Mother held her hand out, a flirtatious grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Always a pleasure, my lord.” She offered a wanton wink.
“I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.” Gulliver took her hand, dropping a kiss on it.
Charles shook his head at the exchange. How quickly Mother abandoned her own strict guidelines when Gulliver paid her attention. For heaven’s sake, she had broken several of her rules in the short time it took them to greet one another. But then, she’d always been that way with Gulliver—ever since the first time Charles brought him home from university.
That first visit seemed a lifetime ago, and yet, little had changed. There was nothing untoward between them, of that Charles was sure; it was simply that they enjoyed bantering between themselves. Gulliver could not help himself when in the company of a lady, regardless of age, marital status, or even looks. As for Mother, well, he assumed Gulliver made her feel young again, and there was little harm in that.
“Always the flirt.” Mother laughed as Gulliver moved to repeat the gesture with Celia and Miss Julia, dropping kisses on their hands and offering up his rakish grin.
Charles could not help noticing the way Miss Julia blushed as Gulliver took her hand. Something unsettling needled at him—jealousy?—no, it could not be. He’d have to have designs on her, and he certainly did not fancy her in such a way. His only wish was to help her secure a better future than the one her wretched mother had signed her up for. Still, why did his mother’s outrageous flirting and Celia’s coy smiles in regards to Gulliver’s antics not bother him, while Miss Julia’s blush did?
He required a drink, something stronger than he’d find on the dining table. He looked across the parlor to the sideboard and its collection of crystal decanters. “How about a brandy before luncheon, Gulliver?”
“I’ve already been imbibing.” Gulliver pulled his decanter from his coat, uncapped it, and took a healthy drink.
Bloody hell. “I should have guessed.” Charles motioned for a servant to bring him a drink.
“Let us sit,” Mother said, moving to a nearby wingback chair. “We can take the opportunity to catch up on your affairs, Lord Gulliver. It has been quite a while since you’ve made a visit.”
Charles accepted his tumbler and took a swallow of the amber liquor. Mother certainly enjoyed Gulliver’s company. No doubt he’d been correct that having the man in attendance would take some of the scrutiny from Miss Julia. She’d been behaving more like a debutante than a dowager since he strolled through the door. A look in Miss Julia and Celia’s direction told him they too had taken note of her antics.
Charles and Celia exchanged a bemused look before he turned to watch the crackling flames in the hearth.
“I fear I have been rather busy of late. It was never my intention to stay away for long. Do say you forgive me?” Gulliver placed one hand over his heart. “I could not bear it if you remained vexed with me.”
“Of course not, dear. I would never hold anything against you.” Mother flipped open her fan, hiding a coquettish grin behind its lace border.
“You know I always try to make time for beautiful ladies. On occasion, life simply gets in the way.” Gulliver winked at Miss Julia, causing pink to flood across her cheeks once more. “I will endeavor to do better in the future.”
Charles drained his tumbler. On any other occasion he would find amusement in Gulliver’s shameless flirting; today, however, he could hardly abide it. “Let us move to the dining room.”
Gulliver proffered his arm. “Duchess.”
With a girlish giggle, Mother took it.
Gulliver leveled his roguish grin on Celia and Miss Julia. “If only I had three arms, for I desperately wish to escort you both to the dining room.”
Good lord. Charles fought to ignore his rising ire as he moved to offer his arm to Miss Julia. “May I?”
She wrapped her gloved hand around Gulliver’s elbow. “Thank you, my lord.”
Celia looked at her brother as if he were a cat she’d caught licking the cream, a knowing, impish gleam in her eyes. This did not bode well for him; having his mischievous sister believing he fancied Miss Julia would only end in his aggravation—and God help him—her meddling.
He narrowed his gaze and gave a definitive shake of his head, hoping to convey how wrong her assessment was.
The hoyden smirked, taking Gulliver’s free arm before winking at Charles.
Celia could not be correct. His ill mood had nothing to do with jealousy, nor desire for the dark-haired beauty. Charles fought the urge to look at Miss Julia as they all left the room for their meal.
Charles leaned back in his favorite plush velvet chair, a tumbler of Scotch in his hand. He’d never been so relieved to see a meal reach its end as he was this day. Mother had turned most of her attention to Gulliver, as he’d suspected she would, and Miss Julia conducted herself admirably; however, he’d spent the meal in utter disarray.
Celia took every opportunity to make faces and gestures at him. More than once, she’d caught him staring at Miss Julia, and raised her eyebrows in a most annoying way. If that were not off-putting enough, Gulliver continued to flirt with all three women throughout the meal.
By the time they’d finished the fish course, Charles wanted to challenge him to fisticuffs. He could no longer deny an interest in Miss Julia, for it certainly had been jealousy heating his blood. Regardless, he would have to find a way to get beyond his interest in the woman. She was Celia’s companion. His employee. Besides, she was an innocent, and he had no desire to find himself caught in the parson’s noose. He wanted to maintain his freedom to do as he pleased while he was young. There would be time enough for marriage and such once he’d sowed his wild oats.
Charles drained the tumbler and placed it on the silver tray beside him. Perhaps a visit with a willing widow would set his head back to rights. As it happened, he was well acquainted with one who happened to reside a short distance from Huntington Park. Less than thirty minutes on horseback would find him in her bed.
He made his way out of his private parlor, down the candlelit hall to the stairs, pausing after descending a few steps. Singing, or rather a whimsical humming, drifted from the ballroom below. Odd, as everyone should be abed at this late hour. What the devil was going on?
Was Mother giving late-night dancing lessons now? She had promised him to relinquish her duties as Miss Julia’s teacher. His pulse increased in speed. Did no one under his roof respect him enough to follow his orders?
Charles made haste down the remaining steps and hall leading to the ballroom, the music growing louder as he drew nearer. Pausing in the doorframe, he leaned against the molding, captivated as Miss Julia moved across the waxed floor.
He could not take his gaze from her as she twirled and danced, her skirts fanning out about her ankles. Cast in candlelit and clad in white muslin, she appeared like an angel sent down from heaven.
With one arm arched over her head, she twirled closer to where he stood. Her posture perfect, eyes closed, a small grin bowing her pink lips. He could watch her all night without complaint. Hell, he would if he had any sense at all.
Ignoring his better judgment, Charles stepped into the room, clearing his throat. “The cotillion is best danced with a partner.”
Miss Julia snapped her eyes open, freezing in place, her cheeks a becoming shade of pink. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I did not intend to interfere with anyone’s slumber.”
“You did not disturb me in any way.” He drew closer and extended his hand. “Allow me.”
She placed her hand in his, and without further delay, he led her into the steps of the dance. Not at all surprising, she was light on her feet and followed his lead without mishap. Taking her into his arms, he could hardly fight the pull between them.
What he would give to hold her all night. To taste and touch her. Bending his head close to her ear, he inhaled her intoxicating scent of jasmine and vanilla.
“You dance like an a
ngel,” he whispered, his breath stirring the fine hairs framing her face.
She tilted her head toward him, parting her lips.
Resolve crumbling, Charles brought his lips down on hers. A soft press of his flesh to hers.
Then, her arms came around his neck, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. Nothing existed but her and him in this moment, together. He trailed his hand across her gown and down her back, relishing the tiny whimper of surrender that floated from her throat. Somewhere along the line, he’d fallen under her spell unaware.
Chapter Nine
Julia’s heart beat a crescendo as she clung to the duke, her knees threatening to buckle. Mercy, she never would have imagined a kiss so all-encompassing. She parted her lips, allowing him to delve into her mouth, giving back all that she received.
Another second of this and her reputation would be forever lost. And yet, she did not care. Standing there, pressed against his hard chest, wrapped in his embrace, she felt truly safe for the first time since Mama sent her away.
The duke pulled back, gazing into her eyes. He trailed his thumb down her cheek, across her tender lips.
Tingles went through her, desire pooling low in her abdomen. She wanted—nay, needed—
more. “Your Grace.”
“No more titles.” He shook his head. “Use my given name, Charles.”
“Kiss me again.” She rose up on her toes, bringing her lips close to his. “Charles.”
He brought his mouth back to hers, catching her around the waist and backing her into an alcove. Lifting her into his arms, he trailed kisses across her cheek before capturing her earlobe between his lips.
She tangled her fingers in his blond curls, her head dizzy with wanting as he lowered them to a plush bench.
He came down over her, capturing one of her breasts in the palm of his hand. “Julia, tell me to stop.”
She should follow his directive. Escape to her room with what little virtue she still possessed intact. But what then? She had never experienced such need, such desire. If she turned him away now, she may never again have the chance to experience such passion.
Being of low birth and employed as a lady’s companion, she doubted she would ever wed. Certainly, her pool of suitors would not be large. Why shouldn’t she allow herself this?
Julia pressed herself against him, bringing her lips back to his. She wanted this, wanted him. He was so close, so devastatingly handsome, and heavens! The way he made her body behave. For the first time, she understood why women swooned in the arms of men, risking everything for a man’s touch.
He pushed the neckline of her gown down, revealing her breasts, before trailing his lips across her collarbone, then lower. Her blood ignited as he captured one hard nipple, lapping and sucking. She arched her back, desperate for more.
Emboldened, she ran her hand down his side, across his abdomen, pulling his shirt free of his breeches. At his sharp intake of breath, she kissed his neck before running her palm over his manhood.
He moaned against her breast. “God, how I want you.” He pulled her skirt up, dancing his fingers along her calf, her thigh, her hip. Finding the slit in her drawers, he teased her damp folds.
She should be afraid, Instead, she was ravenous. Pressing closer to him, she rasped, “I want you, too.”
Charles wanted so badly to possess her that, for a brief moment, he considered giving in. He nuzzled his head into her chest as he continued to stroke her sensitive flesh. So warm and wet, begging to be filled. He slid one finger into her, his cock straining against his breeches. What he would give to bury himself in her heat, but he’d already taken too much, gone too far. He’d not ruin her.
She writhed against his hand. “Please. More, I need more.”
He brought his lips to hers, kissing her deeply, before pulling back. “You like my kisses.”
“Yes.” The word came out as a breathy sigh.
“I am going to kiss you until you call out my name in raptures.” He slid down the length of her, blazing a trail of kisses from her forehead to her hip. Removing her drawers, he cast them aside before settling his head between the velvety skin of her inner thighs.
He pushed his finger into her again, pressing a kiss just above the soft curls shielding her sex.
She sighed a husky moan, allowing her legs to fall open.
God, she was sweet. The perfect combination of innocence and wantonness. He swirled his tongue over the swollen bud above her entrance as he continued to work his finger inside her. She moaned and wriggled beneath his ministrations, driving him wild as he suckled and licked her into a frenzy.
She tasted of sex and nectar—a delectable pairing. Her flesh felt equally delicious against his. There was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to feel her release—watch her come undone in his hands. He lifted his head. “Don’t fight it, darling. Give into the sensations.”
He inserted a second finger, working them in and out as he suckled until she shattered around him. Her walls quivering and squeezing. When she moaned his name, he nearly came off himself.
When she stilled, Charles laid his head on her abdomen as he drew small circles on her thigh. Once his breath returned to normal, he stood and retrieved her drawers. “Let me help you to bed.”
She nodded, her eyes hooded. “I am rather tired.”
He assisted her back into her drawers, then righted her gown before offering her his hand and helping her to stand.
She wobbled, still affected by her climax, and grabbed his arm for support.
Charles swept her into his arms, cradling her, and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll carry you, darling.”
“Thank you.” She rested her head on his shoulder as he strolled from the room.
His mind raced more with each step he took. Julia responded to him as no other ever had. More than that, she made him respond as no other ever had. The way she molded to him, opened to him, how naturally she fit in his arms...it drove him mad.
He wanted her...yet could not have her.
The conflicting realities battled in his head as he walked down the hallway then pushed open her door. When he laid her on her mattress and she snuggled in with a satisfied sigh, it took all he had to pull the covers over her and turn toward the door.
“Goodnight, Charles.”
He glanced back in time to watch her eyelids flutter closed.
They had to forget what they’d shared. Needed to forget what had happened between them. He may not have bedded her, but he’d ruined her all the same, and he could not allow it to happen again.
He swallowed hard, reaching for the door handle. “Goodnight.”
He stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Charles could not deny he’d left a piece of himself with her. Devil take it. He’d never be the same again. Neither would she, and it was his fault.
He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. Somehow, he had to make amends for his actions.
Chapter Ten
Julia could not help but hum a merry tune as she walked beside Lady Celia on their way to breakfast. Last night had changed her. Charles’s touch erased her past hurts and made her look toward her future.
“You certainly are happy this morning.” Lady Celia observed.
Julia smiled. “Indeed, I am.”
“May I inquire about what has put you in such high spirits?” She linked her arm through Julia’s.
Julia desperately wanted to confess what she’d experienced to Lady Celia, but knew it wouldn’t be proper. She could never breathe a word of it to anyone, lest she be ruined. “No reason in particular, I simply awoke with a spring in my step.”
“Well, I am pleased you did. It is refreshing to see you happy.” Lady Celia tilted her head. “Dare I believe you have settled in here at Huntington Park?”
“Indeed, I have.” Julia caught sight of Charles as he rounded the corner toward the breakfast room. Her heart did a little somersault, her belly fluttering. She offered a wide smi
le as he approached.
“Good morning, ladies.” He dropped a kiss on his sister’s cheek. “Might I steal Miss Julia away? I require a word with her.”
Something about his tone, the cool regard in his voice, set Julia on edge. Perhaps she imagined it.
“Of course.” Lady Celia released her arm, but not before exchanging an odd glance with Charles.
“I will have a word with you later,” he said to Lady Celia before offering his arm to Julia.
She accepted, not at all sure what she would say or do once Lady Celia left them alone. One thing seemed abundantly clear—Charles did not share her euphoria. She’d not imagined the coolness of his tone any more than she was imagining his stiff, formal treatment at this very moment. She glanced at the wallpaper, following the pattern of silver swirls with her gaze.
“If doing so pleases you, brother.” Celia pushed a wayward lock of hair from her cheek, then sashayed into the breakfast room.
Julia’s stomach grumbled at the savory scents of bacon, scones, and eggs drifting from the room as Charles led her across the hall into a tiny room, then closed the door behind them.
He must have brought her into a storage room of sorts, for nothing hung on the walls, nor was there any furniture other than a row of trunks along the far wall. She pressed her lips together waiting for him to speak.
Charles placed his thumb and forefinger at his temples and massaged for a moment before exhaling a deep breath. “Last night....”
She met his shadowed blue gaze, her heart sinking more by the second. “Do go on.”
He turned to face the far wall. “I never should have taken advantage of your innocence.”
Outrage filled her and she rushed forward, tugging his shoulder to make him face her. “You did no such thing. I wanted everything you gave.”
He shook his head. “Be that as it may, I had no right. You are an innocent under my protection. I never should have touched you.”
Panic set her heart racing. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel guilty. “Don't say such things. I am as much to blame as you are. Furthermore, I regret nothing.”
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