Chapter 25
25
J ulia paced the floor at the boarding house, wringing her hands. The day before, as Mr. Smallwood, she had left word with Giles that she was leaving for Scotland at first light, and hence, this was the first morning she hadn’t risen before dawn, dressed as the steward, and hastened out the window of her chamber at the rear of the town house.
But now she walked back and forth in front of the hearth, biting on her thumbnail, and wondering if she ought to pack her things and head to Brixham to see Papa forthwith. After she had so heatedly told Martin not to speak of anything beyond this week together, he had grown quiet and withdrawn. He’d handed her into the carriage without a word. Of course, he’d sat with the driver on the way home from Vauxhall, for propriety’s sake, but after he’d left her at the boarding house, she’d felt empty and alone with an uneasy sense of foreboding weighing heavily upon her shoulders.
And her trepidation had not been wrong. For the first time since she’d begun occupying the rooms at Lady Blanche’s, Martin did not come to her window in the wee hours.
She stopped and stared at her reflection in the mirror above the mantel. How could she have smiled sweetly while he spoke of the future when there was no future to be had? Julia didn’t want to give him false hope any more than she dared to dream. And he had admitted that he was not ready to take a wife. Goodness, a fortnight of masquerading as herself when she was supposed to be Jules Smallwood was difficult enough.
She strode to the window and tied open the curtain. It was so odd for it to be midmorning with nowhere to go, no ledgers to review, no correspondence to return, no errands to run for His Grace. She had acted as a steward for so long from her father’s house to Dunscaby’s, she couldn’t remember ever enjoying a morning without something pressing that must be done. Not only that, she presently had no idea if she would set eyes upon the duke for the rest of the week. Was he upset with her?
Of course he is!
Julia knew Martin well enough to realize if he wanted to talk about the future, telling him not to speak of it again would not only be annoying, she had pointedly stifled a duke, a man she loved with all her heart and now he was most likely doubting this whole harebrained affair and wondering exactly what unspeakable secrets Julia harbored.
And he would be right, I have a godawfully unspeakable secret and I am a horrible, appalling person for acting on my desires and encouraging his affections.
“You’ve a missive, my lady,” came a voice from the corridor followed by a knock that nearly made Julia’s heart pound out of her chest.
In an instant, her spirits soared. Perhaps, all her worry was for naught?
She flung the door open and took the letter from the maid’s fingertips. “Thank you ever so much.”
Julia opened the note as the girl took her leave, only for her dratted spirits to take another dive to the pit of stomach. The handwriting was not Martin’s bold script. By the fluid loops and letters, the hand that had written this prose could only be female. Indeed, Martin’s mother had extended an invitation for tea this very afternoon.
Folding the missive, Julia clutched it to her chest. Alas, she would not be seeing His Grace this afternoon. Worse, she suspected she would not see him this evening either.
Julia walked the short distance to the duke’s town house but before she reached for the knocker, the door opened, not by Giles but by Lady Charity herself. “I reckoned you would be exactly on time.”
“No one ignores an invitation from a duchess, no matter how precarious her circumstances may be.” Julia shot a nervous glance beyond the girl. “Where is your butler?”
“I sent him to the kitchens to check on the tea service.” Charity stepped back and ushered her inside. “I ken he saw you after the carriage incident, but no use tempting fate. Quickly, come with me, Mama is in the parlor.”
“Do you think the duchess will recognize me?” Julia whispered out of the corner of her mouth.
“I rather doubt it. She is far too busy to give my brother’s steward a second glance.”
“Thank heavens for small mercies,” Julia mumbled as they crossed the threshold into the parlor.
Charity all but danced into the room, waving her arms with an overly enthusiastic flourish. “Mama, look who arrived just as I was passing through the vestibule!”
Julia bowed her head and dipped into a deep curtsy. “Your Grace, it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“My lady, how lovely to see you.” The duchess offered a warm smile, her gaze assessing and perhaps a tad gleeful. “I apologize for sending such a hasty invitation, but I only discovered this morning that my son’s attentions have decidedly turned toward you.”
“Oh?”
Charity tapped the folded newspaper atop the marble-topped tall table. “Compliments of the society pages.”
Julia cringed, drawing a hand to her chest. “Dear me, I hope the news wasn’t too terribly disparaging.”
“Not in the least. I may be a tad annoyed with my son since he waited until I learned of this from the gossip columns rather than from his own lips. But I am delighted, nonetheless.” Her Grace gestured toward the settee. “Please do have a seat.”
While a maid entered with the tea service, Julia kept her head lowered, ensuring the brim of her bonnet concealed her face until the servant left. “Did you speak to His Grace about the article?”
“I did. I also told him that I didn’t care to learn that he reportedly had been spotted in society with you on his arm no fewer than half a dozen times.” The duchess picked up the teapot. “Moreover, my eldest daughter has evidently known about the whole affair for days.”
Julia licked her lips as Her Grace poured. “I’m sure Dunscaby might have informed you had we not simply been friends. He was kind enough to offer me a ride on his phaeton. Unfortunately, my wrist was injured and he arranged for his physician to treat me. That said, I’m afraid London’s gossips will be sorely disappointed because I must return to Brixham shortly.”
“Shortly? And your arm, were you badly injured?”
“No, it was only a sprain.” Julia rubbed her wrist, thanking the stars the swelling had abated quicky and presently only writing caused her a modicum of pain.
“I told Mama about your father’s health, the poor dear,” Charity added, taking a cup and saucer, and adding a shortbread biscuit beside it.
The duchess tsked her tongue as she replaced the teapot. “It is a shame to hear you will not be able stay in Town through the duration of the Season.”
Julia picked up her cup. “I feel the same, regardless, some things cannot be helped.”
“And…” Charity continued, dabbing the corners of her mouth, “at breakfast Martin mentioned how astounding you are on the pianoforte.”
Julia released a long breath. Thank goodness her friend had the wherewithal to shift the direction of the conversation away from Julia’s lack of time. In no way did she want to utter anything that might give the duchess the idea her son was remotely considering a proposal. In this household, it was no secret as to how anxious Martin’s mother was for him to marry. And there were too many reasons for him not to marry, the first being the duke had professed that he was not on the marriage mart on a number of occasions, including such an admission last evening.
Her Grace daintily sipped her tea. “Oh, Martin’s face did light up when he spoke of your talent, dear. I would be ever so honored if you would allow me to host your recital.”
“Indeed, I would love to if only I had more time.” The handle of Julia’s cup slipped between her fingers, making the cup clank against the saucer. “I’m afraid to admit that I’m rather out of practice and a recital requires a repertoire, and I could not possibly come up with one in less than a week.”
On a sigh, the duchess reached for a biscuit. “Unfortunate. Perhaps another time.”
Charity scooted to the edge of the settee. “I think that is a splendid idea. Perhaps next Season?”
Julia gave the lass a flabbergasted stare. When, exactly, was Mr. Smallwood going to find the time to practice the pianoforte?
“Let us count on it, shall we?” asked Her Grace.
“Should I be in Town, I would be honored.” What else could Julia say? The daughter of an earl didn’t ever refuse a duchess.
“My second daughter, Grace, has decided to attend Northbourne Seminary for Young Ladies, where my eldest chose to remain at home with her governess. Tell me, Lady Julia, did you attend finishing school?”
“I did,” Julia said, wondering what hole she might dig by giving a reply, especially since it seemed everything she said caused her consternation. “Talcott’s in Chippenham. I was fortunate to room with the Marchioness of Northampton during my two years there. Of course, before that, I had a governess.”
“Which did you prefer?” asked Charity.
“Though I did enjoy Talcott’s, I’m afraid the years of my tenure there were rather sad times in my life.”
Her Grace set her empty cup and saucer on the low table. “Why, may I ask?”
“After my mother passed away, my father sent me to Talcott’s…” Julia looked to the tea service and sighed. There was no use explaining the rest. But the air suddenly changed and tingles made the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. Yes, she sensed Martin’s presence but when the duke moved into the doorway, her breath caught all the same.
“Lady Julia,” he said, bowing. “When my mother mentioned she intended to invite you to tea, I didn’t realize it would be today.”
Her Grace clasped her hands together. “Of course, it had to be today after your sister told me that Her Ladyship must return to Brixham so soon.”
“Well, I’m glad you did,” Martin said, sauntering inside, his light eyes reflecting the sunlight as beams streamed in through the window. “I have just purchased a new horse. Would you care to accompany me to the mews? The groom is brushing the laddie as we speak.”
As he offered his hand, Julia took it. “I’d love to. Is it a colt?”
“A gelding. Geldings are so much better behaved when part of a team.” Martin bowed to his mother and then to his sister. “If you ladies will please excuse us.”
Julia kept her eyes lowered while her pulse thrummed. He was leading her though the town house as if they hadn’t had a disagreement. In truth, he didn’t have to stop by the parlor and greet her. Martin could have spent the entire day in the mews with his new horse. Perhaps he wasn’t as angry with her as she thought?
Together they crossed into the courtyard, but when they came to Mr. Smallwood’s chamber, His Grace stopped and rested his hand on the latch.
“Does Jules want to see the horse as well?” she asked, wondering why the devil she hadn’t kept her mouth shut and just allowed him to take charge.
Martin glanced from side to side before he winked, his tongue tapping the corner of his mouth. “I’ve sent your cousin to Scotland to take care of some affairs up there.”
“Oh—”
As she uttered the exclamation, Martin opened the door, pulled her inside and promptly closed it. “Och, lass. I couldna walk all the way to the mews without a wee kiss.”
Julia didn’t know which one moved first or who closed the distance. With his single statement, all the trepidation she had dwelled upon earlier in the day shed from her shoulders as easily as the dropping of a shroud.
His warm hands tilted her face to his and he wasted no time plying her lips with a kiss demanding she meet his fervor. To think, she may have ruined everything last eve by pushing him away and attempting to run. But being in his arms, surrounded by his strength, his heat, his size, his unmistakable scent was exactly what she needed at this exact moment.
Julia offered him everything she had as he stoked, suckled, and loved her mouth with a dizzying and relentless kiss.
When, finally, he pulled back and met her dazed eyes, she drew in a breath, needing to apologize. “I’m ever so sorry for my reaction last eve. This morning when I thought I mightn’t see you again, I realized how silly I had behaved.”
“Nay, nay.” He kissed her cheek. “You were right. I needed a reminder to rein in my enthusiasm.”
“Because you are not ready to wed.” She phrased her words as a statement rather than a question.
“Ah…” He glanced away. “Quite right.”
Julia’s gaze trailed to the narrow bed where she slept and, oh, so often dreamed of holding this man in her arms. “Have we not a horse to inspect?”
Martin stole another intoxicating kiss before he gave her an answer. “I’ve seen the wee beasty, but unless you want to pay a visit to the mews, may I tempt you elsewise?”
“Yes,” she whispered ever so softly, reaching behind and turning the lock on the door. “Please.”
In one fell swoop, the duke lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed where he sat and settled her atop his lap, tugging her bonnet’s ribbon and tossing it aside. “A woman with hair like yours should never have to pin it up.”
Before she was able to respond, he sealed his lips on hers while he deliberately scattered hairpins and ran his fingers through her tresses. “You oughtn’t to have cut it.”
“I will never do so again,” she said breathlessly, thankful he hadn’t seen the mop when Willaby had first sheared over a foot off.
She tilted her head back, leaning into Dunscaby’s caresses as he bared her neck. Emitting a low growl, he settled his lips on her skin, the soft strokes of his tongue sending rivulets of pleasure winding through her. With the wicked scrape of his teeth upon her sensitive lobe, she grasped and wrapped herself around him, eager for more of him.
A deep, guttural moan rumbled from him as he allowed her lips to wander across his eyes, his cheeks, his gloriously soft mouth.
“So bonny,” he whispered, tilting up her chin and watching her with an intense desire in his eyes, an expression that sent a gush of feminine pleasure low and deep in her body. She shifted her knees slightly apart—so very wanton of her, but she needed him too much to care. “Touch me.”
With her words, she was on her back, sinking into the soft folds of the bed she’d occupied alone during so many wakeful nights. After one more searing kiss, he nestled between her legs and then slid downward. He moved quickly, raising her skirts, his hands roving from her ankles, to her knees, to her thighs until she gasped with the erotic sensation of his fingers grazing the nest of curls at her core.
“Is this where you need me?”
“Yes,” she said her legs trembling with want. Time and time again, he had shown her what it was like to be a woman pleasured, and his touch was quickly turning into a compulsion she could not go without.
“You’re soft, so wet, so ready…” He stroked against her pulsing flesh, fulfilling her insatiable need,
“You are my elixir.”
As he slid one finger inside, she swirled her hips with the stroke of the pad of his thumb and his wicked finger.
“More!”
With her demand, a second finger joined the first inside her, thrusting deep in tandem with the rocking of her hips, to her need to keep going, to her craving desire to quicken the pace. And he knew exactly how to pleasure her as the movement of his thumb came faster and firmer as she pressed and writhed against him.
“Let it go, my bonny lass.”
A cry caught in the back of Julia’s throat and her eyes flashed open, catching the desire written on his face as she shattered for him. Their gazes remained connected as she pulsed over and over again until he eased the pressure and her breath slowly returned to an easy cadence. Martin gently rearranged her skirts before again pulling her onto his lap and pressing his lips to her temple. “Mayhap we ought to re-pin your hair and go have a wee gander at the horse.”
Julia’s shoulder’s shook with the notion. “Agreed. After all, we wouldn’t want a certain mother to find out we never did manage to make it all the way out to the mews.”