And then those competent hands would wander to forbidden places, stroking her just so, halting her laughter. Turning her giggles into moans while he brought her insurmountable pleasure.
Her head spun, and she paused in the corridor, desperate to gather her bearings. It wouldn’t do, walking among society with her flushed face and trembling body, all aflutter over what Garrett just did to her. Pressing her palms to her cheeks, she tried to cool her heated skin. The man twisted her up in knots.
Knots she never wanted to unravel.
Feeling composed, Julia reentered the ballroom and was immediately greeted by Sir Reginald, who took her hand. He led her to the dance floor, and she let him, feeling as if she were in a trance.
How could he do this to her, make her feel so…unsettled? She glanced about the room, looking for any glimpse of Garrett, but he was nowhere to be found.
Disappointment filled her yet again, and she smiled up at Sir Reginald when she realized he was speaking to her. But she had no idea what he’d said, and she didn’t much care. She knew she was being rude, but she didn’t want to dance with him or talk to him.
She wanted Garrett.
Finally she saw him, watched covetously as he sauntered back into the ballroom, dashingly handsome as ever. When he grinned at a woman and dipped to kiss her proffered hand, Julia was overcome by jealousy so thick and overwhelming she saw red.
“Lady Renwick, are you quite all right? You seem…tense.”
She jerked her gaze back to Sir Reginald. “Yes, of course. I’m just…concentrating on my steps. I feel rather clumsy tonight.”
“Well, you always dance divinely if you ask me.” He smiled at her, obviously flirting. If this had happened only a month ago, she might’ve been thrilled.
Now it didn’t matter. Not if she wasn’t flirting with Garrett.
Curse the man for ruining her for any other.
Julia returned Sir Reginald’s smile and let her gaze drift once more to Garrett. He’d moved on and was surrounded by a crush of fresh-faced debutantes clad in pastel-colored gowns that were the very height of fashion, every single one whom was vying for his attention. Fawning over him as they cooed and complimented him in gratingly high-pitched voices.
She wanted to murder them all.
Stumbling, she tripped over her feet, and Sir Reginald righted her, his grip firm. “Are you sure you’re all right, my lady? I’m afraid I almost stepped on your foot.”
“Oh, Sir Reginald, it’s no use. I’m not much in the mood for dancing at the moment.” Not when the man she wanted was surrounded by his own personal harem.
He stopped, as did she, and the swirling dancers continued around them. “Perhaps a visit to the refreshment table, then? I would be more than happy to accompany you.”
“That sounds perfectly delightful.” He took her arm and led her to the refreshment table where many congregated, including Garrett and his bevy of young ladies.
“Sir Reginald,” he said in that delicious, deep voice when they approached. The sound of it sent a thrill down her spine. “Lady Renwick. A pleasure to see you both this evening.”
“Lord Bedingfield, how are you, old chap?” Sir Reginald clapped Garrett on the back in a hearty greeting, but Garrett didn’t even look at him.
He only had eyes for her.
Her skin warmed, and the jealousy that had gripped her ebbed away. Even swarmed by a gob of lovely young ladies all murmuring his name, he didn’t notice them. His focus was solely on her. His heated eyes seeming to communicate with her what they’d just shared in the dark little library.
How he’d attacked her, filled her, made her come so hard she’d seen stars. A promise shone in those eyes. How he’d take her back to her townhome and do it all over again. Throughout the night, as if he couldn’t get enough of her.
“I’m doing quite well, Sir Reginald. And you?” Garrett asked, sliding his gaze to Sir Reginald for the briefest moment before returning to her.
“Fine, fine, I must say, though, Lady Renwick begged off dancing. I must’ve stepped on her toes one too many times, I’m afraid. My apologies, my lady.”
“Having trouble this evening, Lady Renwick?” The amusement lacing Garrett’s tone made her smile. How he teased.
And how she loved it.
“Oh, it’s not Sir Reginald’s fault. I find myself rather…uncoordinated tonight.”
“When you have…danced with me in the past, I’ve noticed you’re quite confident in your movements.”
Oh, the devil. He certainly wasn’t referring to anything as mundane as dancing.
“I blame my lack of skill on tiredness. I’ve been rather busy lately.”
“Is that so?” A dark brow cocked, a look she’d seen before, sometimes late at night while lying abed with him, and she quite simply adored it. “What’s keeping you so busy?”
“The whirlwind of the social season, if you must know.” She gratefully accepted the glass of punch that appeared in Sir Reginald’s hand, and took a long drink to wet her dry throat.
“Well, that’s all about to come to an end, and soon now, isn’t it?” When she didn’t reply, Garrett forged on. “And what shall you be doing to entertain yourself once it’s over?”
His question hurt, though he wouldn’t know it. Just the thought of their affair ending made her incredibly lonely. “I don’t have any plans.”
“You should visit me at my country estate.” His smoldering gaze heated her from within. “I shall be hosting an endless stream of guests throughout the summer, and I would enjoy having you in attendance.”
“I’m sure you’ll be much too busy to entertain me.” Her voice had gone soft, her gaze dropping to the glass cup in her hand. She sensed Sir Reginald observing their conversation much like a spectator at a tennis match, his head bobbing back and forth, and she felt foolish. Putting on a public show where Sir Reginald could guess their secret affair with ease if he just paid rapt attention to the veiled implications in their words.
“I am never too busy for you, my lady.” Garrett took a step forward, his brow furrowed, his expression serious. So very, very serious. “Say yes.”
Her lips parted, and she shot a quick glance in Sir Reginald’s direction. He watched the entire conversation unfold with a sort of bewildered look. Even the debutantes had stepped back, too wrapped up in their silly conversation to pay any mind.
Which was perfectly fine with her.
Her voice seemed to have disappeared. She cleared her throat and took a sip of the last of the too-sweet punch. Garrett waited expectantly, looking like an animal ready to pounce, and finally she found her voice.
“Yes.”
Chapter Five
Garrett approached Julia’s front door, grim determination not letting his steps falter. The sun shone hot upon him, and the hat he wore made him sweat. He wished he could swipe it off.
But no, he was making a call on the good Lady Renwick correctly, and he wanted to look the part. He could take the hat off once he’d stepped inside.
If she even let him inside. If she was even at home.
He knocked on the door and waited, clutching his hands behind his back. Looking every inch the proper gentleman in the rich brown suit he wore to make especially important afternoon calls.
Such as this one.
The door opened slowly, and the crotchety old butler scowled. “What do you want?” he asked.
The man was insolent and beyond rude, but for whatever reason, Julia found him charming. Garrett would’ve fired the old man, Hicks, in an instant if he’d had his choice. “I am here to see Lady Renwick.”
“And who shall I say is calling?”
Garrett gritted his teeth. Hicks knew who he was, and offered his unspoken but obvious disapproval of him every chance he got. “The Earl of Bedingfield.” You old coot.
“One moment.” Hicks slammed the door, and Garrett growled, tapping the porch with his booted foot. Bloody hell, he wasn’t even admitted into the foyer. What was w
rong with the man?
Protective, he thought, shaking his head. He could understand the emotion. He felt quite protective of Julia himself.
The door swung open only moments later, and Hicks peeked around the edge. “She will see you.”
Garrett hurried inside before Hicks could change his mind, and swiftly removed his hat. He ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair and winced when he realized he probably looked rumpled and hot. He straightened his jacket with a quick tug, adjusted his cravat just so and caught Hicks watching him with a bemused expression.
“You look fine, my lord. She awaits you in the drawing room.”
Before Garrett could say another word, the old butler shuffled off, muttering something Garrett couldn’t understand, which was probably for the best. Most likely complaining about him, which seemed to be Hicks’s favorite thing to do.
Telling himself it was now or never, he went into the drawing room to find Julia pacing the floor in a simple cream muslin dress sprigged with delicate green flowers. Her loosely tied hair drifted in slight waves to the middle of her back, and when he entered, she stopped so abruptly it tumbled over her shoulder.
“Lord Bedingfield.” She paused and glanced around him, no doubt looking for Hicks or her maid. “Garrett. What are you doing here?”
She sounded incredulous, which she had every right to be. He had never made an appearance like this in the middle of the day, when all of London might see his carriage waiting outside her home, where everyone could assume he was visiting within.
Exactly what he was doing, though she didn’t seem to know that.
“I’ve come to see you. Make a social call.” He tipped his head toward her. “You look lovely,” he murmured, and his voice sounded raw.
“Well, I can see that, but…why?” She rushed toward him and stopped just short of touching him, which he wished she would do.
But he held himself in check, as did she. Damnation, if he was going to do this properly, then he needed to remember himself. “I have a question to ask you.”
Her delicate brows drew together, and she frowned. Looking sweetly adorable. “This couldn’t wait until…tonight?”
This was supposed to be their last night together. Hell no, his question couldn’t wait. “I wish to consult with you now.”
“Well, of course, by all means.” She appeared flustered, the color high on her cheeks, and she offered him a shaky smile. “Would you care for some tea? Stella is preparing some, and I’m sure she could bring an extra cup.”
As if by magic, Stella entered the room with a serving cart, a teapot and two empty cups rattling on top of it. Most likely Hicks had informed her of his arrival, bless his cranky heart.
“Oh perfect. How did you know?” Julia rushed toward Stella, seemingly happy to have something to do. Such a mundane task, serving tea, but she waved Stella away, and the maid fled the room while Julia poured them each a cup.
He settled upon the pale blue velvet settee and murmured a quiet thanks when she handed him a cup of tea. She’d added a dollop of cream and two sugars, just as he liked it, and it hit him how much she knew about him even though their so-called relationship had consisted only of long, torrid nights together.
But they’d spent those long, torrid nights not just tangled in the sheets, but also talking, eating, drinking. Sharing their dreams and thoughts and memories, laughing and teasing and kissing and touching.
“So?” She sat across from him in a delicate armchair, clutching her teacup and saucer so tightly that her knuckles went white.
“So.” He set his tea on the table and rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned toward her. “I came because I wanted to ask if you would allow me the privilege to…”
“To…” she prompted when he didn’t finish.
Garrett cleared his throat, feeling as if he was setting everything on the line, for what would he do if she told him no?
“To court you.”
He waited breathlessly for her answer.
She studied him, her lips gone soft, her gaze distressed. She dropped her head and stared at her hands, at the cup she clutched. “Surely you jest.”
Julia had said those very words to him only a fortnight ago when he’d finally gathered the nerve to ask her to dance. Yet again she didn’t believe him.
That cut him like a knife.
“I am not jesting, Julia. I have never asked for permission to court a lady before.” She lifted her head. “Please allow me the honor of courting you properly.”
Her eyes closed for the briefest moment, and when they reopened, moisture filled them. The sight of her unshed tears tore at his gut, and before the words even fell from her lips, he knew what the answer would be.
“I’m afraid the answer is no. It would be impossible.” Her voice cracked.
It still crushed him, despite his preparation.
“Why?” he asked, his voice a raw whisper.
“I am old, older than you by five years.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. I am a widow with no family besides my distant in-laws, and they don’t care about me. I have no dowry, and I most likely cannot offer you an heir, since I never had a child with my husband, though we tried.”
He flinched at her words. He hated to hear talk of her dead husband. Hated even more to hear of their struggles to conceive. He didn’t like to think of her with any man but himself.
Julia belonged to him and no other.
“I don’t care about any of that,” he said vehemently, and she shook her head, her expression so sad it stopped his heart.
“You should. You are an earl, Garrett, and I am not worthy of being your countess. No matter how much you think you want me and care for me, this can go no further.” She smiled tremulously, and a single tear slid down her cheek. “Don’t ruin our last night together by declaring your intentions. It’s unnecessary. I am a grown woman. I knew what I was getting into when I started this affair.”
The problem was he’d thought he knew what he was getting involved with when they started this affair as well.
He’d been dead wrong.
Julia had saved her new gown for this night, her last with Garrett. The ball held at the Duke of Stratford’s grand mansion was the last glittering affair before everyone departed the city. It was warm within the giant ballroom, the crush of people, the scent of cloying perfume and sweat filled the air, and she wished she were somewhere else. Somewhere private where she could be alone with Garrett.
But she needed to stay put, for he would arrive soon. They could dance together once. Perhaps sneak away to a private room for a quick indulgence before returning separately to her home, where they would make love long into the night. He would slip out in the early-morning hours, and she would never see him again.
Turning down his suit earlier had been so hard, but she’d made the right choice. He needed a wife who would provide him with a child, heirs. A wife who was socially graceful and beautiful and perfect, who would be the ideal countess he could be proud of.
She knew without a doubt she wasn’t that woman, despite his efforts to convince her otherwise. At the age of thirty-one she was too old, used goods, a widow, and the reminder hurt. Oh, she could find an older gentleman. Perhaps a widowed man who needed a wife to take care of his household and even take over the rearing of his children. Certainly she didn’t deserve a man as young and virile as her Garrett.
If Garrett was smart, he would be indulging in the debutantes. Conversing with the ones he fancied the most, learning more about them, seeing if they were compatible. Not that it really mattered. He had plenty to choose from in finding a wife.
The thought hurt so much she feared she’d double over from the pain.
Sir Reginald passed by, smiling pleasantly as he stopped short and bowed before her. “Lady Renwick, you are a vision.”
“Why, thank you.” She returned his bow with a curtsy and laughed when he snatched up her gloved hand and kissed
her knuckles. Her gown was of deep crimson, a shockingly bold color, but she’d wanted to draw Garrett’s attention one last time. Her hair was swept high, with a red velvet ribbon running throughout, and elbow-length black silk gloves completed her ensemble.
She knew she had garnered Sir Reginald’s approval, for his pale blue gaze roved over her with undisguised interest.
He was rather charming. Decently handsome, though not blatantly gorgeous like Garrett. If she hadn’t fallen into this affair with Garrett in the first place, she would’ve been interested in Sir Reginald. Would’ve encouraged him and prayed for his continued pursuit. He was supposedly a confirmed bachelor, but he looked at her as if he would consider changing his status. But could she allow him to pursue her and actually want him to do so? Or would she always be reminded of Garrett and his passionate lovemaking, his dizzying kisses and dazzling smiles?
She frowned as Sir Reginald dropped her hand. Drat. Was she forever changed because of the Earl of Bedingfield?
Yes.
“Dance with me later?” Sir Reginald asked, his lips curled into a small smile.
She bowed her head. “Of course.”
He walked away and was swallowed into the crowd, and she glanced around, searching for a familiar face. But there were none, and she felt so alone. This was her first season among society after her husband’s death. Had it been a mistake to make her reappearance? Should she have stayed home and been content with what she had?
No. She couldn’t regret her time with Garrett, no matter how disappointed she would be when it was over. He’d taught her to feel again, to embrace her confidence, her innate sensuality. He’d taught her to flirt and to laugh and to experience what was truly supposed to happen between a man and a woman.
He’d taught her to love.
A sob threatened to escape, and she covered her mouth with her hand. She needed to get outside, and soon. She couldn’t stand this any longer—the people pushing against her, the endless hum of chatter, the music, the heat of the room. She wanted to be outside in the cooler air, away from the noise.
Lessons in Indiscretion Page 5
