done that much damage.
But if she couldn’t have children, many gentlemen wouldn’t want to marry her. However, someone like Lord Atworth already had several and would probably be content …
“Damn and blast it!” Julian, now fully awake again, swore into the darkness. “This cannot continue!”
He had plans—long-term plans, to be fair—that included the interesting Miss Cartwright.
She was a woman he admired immensely and who, so far, seemed immune to his charms. But patience and persistence were part of his nature, and he had no doubt of his ability to win her over.
At present, Miss Cartwright saw him as just another nobleman frittering away his time with a fashionable cause, but he would show her his worth and dedication if it took years.
Julian sat up and checked his pocket watch that sat beside his bed. It was barely twenty minutes since his brother had left, and all Julian’s desire to sleep had gone with him. He’d never been the kind of man who failed to get a good night’s rest, and he wasn’t going to start now.
He resolutely lay down again and closed his eyes. He had a meeting with the board of supervisors for the orphans in two days’ time. He was due to give a speech and would need his wits about him.
Work would give him an excuse to avoid Carenza for a few days, which would be good for him—and for her.