“Yes! Jules, yes!”
The warm heat from his seed seeped into her through the barrier of the French Letter as he continued sliding in and out with much less aggression. With each plunge, his hips slowed until he sank inside her and draped himself over her back.
She reveled in the heat of him, his weight, and the feel of all those muscles wrapped around her. A sense of contentment she had not felt in many years settled over her. She refused to examine it too closely, because she knew she could not afford to feel anything for Wolf.
They had no future, because she refused to be tethered to any man again. Not to mention trusting anyone was nearly impossible. She was the only person she could rely on.
Chapter 11
Julia and her sister had decided to take some air. It was early spring, and a particularly warm day, which was why half of London had decided to do the very same thing. Strolling along Rotten Row was a necessary evil—the only upside of which was that one was not expected to stop and chat. Much. People spent the majority of their time smiling and nodding, and both she and Ros excelled at this mundane interaction.
“Are we almost to the turn off?” Ros asked through her teeth, as they strolled arm in arm.
Julia continued to smile and nod. “It’s just ahead.”
They walked for a few more moments, and then came to a fork in the path where they could depart the more crowded route. As they left the notable set behind, they relaxed their sore cheeks and stretched their tight necks.
“Oh, at last!” Ros let go of her sister and reached up to rub her neck. “I couldn’t take much more of Society. Truly, I do not know how you stand it.”
Julia rolled her shoulders and offered her sister a genuine smile. “I’ll tell you, it has been much easier this time around. As a woman steeped in scandal—not to mention being a widow—I have far more leeway than during my come-out. There is no question you made the right choice when you ran off with Archie and got married.”
She darted a quick glance at Ros, instantly regretting her absentminded reference to her sister’s dead husband. Ros’ emerald green eyes—exactly like her own—dimmed a bit as the ever-present sadness that haunted her returned.
Julia grabbed her arm. “Oh, please forgive me! I know how much you miss him, still.”
“It has been five years, but yes, I do miss Archie. Though I have begun to suspect I miss being married more.”
At that, Ros blushed—fetchingly.
Julia was not above admitting that her sister’s less violent coloring allowed her to do things like blush and weep without turning a virulent shade of magenta. She, on the other hand, avoided both blushing and weeping with a vengeance. With her bright red hair, she had long ago learned that it did not make for an attractive appearance when emotional. Fortunately, in the last ten years, she’d had little to cry about. Blushing, however, still sometimes proved problematic.
“Oh, ho! And what part of being married is it you miss most?”
Julia could not think of a single aspect of marriage she had enjoyed. But then, that had likely had more to do with the man she had been wed to, and less about the state itself.
Ros narrowed her gaze. “Well, of course I miss the intimate activities.” She rolled her eyes. “But truly, I miss having someone to share the day with. To share my life. Archie would come home at the end of the day, sweaty and tired, and I loved taking care of him, hearing about his day, seeing the stress slide from his face as we talked and touched.” Ros fell silent, as though reflecting.
Julia sighed softly. If her marriage had been more like that, she might not abhor the notion of it so greatly. Her experience had been far different. She shuddered with the errant memory.
“You make it sound so lovely.”
The greenery of the park stretched out around them as they continued their sedate walk.
“Oh, it was, but that was because I loved Archie. Had we not been so crazy about each other, I imagine the life of an army man’s wife would have become wearing. It was a hard life, with all the washing and cooking, and the daily cleaning of the house. We simply did not have the funds to afford help.” Ros stared off in the distance as they walked. “I thought he might divorce me at least once a week during that first year. I couldn’t do anything right,” she said, laughing.
Julia laughed as well. “I remember your tearstained letters. But you’ve always been full of ingenuity. I knew you would figure it all out eventually.”
“And I did, thank goodness!” Ros tilted her head and looked at her sister. “If marriage was so terrible for you, why have you agreed to marry Wolf? Honestly, I thought you’d remain a widow for the rest of your days.”
Julia let her gaze drop to her toes as they strolled, and tried to form as true an answer as she could muster. She hated lying to her sister, but Ros had no ability to prevaricate. It simply wasn’t in her to employ guile in any manner. “I hadn’t any intention of remarrying, as you know, but Wolf caught me in a weak moment, and I said yes.”
Ros frowned. “You do not love him?”
Julia’s brows drew together. “I suppose I care for him. He has always been a great friend, but I do not love him.”
I can’t.
The sound of hooves slapping the ground had them stopping to look back at who had caused such a clamor.
“Well, hello, ladies.”
Wallthorpe rode up to them, as though he had spied them from a distance and chased them down. His poor mount’s sides heaved as though he’d been run hard, which seemed neither practical in Hyde Park, nor very kind.
They both curtsied and murmured, “My lord.”
He swung down from the horse and turned, as though he expected to walk with them. Julia gritted her teeth as Ros stiffened beside her. The younger version of the old brute she’d married scared the devil out of her sister, and Julia hated that she was responsible for bringing such a vile creature near her gentle sibling.
“What can we do for you, my lord?”
“I simply spied two lovely ladies out for a stroll and thought to accompany them. Must I require something more than your fine company?”
He offered a pleasant enough smile, but Julia watched his eyes, as she always did. As she had learned to do with his father. His smiles never reached his flat brown gaze.
She pressed her lips together in annoyance. “No, if that is all you seek.”
“Well, a private word would not come amiss, Lady Wallthorpe.”
Then he looked pointedly at Ros.
“Oh, I can certainly fall back a few steps if you’d like, Julia.”
Ros looked to her to say yes or no. Julia had a choice, but each option held consequences. If she did not give him the moment he sought, he would turn cruel, and say something untoward about her—or worse—her sister.
With a sigh, she nodded. “Perhaps you could give us a moment?”
Ros quickly fell back, offering them some semblance of privacy.
Julia decided to take the bull by the horns. “Say your piece, my lord. I do not wish to leave my sister lingering long behind us.”
His lip curled up at this, but he quickly smoothed it out. “I wished to revisit our previous conversation. There is still time for you to change your mind about this farce of an engagement to Lord Wolfington. I am the man you should be marrying.”
“I am afraid I disagree, my lord. I am quite happy with my choice of future husband.”
Julia worked hard to keep her tone neutral, despite the fact he made her skin crawl. He always had, even when she was a debutante.
Wallthorpe stopped and turned her to face him. “Lady Wallthorpe, you are a marchioness! You do not have to lower yourself to marrying a mere viscount.”
She stepped back from the obtuse man, jerking her shoulders free of his hands. Then she resumed walking. “My lord, whatever title my fiancé bears is inconsequential to me in the course of determining his suitability as a husband.”
“I see.” He tucked his hands behind his back a
s they continued on. “Well, then. I suppose I shall have to cast my eye in another direction.”
He then looked back over his shoulder, in the direction of Ros.
Julia stopped short. His threat was clear, and her throat closed, as if he had physically wrapped his fingers around her neck and squeezed. Somehow, she managed to heave in a breath. “My lord, I believe I am feeling unwell. I should return home. You will, of course, excuse me.”
“Of course.” He executed a half bow. “I do hope you are feeling better soon.”
She nodded and strode toward where Ros stood, a short distance away. Once she reached her, they retreated back toward Rotten Row—and escape. Julia fought back the nausea that threatened to blossom as she frog-marched her sister home. All the while, Ros remained silent while she struggled to maintain the bruising pace Julia had set.
Once they were both safely ensconced in their parlor, Ros looked at her sister. “Tell me what that odious man said to upset you so.”
Julia refused to repeat the implied threat. “No. There is no need for anyone else to be disturbed.”
Her sister’s brows drew together. “What could he possibly have said?”
“Nothing worth repeating.” Julia paced over to the secretary, opened the drop desk, then promptly closed it and paced back toward the fireplace.
She moved over to the window and looked out at the hustle and bustle as people passed their home. How could she protect Ros from Wallthorpe? Certainly, she was a grown woman capable of saying no, but she was such a gentle soul. It would fundamentally change her to have to thwart Wallthorpe’s advances, and Julia refused to allow that to occur. Pressing her fingertips to her temples, she knew she needed help with this situation. There was only one person she could call upon to offer assistance.
With a determined stride, she returned to the secretary, opened the drop desk, and pulled out a paper and stylus. Wolf would know what to do. Julia was certain he could find a way to protect her sister, and it would not include one of them breaking their fake engagement.
It simply couldn’t.
Chapter 12
Wolf stood on Julia’s front steps with her summons in hand. The correspondence held a frantic note that concerned him, which was why he was knocking earlier than what might otherwise be considered acceptable.
The door opened to reveal a butler—not especially tall, and not especially remarkable. His brown hair was graying at the temples, however, and offered up a distinguished air when paired with his simple livery.
Behind him, Julia hovered as though she might just push the man aside and take over his duties.
“Good morning,” the butler said.
“Good morning. Please tell Lady Wallthorpe that Lord Wolfington—” Wolf was cut off by an impatient Julia.
She huffed and stepped around her staid servant. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I am right here, and I can plainly see who is at the door, Johnson. Go back to whatever you were doing.”
She shooed him off.
“My lady, it is simply not done for someone of your stature to answer her own door.”
Johnson seemed far more affronted by her actions than either Julia or Wolf. In fact, he couldn’t hide his grin as she tugged him inside by his coat sleeve.
“Pish, Johnson. No one but you is standing on such propriety. I haven’t lived in England for a decade, and Wolf is an old friend.”
She towed him into the front parlor.
With a disgruntled rumble, the butler closed the front door and retreated to the rear of the house.
Wolf was still swallowing her offhand description of him as a friend. He knew her far more intimately than any friend, in his experience. He’d tasted her sweet-tart honey, and watched her come apart in his arms. They were decidedly beyond friends.
Undoubtedly lovers, but could he convince her to be his wife?
If he were honest with himself, he knew now that he’d never be able to let her go again. His head spun with the unexpected realization.
“Thank you for coming.” Julia released his sleeve and spun around to face him. “I was up all night working out a plan.”
Wolf took his agitated fiancée by the shoulders and forced her to hold still. “Take a deep breath, and tell me what is going on.”
She tried to dislodge his hands with a shrug. “Oh, do stop. I’m fine, just concerned.”
“Jules, look at me.”
He used what he thought of as his commanding voice, the one that normally made women pay attention and do as he desired.
Her green gaze locked with his.
He drew his hands over her shoulders and up to cup her delicate jawline. “Whatever it is, we will tackle it together. But I need you to settle down and explain what has happened.”
She drew a shuddering breath, and then nodded. “Of course. My apologies.”
She quickly explained about Wallthorpe’s unexpected appearance in the park, and his veiled threat toward Ros.
Wolf’s brows drew together. “And you’re certain he intends to pursue her?”
Julia pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Am I certain? No. Am I worried? Very.”
“Can she not simply refuse him?”
He could tell Jules was deeply upset by the notion of Wallthorpe switching his focus to her sister.
She let one brow rise in annoyance. “Certainly. Ros can refuse his advances exactly as I did, but with the same likely result.”
Feeling a bit abashed, since he was currently embroiled in Jules’ own plot to extricate herself from the persistent Wallthorpe, he nodded. “I suppose you are correct. He has not abided by Society’s standards of conduct so far.”
“Precisely. And I am afraid if he went to my parents and addressed his suit, they would put even more pressure on her to remarry.” Jules drew a steadying breath. “But I have a plan. If I can find her a suitor—someone who will protect her in the short term, and then allow her to end the connection once it’s safe, as we have agreed to do—she, too, can fend Wallthorpe off.”
Wolf’s brows both rose. “So, you are saying you expect a man to court your sister publicly and then allow her to call off the engagement, at the end risking possible damage to his reputation?”
She turned to face him, her brows drawn together in the most adorable display of confusion. “You’re doing exactly that for me, aren’t you?”
He wanted to snarl and tell her that he had no intention of letting her go once this fake engagement was over. But he knew if he did such, she would end everything at once, putting herself at great risk again.
No, he could not show her the truth of what he wanted. Not yet.
He plastered his card face on and did his best to look unflappable, even as he seethed beneath the surface. “Of course, but I’ve known you for years and years. Does Rosalind know any men who might be willing to perform this same service?”
The crease between her brows remained as her lips curved down in disappointment. “Not that I am aware of. There is that very nice officer from her husband’s unit who has visited her once or twice, however.”
Wolf huffed. “Have you even discussed this with her?”
Jules looked wary—though that crease had finally disappeared. “No. She will just refuse my help.”
“Bloody hell! Jules, even if we could find a man willing to aid your sister, he cannot very well do so without her consent.”
Not to mention, Wolf had his doubts that some poor, unsuspecting officer would have the wherewithal to manage this particular situation. Not many untitled men would choose to work in direct opposition to a peer of the realm.
Jules glared at him. “Help me find a man first, and then we can argue about what to tell Ros.”
“And what is it you are plotting to hide from me now?”
The woman in question walked into the room, her strawberry blond hair caught up in an artful twist that accentuated her long neck. With her soft green day dress, she looked very elegant, though slightly cross at the moment.<
br />
Jules shot daggers at Wolf with her eyes, even as she turned to smile at her sister. “Nothing, dear.”
Ros looked from him to Jules, and then back to him. He knew what was coming, because between him and Jules, he’d always been the easy mark.
“Wolf, don’t let her bully you into keeping secrets from me.”
Ros looked at him with her big green eyes—so much like Jules’—and he simply caved.
The Fairchild sisters both seemed to have him in the palm of their hands—though one usually held a much more fun part of him.
“Wallthorpe has alluded that if he can’t have Jules, he will come after you next. So she’s scheming to have a man—one yet to be determined—take up with you as a suitor, until Wallthorpe can be dealt with properly.”
He could hear Jules cursing under her breath before she tried to land a preemptive strike and appease her sister. “Ros, I just wish to protect you. You shouldn’t have to contend with an unwanted suitor simply because I rejected him.”
Her sister pinched the bridge of her nose. “But really, Jules, you were not going to tell me?”
Her cheeks turning a delightful shade of magenta, Jules said, “I was, once I worked out a suitable man to protect you. Which I had hoped Wolf could help me with. I was just working my way around to asking if one of his friends might assist us in this.” She let one brow rise.
Wolf mentally sighed. Jules was quite the managing baggage when she chose to be. He’d forgotten that about her—rather inconveniently, he realized. “Well, I…” He swallowed.
Who among his set might he trust to protect Ros?
She was much too sweet for any of his friends.
“Come now, there must be one amongst your friends who might aid us?” Jules pushed.
His Scandalous Viscountess (Lustful Lords Series Book 3) Page 9
