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Alec set the box on the table, determined to be cheerful even if he died in the process. “It’s rather like Christmas, isn’t it?”
She stripped off her gloves with an economical motion and placed them on the table. “It’s like no Christmas I’ve ever had.”
There was no request for pity in the plainly stated fact, yet he felt as if he should say something…helpful. “Julia, I know this has been difficult for you. Your whole life has been wretched—”
“Wretched? Whatever made you think that?” She regarded him with an astonished gaze.
“I don’t know. I just thought….” Alec subsided into silence as the green of her eyes deepened. Good God, all he’d tried to do was offer the poor girl some encouragement, and she had flared up at him as if he’d grossly insulted her.
Julia’s chin squared. “I had a wonderful childhood. Not much money, of course. But full of love and laughter.”
“Then you had a better childhood than I,” he retorted. “Grandfather was not a cheerful man.”
“Yes, I heard. He was never the same after your mother died.”
“Who told you that?” he asked, momentarily diverted by her knowledge. The only time he had ever seen his grandfather show anything resembling emotion was when the old man had gazed on the portrait of his mother that hung in the grand saloon at Bridgeton House.
“Mrs. Winston told me.” Her lips quivered as if she would burst into tears at any moment. “She said he put fresh flowers on her grave every day until he died.”
He must have looked as bewildered as he felt, for she bit her lip and added, “Of course you already knew that.”
Alec didn’t know anything of the sort. The housekeeper’s constant chattering had never inspired him with the desire to listen. “I imagine Mrs. Winston knows quite a bit about the entire family.”
A sudden dimple raced across Julia’s cheek. “Oh, yes.”
Fascinated, Alec wondered where the dimple hid when she wasn’t smiling. She was a conundrum, this prim woman whose emotions ran from tearful sympathy to a mischievous twinkle in the space of a moment. “Did she mention the time I shaved the wolfhound?”
Her smile exploded into a full-blown grin, as enchanting as the dimple. “You wanted to make him into a lion.”
“I failed miserably. Poor Ferdinand was mortified. He hid under the kitchen table for a week.”
She laughed, the husky sound more suited to a boudoir than a parlor. “I hope you were properly chastised.”
“Grandfather made me clean out the kennels every day for a week.”
“Good for him. It is exactly what I would have recommended.”
“You are a harsh taskmaster. But Ferdinand didn’t look so horrible. In fact, he reminded me of Vicar Plumb.” She looked uncertain and he added, “He married us.”
All merriment swept from her face. “Oh. Of course.”
He winced at the sudden change. That was the problem with trying to talk with a reformer, and a virgin at that. He wasn’t sure what the latter had to do with his irritation, but it did.
Women like Julia were unreasonable and irrational, and fell to pieces at the slightest provocation, leaving men like him feeling like the biggest beasts on earth. He, for one, did not enjoy being made to feel so low. It was time she understood exactly what he expected of her. “Julia, we need to talk. Your behavior today was inexcusable.”
She stared at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted horns and a tail. “What behavior?”
Damn her for being so particular. What behavior, indeed. He scowled and pointed a finger. “Today, while we were shopping, you pouted like a child.”
“I was not pouting.”
“Yes, you were.” Color stained her cheeks and he relented slightly. “You must get over this hesitation you have about spending money. I know you—”
“I have decided to establish my own factory.” Enthusiasm bloomed across her face, illuminating the pale angles with vivid color. “One of the major tenets of the Society for Wayward Women is to teach independence and self-reliance. I’ve finally figured out a way to do just that.”
“I see,” he said faintly. He didn’t, but it was all he could manage at the moment.
“Most women who have taken up less than honorable professions have done so out of necessity. With the proper funding, we can train them to become productive members of society and—”
“Wait.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Do you mean to tell me that the entire time we were shopping, you were thinking about spending money?”
“Oh, yes.”
He opened his eyes. “On other women?”
“Of course.” She waved an airy hand. “But much more money than that paltry amount we dropped in the stores today.”
“Paltry?” he heard himself echo hollowly. Here he had worried, actually worried, that she had been overcome by his generosity. Instead, she thought it paltry. His numb mind refused to calculate how much he had actually spent. It didn’t bear consideration.
Julia wasn’t even attending. “It all depends on what kind of factory we establish. It could be expensive.” She brightened. “But think of the good it will do.”
It suddenly seemed silly to have been shopping at all. He cleared his throat. “Julia, why are you so interested in the fate of these unfortunate women?”
Her bloom faded and her gaze dropped to her hands. After a moment, she said, “After my father died, I found out how few choices there are for women to earn their own way in life.” She sighed heavily. “I don’t watercolor, you see.”
Alec struggled to follow her line of thought. “You wanted to earn a living as a painter?”
“Oh, no! I wanted to be a governess.”
“You have to know how to watercolor to be a governess? What in hell for?”
She positively beamed at him. “That is a very good question and a perfect example of the shortcomings of modern education. I can speak three languages fluently, can do advanced sums, and know geography and philosophy. Yet because I do not watercolor, no one would even consider me an acceptable governess.”
It was amazing how her face transformed when she felt strongly about something. Her eyes flashed, her cheeks warmed to a kissable pink, even her hair seemed to lift and curl with more vivacity, the honey gold threads gleaming. She went from plain and colorless to her own quiet sort of glowing beauty.
“I was fortunate Aunt Lydia wrote and asked me to come here to be a companion to Therese.”
“Fortunate for Therese, perhaps, but hardly for you.”
Julia looked at him and started to speak, but stopped, blushing profusely. “As uncomfortable as it has been, it taught me to be more aware of the needs of others.”
Alec wondered at the size of her heart, to be in such desperate straits herself, yet only see it as a lesson about the difficulties of others. That thought prompted another: never in all of his debauched life had he been made to feel such a wastrel.
Damn the woman and her moralizing ways. He, for one, was glad he was both wealthy and irresponsible. If Julia harbored the false notion she could shame him into becoming a paragon of virtue like herself, she was sadly mistaken. If anyone was going to change, it would be she.
Alec reached for the box he had brought from the foyer and opened it, removing the bonnet that lay nestled among the wrapping paper. “Here, stand up and let’s try this on.”
She turned an abstracted gaze to the hat. “I tried it on in the store. There’s no need to try it again.”
“I beg to differ. It will look much different in this light. Besides, I paid twenty guineas for it.” He offered his best smile, deepening his voice just slightly. “The least you can do is let me see it on you.”
Reluctantly, Julia stood and held out her hand. “Very well, but it seems a silly thing to do. I really should go see Vicar Ashton from the Society and tell him the good news about the money.”
“Write him a letter,” he said, ignoring her outstretched hand
and holding the bonnet aloft. “Allow me.”
A frown pulled the corners of her mouth, but she didn’t move away when he set the hat on her head. Indeed, she stared off into the distance as if he weren’t even present. Never had any woman seemed so immune to him. The thought both irritated and tantalized.
He allowed his hands to linger on the softness of her hair as he adjusted the bonnet. “You know, love, it won’t do for you to tell everyone about your charity work.”
That caught her attention. Her brows drew together and she scowled. “The Society needs me. I won’t give it up just to—”
“No one has asked you to, love. You should just be cautious, that’s all. People sneer at things they don’t understand.”
Julia stared at him, her mouth pressed in a mutinous line. “It sounds very unfair.”
Alec could tell her how unfair it was, how the sharpedged banter of society could cut a person to shreds, but he didn’t. Instead, he tipped up her chin to better regard the bonnet, shifting forward until a scant few inches separated them. She smelled of lemon and cinnamon. It made his mouth water.
“This is a silly sort of bonnet for me,” she muttered almost fiercely. “I told you that in the store, but you wouldn’t listen.”
The straw brim framed her willful face. The charming confection sported a wide, low crown trimmed with an outlandish profusion of artificial flowers and cherries. He had bought this one in particular because the deep green of the leaves echoed the startling color of her eyes.
But he was hard pressed to see her eyes now. She kept them fixed firmly on the floor as he took the ribbons and made a monstrous bow beneath her chin, his finger brushing her chin and throat.
“You know,” he murmured. “It is usually polite for a wife to thank her husband when he purchases gifts for her.”
“Thank you,” she replied dutifully.
He touched one of the flowers on her hat and sent it bobbing. “Some wives might even knit their husbands a pair of slippers.”
“I don’t knit. I never could.” She regarded him with a serious expression. “I can’t embroider, either.”
“Hmm,” he answered, wondering how such a virtuous woman had come to possess such a sensual mouth. “Fortunately for you, I am not a demanding husband. I will settle for your ‘thank you.’”
She hesitated, then looked down. One of the large flowers adorning the wide brim slapped him in the nose.
“I suppose that surprises you,” she muttered.
He rubbed his nose. “What? That you can’t embroider?”
The sprig of cherries quivered at her nod.
“To be honest, I’m glad you can neither sew nor embroider. Now I won’t have to dread every holiday for fear you will sew some horrendous article of clothing I will be forced by politeness to wear.” He lifted her chin with a finger, slipped her spectacles off, and tucked them in his pocket. “Here, love, let me see your eyes.”
She made a noise of exasperation. “Why do you always do that? I can’t see without them.”
He leaned closer until their noses nearly touched. “Can you see now?”
Julia’s mouth parted. Moisture glistened on the sensual slopes of her lips. His gaze drifted to her eyes. This close, he was amazed at the length of her lashes. Long and thick, they curled deliciously. Alec could tell from her rapid breathing that she was both frightened and excited. A sensual spell played between them, pulling them closer, making them yearn to touch and be touched.
Some inner voice he’d thought long dead whispered that he was taking this further than he should, but his body was too committed, his mind too focused to hear anything other than the luscious sound of her labored breathing.
“I think…you should….” She swallowed and he watched, mesmerized by the movement of her graceful throat.
“I should what?” he asked, lifting a finger to trace the fall of a curl across her ear.
Julia closed her eyes and shivered.
Alec leaned closer so his breath fanned her cheek, her mouth. “Should what, love? Tell me.”
A moan slid from her lips and then she fixed her gaze on his. Naked desire stirred in the black velvet centers, the verdant green eclipsed by passion. “Kiss me,” she whispered unevenly.
Desire, hot and sugary, flooded his veins. Without another thought, he pulled her closer until the flowers from her bonnet halted him. He cursed, loosening the ribbons with impatient fingers. Finally freed, he dropped the offending hat to the ground and claimed her mouth with his.
Her generous mouth parted beneath his. She moaned and he took advantage of the moment to touch his tongue to hers. She gasped and would have pulled back, but he held her tight and deepened the kiss until she clung to him, breathless with desire. He slid his hands into her tousled hair.
Just as he remembered, the strands slipped through his fingers like heavy silk. He sank his hands into the honey brown curls, scattering pins and loosening tendrils. The silken strands clung to his fingers and urged him on.
She clutched him closer, her arms twined about his neck, her hands gripping urgently. He molded her lithe curves against him, savoring the feel of her firm body as he plundered the heat of her mouth. She surged against him in an unconscious motion that nearly destroyed him.
Alec ran his hands over her back, her hips, and lower. God, she was made for him, fitting against him as if some higher hand had crafted her curves to meld perfectly. A deep moan escaped her parted lips and he captured it, tasting her passion, reveling in her sweetness.
Through a barrage of uncontrolled desire, he was vaguely aware of a door opening. With heartrending clarity, Burroughs announced, “The Duke of Wexford.”
Chapter 8
With a muffled curse, Alec broke the embrace and thrust Julia behind him. His cravat was ruined, his coat crumpled, and his desire agonizingly obvious against the smooth outline of his breeches. Damn Luce from now until eternity.
Burroughs choked and quickly removed himself from the room, his ears suspiciously red.
“Dear me,” Lucien drawled, smiling like a cat facing a barrel of cream. “It appears the viscount and viscountess are occupied.”
“So nice of you to stop by,” Alec ground out through clenched teeth, trying to still his racing heart. His body thrummed with heat. Behind him, he could hear Julia’s hurried breath as she attempted to put her hair to rights.
He couldn’t believe what had just happened. He was a man who took his pleasures lightly. A man who enjoyed numerous dalliances with women who understood the ultimate goal of his flirtations. He eschewed the company of innocents the way some men ran from sin. Yet here he was, panting after his virginal wife like a love-smitten youth.
Lucien sauntered across the room, his eyes glowing with amusement. “I came to pay my respects to the lovely bride.”
Alec risked a glance at Julia. Color stained her cheeks, and though she had retrieved most of her pins, one fat, satiny curl trailed over her shoulder. A stab of pure, hot lust ran through him at the sight of her kiss-swollen mouth. Unable to do more, he glared at Lucien.
The duke captured Julia’s hand. “Since your husband refuses to make a proper introduction, I fear it rests on me to atone for his rudeness.” He bowed, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “My Lady Hunterston, you probably don’t remember, but I met you at—”
“The Melroses’ dinner party. I remember it well,” she said, her voice still breathless. She pulled free, swallowing nervously. “Would you care to join us for tea, Your Grace?”
“I would be delighted.” Lucien’s hard gaze lingered with appreciation on her mouth.
Alec scowled and reached for Julia. As soon as his fingers touched the coolness of hers, she snatched her hand away and cast a glance of such longing toward the door that he heard himself say, “Perhaps you should inform Burroughs we shall need some tea.”
She nodded thankfully. “Of course. Pray excuse me.” Bobbing a quick curtsey, she slipped quietly from the room.
&n
bsp; Lucien retrieved the discarded bonnet from the floor. “My, my. And to think I was even feeling sorry for you.”
“Shut up, Wexford. Why are you here?”
“A bit out of sorts, are you? I don’t wonder. It is difficult to pull back from the edge of passion, just as—”
“Lucien.” The warning in his tone was unmistakable.
The duke chuckled. “Very well. I will cease teasing you until you are in a better frame of mind. Judging from the bounty displayed in the foyer, I take it you’ve been shopping.” He sauntered to the settee and perched on the arm, setting the hat on his knee. “Did Julia purchase finery to her heart’s content?”
“If she had, we’d have been home hours ago. She didn’t see the need to purchase anything.” The ache in his groin subsided to a dull throb.
“Not an ounce of vanity to her, is there?”
“No, I had to remind her of the codicil a dozen times just to get her to buy even the most necessary items.”
“You are a fortunate man. Imagine taking Therese on just such a venture.”
Alec grimaced.
“Exactly.” The duke flicked a careless finger at the flowers adorning the hat. “By the way, Edmund and I stopped by White’s this morning.”
“Did you?”
“Hmmm. Nick was there. He was everything affable. I mentioned how pleased I was at your wedding.”
“And was he surprised?”
“‘Dumbfounded’ would be a better term.” Lucien pulled his quizzing glass free and examined the fake sprig of cherries. “Of course, I embellished the story a bit.”
“Whatever for?”
“People might sneer at Julia if they thought she was anything less than your first choice as wife. I hinted….” Lucien lifted his gaze. “Just hinted, mind you, that you and Julia had a longstanding attachment.”
“Did anyone believe you?”
“Everyone but Nick.”
“I told you he was not the fop you take him for.”
Lucien opened his mouth to reply but Burroughs reentered the room. With painful dignity, the butler announced, “Lady Birlington and Lord Valmont.”