by Diana Bold
“What happened tonight?” Emma asked. “Did he kiss you?”
“I think he would have,” Jane admitted. “I think he wanted to.”
“But you ran away,” Emma guessed, obviously remembering that Jane had been standing alone in the foyer when they’d left.
“Of course, I ran away. If I’d stayed, I might have forgiven him.”
“Would that really be such a bad thing? It’s been a long time. Perhaps he’s changed.”
“Nothing’s changed,” Jane insisted. “He’s incapable of loving anyone.”
JULIAN WENT DIRECTLY to his club after leaving the Earl of Warren’s townhouse, hoping to drown his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle. He settled at a corner table with a glass of brandy, staring into the fireplace as he contemplated all the ways the night had gone horribly wrong.
What had he expected? That Jane would willingly fall back into his arms again after all this time?
Perhaps he had. Perhaps he’d been dealing with courtesans and fallen women for so long that he’d forgotten how to actually woo a good woman.
Jane was a good woman. The very best. He didn’t deserve her, wasn’t even sure he wanted her, so what the hell was he doing? It wasn’t as though he could take her as his mistress. He’d never suggest such a thing or dishonor her in such a way. No, despite her unwarranted spinster status, Jane was still very marriageable. If anything, she was even lovelier now than when she’d been eighteen.
A week ago, he’d been completely satisfied with his bachelor status. He’d had no plans of ever marrying and would have been glad to go to his grave without ever having secured his line. But now...
Now he couldn’t stop remembering his first taste of love, how good Jane had been to him during the most trying time of his life.
He’d been just fourteen when his older brother and younger sister had died in a tragic accident. A year later, his mother had wasted away from grief and joined them. Three years later, his father had drunk himself to death, leaving Julian an earl at the age of eighteen. When he’d left school and arrived at his family’s country estate to assume his duties, it had been Jane who’d helped him through it.
They’d met in the woods that joined her father’s estate with his. With her, he’d finally been able to talk about his pain and anger. She’d been the one to help him understand that he needed to quit blaming his younger brother Ethan for what had happened to their siblings. She’d made him understand that his parents had been so lost in their own grief that they’d stopped being parents, but that it wasn’t his fault and he shouldn’t hate them.
She’d been his best friend, his confidante, and the only safe place in his life. There had been stolen kisses and heavy petting, but she’d never let him go any further, and he hadn’t pressed her, because he’d truly had every intention of marrying her.
Then her father had died, and their roles had reversed.
He glanced down at his glass and was surprised to find it empty. Grimacing, he gestured for another.
A few moments after the waiter brought him his second drink, an acquaintance of his slid into the chair opposite him. Christian Hunter, Viscount Harding, had been a schoolmate of Julian’s younger brother, Ethan. The two had been very close, but he didn’t know the man well at all himself. Still, he welcomed the interruption of his maudlin thoughts.
“Basingstoke,” Harding murmured. “May I have a moment of your time?”
Julian raised a sardonic brow. “Seems you already have it.”
Harding had the good grace to flush a bit. “Sorry. You seem as though you’re enjoying your solitude tonight, but I wanted to ask something of you, and I’m not certain when I’ll next have a chance to talk to you alone.”
Julian frowned. “This sounds serious.” He couldn’t imagine what the man wanted from him.
“It’s about Ethan,” Harding said, lowering his gaze to the table. “I need him to come back to England.”
The mere mention of his younger brother tied Julian’s heart in knots, as it always did. He missed him dreadfully, longed to set things right between them, but he didn’t have the faintest clue where to start.
“I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong person,” he said sharply. “Surely, you know that Ethan hates me. I’m the last person who could convince him to do anything.”
It had been Ethan’s idea to go ice skating on the pond behind the castle, even though their father had strictly forbidden them from doing so until he had a chance to test the ice. However, their father had been in London, and they hadn’t known when he’d return. Ethan had convinced his twin, Elizabeth, to join him. When she’d fallen through the ice, their older brother, Nathaniel, had tried to save her, only to fall through himself. Ethan had run for help, but by the time he’d come back with a rope and some of the groomsmen, it had been too late. Nathaniel and Elizabeth were already gone.
Their father had blamed Ethan, beaten him senseless, then sent him away to school. Julian had parroted his father’s hateful words, lost in his own grief and despair. He’d realized fairly soon after that he’d been wrong, that it had simply been a horrible accident, and that Ethan wasn’t to blame. Hell, he’d gone out on the ice himself just the day before. It could just as easily been him that Nathaniel had died saving. But by then, the rift had already been made, and he’d never known how to breach it.
Was he forever doomed to drive away those he loved most?
Harding sighed. “He stays in South America because he believes you hate him. I just thought that perhaps it was time the two of you talked. That perhaps if you asked him, if you made sure he knew that you no longer blamed him for the past, that he might come home.”
Julian frowned. “Why do you need him to come home?”
“He’s my best friend, and I miss him,” Harding said simply. His voice broke and he looked away. “I’m very sick, and I want to see him again while there’s still time.”
For the first time, Julian noticed how pale and thin Harding had become. He would have assumed he’d simply been spending too much time drinking and partaking in the seedy underside of Society if the man hadn’t confessed his illness. Sudden sympathy for the man flooded him.
Perhaps fate had a hand in this. Maybe it was time for him to mend his fences with Jane and Ethan. Harding’s illness reminded him that life was fleeting. If he didn’t apologize now, when would he? His time wasn’t infinite.
“What did you have in mind?” he asked Harding.
LATER THAT EVENING, lying alone in his huge bed, Julian found himself taking a long hard look at his past. He forced himself to confront his actions regarding Ethan and Jane, and he found himself ashamed to the depths of his soul.
He’d loved Jane, truly loved her. She’d once been the most important person in his entire world. He’d been so damaged and broken, but she’d somehow managed to put him back together again, piece by careful piece, with her kindness and purity of spirit.
She’d given her love unconditionally, never asking for anything in return. How could he have walked away from that?
Every moment he’d spent in her company during the last week had only served to crack his heart open a little more, until the love he’d once had for her had returned and even multiplied. It had all made him realize how tired he was of the life he’d been living. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Michael he only intended to marry for love. He knew now that all this time he’d been searching for what he’d found with Jane when he was young.
How foolish he’d been to think that he’d find that sort of connection and respect again.
The big question, now that he’d found that feeling again, was what he planned to do about it.
He punched his pillow and turned on his side, gazing into the dying flames of the fire. I want to marry her. I never should have let her down, and if she’ll have me, I’d be happy to spend the rest of my life making it up to her.
Once the thought entered his mind, it wouldn’t leave. He’d always been meant to be Jane�
�s husband. She suited him so perfectly, the perfect combination of innocence and sensuality, a friend he could count on, no matter what.
Now all he had to do was convince her that she could count on him as well.
It wouldn’t be easy, given the terrible mistakes he’d made in the past, but he’d changed. He was ready now, and somehow, he had to make her see that.
A small smile curved his lips as he imagined how he might go about seducing his beautiful spinster to come around to his way of thinking.
Chapter Five
Jane couldn’t believe she’d let Emma talk her into accompanying her to Julian’s house a week after the disastrous dinner party. She should have known it was merely an excuse for her friend to be alone with Michael. Things were very unsettled between them, as Emma had wanted to be married in New York and Michael had been forced to admit that his financial situation was so dire that he had no time left for such things. He’d insisted they be married immediately or not at all.
Jane also should have known Julian was under orders to spirit her away so the engaged couple could have a few moments to themselves to talk about all the obstacles that stood between them. While an obvious physical attraction seethed between Michael and Emma, Jane wasn’t at all certain the two of them would be happy together. They simply seemed far too different.
The fact that Jane had willingly gone with Julian—and hadn’t uttered a word of protest when he suggested they view the portrait gallery—only proved she was the most weak-willed woman who’d ever lived. She’d shirked her duties as Emma’s chaperone in order to spend a few more moments alone with the man who’d broken her heart beyond repair.
“I don’t know what you hoped to accomplish by bringing me up here,” she told Julian, once they entered the long echoing room.
Julian only laughed. “Why, Lady Jane. You give yourself far too much credit. I haven’t given you a second thought in years.”
She blushed, hating the ease with which he turned her own words against her, making them sound like the lie that they were. Of course, in his case, they were probably true. She certainly harbored no illusions that he’d given much thought to her at all over the last seven years.
“We really shouldn’t leave Emma and Michael alone together. I’m supposed to be acting as her chaperone.”
Julian came up behind her and put his big hands on her shoulders. The heat of his touch stole her breath away. “What harm can it do if they want to explore the passionate feelings they have for one another?” he murmured, his voice very near her ear. “They’ll be married in less than a week.”
He was right, of course, but she hated that she had nothing left to argue with him about. She stared blindly at a portrait of Julian’s family, commissioned scant months before the tragedy that had torn them apart forever, and tried to ignore the overwhelming presence of the flesh and blood man behind her.
He flexed his hands, tenderly massaging her shoulders, and she fought the urge to crumple into a puddle at his feet. Realizing how dangerous even this casual touch could be, she stepped away, trying to leave a comfortable distance between them.
“All right,” he told her. “I understand. You don’t want to renew our friendship. And you’re right. You have every reason to view me with suspicion. But before we part ways, I must know what will happen to you once Miss Marks is wed.”
Frowning, she took another step away from him. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Just this. You don’t have to take in another American to keep a roof over your head.” He sighed and raked one hand through his dark hair. “Let me help you, Jane.”
She stared at him, aghast and embarrassed. “I don’t need your help.”
He closed the distance between them, as though he knew she couldn’t think clearly while he was this close. “Stubborn,” he muttered. “You always have been.”
Relieved that he seemed to have accepted her refusal, she forced herself to relax. “I’ve struggled to make ends meet for years now, and you never seemed to care. Why the sudden interest?”
Julian stared at her. Again, she found herself drowning in the depths of his midnight eyes. “I tried to forget you. Hell, perhaps I even succeeded for a while. But you’re the only woman I’ve ever known who truly knew me, and I miss that. I miss you.”
Jane squared her shoulders, determined to resist him. “That was a long time ago. You’re a stranger to me now.”
“Then get to know me again,” he pleaded, his heart in his eyes. “Let me court you, Jane.”
Court me?
For a moment, the whole world seemed to shift, to expand. Dear God. This was what she’d always wanted. To marry Julian and bear his children. To make a home for him and soothe away his demons. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am,” he assured her. “What must I do to prove it to you?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, turning away. Once more, her gaze fell on the portrait of Julian’s family. She seized upon it, needing to change the subject. “Do you ever speak to Ethan?”
“No. He left the country the moment he graduated from Cambridge. He was chasing after orchids in the jungles of South America, last I heard.”
The hint of wistfulness in his voice surprised her. He blamed his younger brother for the accident that had taken the lives of his older brother and little sister, or at least he once had.
She turned to look at him, trying to see past the hooded wariness in his dark eyes. “Do you still hate him for what happened?”
Julian sighed. “Of course not. He was just a child when Elizabeth and Nathaniel died. And he wasn’t the only one who went skating despite Father’s warnings.”
“Oh, Julian,” she whispered. “You should write him a letter. Let him know. I’m sure he’d like to mend the rift between you.”
“Maybe you’re right. In fact, a friend of his asked me to do exactly that just a few days ago. But I don’t know what to say after all these years.” Julian closed his eyes, and the stark sadness on his chiseled features made her regret raising the topic. She’d never meant to hurt him.
“You’ll find the words. Just do it soon, or you’ll regret it forever.” As she spoke, she stepped into his arms. She couldn’t help herself.
Julian inhaled sharply and pulled her against him, burying his face in her hair. “You realize you’re one of the only people I know who even remembers I have a brother?” He cupped her face and lifted her head, staring at her with such hungry intensity it took her breath away. “You know me better than anyone else in the world. How can you pretend otherwise?”
Confused, terrified of her own conflicting emotions, she stepped out of his grasp. “We were friends, Julian. But that was a long time ago. And I’m sorry, but I can’t trust you. I can’t let you hurt me again.”
Desperate to escape—before she listened to her heart and agreed to this foolishness—she hurried down the hall toward the cozy little sitting room where they’d left Emma and Michael.
“Jane. Don’t go. There’s so much more I want to say to you...” Julian’s swift steps echoed behind her.
She increased her pace, afraid to stop, afraid to spend even one more moment alone with him. When she finally reached the sitting room, she threw the door open without knocking.
She realized her mistake a second too late.
Emma and Michael lay tangled together on the sofa, engaged in an act of startling intimacy. Michael’s mouth was on Emma’s bare breast, and his hand was buried beneath her skirt. Emma’s eyes were closed, a look of pure bliss on her face.
Jane drew in a startled breath but couldn’t force herself to look away. She’d never seen anything so shocking. Yet the intimately entwined couple had a strange beauty she found all too compelling.
Longing knifed through her. The innocent passion she’d shared with Julian a decade ago had never led to this. Never... except in her lonely, aching dreams. How many times had she fantasized about their passion, wishing she’d let Julian take her innoce
nce, since now it seemed no one ever would?
Julian came to an abrupt halt at her side. Heat suffused her face. She turned to leave, trying to push him out of the room before her.
He tore his gaze away from their friends and gave her a questioning glance. A choked laugh escaped him when he saw the look on her face.
She elbowed him in the stomach, cutting off the sound. But it was too late.
Michael lifted his head, and the mortification in his eyes eclipsed her own embarrassment. “Oh, God,” Michael moaned. He scrambled to shield Emma from view.
“I’m sorry,” Jane whispered, backing away. “I’m so sorry.”
Julian cleared his throat, and she knew he was doing his best to hold back even more laughter. “We’ll just wait out here until you’re through.”
Shutting the door firmly behind him, he shook his head and leaned against the wall, his dark eyes bright with amusement. “What were you thinking, Jane? You expected to find them having tea and discussing China patterns?”
“I don’t know.” She pressed her hands against her hot cheeks, humiliated. “I will never be able to look Emma in the eyes again.”
“Why not?” Julian shoved off the wall and pulled her unwillingly into his embrace. “It’s only passion. Don’t you remember what it was like to feel passion?”
She remembered far too well. And trapped as she was, utterly surrounded by his lean strength, all she could think about was the rapturous look on Emma’s face.
Oh, how she envied her friend for having the courage to risk her heart.
But as she stared up into Julian’s burning dark eyes, she knew she couldn’t do this. She didn’t have Emma’s courage, or perhaps she just couldn’t imagine ever trusting him again.
