Besides, she knew that she would have to deal with Mr. Trent eventually too, which did nothing to alleviate her bad mood. The man had been about to propose, she was sure of it.
And perhaps she should consider it. After all, what other prospects did she have? Her father would never find her in a small country town, the wife of a country vicar. Nobody would. She could live the rest of her days content and safe.
The only problems were that she would have to be married to Mr. Trent and she would have to live in close proximity to Charles. Would have to see him marry one day, would have to befriend his wife. See his children. Impossible. She could no more do that than she could stop loving him.
Julia’s emotions threatened to overwhelm her again, so she swept quickly from the room and toward the stairs.
She kept her head down as she was running and suddenly, she barrelled straight into something big and strong and solid, and she knew, before she’d even looked up into his mesmerising, wintry gaze that it would be him.
Their gazes locked, and Julia felt an odd mixture of the usual nervousness and relief that he seemed perfectly fine.
Her emotions were starting to get seriously out of hand. It had been such a trying day, and here he was, like those times before, those times that seemed an age ago, holding her shoulders and looking into her eyes.
“Are you all right?” she asked shakily.
His face split into his usual wolfish grin.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily, angel,” he said, “Though I think the murder attempt was a tad dramatic.”
He was trying to make her feel better, no doubt trying to make her laugh.
And all of a sudden, it was too much.
Julia had been staring at him, scanning his face for signs of injury and now, here he was, making jokes, albeit terrible ones.
She promptly and helplessly burst into tears.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“JULIA,” CHARLES SAID, SOUNDING partly concerned but mostly terrified. “Please do not cry. I know you didn’t really try to kill me.”
And the fact that he thought she was crying about that just made her cry harder.
His jaw dropped even more at her fresh outburst of tears. The hands that had been gripping her shoulders fell, and he raised one to run his fingers agitatedly through his hair.
Julia knew she was distressing him, but she could not seem to stop the tears. Today had been so emotional for her for several reasons, and he was here, holding her, and it was just so very overwhelming.
“Julia,” he said hoarsely, his tone pleading. “Please stop crying. I don’t know what to do.”
“You’ve never seen a woman cry?” she asked through the tears.
Charles judged it best not to tell her that not only had he seen women cry, but all too often he’d been the cause of it.
“Yes, I have,” he said, willing her to stop, feeling every tear like a punch to the gut. God, he hated to see her upset. “I’ve just never cared this much about it.”
Evidently, that had been the wrong thing to say as it seemed to cause the flood to increase.
Could a human being even hold that much water? Obviously, yes.
Just as he was thinking he should perhaps find another female to assist, she stepped forward, and all rational thought left him as he was surrounded by her scent and rendered immovable by the press of her soft body against his.
“I was so worried about you,” she whispered, and the emerald eyes that already captivated him were even more bewitching, sparkling with the remnants of her tears.
“I am well, angel. Truly,” he said softly, itching to take her in his arms but knowing that he should not.
JULIA WATCHED HIS EXPRESSION change as he seemed to be fighting an internal battle. She was standing far too close, feeling his hard, solid body pressed against hers. She believed that he was unaffected by the mishap. She knew she was revealing far too much of herself by confessing her concern to him. But the events of the day seemed to have awakened a sort of madness in her, an unwillingness to adhere to the strict rules she held herself to.
Later she would regret her impulsiveness. But right now, nothing in the world seemed to matter except Charles and her feelings for him.
The tears dried as time seemed to stand still. Perhaps, for once in her life, she should be the one to take what she wanted and to hell with the consequences.
Gathering her courage, Julia stepped closer still. Then before she could lose her nerve, she reached up, pulling his head toward her, and pressed her lips to his.
A NEED LIKE HE had never known stormed through Charles the second her lips made contact with his.
Dear God, had ever a woman been so incredibly desirable? He was driven mad with wanting her, felt that he would perish under the strength of his desire for her. But surely there would be no sweeter way to go.
He soon took control of the kiss, pulling her tighter still, wrapping his arms round her, practically lifting her from her feet. He was on fire for her. Never had a woman consumed him so. He was addicted to the taste of her, always craving more.
He rejoiced in her gasps, triumphed in her moans.
She’s mine.
The thought thrummed through his body, keeping time with the beat of his heart. He could no longer deny it. He no longer wanted to.
“Henry, no!”
The sound of Rebecca’s cry broke through the haze of lust surrounding them, and Charles stepped back from her, albeit reluctantly.
They stared at each other, Charles trying to get his breathing under control, Julia looking as though she was struggling as much as he.
He watched, saw the moment that common sense returned; her eyes widened, her cheeks flamed, and he read the intent to flee in her expression.
He reached out a hand and clasped her round the top of her arm.
“No,” he said, his voice gravelly with his need. “Do not run away from me.”
Julia’s face flamed even more, but she stayed where she was.
In mere seconds, Henry came barrelling down the corridor, his chocolate brown curls bouncing as he came. He was hurtling toward them, and Charles saw a flash of silver in his pudgy hand as he came. Rebecca was hurrying behind him, but in her condition, she wasn’t picking up much speed.
Charles grinned at the determination in his nephew’s face before bending and swooping Henry up in his arms.
Henry squealed in delight as Charles lifted him high above his head then settled him in his arms.
“Now, Master Henry. What have you stolen from your mama?” he asked in mock severity.
For an answer, Henry swung the offending item, a hairbrush as it turned out, and hit Charles squarely in the cheek.
“Henry, no,” Rebecca repeated, skidding to a stop as she reached them. “I am so sorry Charles,” she said, prising the hairbrush from Henry’s hand.
The ensuing screech from the toddler echoed round the large hallway, and both Charles and Julia winced at the sound. Rebecca had either not heard it or had blocked it out.
“Where is Edward?” Charles asked, eyeing his sister’s pale complexion with some concern. “Or Henry’s nanny?”
“Edward is holed up with the dowager somewhere. And I won’t call for him, or he’ll fuss.” Rebecca answered, blowing a flyaway curl from her eye. “And this terror’s nurse is currently assisting to clean up the mess he made before the great escape.”
“Hmm. Causing trouble, are we, young man?” Charles addressed Henry once more. “How about Uncle Charles takes you to the stables, burn off some of that energy you have so much of?”
Julia did not miss the flash of relief on Rebecca’s face.
“Oh would you?” she asked gratefully. “Edward was insistent that I rest, and I thought he was being his usual, overbearing self, but I do feel rather tired.”
“Of course, what are favourite uncles for?” answered Charles.
It wasn’t fair, Julia thought. How was a lady to keep her heart round him when he
acted so with his nieces and nephews?
“Will you join us, Miss Channing?” he asked, his eyes blazing blue fire as they looked at her.
“Actually, Charles, I was hoping to steal Julia away. The ball is fast approaching, and we have just fixed on Friday for our trip to the mantua maker in Dublin. We must discuss designs.”
Julia tried not to let her disappointment show as she shot another look at Charles, which made her happier than it probably should.
He seemed as unhappy as she that they were being robbed of an afternoon together.
“You just said you were tired and that Edward wanted you to rest,” he reminded her.
“Yes, but tired in the company of another lady and tired in the company of an overenthusiastic toddler are two very different things. And besides, Edward doesn’t get to tell me what to do,” she finished stubbornly.
“Very well,” he replied. “Make our plans for Friday. I shall see you both at dinner.”
“Our plans?” asked Rebecca in surprise.
“Of course, you did not think I would let you all go off to Dublin without me?”
He turned to leave, and Julia watched him go, hoping her expression was not filled with too much longing.
“No doubt he is seizing the opportunity to frequent some haunts we are best not knowing about,” quipped Rebecca. “Come. There is much planning to be done.”
She put her arm through Julia’s and steered her toward the family sitting room down the corridor.
Julia followed, trying to seem unaffected by Rebecca’s words. But they affected her. Of course they did. Rebecca was most likely right.
Charles Carrington was what he was, and she knew it. Yes, they’d shared some illicit embraces, but really, was she naive enough to think that would keep him from the lifestyle he so enjoyed?
Julia felt like the worst kind of fool. Of course he would kiss her when there was no other available female around.
She would do well to remember that leopards did not change their spots. And Lord Ranford was the most predatory leopard there was.
CHARLES DID HIS LEVEL best to concentrate during dinner, but it was an impossibility.
There was an excited atmosphere around the table; everyone was looking forward to the upcoming trip to Dublin, and then it was a matter of days until the ball.
He couldn’t muster up the same level of enthusiasm for proceedings as his family had. He was too busy watching Julia. Watching her and knowing that something was wrong.
Although she was as polite and friendly as ever, she seemed unhappy, her eyes dull and her lips strained.
Charles longed to speak to her, to find out what was wrong and to try to help. It caused him an almost physical pain to see her upset.
Earlier this afternoon, he’d been so close to losing his heart to her. She’d made him realise that he still had a heart after all. He wasn’t sure yet whether that was a good thing or not, but regardless, she had brought that wasted organ back to life.
He wondered if it was their explosive kiss that had upset her so. Yet she’d been the one to initiate it.
He felt confused, frustrated, and restless.
“Charles. Charles!”
His sister’s voice brought him back to the present, and he saw that everyone was looking at him, awaiting a response to something, he assumed.
“I’m sorry, trouble. What did you say?”
“I asked if you would be returning with us on Saturday or staying longer in Dublin. I think we’re all aware of your escapades and would not be in the least bit surprised should you disappear into some hovel or other for a couple of days.”
“Rebecca,” his mother admonished. “You should not speak of such things.”
Rebecca was magnificently unconcerned.
“You cannot tell me, Mama, that this will come as a surprise to you. Why, our Charles has practically single-handedly kept most of the gaming halls in London and Dublin afloat. And the broth—”
“Rebecca, for goodness’s sake. Enough,” said the countess, her tone brooking no argument.
There was a moment’s silence before the bloody nuisance spoke again.
“‘Tis no secret. Everyone knows. Even Julia. We were discussing it just this afternoon.”
Charles’s eyes flew to Julia’s face then narrowed.
Was that what was wrong with her? She paled then blushed under his scrutiny, turning away and steadfastly refusing to look back at him.
Right now, he could happily wring his sister’s neck.
“Been gossiping have you, sister dear?” he asked with false joviality.
“‘Twas Caroline who first mentioned it,” said Rebecca unrepentantly.
“I did not,” said Caroline hotly. “I merely… expanded.”
Charles glared at the both of them then eyed the rest of the occupants of the room.
His mother looked scandalised, Julia refused to look at him still, the dowager seemed delighted, and Tom and Edward sat back, amused looks on both their faces.
“The two of you need to be put on leashes,” he said darkly.
Caroline raised a brow and gave that freezing look that only she could truly master. Rebecca stuck her tongue out at him.
They were a pair of hoydens, and marriage had not changed them a bit.
But Charles could not focus on his anger; he was too preoccupied with thoughts of Julia.
Was that why she was so quiet? So subdued? Did she care?
Was she- could it be possible that she was jealous?
The thought was oddly pleasing.
“As it happens,” he said, addressing his interfering sisters but meaning the words for Julia. “I will be travelling back with you. I have not frequented any place other than Ranford Hall for the last couple of weeks, and I do not intend to change that.”
The conversation was so similar to the one he’d had with Julia that he had to hide a smile. As he watched, she raised her eyes briefly, making contact with his own. Was he imagining it, or was there a glimpse of relief in her green gaze?
“Have you changed then? Seen the error of your ways?” asked Caroline starchily.
Her question was more difficult to answer than she imagined. Had he changed? For good? And if so, was it all because of Julia?
“I would rather not talk about this, Caro.”
“But why not? It would be good to know you had settled down, matured a little. After all, you can’t go haring about the place, doing as you please forever. You are the Earl of Ranford now, and that means—”
“I am well aware of what it means,” Charles bit out. This was a sermon he’d heard many times before, and he had no desire to listen to it again. He especially did not want reminders of what it meant to be the new earl. His father’s shoes felt far too big to fill most times.
“Are you?” she asked coldly.
Charles felt his temper rise.
“Yes, I am. I do not think it is me who needs the reminder, Caroline. It wasn’t that long ago that you were disgracing us all by running off to London by yourself.”
His words were met with a deafening silence.
Caroline blanched. Rebecca gasped.
And Tom looked fit to kill him. In fact, it was only Caroline’s hand on Tom’s arm that stopped him from jumping up and, more than likely, pummelling Charles.
But Caroline’s defence came not from Tom, or Rebecca, or even herself.
No, for the first time that evening, Julia was looking, correction, glaring at him, and it was she who spoke hotly.
“Caroline was going to London for good reason, and she ended up marrying the man she went after. I take it you don’t have a bevy of wives in Dublin about whom you could make the same claim?”
Charles watched as her face flared, and she clasped a dainty hand over the mouth that had caused him a world of trouble. He should be furious at her words, but he was just amused that, try as she might, she could never quite mask that fiery personality she possessed.
He shot a quick
glance round the table, as much to check the reaction to her words as to give himself time to get his grin under control. If he was to laugh at her, she’d be even more cross. And as much as her anger amused him, he did not want her losing her temper completely in front of his family, for he knew it would cause her embarrassment.
If he thought that anyone would be horrified by Julia’s words, he was sadly mistaken. His mother and the dowager fairly beamed with pride, Rebecca was highly amused as was Edward, and Caro looked smugly satisfied. He didn’t look too long at Tom. Tom still looked like he wanted to kill him.
Finally, he looked back at her. He could not help but admire her courage, though her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, and her eyes still glinted with that righteous indignation she seemed to find so appealing.
“No, Miss Channing, I could not,” he said, with a slight nod to her hit.
Turning to Caroline, he spoke, hoping that his tone was filled with the contrition he felt. It was not Caroline’s fault that the beautiful conundrum across the table had him tied in knots, nor had Caroline said anything wrong. There was truth in all of her words. He did have a deplorable reputation, and it was high time he sorted himself out. Caroline wasn’t to know that Charles was coming to that realisation himself.
“Caro, please accept my apologies. I should not have made such a comment.”
Caroline smiled graciously.
“Thank you, Charles, but I’m sure you did not say anything that hasn’t been said about me by others. Besides,” she continued, smiling. “I believe you have been well and truly put in your place.”
Charles smiled back, darting another look at Julia.
“Yes, it would seem so.”
Charles was pleased that Caroline had accepted his apology so easily. If it had been Rebecca, she would have sulked for weeks.
Her acceptance, however, did not seem to ease the tension in the room and had certainly done nothing to cool Tom’s temper if that man’s face was anything to go by.
With a defeated sigh, Charles signalled for the footmen to clear their plates.
Mysterious Miss Channing (Ranford Book 3) Page 13
