Chapter 19
Lady Archer and her musicale companions were actually fairly talented, and most days, Verity would have enjoyed paying attention to their set.
But today, she could think of nothing but the man next to her.
The one whose thick, hard thigh was pressed up against hers—on purpose, she was sure, who kept glancing her way, who looked even more handsome than usual today, his dark hair curling over his forehead in that way that drove her mad for so many reasons, his warm brown eyes twinkling, his teasing continuing in the most delicious way.
She never should have asked him to teach her how to flirt. She never should have let him into her bedroom.
She never should have fallen for him.
For she had.
She ought to have known she would. Some foolish corner of her heart had always been inclined toward him, despite her best efforts to extinguish the feeling after his rejection.
Yet now she understood. He had not been rejecting her so much as the prospect of binding himself to anyone at all. Strangely, the distinction eased an old hurt she had not realised she still carried.
She started when skin brushed against her arm, and she looked down ever so briefly to see Julian running his finger over her bare forearm. She stole a glance at her mother to see if she noticed, but she seemed enthralled at the musicale.
Verity shifted slightly so that no one else would see.
“Stop that,” she murmured, even as her body came flaring to life at his touch.
He must have known, for a corner of his mouth hooked up into a smile.
“Stop what?”
“That,” she said, needing to move her arm away, but it was impossible, for she was enjoying his touch far too much.
It was infuriating how intoxicating she found him—and how he seemed to know it.
“Have you thought of last night?” he asked, leaning in close to her and murmuring into her ear.
“No.”
“You sure about that?” he asked, drawing circles on the underside of her forearm with the pad of his thumb. “Let me ask you this—do you want to do it again?”
“No. Yes.”
He bit his lip, and Verity had the feeling that if he could have, he would have let loose a loud laugh.
But of course, that was not possible here.
She did want to do it again. Far too desperately. But it would be such a bad idea. Not only could they be caught, but it would only make her want him all the more.
The moment the musicale came to a close, Verity had to fight the urge to jump to her feet and flee from the room, for Julian’s proximity and his touch had made her entire body flush, her cheeks warm, and her limbs jittery.
She didn’t think she could make any more polite conversation, nor even hide from her mother that anything was amiss.
Which was why it couldn’t have been worse timing for Lord Eastclere to stop her and ask, “Lady Verity, may I have a moment to speak with you?”
Julian was standing behind her, jaw clenched tight, but he had no reason to step in and decline the request any more than Verity did.
She considered telling Lord Eastclere that she needed to use the ladies’ room, but then he might only wait for her outside of it, and it would be even worse if he were to catch her alone.
This conversation needed to be had—as much as she wanted to put it off. For she needed to tell him the truth and hope that he would be gentleman enough to respect her wishes.
“Yes,” she said. “Why do we not take a refreshment first?”
“Very well,” he said, leaving her for a moment to collect a lemonade for each of them.
“Are you certain about this?” Julian asked in a low voice beside her, and she nodded.
“I do need to speak with him.”
Before Julian could reply, however, Verity’s mother was there, telling her exactly what she felt about the conversation to come.
“Verity, do be sure to take advantage of this opportunity, all right?”
“Of course,” she said, but little did her mother know her true intentions.
She walked over to meet Lord Eastclere, attempting to take slight control of the situation as she led them over to two chairs at the back of the room.
They were far enough away from anyone that they would not be overheard, and one of the other young ladies had now sat at the piano, playing a slow melody.
“Lord Eastclere, I am glad to have a moment to speak with you privately,” Verity began politely, even as her heart raced.
“I have something to speak about with you as well,” he said. “I would like to court you.”
Verity sat still, blinking. This conversation had not begun as she wished. She had been hoping to gain control, but Eastclere obviously wasn’t used to giving it up that easily.
“Yes,” she said cautiously. “I had guessed such was the case. I am flattered, Lord Eastclere, but as you know, we have visited this idea before.”
“It seems to me that things have changed since then,” he said icily. “Or was there another reason you were showing interest in me?”
“I…” She stopped short. He was right. That was the worst of it.
She gathered herself, folding her hands so tightly her knuckles were white. “Lord Eastclere, I am sorry if I misled you. That was never my intention.”
He arched a brow, cold and curious. “Was it not? You’ve been very attentive of late, Lady Verity. I would not have presumed otherwise without encouragement.”
“I—I hoped for friendship. I have always admired your mind and your candor,” she said, hating herself for every truth and every lie layered in the statement. “But I do not think we would suit, not in the way you believe we would.”
He didn’t immediately reply. Verity knew from experience that he would never show his pride was punctured, but she saw the quick, shallow breath he drew before smiling, teeth bared and perfect. “Do you have a better offer waiting, Lady Verity?”
“No,” she said, truthfully. “This is about me, not about—about anyone else.”
He leaned back, fingers steepled, studying her. She felt herself shrinking under his consideration, as if he could see every calculation she’d ever made.
“I see,” he said thoughtfully, his voice so quiet it barely rippled the air.
“You are not the first to discover that affection is more dangerous than desire. You may be the first to admit it, though.” He inclined his head.
“If you plan to reject me, I suggest you consider that rumor is not kind to women who toy with gentlemen.”
Her spine stiffened. Was he threatening her?
“I would never want that to be so, Lord Eastclere,” she said. “Nor would I want to see rumor or scandal surround you.”
“I shall be fine no matter what comes, Lady Verity,” he said. “That might not be so for you—or, potentially, for Lady Seraphina.”
“What does Lady Seraphina have to do with any of this?”
“She is my ward, and she is your friend, is she not?”
“Yes.”
“If scandal attaches to me, then it would extend to her as well, so I would not be making any threats about my reputation, Lady Verity.”
Her mouth went dry at the reminder that Seraphina, still only tenuously welcomed into society, would be the first offered up to the wolves if there was even a whiff of impropriety attached to his name, if Verity were to say anything against his character.
“You must decide where you place your affections, Lady Verity, and who is worth having them. You don’t know who you are dealing with.”
She wasn’t sure for a moment if he was referring to himself or to Julian, but it seemed that, either way, he knew.
He knew of her attachment to Julian, and of course, knew what it would mean if she was caught with him.
“Make your decision, Lady Verity, but I would suggest you make it of your own free will, for I wouldn’t want to have to resort to… other measures.”
The weight of it pressed down hard. Not just for herself but for everyone who moved in her orbit.
She stood, her limbs suddenly heavy. “Thank you for your honesty, Lord Eastclere. I will be equally honest with you the next time we speak.”
He inclined his head again, as if dismissing her with royal privilege. “I look forward to the conversation.”
Verity walked away with the world spinning, her pulse thudding in her ears, and the taste of lemon and shame in her throat as she felt that she had been caught in a web that was partially her own doing.
She rounded the corner to the terrace, found a patch of shade, and let herself crumple there, hidden by a stand of overgrown rose bushes. She pressed her forehead to her knees and breathed, willing the chill and the panic to subside.
That was how Julian found her, a few minutes later. He appeared without sound, as if conjured by her misery, and crouched beside her until she looked up.
He didn’t speak at first. For once, he didn’t even smile. He just sank to the grass, close enough that their knees touched, and waited with a patience she had never seen from him.
“I did it,” she whispered, voice ragged. “I told him I would not court him.”
Julian’s hand fumbled for hers, and for a wild moment she thought he might try to joke, or tease her into laughter. But he only held her hand and looked at her in earnest, with unguarded concern.
“What did he say? Did he upset you?” Julian asked.
She nodded, unable to stop the welling in her throat. “He… reminded me what it would cost if I were to reject him again.”
Julian cursed as he traced the back of her hand with his thumb. “Rumors pass,” he said. “I do not want to see you frightened. I’d do anything to prevent it.”
“You don’t mean that.”
He smiled, soft and crooked. “I do, more than you would think.” He squeezed her hand, so hard it almost hurt, as if he could anchor her to the earth.
Verity’s tears threatened, but she blinked them back. “You are being foolhardy,” she said, her voice shaking, “but I think I am too.”
He laughed then, a real laugh, and dragged her up to her feet. “The world will think what it wants. Let’s not give it a dull story. Come.”
She smiled for the first time since her conversation with Lord Eastclere, looking up at the man who made her feel like no one else ever had.
“Julian, what am I to do? It doesn’t seem as though he is going to let this go without issue. If I don’t agree to court him, then I do believe he is going to force my hand, one way or the other.”
“That won’t happen.”
“You cannot make promises you can’t keep.”
Still, the determined set of his jaw and his concern for her welfare filled her with an unwelcome warmth. She was letting him in, allowing herself to hope that there might be more between them—that his feelings for her might be deeper than she had ever dared believe.
“We’ll find a way,” he said. “I promise.”
He held out his arm, and she took it, allowing him to lead her back inside, arm in arm, braced for whatever came next.