Chapter Six #2
“Early or late, let’s get on,” said Lawrence gruffly, and Julia was delighted to see he was still blushing.
He offered his arm. Julia took it, charmed by the way the movement was so natural, so easy.
They walked in silence for a few minutes. Though the day was bright, it was freezing cold. Julia was thankful she had stuffed her gloves into her reticule at some point, for she retrieved them and placed them on.
The only downside, of course, was that she now could not feel the coarseness of Lawrence’s coat under her fingertips…or anything more…
“You were not discovered last night?”
Julia shook her head. “No, I do not think so. Well, Donald heard me, but he doesn’t count.”
Lawrence laughed. “I am not sure, based on my admittedly limited knowledge of your brother, that he would be particularly pleased with being told he doesn’t count.”
She squeezed his arm in silent reproof. “You know what I mean.”
They continued along the path, which was almost empty despite the fashionable hour. Almost alone, Julia could not help but think. Not quite as alone as when she had stolen a kiss …or had he stolen it from her?
She could hardly remember now. Though the moment was in some ways burned into her memory, something she would enjoy over and over again, it was at the same time a rush of sensations she could not untangle.
“Tell me about yourself,” Julia said impulsively.
Lawrence raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”
She smiled at the formal phrase. It was so endearing about the man. He was such an oddity—a medley of well-born and ill-bred, formality and nonsensical informality. He treated her as a lady but was certainly no gentleman.
“I know so little about you,” Julia explained as they slowly turned a corner, the path meandering to the right. “We talk of the boxing, of the fighters—”
“Topics you ask me about,” Lawrence pointed out.
She shivered as she felt as well as heard his deep voice rumbling through her arm.
“I know that,” she said. “It’s just…I want to know about that, all of it. But I also want to know about you.”
Julia almost held her breath as Lawrence looked at her, eyes serious. Could he see in her face, hear in her voice, just what she wanted?
She hardly knew herself. All she could fathom was that spending time with Lawrence was fast becoming the only thing she wanted to do with her days.
Something her mother would certainly not approve of…
Lawrence shrugged. “There’s not much to tell.”
“There must be something,” Julia persisted. Just why she was pushing this, she could hardly tell, but she craved to know more. To know everything about the tall, dark man beside her.
He laughed. “I am not so interesting as you may think.”
“But you have a past.”
The arm she was holding stiffened. “What makes you say that?”
Julia bit her lip. She had not intended it to sound like…well, what it sounded like.
Besides, she was not accusing him of anything. In truth, it was rather exciting to think that the man with whom she was walking had a murky and rather dangerous beginning.
It excited something in her that had been awoken the moment she had first seen Lawrence in the boxing ring.
“I just meant you have parents, perhaps siblings,” Julia said, trying to keep her voice calm. “You didn’t grow up in London or else you would have the accent of the East End.”
Lawrence snorted. “No! No, I didn’t grow up here.”
An icy wind blew, and Julia stepped closer to him, instinctively eager for his warmth. He did not move away, and her heart skipped a beat as she felt the intimacy of what she had done.
What he had allowed her to do.
“So?” she persisted. “Where did you grow up?”
Julia glanced up as she spoke, trying to ascertain from his face whether he was amused by her questions, offended, or something in between.
But there was a shadow on his face, a darkness she had not expected. Wherever it had been, it had not been happy.
“A long way from here,” Lawrence said quietly. “In the north.”
“The north?” Julia repeated. That was certainly not what she had expected. There was no northern twang in the man’s accent, nothing in his way of speaking that spoke of a northern clime. “Truly?”
A wry smile creased Lawrence’s lips. “Truly. And that’s all you need to know.”
“But—”
“I don’t talk about myself much, Julia,” he said quietly.
Julia’s shiver had nothing to do with the freezing day. Would she ever grow accustomed to hearing her name on his lips?
“I liked it better when you called me Jules,” she said shamelessly.
Lawrence squeezed her hand on his arm. “Really.”
She swallowed. Was she going too far?
“Really,” she breathed, then clearing her throat, continued in a firmer voice. “Look, you can’t just say that you grew up in the north and leave it at that.”
“Why not?”
“Because—because,” Julia stammered, absolutely at a loss to explain why.
Because I want to know all about you, she thought wildly. Because you are the most interesting man I have ever met, yet you defy me at every turn, but you are here, aren’t you? With me? You could have made excuses, refused to agree to be here, not turned up…
And yet you are here.
Lawrence grinned. “I usually let me hands do the talking.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “That’s just what a man of your class would say.”
Only when the words had slipped from her lips did she hear them.
“That’s just what a man of your class would say.”
Lawrence made no movement, save a small eyebrow raise. He did not remove her hand from his arm. He said nothing, did not berate her for the way she had spoken, chastise her for such rudeness.
In a way, Julia wished he would. Anything to end the silence, to show how abominably rudely she had spoken.
To make it easier for her to apologize, admit she had been wrong.
She had never been particularly good at apologizing. Saying sorry was something she had been forced to do as a child, even when not in the wrong, and it had irritated her to no end.
But in this case, she was quite firmly in the wrong.
Julia took a deep breath. “I-I am sorry.”
Lawrence was quiet for a moment. “It must take a great deal for a woman of your standing to say that. To a man like me.”
She saw nobility there even if his upbringing did not bestow it. When had she ever looked so closely at a man who was not a gentleman?
Perhaps she never had.
Because Lawrence was…noble. Far nobler than the pawing gentlemen at Almack’s, or those who attempted to impress her at the card table, or with gossip she would rather not hear.
The wind blew fiercely, rustling Lawrence’s dark locks, and Julia felt a desperate need to wend her hands through them once more.
“Tell me,” she said quietly. “I want to know.”
“Everything?”
Julia smiled nervously. “Anything.”
Lawrence sighed heavily and shook his head with a rueful smile. “You simply don’t give up, do you?”
“Not when I know what I want,” she said quietly.
His gaze met hers, and for a moment Julia was certain she was going to rise in the air, all gravity forgotten, just at the way he looked at her.
“I grew up…in the north,” said Lawrence quietly. “Come on, let’s sit here.”
Hyde Park was almost empty; it was not difficult to find an empty bench. Julia tried her best to sit as close to Lawrence as possible, while still retaining some societal dignity if someone was to see them.
Or, God forbid, Lady Romeril.
“The north,” she prompted.
Lawrence grinned as he leaned back. “Have you ever been?”
Julia shook her head. “All I’ve ever known is London. I went to Brighton once a few years ago, but only for a week.”
“Well, the north is nothing like Brighton,” said Lawrence, his grin deepening. “It’s far wilder and more beautiful, in my opinion. Moors that run into the horizon as far as the eye can see, sweet-smelling heather, and crispy gorse that will catch at your clothes, trying to keep you there.”
He glanced at Julia, as though afraid he had already said too much. Julia nodded encouragingly, enchanted by his words.
“The land there is far wilder than anything in the south,” Lawrence continued, his shoulders loosening as he relaxed.
Julia watched, hardly able to take her eyes from him.
“And beaches—”
“Beaches? In the north?”
His laughter made heat sear Julia’s cheeks. “You think we don’t have coastline up there?”
Julia glanced at her hands, ashamed at her ignorance. “Of course, I—go on.”
“Well, the beaches there are northern, so they are different. Stronger currents, deeper tides.” Lawrence smiled, almost wistfully. “And the forests, absolutely packed with animals, waterfalls, majestic mountains which rise out of the mist. Once, when I was hunting—”
“Hunting?”
Julia had not been able to help interrupting, but her curiosity was so great. Hunting? A man like Lawrence?
And all the tension crept back into their conversation. Lawrence’s smile was gone, a look of almost astonishment in his eyes.
“I did not mean hunting,” he said hurriedly.
Julia frowned. “Then what did you—”
“I mean, when the local lords went hunting, and I-I beat the bushes to make the grouse fly up,” said Lawrence quickly.
Too quickly.
Julia swallowed. It was none of her business, his past, not truly. But it was not difficult to put two and two together.
“But you have a past.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Once, when I was hunting—”
Yes, he had been hunting, but not on his own land. Poaching was a terrible crime, punishable by imprisonment, as far as she knew.
No wonder he had flushed at the accidental slip. No wonder he had been forced away from the land he so evidently loved, to come down to London where anonymity would protect him.
Julia smiled. “Tell me about these moors.”
Lawrence met her eyes, and she tried her best to show him she held no danger for him. Why, quite to the contrary. She was far more likely to be in danger from him.
A slow smile crept across his face. “When you go out on the moors in summer…”