Chapter 6
Verity was typically an early riser.
But not the day after a ball like that.
Her own mother hadn’t even recognized her, having bought her excuses that she needed to stay home with a headache, as it was one that she often used.
Little did she know that Verity’d had the time of her life.
Verity could have told her mother, but she didn’t want anyone knowing her identity, and her mother would have been sure to give it away, as she would have been incredibly proud of Verity’s popularity last night.
It had been strange at first to accept all of the attention cast upon her, but she could also admit that it caused a heady sensation to fill her, to know that she deserved to be there as much as any other, and that, if she chose, she could have a place with the other women, could attract attention—could be a woman who would interest Lord Julian Hartford.
One he would kiss.
She pressed her fingers against her lips, recalling how it felt to have his against them. It vexed her to know that he was only so good at what he did because of all the practice he had, but still, it had been more than she could ever have imagined.
So, when the butler showed a gentleman to her sitting room a few hours later, she could not have been more surprised to find it was Lord Julian himself.
As he stood in the doorway, that handsome face looking down at her with the smile usually reserved for those he admired, her breath caught as she wondered if he had finally realized who she was last night.
But then he opened his mouth, and she realized that was not the case at all.
“Lady Verity, how are you?”
“Fine,” she said suspiciously. “What are you doing here? My mother is out, so it is not proper for you to call.”
“Perhaps a maid could sit in?” he said, his expression instantly changing, and Verity knew exactly why. The last thing he would ever want would to be caught in a compromising position with her. Especially after what had happened with Asher and Evelyn last year.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Verity said, returning a moment later with her maid, Lily.
Seated in the corner with her needlework, Lily appeared wholly uninterested in their conversation.
In truth, however, she was listening with considerable interest—not from a love of gossip, but because she and Verity had long since become something closer to friends than merely maid and lady.
The sitting room was Verity’s favorite place in the house. While the drawing room where her mother received guests was formal and imposing, the sitting room was much more inviting for conversation or reading, which Verity enjoyed more than anything.
She especially enjoyed romance novels, which her mother was so close to forbidding that Verity usually hid them or read them only when her mother was out of the house, as she was today.
Julian waited until she took a seat on the sofa, leaning against its gently curved arms, before he took a place across from her on one of the upholstered striped armchairs.
Another maid came in and set tea down on the central table, moving the vase of fresh flowers to one of the side occasional tables.
“Well, Julian?” Verity said, raising an eyebrow. “What brings you here today?”
His eyes roamed up and down over her, and she followed them, taking in the very pale blue morning gown she wore.
It was far removed from the majestic purple gown she had worn at the masquerade, and her hair was pulled back in its usual tight chignon behind her head.
She hadn’t even let curls escape to frame her face, for she hadn’t been planning on seeing anyone today.
She could only hope that Julian wouldn’t look closely enough to recognize her eyes, which were a strange, unique color.
She supposed she could allow him to discover the truth—what could it hurt?
She quickly pushed that thought away.
Her. It could hurt her.
For she didn’t want to see the look of disgust on his face when he realized that she was the woman he had kissed in the gardens.
His gaze shifted over her shoulder, likely through the tall sash window overlooking the street. Verity wasn’t sure if she was grateful for the distraction or wishing that she had pulled the sage silk curtains closed.
The truth was, she liked sitting here, with the light filtering in at this time of day, giving the entire space a warm, flattering glow.
A glow that was now reflecting off Julian’s strong, masculine cheekbones.
“You didn’t come to Asher and Evelyn’s masquerade,” he said, his heavy brow furrowing. “Why not?”
He couldn’t suspect her—could he?
“I was feeling ill,” she said carefully. “Does it matter?”
“I was hoping to speak with you.”
“About what?”
“Do I need a reason?”
“Lord Julian,” she said, gripping the arm of the sofa beside her and leaning forward.
“The only time you have ever set foot in this house before is to visit my brother, and we both know he is now in the countryside. Most of our interactions of late have been because of the duke and duchess. You have never shown any interest in spending time with me.”
Well, unless she was in costume, pretending to be someone she was not.
“That’s not entirely true,” he said stubbornly.
“No?” she raised a brow. “Please, do give me one example of communication between us.”
“I can think of many times at different balls in which we have had conversations.”
“With other people present.”
“Well… yes.”
“We have never danced.”
Besides last night.
“No—”
“You have never sought me out for conversation.”
“No—”
“And you have never looked at me with anything more than dismissal for the wallflower that I am.”
The small clock on top of the mantel over the marble fireplace ticked quietly while Verity waited for Julian to form some kind of response, but none came.
“You are correct.”
Well, the admission was more than she was expecting.
“But perhaps,” he continued, “I thought… we could be friends.”
“Friends?” she said incredulously. “You and me, a single lord and a single lady, could be friends?”
“You have always had such a bite in your tone when you speak to me,” he said with the audacity of appearing wounded. “I thought that perhaps we might find a way to be civil, given that our two closest friends in the world are now married.”
“And this just suddenly occurred to you?”
He leaned in closer, those warm brown eyes drawing her in to the point that she nearly forgot all of the reasons she avoided him.
“Lady Verity, why do you hate me so much?”
“I don’t… hate you.”
She wished she did.
“Then why do you avoid me?”
"I avoid men like you. Men who use women and then leave them behind. Men who lead women on, only to move on to the next once their usefulness is over. That is the kind of behavior that I cannot stand, and I want nothing to do with.”
He placed a hand on his chest, true hurt in his eyes that surprised Verity.
“I didn’t realize that was how you see me.”
“Then how would you describe yourself?”
“I… I suppose I am a man who likes to have fun. But I do not lead women on, as you say. I am up front with my expectations and theirs. If they do fall for me, that is not because of anything I have ever done or said, and I do not tie myself to young women who might expect more.”
That was not Verity’s experience, but maybe… maybe there was more to what had happened than she had been aware. She just wasn’t sure if she had it in her to give herself the chance to be disappointed all over again.
“Let me ask you this.”
Julian nodded, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. He was so smooth, so polished, so handsome, that it was hard sometimes to remember all of the reasons to avoid him. And when Verity looked at those plush lips made for kissing, lips that had been on hers…
She shook her head, snapping herself out of it.
“Why have you never married?” she asked bravely.
He uncrossed his legs, looking slightly queasy at her question.
“I’m not sure that you and I should be having this conversation.”
“Lord Julian, I might be innocent, but I’m not an idiot.”
A small snort of laughter from across the room reminded her that they were not entirely alone.
“Very well,” Julian said. “I like having my fun without anyone to answer to.” He leaned in, “But you know, Lady Verity, the same question could be asked of you.”
“Not many men would be interested in being tied to me, like you say, Lord Julian.”
He shrugged. “I find that hard to believe.”
She gave him her most incredulous look.
“You can’t be serious.”
He shrugged. “You hide yourself away, lost in your books, Lady Verity. Even I can see that. Don’t you ever want to… I don’t know, lose the facade, have a little fun?”
She hadn’t before, but now that she had a taste….
“That is not who I am, Lord Julian. That is for people like you.”
“So be it, then,” he said, finishing his tea. “This has been an enlightening conversation, Lady Verity. Perhaps the next time we speak, you will not give me such a severe setdown?”
“I shall try my best.”
He padded over the thick, intricately patterned carpet, pausing in the doorway.
“Oh, before I take my leave, I had one other question.”
“Yes?”
“Whatever happened with those letters you found?”
Ah, there it was. The true reason he was here. Verity knew there had to be more. It had made no sense for him to appear with this ridiculous notion of them wanting to get along, for he had no reason to truly care.
The real question was now, why did the letters matter so much to him?
“I kept them. With Evelyn’s masquerade, she has not had the time to discuss them further.”
“Have you read them?”
“Of course.”
“What’s in them?”
She crossed her arms over her chest as she walked closer to him, truly studying him.
“Why do you care so much?”
He shrugged. “Just curious. Plus, Lord Eastclere’s been asking questions, so it would be good to know what we are up against.”
“Is that not for the duke and duchess to concern themselves with now?”
“Asher is my closest friend, and I will always look out for him.”
“Well, there is nothing of note within them, so you needn’t be concerned,” she lied. “Good day, Lord Julian.”
“Good day,” he said, with one more look over his shoulder, one that told her he suspected that she was lying but had no reason to call her out for it.
Which worried her more than she cared to admit.