Lady Wicked: Notorious Ladies of London Book 4

by Scott, Scarlett

  He had to realize how humiliated she would be, having to exit the lake wearing nothing but her chemise. Before him. She never should have given in to her urges to swim. But Hellie had been otherwise occupied this afternoon, and Julianna had been in search of some distraction.

  The cool waters of the lake surrounded her now, silken. She closed her eyes as her ears roared. Her chest was tight. Her lungs burned. She could not hold this position for much longer before she would have to seek air.

  Suddenly, the decision was taken from her. Because he was there, shouting her name. She heard it from beneath the water, muffled and low. Saw his body, clad in riding clothes the same as he had been on the day she had first met him, swimming toward her through the water with the purpose of a fish.

  He caught her and hauled her up, up, up, his arms around her waist. She burst above the surface, gasping for breath, water running down her face.

  “Julianna, my God.” His hands were on her face, cupping her cheeks. “Say something.”

  And that was when she realized what that unusual harshness in his tone was. Worry. He had been concerned. For her.

  Julianna’s heart leapt.

  Stupid heart. This means nothing.

  That was her common sense speaking. But he had jumped into the lake, had he not? As she blinked the remnants of water from her eyes, she clung to his shoulders. Broad, strong shoulders. He had not hesitated in swimming to her, fully dressed. He had not bothered to shrug out of his jacket.

  Was it possible…?

  Had he thought he was saving her?

  The knowledge made her stupid heart grow larger. Thump harder. Love him more.

  “Julianna?”

  Her lashes fluttered, chasing the lake water. Giving her an unimpeded view of his stark masculine beauty. He was dripping, dark hair flattened to his head, and still, he was the most wonderful sight she had ever beheld. She thought then that if she had met him for the first time, here and now, she would have fallen in love with him, too. That first meeting had not been an aberration. She was meant for this man, and he was meant for her.

  “I am perfectly well,” she forced herself to admit.

  The weakest part of Julianna prayed he would not instantly release her. That he would instead remain here, holding her close. In the water. Near enough to kiss.

  Not that she would try to kiss him now.

  “Christ, you scared the devil out of me. You can swim?”

  “Like a fish.” She gave him a wan smile. “Forgive me for worrying you. That was not my intention.”

  “This lake is deceptive,” he told her, frowning. “There are so many shallow areas, then others that give way to deep waters. When you disappeared beneath the surface, I feared…”

  His words drifted away. She realized belatedly that she had been so overwhelmed by him that she had not noticed he was moving her nearer to the shallow. Until, all at once, her feet could reach the mucky bottom of the lake. Her right foot got stuck in the mud, and she clutched at him tighter, gasping.

  “I have you, my lady,” he promised.

  And her heart—stupid, foolish, reckless heart—thrummed. A trill went down her spine.

  She wanted him to have her. Now and always.

  “I am fine,” she forced herself to say, knowing it would likely force him to release her, though it was the last thing she wanted. “I was merely embarrassed.”

  “Embarrassed.” He bit out a bark of laughter. “My God. I would far prefer you to be safe than to fret over such nonsense as embarrassment. I assure you, there is nothing you could do or say that would make me flush.”

  “My chemise,” she managed hesitantly, trying not to caress the broad, muscled sweeps of his shoulders and failing dismally. “It is quite transparent. I… I could not swim with the encumbrance of all that fabric. However, I do not dare emerge from the lake as I am. I was hoping you might preserve my modesty and leave me in peace.”

  He raised a brow. “Then you might have said so instead of slipping beneath the water and leading me to fear the worst. Come, my lady. I do believe your time in the lake should be at an end.”

  Having made his decree, Shelbourne began to haul her from the body of water.

  What she did next was foolish, she knew. Reckless and dangerous, too. But that did not stop her.

  “Wait,” she told him, digging her toes into the muck.

  “What is it?” he demanded curtly.

  His gaze had slipped to her breasts, clearly delineated by her wet chemise as she emerged from the water. She threw her arms around his neck, pulled his head down, and pressed her lips to his.

  * * *

  She had kissed him first.

  He should have been a gentleman and thrust her away. He should have put an end to it. But Sidney was no match for the feelings that had been roiling through him since the day he had first met Lady Julianna Somerset. No match for her wet, lush curves melting into his body. No match for the sheer joy of her mouth on his.

  She was younger, he reminded himself. His sister’s bosom bow. She had only recently had her comeout.

  And naked beneath that transparent chemise. Very much a woman. Kissing him hesitantly. As if she was not certain what to do. Was this her first kiss? God, he hoped so. He wanted this kiss and every other after. He wanted to claim them all.

  To claim her.

  The summer air was warm around them, the water of the lake cool, but Sidney was on fire. She felt so good. Tasted so sweet. He had to have more.

  On a groan, he deepened the kiss, coaxing her lips apart. His tongue slid inside her mouth to her answering sigh of pleasure. She responded by running her tongue along his, seeking more. His groan turned into a moan of raw need.

  He had never been so aware of another woman. Had never been brought to his knees by the mere touch of a pair of feminine lips to his. Especially someone so unschooled in the art. But she was a swift learner, Lady Julianna. Eager. Bold.

  He kissed her as the water swirled around them. As birds called overhead and the golden rays of the sun made everything shimmer with surreal brilliance. Or mayhap that was her.

  Sidney understood what poets felt—that inexplicable urge to describe something seemingly ordinary in an extraordinary way. To string together words in the rudimentary hope of conveying something miraculous with verse and vowel. He thought he could have written a hundred sonnets about the feeling of this woman in his arms.

  They kissed and kissed, as if they were the only two people in the world. As if there were no chance of anyone spying them. As if they had nothing but time and the promise of each other.

  From the first moment he had met her, he had been drawn to her despite a lengthy list of reasons why he should not be. His own parents’ tepid marriage was proof enough to him that a union between a man and woman led to misery. He had spent all this time believing he would never find a woman who moved him. That there could not exist a woman he would want more than his next breath.

  He knew now how wrong he’d been. Lady Julianna Somerset was the one. He felt it in her kiss, in her embrace. In the crush of her supple breasts against his chest, the way she wrapped her leg around his waist.

  My God, that action—aligning her core with his rigid cock—sent more heat streaking through him. He had not thought it possible to sport an erection in cold water, but he had been wrong.

  Sidney tore his mouth from hers at last, his breathing harsh. His gaze devoured her: kiss-swollen lips, eyes so brilliant blue, ringed with gray, all those freckles gilding her nose. Little copper flecks he wanted to kiss and count. She was so raw and wild, her fiery curls wet and cascading over her shoulders, the taunting buds of her nipples pink and stiff beneath the linen clinging to her skin.

  He held her, afraid to let go.

  “My lady, that was…” He struggled to find a means of describing what had just occurred.

  So many words crowded his tongue. What he should say: unforgivable, wrong, inappropriate, scandalous. What he wanted to say
: wondrous, life-altering, sensual, unspeakably erotic.

  “Yes,” she agreed, and for a moment he feared he had spoken some of the latter aloud. “It was a moment that defies description.”

  He nodded. “I should… I must beg your forgiveness. I was carried away.”

  His tongue was tangled, much as his insides were. He felt as if he were muddled, deep within. As if these kisses with Lady Julianna Somerset had just changed everything.

  “I kissed you first,” she said softly, a charming flush rising in her cheeks. But still, she held his gaze, and she did not relax the arms looped around his neck.

  Sidney did not complain. He liked her here.

  “I am older,” he countered. “Far more experienced. I ought to have been a gentleman and used my restraint.”

  What a prig he sounded like, even to his own ears. Meanwhile, his body’s reaction to her belied those words. Soaked to the skin, waist deep in water, and all he could think about was laying her on the bank and making love to her beneath the warmth of the sun.

  “You are not terribly old.” Her nose wrinkled. “No more than five-and-twenty, surely.”

  “Seven-and-twenty next month,” he admitted, not sure he liked being described as not terribly old by this vivacious minx.

  He already knew she was eighteen. Yes, he had inquired after her. Peppered Hellie with innocent-enough questions. His sister had not taken notice of his interest, thank Christ. It was mortifying to be so taken with his younger sister’s friend.

  So taken, he was standing in the midst of the lake with her whilst she was nearly nude, after having kissed her as if his life depended upon it. Indeed, in the heat of his ardor, it had certainly seemed a possibility. Bloody hell, anyone could come upon them at any moment. A servant. A guest. His old school chums, the Earl of Huntingdon and the Duke of Northwich were visiting.

  He had to get out of this damned lake.

  Put some distance between them.

  Release her.

  God, why did letting go of her feel like losing a part of himself? His reaction to her was confounding. Alarming. Deuced unusual. Hell, he had one of the most sought-after mistresses in London, and Alice did not inspire even a hint of this passion in him.

  Rein in these foolish impulses, Sidney. You utter simpleton.

  “Thank you for rushing to my rescue,” Lady Julianna told him softly.

  She gazed at him without a hint of calculation. Her face was open and sincere, like a rose in bloom. Nothing but unvarnished beauty.

  He flashed her a wry smile and released his hold on her except for her arm, tugging her along with him as he headed to the edge of the lake. “No need to thank me, Lady Julianna. You hardly needed rescuing.”

  She said something quietly then, and he could not quite discern it over the din of splashing water, but he swore it sounded like rescue me any day.

  Damnation, what was he going to do with her?

  Marry her, he decided.

  That was what he was going to do.

  Chapter 6

  Present

  New York City is quite different from London. It is a place, I think, where I could find myself at home, though I hardly supposed it when I first arrived. Mama is a society darling here, being a marchioness, and it has helped me find my way. I have friends, but none are quite so fiercely loyal and entertaining and sweet as Hellie. I have met gentlemen aplenty, but none of them are Sidney. None shall ever replace him, though he broke my heart. I have not told Mama about my condition yet. I know I must soon, and I fear the outcome…

  ~from the journal of Lady Julianna Somerset, 1883

  “You are going to marry my brother.” Her dear friend Hellie, now the Countess of Huntingdon, made the pronouncement with a bright smile, as if she were announcing happy news. “Julianna, I cannot believe it. You have scarcely returned from New York City, and was it not recently you declared you would never marry?”

  She had, it was true. Julianna had been holding out hope that her lawyer in New York City would be able to nullify the portion of her uncle’s will requiring her to marry. When the telegram announcing his latest failure at such attempts arrived, she had known what she had to do. Her time had been dwindling. She had gone directly to Shelbourne that very night.

  “I changed my opinion,” she said lamely.

  “I was also under the impression neither of you cared much for the other.”

  They did not care for each other.

  Julianna loved Shelbourne. She always had and she always would. And Shelbourne had never loved her. It was simple, and complicated, and terrible, all at once.

  But Julianna did not say any of that. Instead, she sat in the crimson drawing room at Wickley House, swallowing the leaden weight of guilt, searching for how she might offer explanation without revealing the extent of her deceit.

  There was none.

  She had only kept two secrets from her friend. The first was her love for Hellie’s brother. The second was Emily, Hellie’s niece.

  “Julianna?” Hellie prodded, her smile fading into a frown. “You do not look pleased by this turn.”

  They were having tea. It was all quite civilized. She hoped her friend would not upend her cup in Julianna’s lap when her confessions were made.

  “I am pleased,” she said, which was true, at least partially.

  She had gotten what she wanted—what she needed. A marriage. Freedom. Shelbourne had concocted an elaborate ruse that could aid in Emily’s future and her legitimacy. And yet, there was so much she had not wanted. Namely, a husband in more than name only, to say nothing of the difficult task of battling Shelbourne so she could return to America.

  “And yet, for a woman who claims to be pleased, you still appear the opposite,” Hellie observed.

  She had thought about prolonging this moment. Trying to explain her decisions. But she feared there was no other way. If she were in Hellie’s shoes, she would probably not react to the news with aplomb. Indeed, she would likely be furious. Her friend had every right to feel betrayed; Julianna had returned and Hellie had welcomed her with open arms, bringing her into her new circle of friends, a wonderful group of women who ran the Lady’s Suffrage Society.

  Better just to blurt this out and carry on. “There is something I must tell you.”

  “You have been madly in love with my brother for years, and you never admitted it,” Hellie guessed.

  Yes.

  “No.” Another lie. What was one more? She had her pride, if nothing else.

  “Drat.” Her friend eyed her shrewdly. “Shelbourne has been drinking far too much. The love of a wonderful woman would do him good.”

  “I am not wonderful,” she blurted. “Not at all. Nor do I deserve your kindness, even your hospitality just now. Least of all your friendship. You see, Hellie, I have been lying to you. For the past two years, I have been keeping a secret. And when I returned to London, I continued to carry that secret, to keep the truth from you, until I settled upon the path I needed to take.”

  Her friend’s countenance tightened, confusion marring her golden beauty. “I do not understand. What are you trying to tell me, Julianna? What is this secret of yours?”

  “Not a what,” she said softly. “But rather, a who.”

  “Who?” Hellie blinked, her mystification more apparent by the moment. “Julianna, what are you going on about?”

  “Your niece,” Julianna forced herself to say, past the rising lump of guilt and shame.

  More blinking. Another vexed frown. “I do not have a niece.”

  “Yes, you do.” Julianna inhaled slowly, attempting to maintain her courage. “Her name is Emily. She is my daughter. My daughter and Shelbourne’s.”

  Hellie’s mouth dropped open. She said nothing.

  Julianna plodded on, needing to fill the shocked silence with something. An avalanche of stilted, half-uttered explanations, as it happened. “I never told you, Hellie, but I… Your brother and I… We…”

  “No.” Hellie was
shaking her head now. “You and Shelbourne? I would have known. You are my oldest, dearest friend. We share everything with each other.”

  “Everything but my relationship with your brother,” she managed weakly.

  “Relationship? The two of you scarcely ever crossed paths aside from that summer at Farnsworth House.”

  That they had avoided the notice of everyone around them remained a miracle aided by the eased rules of the country house in which they had met. After those kisses in the lake, nothing had kept them apart. But they had taken care, aside from that sun-drenched, glorious meeting. They had met covertly in corridors, darkened rooms, the Palladian temple, the forest, finding their way to each other however they must.

  “We crossed paths enough,” Julianna told her shocked friend.

  “But he said nothing of it to me. You said nothing.”

  The condemnation in her friend’s voice was clear—it was Julianna’s omission, rather than Shelbourne’s, which was the greatest cause of strife.

  “I am sorry,” she said, hating the damages her lie had wrought.

  The guilt had been with her, eating at her, for two years. But now that the truth had been revealed, she understood that her guilt had been insufficient. The reality of it was so much worse than she had imagined.

  “You have a daughter,” Hellie said.

  “Yes.”

  “I have a niece.”

  “You have a niece.”

  They stared at each other for an indeterminate span of time, the only sound between them the steady ticking of the mantel clock.

  “How could you keep her a secret from me?” Hellie demanded at last.

  “It was difficult.” The admission was torn from her. “Every day since I discovered I was with child, I struggled to do what was best for Emily. Initially, I was terrified and trapped, so shocked by the realization I kept it from everyone, even my mother, until I could no longer maintain my secret.”