Chapter 10
Verity’s eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed, and the movement in her neck as she swallowed was most obvious.
In fact, if he didn’t know better, Julian would wonder if she was a bit attracted to him.
But he knew the truth—she was nervous, for this was one area she had no experience in.
Even though he knew she could be incredibly proficient if she chose.
Julian shouldn’t be doing this—Asher was right—but he couldn’t help having this bit of fun.
They were still standing by the writing desk, Verity’s back to it as though it could offer her some reprieve, and he leaned in, placing his hands on the desk behind her, framing her body. “It’s all about your attention.”
“M-my attention?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “You need to do little, subtle things to show a man you’re interested. If he doesn’t respond, then you know what his thoughts are. But sometimes it just takes a man knowing to make him notice you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“So often, a woman stands directly before us, yet we fail to see her as a possible romantic attachment until circumstance causes us to regard her differently. We men can be a fickle lot.”
“That, I know,” she said wryly, and he couldn’t help but laugh at that.
“So,” he said, pushing back and away from her, crossing the room and taking a seat on the small sofa. “Here I am, minding my business. What do you do?”
“I don’t know!” she exclaimed. “That’s why I’m asking you.”
“Very well. What would you instinctively do now?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Well, that won’t work incredibly well,” he said. “Let’s try this. You’re there, across the room, perhaps talking to your friends. Now, every now and then, look over at me. Just a subtle glance. Yes, like that.”
She stood near the desk and danced her eyes over to him.
“Good. Now, when our eyes meet, you hold our gazes together. Connect us. and then lift your lips ever so slightly as you take a sip of your drink, if you have one.”
She did as he said, and he could admit that even her subtle actions caused a little stirring inside of him. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he was awakening a siren.
“You do that a couple of times,” he murmured. “Perhaps I will become interested. I walk over to you, under the guise that I want to speak to one of your friends. Perhaps I can accompany one of my own acquaintances who is coming to speak to his wife. What do you say to me?”
“Say to you?’
“Yes.”
“Nothing. That would be too forward.”
“Forward, yes, but it might be necessary. Say something about it being a pleasure to meet me.”
“Easy enough.”
“Laugh lightly if I say something humorous. Touch me.”
“Touch you?”
Julian couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You make it sound like I’m telling you to slap me across the face. Yes, touch me—by me, I mean him. The man you are interested in. I’ll show you how, all right?”
“Fine,” Verity said, although her gaze dropped, and Julian reached out and lifted her chin.
“Head up, Verity,” he said. “Show the world that you belong in whatever room you wish to walk in.”
She nodded and squared her shoulders.
“Good girl,” he said, noting the way her body started in response.
He grinned slyly. So she liked praise.
“I’ve come over to you now,” he said, stepping back slightly. “I’m making conversation. I give all of the ladies a subtle compliment. Tell you how lovely you look tonight. Laugh for me at that.”
She lightly giggled. It was forced, but it still sparked something in him.
“Good,” he said. “Now touch my arm. Nothing overly pressing. Just a light touch.”
She nodded, reaching out and placing her fingers on his arm. When she pulled them away, she trailed them up towards his wrist, letting her bared fingers brush over the back of his hand.
“Perfect,” Julian breathed, trying to ignore the heat spreading up his arm from her touch. The slight tremor in her fingertips betrayed her nervousness, but her execution was flawless—better than flawless. It was genuine in a way that practiced flirtation rarely achieved.
He cleared his throat. “That’s exactly right. A touch like that lingers in a man’s mind.”
Verity looked up at him through her lashes. “What next?”
Julian found himself momentarily at a loss for words—a rare occurrence. The library suddenly felt smaller, warmer. The afternoon sunlight filtering through the windows cast her in a golden glow, highlighting the softness of her features.
“Next,” he said, his voice rougher than intended, “you might create an opportunity for further conversation. Perhaps mention something you’ve heard about my interests.”
“Such as?”
“If you knew I enjoyed riding, you might ask if I’d been to Hyde Park recently.” He stepped closer, continuing the demonstration. “Or if you’d heard I collect first editions, you might inquire about my library.”
Verity nodded thoughtfully. “I see. And what if I wanted to be more… forward?”
Julian raised an eyebrow. “More forward?”
“Yes.” She straightened, something shifting in her demeanor. “What if I wished to make my intentions unmistakable?”
The air between them crackled with unexpected tension. Julian found himself studying her face—those remarkable eyes that seemed to shift between lavender and blue depending on the light. So familiar.
“In that case,” he said carefully, “you might find a reason to be alone with him. Perhaps request he escort you to take some air, or to see a particular painting in a quiet gallery.”
“Like this?” Verity gestured to their current situation, alone in Ravenscar’s library.
Julian’s mouth went dry. “Precisely like this.”
“And then?” Her voice had dropped to a near whisper.
He moved closer still, unable to stop himself. “Then you might stand just a bit too close.” He demonstrated, closing the distance between them until barely a hand’s width separated them. “You might look at his lips, just for a moment.”
Verity’s gaze dropped to his mouth, then back to his eyes.
“Like that?” she asked.
“Yes,” Julian managed, his heart hammering against his ribs. “And if he responds in kind—”
“How would he respond?” Her voice was soft, almost breathless.
Julian’s hand moved of its own accord, fingers brushing a stray tendril of hair from her face. “He might touch you. Just lightly. Testing.”
Her eyes fluttered at his touch, and Julian felt something inside him shift—a recognition, a wanting that was physical, yes, but went even beyond that. Dangerous territory.
“And then?” Verity whispered.
Julian leaned down, drawn by forces he couldn’t explain, his face mere inches from hers. He could feel her breath, sweet and warm against his skin. Her lips parted slightly in anticipation.
“And then—”
“Lord Julian? Lady Verity?” The butler’s voice rang out from the hallway. “The duchess is asking for you in the drawing room.”
* * *
Verity’s heart was still pounding as she left Ravenscar House after making her excuses about needing to return home.
She needed air, space, anything to clear her head after that encounter with Julian. What had just happened in that library? They’d been a breath away from kissing—and not as characters in some flirtation lesson, but as themselves. At least, that was how it had felt to her.
Perhaps he was just a very good actor, or so accustomed to being in such situations that he didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.
She pressed her fingers to her heated cheeks, trying to compose herself. The way he had looked at her, the intensity in those warm brown eyes… it had felt real. But it couldn’t be. Julian Hartford didn’t want someone like her.
Verity desperately needed a distraction. Her thoughts kept returning to Julian’s hands, his voice, the heat of his body so close to hers. She needed to focus on something else—anything else.
Like the mystery she and Julian had just vowed to solve.
She had promised to look into Lord Eastclere’s movements and intentions. But her cousin was sometimes rather fickle, and she didn’t want him knowing that she was suspicious of him, for he would only hide any interest even further.
So she had another idea.
Lady Seraphina. Eastclere’s ward would be staying at his London manor, and if anyone might have insights into her cousin’s recent behavior, it would be her. The diamond, the letters—it all connected somehow, and perhaps Seraphina had observed something useful.
She would visit Seraphina now, while she still had the courage—and before she encountered Julian again. Her maid was still waiting in the carriage with her driver, for Verity had been allowed in Ravenscar House with Evelyn as her chaperone.
She gave the direction to Eastclere House, and when they arrived, entered with her maid, even though Lady Seraphina did have an elderly aunt living somewhere in the estate to keep everything respectable.
The aunt, however, was sickly, and with Eastclere himself not particularly keen on having a ward, Seraphina seemed to have rather free rein.
Soon enough, Verity was seated in the elegant drawing room of Eastclere House, waiting as a maid went to inform Lady Seraphina of her visit.
“Lady Verity,” Seraphina said warmly as she entered, her elegantly styled hair nearly black, her eyes an unusually bright green. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“I hope I’m not intruding,” Verity said, rising to greet her.
“Not at all. Lord Eastclere is out for the afternoon, and my aunt is having her nap, so it's just the two of us.” Seraphina gestured for her to sit. “Tea?”
“Yes, thank you.”
As Seraphina instructed the maid, Verity studied her.
Despite her status as a ward and the mystery surrounding her background, Seraphina carried herself with the confidence of someone born to privilege.
There was something mysterious about her that Verity found intriguing.
From what she knew, they weren’t related.
Lady Seraphina had been the daughter of a friend of Lord Eastclere’s, who had named Lord Eastclere his daughter’s guardian upon his death.
The intended Lord Eastclere had been the previous one, so the duties now fell to the younger.
“I confess,” Verity began once the maid had departed, “my visit isn’t entirely social. I wanted to speak with you about my cousin.”
Seraphina’s expression remained neutral as she poured the tea. “Oh?”
“He’s been… different lately. More intense. I wondered if you might have noticed anything unusual.”
“Different how?” Seraphina asked, handing Verity a delicate porcelain cup.
Verity chose her words carefully. She wasn’t sure how much allegiance Seraphina felt toward the marquess. “Ever since the diamond disappeared, he’s been anxious. Almost desperate. I believe he thinks I might know something about it.”
Seraphina took a sip of her tea before answering. “He has seemed on edge for quite some time now, though it predates the diamond’s disappearance. About a month ago, he dismissed his steward quite abruptly. No explanation given.”
“That’s odd,” Verity frowned. “Was the steward incompetent?”
“Quite the contrary. Mr. Finch had been with the family for years.” Seraphina leaned forward slightly. “Between us, I believe Lord Eastclere has fallen on hard times.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
“I believe he is afraid of scandal, which has made him quite ornery. I try to stay out of his way.”
Verity felt a chill run down her spine. “Do you think it has something to do with the diamond?”
“I couldn’t say.” Seraphina’s voice was careful, measured. “But whatever it is, it’s consuming him. He barely sleeps. I only know because I hear him pacing the halls at night.”
“Has he mentioned anything specific? Any names or events?”
Seraphina hesitated, then set down her teacup with deliberate precision. “I am new to London, and I do not want to become involved in any controversy.”
“I understand,” Verity said carefully. “I, too, prefer to stay on the outskirts of any gossip. I am trying to solve a mystery for the Duchess of Ravenscar, but I can promise you that besides us, your secrets will remain safe. No one needs to know that we had a discussion about this. And we are both tied to the Eastclere family.”
Seraphina considered that for a minute before she nodded. “Very well. I overheard him muttering about ‘Hartford’ one evening when he thought he was alone.”
“Hartford?” Verity’s pulse quickened. “As in Lord Julian Hartford?”
“Or perhaps his brother, the Marquess of Archer.” Seraphina shrugged elegantly. “He didn’t specify. But whatever connection exists between your cousin and the Hartfords, it troubles him greatly.”
Verity’s mind raced, trying to connect these new pieces to the puzzle. Julian’s interest in the letters, Eastclere’s obsession with the diamond, the mysterious steward’s dismissal—what did it all mean?
“Thank you for telling me this,” Verity said, her thoughts still spinning.
“Yes, of course,” she said. “I know that Lord Julian has some gambling debts. Perhaps my cousin suspects him of stealing the diamond to help cover them.”
“How do you know about such debts?”
“Lord Eastclere is also in over his head, although that is due to the estate rather than gambling,” she said. “I believe they are involved with the same people in trying to decrease their debts.”
“I see,” Verity murmured.
Seraphina studied her with those remarkable green eyes. “Be careful, Lady Verity. I fear there may be more at stake than just a missing diamond.”
Verity nodded.
There was a lot more at stake. Including, she’d discovered today, her heart.