With a naughty smile and a wink, she shook out her skirts. “We’d best return to the main path, so we can be sure to be seen together. I’d hate for anyone to think we weren’t truly enamored of each other.”
Wolf followed her from the protective copse of trees, at a loss for how anyone could think he wasn’t utterly taken with the enchanting, sensual creature before him.
Chapter 8
Julia stood with Wolf on the front step of her parents’ home while butterflies danced in her belly. In truth, she was more worried they would say something offensive to him, and not that he would somehow slip up and reveal that their engagement was fake. So, when the front door opened and their longtime butler stood there, it was with some trepidation that she greeted him.
“Good evening, Thompson.”
He helped her with her cloak, and then took Wolf’s coat from him.
“I assume Mother and Father are in the parlor?”
“Indeed, my lady.”
The white-haired old man bowed, and then shuffled off to put their outerwear away.
“Are you ready to beard the lion in its den?” Julia asked Wolf, winking at him and feigning a confidence she did not feel.
One of his golden brows lifted. “It can’t possibly be so dangerous as that.”
“My mother may look sweet, but she has claws. Never forget it,” she drawled, as she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow.
His forearm was heavily muscled, something she could tell even through his jacket. She loved the tensile strength he exuded, despite his finery. Taking comfort in his calm demeanor, she led him into the parlor. As they strode in, her parents and Ros all stood.
“Mother, Father, you remember Lord Wolfington?” Julia kissed each of them on the cheek.
“Of course.” Her father shook hands with him. “Welcome, my lord.”
“A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Fairchild.” Wolf nodded, then turned to take her mother’s hand. “Mrs. Fairchild. You look lovely this evening.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Her mother curtsied and offered a polite smile. “Dinner will be served shortly. May we offer you something to drink?”
“A glass of sherry wouldn’t come amiss,” Wolf replied, and then greeted Ros.
They all took a seat as her father poured the drinks. He presented both her and Wolf a glass before taking a seat as well. Silence reigned as they sipped from their glasses.
The moment was on the verge of growing awkward when Ros spoke up. “Wolf, have you heard that Father has been able to secure rights to import Darjeeling tea?”
Wolf sipped his sherry. “I had not heard. Congratulations, sir.”
Mr. Fairchild smiled. “I am quite pleased with the arrangement. It is only in the last few years that tea gardens have been established in that region. While it’s not an exclusive right to import, I am one of a very few importers who have made the proper connections. My investors were rather excited when I delivered the news earlier this week.”
Thompson entered the salon then and pronounced, “Dinner is served.”
With something akin to relief, Julia stood and walked with Wolf into the dining room. At least now they would have the excuse of eating to explain the lack of conversation.
The meal stretched interminably. At least, that’s how it felt to her. If it hadn’t been for Ros, she and Wolf would have been practically having a private conversation. By the time dessert was served, her father had engaged a bit more in the discussion, though his contributions still felt slightly stilted and awkward. Her mother, silent unless directly asked a question, was a better hostess than that, but Julia knew she was deeply unhappy about the engagement. Determined to have a private word with her later, Julia set her napkin aside.
Then her father rose from the table and started toward his study. “Wolf, why don’t you join me for a cigar and an after-dinner drink?”
Dutifully, and because it was obvious that it was a command and not a request, Wolf followed her father out.
Pleased for the semi-private moment with her mother, Julia waited for the study door to close in the distance. As soon as the sound assured her the men were secluded, she launched her attack. “Mother, I cannot believe you are behaving in such a poor fashion. I have never seen someone treated so shabbily in this home.”
Mrs. Fairchild let her eyes widen as she pressed a hand to her breast. “I do not understand what you are suggesting, Julia.”
“I am not suggesting anything. I am saying straight out that you are behaving as a very poor hostess. Were it not for Wolf’s better manners and Ros providing most of the conversation, dinner would have been all but silent. You are, in short, being extremely rude.”
Her mother’s gaze wandered about the room, looking anywhere but at her daughter. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. What a ridiculous thing to say. It is hardly my fault if he has poor conversation skills. One can only offer so many sallies.”
Ros tutted. “Mother, do not be so perverse. You know you’ve behaved abominably all night.”
Julia tried to keep her temper under control. “He is a good man, Mother. I loved him once, but I did my family duty at the time and married as you demanded. Do I not deserve to marry as I wish now?”
“Demanded!” Her mother rose, her face turning beet red. “I did what was best for you. I ensured you were married to a titled man, someone with means and the social cachet to bring London to your feet. And how did you thank me for that excellent guidance? When your aging husband died, you remained abroad, where that social currency was completely useless!”
Julia’s temper slowly cooled. She had always known her mother had social-climbing desires, but she had not realized to what lengths she was willing to go until now. A coldness permeated Julia’s body as part of her heart broke at hearing her mother speak the truth so plainly. “Only for you. My title served me well where I was, but I would have happily forgone such service in order to marry the man I loved. Do not expect any future family dinners of this nature. I would not wish to burden you with my fiancé’s lack of social cachet.”
Shaken by her mother’s selfishness, Julia quietly retreated to the parlor.
A moment later, Ros was there, her arms circling Julia’s shoulders. “I am so sorry. She’s terribly self-serving.”
“It’s not as though we didn’t know that, but she has taken great pains to hide it from us in the past.” Julia sighed and leaned her head against her sister’s shoulder. “Perhaps I should go and rescue Wolf from Father’s clutches, so we can depart?”
Ros let go and straightened up “He seemed to be holding his own at dinner, and he’s a very fine man now. I imagine he can manage on his own for a short while more.”
Their mother walked in a moment later, followed by Wolf and their father. To her dismay, it seemed the men had bonded over a cigar and a drink, while her own relationship with her mother had irreparably fractured.
Wolf sniffed the contents of his bell-shaped glass, then paused as he glanced about the room. “This is a fine cognac, Mr. Fairchild. I’ve not had its equal.”
To Julia, it was obvious that something had shifted in the atmosphere among the women of the room. She and her sister stood huddled together by the fireplace, while her mother sat in a wingchair near the window.
“If I may,” Wolf began, speaking into yet another awkward silence. “While I know Julia is no longer under your auspices, it was important to me to have your blessing.”
To Julia’s surprise, her father nodded in encouragement.
Then Wolf turned and set his glass aside. He strode over to where she stood, lowered himself to one knee, and produced a rather stunning opal and emerald ring. The opal was a cabochon with small emerald solitaires encircling the edge.
“Julia, it seems our lives are destined to be intertwined. And while our time together may be limited…to this life, I cannot imagine another woman I would wish to spend it with. Will you be my viscountess?”
Though his words possessed layers and la
yers of meaning, most of it couched in terms of the short nature of their engagement, she couldn’t help but be moved by the words and the gesture. They had not discussed him presenting her a ring, and so she truly was surprised. Holding out her left hand, she smiled. “Of course. Yes.”
Then Wolf slipped the ring on her finger and stood to take her in his arms. Pleased that he kept their audience in mind, he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and simply embraced her.
Peering over his shoulder, she saw the look of annoyance that her mother did not bother to hide, but her father looked rather pleased with the outcome. It was a surprising turn, since he rarely went against his wife’s wishes, and in this case, he had all but ignored a direct order.
As they parted, Ros, and then her father, descended on them to wish them well. With a flurry of hugs and smiles, it took her a moment to realize her mother had slipped away.
Chapter 9
Wolf fussed with the silverware for what had to be the hundredth time in the past ten minutes. The candles were lit, the table set, the linens crisp, but his mind was a stuttering, nervous mess. He would have thought that seduction was the easy part, but as he stood in the glow of the romantic setting he’d arranged, he suddenly realized how important all this was to him. How important she was to him.
It was possible he had tried to cease loving her over the years, but the feelings had never truly gone dormant while they’d been apart. And there was no denying the fact that he still harbored deep-seated feelings for Jules. He was well aware of them, however he refused to examine them too closely at the moment.
Taking a deep breath, he attempted to calm the whirlwind of his emotions and let his mind settle. There would be time enough to show her how he felt once she arrived.
A knock sounded just before one of The Market’s footmen opened the door, allowing Jules to enter. Still masked and covered by a heavy, hooded cloak, he wouldn’t have been sure it was her if a single, flame-colored tendril hadn’t peeked out from the green velvet swath she wore.
The servant quickly departed, leaving them alone.
“Good evening.” Wolf helped her with her cloak, and then tugged at the strings of her mask. “No need for this while we are alone in here.”
Setting her cloak and mask aside, he took in her beauty. With her startlingly red hair and vivid blue gown with white trim, which cut low across the tops of her breasts, she was a stunning study in contrasts. In lieu of the pale white skin common to most redheads, she had somehow managed to still retain a sun-kissed glow that invited his touch.
“Good evening to you.” She glanced around. “What a lovely room. I imagine on a sunny afternoon, it must be overwhelmingly cheerful.”
Wolf smiled. “I can’t say I have ever been here in the afternoon to know.”
“Well, it is a comfort to know you are not so dissolute as to engage in debauchery at all hours of the day or night.”
Her playful wink removed any sting her words might have contained.
He chuckled. “I am merely your basic debaucher of women. I stick to the night shadows for my business.”
They both laughed for a second.
Then he pulled a chair out for her. “May I pour you a drink? Dinner should be served any moment.”
She took the offered seat with a shy smile. “Thank you.”
Once her drink was poured and dinner served, he settled into the comfortable quiet. From the first moment he’d seen her parading around downstairs, he’d been plagued by the urge to revisit the past, if only to heal old hurts—mostly those he knew he’d caused.
“Jules, I owe you an apology.”
She stopped eating, clearly a little surprised by his statement. “For what, exactly?”
He swallowed his pride, or at least what he could manage of it. “For leaving you alone on a London street corner in the middle of the night when we were to elope. I wasn’t the man you required me to be at the time, and it still discredits me to this day.”
He could not look at her as he said the last part, unwilling to let her see the full scope of his shame. The rumor of his being a bastard she would likely learn soon enough, as she moved among their peers, but one only he or his father could corroborate it. And neither had done so as yet, though each for their own reasons.
The warmth of her touch as she laid a hand over his drew him from his own bleak musings.
“I must admit I was shocked by the surge of anger upon seeing you again the night you won me. Everyone I loved and trusted failed me where Wallthorpe was concerned. You, my parents, and even myself. And while I could wish that things had been different, I won’t deny that I have led a life that many would envy as a result of the path I was thrown onto. I do not regret the life I’ve lived.”
Wolf was snared by the sincerity in her gaze, and what he could only call an echo of old love. Was there some chance that they might resurrect what had once existed, and fan the flames anew?
“Such sanguine thoughts on our tumultuous history. But then, you were ever the one to find the positive in any situation.”
She smiled ruefully, while letting her hand slip away from his as her gaze dropped. “Perhaps not every situation.”
Cold swiftly chilled his skin, where she had just touched him with such care. To distract himself from the loss, he reached for his glass of wine and took a sip.
“I can remember a late summer day when we visited the river not far from your house. It was so hot we decided to cool off in the water. I was about twelve, you were nine, and Ros was seven.” The memories flooded back to him and made him happy, as they often did when he let them come. “You were so very careful of your new dress, taking it off and setting it to hang on a branch, so it wouldn’t be dirtied. Ros refused to come in with us, but she happily stood on the banks as we played in the water. When we crawled out of the river and realized how dirty our underthings had become, there was no question that we were going to be in trouble. But you, Jules—you assured me your mother would be pleased that you had been careful with your new dress. You even made Ros carry it home, so as not to damage it in the slightest with your muddy, wet underclothes.”
She chuckled, her smile lighting up the room far more than the candles he’d lit. “You know I missed dinner and breakfast for that stunt? I swore she was never going to let me run off to play with you again after that. Strangely, my father intervened, pointing out to her the fact that I had been so careful with my dress. Though I did have to promise never to go swimming again.”
Wolf grinned. “Which you promptly did the next day, as I recall.”
“Of course! I was simply much smarter about it. I secreted the required accessories to ensure I could repair myself well enough not to get caught.” She matched his grin with one of her own. “We did have wonderful times together. Who would have thought we would be such good friends?”
Leveling his gaze on her, Wolf allowed some of what he was feeling to be seen on his face. “We were well matched then, as we are now.”
She drew a deep breath, one that caused her breasts to rise and nearly spill from the low neckline of her dress. He was captivated both by her sensuous display, and by the blatant desire he could see lurking in her green eyes.
“I cannot disagree, though I like to think I am conceivably more of a leader and less of a follower now.” She let her gaze dip down before looking up at him again. “I’ve been my own master for nearly a decade, and I can tell you, I’ll never give that up again. Not for any man.”
Wolf tried to tamp down the urge to challenge her then and there. He wanted to prove to her how good it could be. With him.
He’d never been the most dominant of his friends—Stone carried that title without a doubt—but something about Jules roused the protector in him. Drove him to try to shield her, to swaddle her in the softest cotton, and ensure that nothing and no one could ever hurt her again. It was entirely possible that made him the biggest hypocrite in history, since he knew he had hurt her so terribly ten years befor
e.
He held her gaze steadily as the silence drew out between them. “With the right man, you wouldn’t have to.”
“Be that as it may, I still have Wallthorpe to deal with. And deal with him I shall. In the meantime, I do appreciate the breathing room you’ve given me with our false engagement.” Relief shone in her eyes.
“It doesn’t have to be false, Jules. If you’d marry me, you would be fully protected. Safe.”
Anger unexpectedly welled up from deep within him. She shouldn’t need protection. She shouldn’t have to be fending off the attentions of a man who wouldn’t take no for an answer. But then a wrenching dose of shame and sadness punched him in the gut. She shouldn’t have had to marry a doddering old man ten years before, either, but she had. And he had only himself to blame for not saving her then, no matter what she said now.
She rose from the table and spun away from him, presenting her back. Her shoulders hunched over as she trembled. He stood as well, taking a step toward her, intent on offering comfort, but she straightened up and faced him.
“No. I’ve already told you: I shall not marry again for any reason but love.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say he did love her, but he would not do so until he was absolutely certain. For one, she would never believe a declaration like that in the moment, not after making her stance so clear. Again.
And second, he wasn’t sure if he truly loved her, or if he simply needed to make reparations for his past sins. He refused to play her false ever again, and he needed time to figure out if his jumbled emotions were love or regret. She deserved that much, at least.
A woman like her, one so strong and confident, ought to be loved for herself alone, and not have it tainted by the past. If and when he was certain he could give her that, then and only then would he offer for her hand once more.
“As you wish. I shall not press the issue, though I still believe it would solve your pesky problem.”
His Scandalous Viscountess (Lustful Lords Series Book 3) Page 7
