by Alyson Chase
“Keep them up.” His voice rasped against her eardrums, sending a spark right to her core. Her breaths became short. Her breasts felt heavy, achy, just from the touch of his gaze. She prayed for him to touch her in earnest.
The gods must have heard her plea. Julius cupped her breast, his thumb circling her nipple.
Amanda shuddered. The chill from Polly’s forgotten morning fire a distant memory. The cotton began to abrade her sensitive flesh. It burned. It made her want to coil herself around Julius like a snake.
It made her want to lose control.
Stiffening, she took a step back and dropped her arms. They stared at each other, each breathing heavily.
“Another test?” she whispered.
“No. Perhaps.” He ran a hand through his nutmeg hair. “Or perhaps I merely enjoy torturing myself.” He gripped the underbodice tightly, his knuckles white. “Have you withdrawn your request?” It gave her a perverse pleasure that his voice was as affected as hers.
She shook her head. “No. I want it. Want you. But … it was just too much.”
He exhaled, long and deep through his nose, his gaze never leaving hers. Holding up the stays, he motioned for her to turn around. He slid the garment over her arms and smoothed it down her body. “I apologize for my behavior. I sometimes forget that you’re a green girl.”
She couldn’t hold back the bitter bark of laughter. “Green girl? You do know my history. I am far from innocent.”
The first jerk on her laces jolted her back into his chest.
“You’ve had experience with abuse, with betrayal. You’ve no experience with the pleasures a real man can give a woman.” Working from the bottom up, he tightened the stays. Each tug stole a bit of her breath.
Julius brushed his lips against her ear. “If I were to give you what you asked”—he yanked the strings tight—“give you a night of pleasure so intense you’ll beg for it to end, only to beg for more …” The strings slid through the next pair of holes, squeezing her ribs, holding her together.
“Yes?” she whispered.
His teeth scraped her neck, and she jumped.
“What would you give me in return?” he asked.
Amanda chewed the inside of her cheek. Wouldn’t he be getting what he wanted, what all men wanted, at the same time? “Anything you wish.”
“Anything?” With one hand, Julius gripped the laces and tugged her back into his chest. With his other hand, he palmed her belly. Then slid his hand lower to delve between her thighs.
Amanda started and rose to her toes. Sensation flooded her, but she didn’t know what to do with it.
“Easy.” Julius held her close. He rubbed his palm up and down her most intimate of areas, and sparks danced around her body. It was like she’d walked into a bonfire. It felt so good that it couldn’t be right. Amanda gripped his pant leg, not knowing if she should push him away or try to give him the same caress. Not knowing if she should fight or submit. Indecision tore through her, and the back of her eyes burned with the not knowing.
He gave one last squeeze to the apex of her thighs and released her. “How do you expect to give your body to a man when you jump at the first touch?”
Amanda swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I grow tired of your trials.”
“Perhaps I am being unfair.” He pulled at her stays’ strings, the constriction easing her muscles. She could relax into the bindings and not worry about coming apart. He yanked again. “But a woman like you doesn’t just offer herself up on a silver platter. I need to know how far you can go, for both our sakes.”
He still saw the old Amanda. The woman who, though by no means of his station, had been gently born and bred. A woman who shouldn’t even think of such things as laying with a man, much less speak of it. But that woman was gone and buried. Amanda wasn’t sure she’d even want her back.
She waited eagerly for the next hiss of string rasping against fabric. For the feel of his strong fingers binding her tight.
“Can women enjoy it?” she whispered. “I’ve heard some women say so. And …”
Brushing her hair over her shoulder so it lay heavy on her breast, he rubbed her shoulder. “And?”
She held her breath. She never spoke of this. Of what her father did. Of her time in prison. She might repulse him with her honesty. She stared at the door to her room. Her life was a series of closed doors.
She exhaled slowly. If she was going to disgust him, might as well do it now and move on. There wasn’t much left of her heart to break.
“There was a guard at Newgate. He wasn’t like the others. He actually asked.” She focused on the door handle, not the man standing an inch behind her. It was gold, like everything in Montague’s house, with delicate filigree scrollwork around the edges. She’d broken herself of the habit of locking herself in at night, but the key still protruded from the keyhole. A reminder of how uneasy in mind she’d been. Or of how far she’d come.
“I didn’t say yes. I didn’t say anything. And when he spread my legs, well …”
Julius dug his fingers into her shoulders. Another binding that made her feel secure.
She turned in his grip and met his eyes. There was no disgust, only kindness. “I didn’t enjoy it. But I didn’t hate it like I did every other time a man touched me. It gave me hope that maybe, maybe someday I could feel normal.”
“There is nothing wrong with you, Amanda. But giving yourself to the first available man won’t prove anything.” He gathered up the gown and dressed her. “And tempting me can only end badly. I’m not the man for you, whatever I may wish. And I’m not as strong as I’d like.” He smoothed the fabric down her back. “Breakfast is ready whenever you wish to come down.” With one last squeeze to her shoulder, he turned and strode from the room.
Amanda pressed her palm to her breastbone and rubbed at the ache beneath. He hadn’t run away in revulsion, but he’d run just the same. She gathered up her stockings and boots. Liz made it seem so easy with Marcus. Two people in perfect step together. Amanda felt like she was dancing to an entirely different tune than Julius.
She wasn’t looking for forever. Marriage truly was out of her reach. But was it wrong to hope for just a bit of that connection between a man and a woman? To experience a touch that brought more than pain?
Perhaps, for her sins, she was destined to always be on the outside looking in.
***
Julius tossed the morning paper on the table and stood when Amanda entered the room. With her creamy skin and dark hair, she looked lovely in the simple green morning gown. Not for the first time he wished he had noticed her during her two seasons. Amanda in a ball gown must be a stunning sight. And if he’d known her then, he might have been able to prevent so much of her heartbreak.
It was difficult, but he kept his expression even. So many insults had been laid upon this woman. So much cruelty. Rage coursed through his veins at the injustice of the world. Her father was already dead, nothing could be done there. But the prison guards that had dared touch her, they would be dealt with.
That last one she’d spoken of, the one who’d given her hope. That one he might let live. He’d break all his bones, of course. But hope was a precious gift regardless of its source. It deserved some mercy.
Julius knew what it was to be trapped, subject to the whims of your captors. That Amanda knew it, too, broke his heart. But she didn’t need to see his anger, his vengeance. So, he schooled his features into a welcome.
“Good morning, Miss Wilcox,” he said. “Breakfast is on the sideboard. Help yourself.”
Lady Mary, her ivory hair tucked up under a lace cap, looked up from her egg. She smiled at Amanda and waved her spoon in acknowledgment before focusing back on her breakfast.
Reggie was not so restrained with his greeting. He bounded over and met her at the buffet, slipping on the waxed wood floor. He jumped on her thighs, barking excitedly.
Amanda pointed at the floor. “Down.” The pup slouched to the floo
r. She fed him a bit of ham and stroked his back. “Good boy.”
The husky burn of her voice rolled through Julius like whiskey. His cock perked up, and he sat down, scooting his chair under the table. Reggie rolled onto his back, and Amanda rubbed his brown belly. Julius glared at the dog. Lucky bastard.
Julius could have her. He could take her back to her room and be sliding deep inside of her in under ten minutes. The heat between her legs when he’d cupped her had nearly undone him. It had definitely made him doubt his decision. But there had also been fear in her eyes. He wouldn’t take her, not when she’d be comparing him to a ghost.
And not when there was a chance he’d endanger his friendship with Marcus. Julius had few close friends. He couldn’t afford to lose one.
Amanda placed a few bits on her plate and sat at the table. “Good morning, Lady Mary. I looked for you earlier this morning, but you’d already left your room.”
The older woman looked up and adjusted her spectacles. “Good morning, dear. I went for a walk with Jane. If you leave early enough, you can see those newfangled gas lamps still lit.”
Lady Mary’s maid, Jane, was nearly as old as Marcus’s aunt. Julius supposed he could ask her to take over Amanda’s dressing duty until a replacement was found. He took a sip of coffee. The thought of giving over that duty didn’t hold appeal.
He was a stupid, stupid man. Just when he’d concluded he couldn’t have her, he decided to subject himself to a daily vision of Amanda in her undergarments.
Amanda reached for the pot of chocolate and poured herself a cup. “You aren’t nervous standing next to one? I’ve heard stories of grand explosions.” She settled her mug at a right angle with her plate and lined her silverware up beneath. Each fork and knife were spaced equally apart, Julius noted. Another reminder of Amanda’s need to order her surroundings. Another reason why they wouldn’t suit. In his liaisons, Julius needed to be the one in control.
“Stuff and nonsense.” The chaperone placed the tip of her knife at the top of her soft-boiled egg. She tapped her spoon onto the knife’s handle, as though it were a chisel. “Marvelous inventions,” she continued. “Pretty soon, there will be no need for wood for our fireplaces. Gas is like ether; it’s everywhere. And then think how tall the forests will grow.”
Julius slid his gaze to Amanda. A tiny vee creased her forehead. Good. She was as confused as he.
“More chocolate, Lady Mary?” he asked. Once the older woman got started on a subject, it could be hours until she finished. And her thoughts were a warren of non-sequiturs and half-formed ideas. Julius paused. Why had Marcus sent such a dotty old woman to be Amanda’s chaperone? Because he trusted Julius so much that a competent one wasn’t needed?
Amanda picked up his paper. “Where are you off to today, Lord Rothchild?” she asked, not lifting her head.
“Off to?”
“You never spend a day within. It’s as though you find the duke’s home unpleasant.” The paper snapped in her hands. “Or its occupants.”
He narrowed his eyes. She was not so silly as to think that, was she? But she could hardly know that to him enclosed spaces were their own form of torture.
“I enjoy the fresh air.” Craved it. Even now in this open breakfast room with the sun shining through the large windows, his skin itched. That itch was his constant companion until he stepped out of doors and filled his lungs with fresh air. “I would be more than happy to escort you and Lady Mary out of doors. Perhaps a nice drive through Hyde Park?”
Her shoulders turned to stone. “Not today, thank you.”
“No.” Lady Mary fed Reggie a strip of bacon. “I wouldn’t want to go outside when a storm is brewing.”
Julius looked at the blinding blue sky and sighed.
“Ju— Lord Rothchild, did you read this article?” Amanda turned the paper and pointed at the front-page story. “About the proposed law eliminating capital punishment for children under ten. It lost a vote in the House of Lords.”
He buttered a roll and placed it in her hand. She’d filled out from the emaciated woman he’d rescued from Newgate, but she still tended to eat too little. He’d found it was easiest to feed her when she was distracted. Each morning he added more food to his plate for the purpose.
“I didn’t have to read the article,” he said. “I was there for the vote.”
She paused, the roll inches from her mouth, and glared at him in outrage.
“I voted for the law to pass,” he hastily added. “But the opposition led by the Marquess of Hanford was strong. He convinced the assembly that if the law passed the streets of London would run red with blood, violent criminals would take over, and life as we knew it would come to an end.”
“The violent ten-year-olds would destroy London?” Amanda tore into the roll and chewed viciously, eyes narrowed. “How many men voted against it?”
He added a bit of beef to her plate, pushed the fork into her hand. “I believe the measure lost by thirty-six votes.”
Reggie whined, and Lady Mary fed him another strip of bacon. Julius shook his head. That dog was going to get fat living in this house.
“Thirty-six votes. That’s all that was needed.” She scooped up a bit of beef and stared at the wall behind Julius, chewing thoughtfully. “Only thirty-six men needed to be persuaded to change their minds.”
“Don’t fool yourself.” He folded his napkin and laid it beside his plate. “Nothing ever changes. This is a brutal world, and we just have to survive it.”
She looked at him sharply. “Yes, but the eight-year-olds who get caught stealing a loaf of bread to feed their family aren’t surviving it, are they? They’re being hanged.” She placed a hand on her throat.
His guts turned to lead. She had come too close to that fate. If he and Montague had arrived at Tyburn just minutes later, this sweet woman would have been dead. The good people of London had been deprived of their entertainment that day, but there were many more executions for them to watch. Almost every crime was a capital offense in England, and the reformers voices were faint.
“There’s a ball tonight,” he said, an idea burgeoning in his mind. “Many in the House of Lords will be in attendance. You should come. Try to persuade those thirty-six men.”
Amanda’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t … I can’t … what is wrong with you?” she sputtered.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“Do I need to get a ball gown out of my trunk?” Lady Mary asked, her lips turned down. A fly buzzed around her plate, and she pulled a lace handkerchief from her sleeve and waved it at the insect.
Amanda patted her hand. “No. There will be no ball.” She turned on Julius. “Every part of what you said is ridiculous. First of all, I would never be allowed into a ball. No one in society will recognize me.”
“If you’re on my arm, you’ll be allowed entry,” he growled. Julius was growing frustrated with the strictures of society. Montague seemed to accept that his sister-in-law would remain an outcast for the remainder of her life, but Julius wasn’t so disposed. “And no one will dare say a word against you in my presence. Not if they want to keep their teeth.”
She ignored that. “Secondly, no member of the House of Lords is going to listen to me, a woman, much less a disgraced woman, on British law.”
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “There are respected female voices. Not many, I’ll grant you, but they do exist. You’ll just have to speak louder so the old windbags can hear you over their own sermonizing.”
“And thirdly—” She abruptly cut herself off, looking anywhere but at him.
“Thirdly?” he prodded.
Twisting the napkin in her hands, she worried her bottom lip.
“Amanda?”
“Thirdly,” she said, her voice so low he had to lean forward, “you know I can’t go out. I. Can’t. Go. Out.” Her voice broke on the last word.
His chest squeezed as though caught in a vise. Shit, were thos
e tears in her eyes? She needed to be pushed outside her comfortable surroundings. But he couldn’t stand it if he made her cry.
“Calm yourself.” He covered her hand with his own. “I would never force you to do something you don’t wish. But you can’t live the rest of your life within these walls. You need to start making some attempts out.”
“Not to a ball,” she said fiercely.
Julius blew out a deep breath. Yes, a ball would be like throwing a baby into a lake and expecting her to swim. Smaller steps were needed. He rubbed her knuckles, knowing he should pull away. While Lady Mary was an inattentive old woman, she still had eyes. But Amanda’s hand was warm beneath his, her skin silky soft. She was breaking his resolve without even trying.
“Any time you wish to venture outside, let me know. I’ll be there for you.”
Nodding, she dropped her gaze back to the paper. “Do you think some of the lords might be open to persuasion?”
“I do.” The House of Lords were like any other group of people. Subject to whim, eager to follow the latest trend. Sheep looking for anyone to follow.
She nodded again, this time with determination. “Then I have some work to do.” Rising, she plucked up the paper and tucked it under her arm.
Julius stood. “Where are you going?”
“To Montague’s study to write some letters.” Reggie padded after her to the door. “As you say, I’m stuck within these walls. I might as well make better use of my time than fumbling around with my needlepoint.”
“You intend to start a letter campaign to change the law?” Emotions warred within his breast. Amanda needed a purpose, and she had chosen a worthy cause. But she was in for inevitable defeat. While the men in the House of Lords were open to suggestion, they wouldn’t be persuaded by a letter from Miss Amanda Wilcox. She was too easy to dismiss.
Would she close herself up even more when she finally accepted her defeat?
“I do.” Her brown eyes flashed. “It’s past time the Crown stopped killing its subjects over petty misdemeanors. As the most advanced nation on earth, it is beyond barbaric.”
