Chapter Twenty-One

Gregory hated to lose at billiards, but his wife had rather consumed the better part of his thinking. Percy and Huntington noted his wandering mind at their club, happy to take a small fortune off of him in winnings, but Gregory hadn’t any time for them. He hadn’t been worried when Julia went off to that accursed tea—if anything, he’d found it perversely amusing. He’d much to be guilty of in his life, but the Carter Club was not, he believed, one of those things. A man and woman choosing to engage in pleasure was hardly a crime.

But he found he couldn’t stand the idea of losing the respect he saw in Julia’s eyes. Somehow, this woman still enjoyed his company as much as she did his talents in the bedroom.

He could not wait for this cursed Season to finally be at an end. He wanted to be alone with Julia. He could abscond with his bride to anywhere they chose on the Continent, or maybe even farther. He’d never seen India, and had always meant to go. Perhaps into the steppes of bloody Mongolia, where no one spoke a word of English. Yes. Then no one could interrupt Gregory’s preoccupation with his new wife.

Though getting good service might be a chore…

“Ashworth. Where the hell is your head?” Percy asked.

“Mmm. Delightful,” Gregory muttered, not listening to a word his friend spoke.

When he returned home, Peele informed him that Julia was in the library. Gregory went to her, wicked thoughts circling through his mind. She always chose the library when she was feeling especially amorous and creative. Perhaps he might test her Italian, have her recite perfect sections from Dante while bending her across the desk.

His duchess was standing against the far wall, the afternoon sun highlighting her against the window. Gregory felt himself stir at the mere sight of her. Julia was a vision in an afternoon dress of rose silk; he knew she’d look even more beautiful without the garment.

“Did the lionesses behave themselves?” he asked.

Julia startled and slammed her book shut. Odd behavior, especially when she gave him a nervous glance. Now Gregory’s nascent fears began to take real form. She must have been shocked and disgusted by what she’d learned at that damned tea.

“Julia?”

“They were delightful. Truly. Though Lady Weatherford may never recover after seeing Mrs. Woodhouse’s, er, art gallery.”

“Indeed. I haven’t seen any of the portraits myself, but I hear they’re an excellent likeness.” Damn everything, the tea must have truly unsettled her. “Come here.”

He rarely gave orders, and Julia rarely capitulated without another word. She crossed the space and obediently wrapped herself in his arms. Gregory delighted in the faint floral scent of her perfume, and the way her lips trembled against his. There was still overwhelming passion in her kiss. That, at least, hadn’t been harmed.

“Gregory, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” He sounded collected, but he felt the true creep of dread shiver along his spine. Would she tell him that her discoveries at the blasted Carter Club had killed her admiration for him? Even if Julia gave her body to him willingly, the potential loss of her mind and soul pierced him like a dagger.

“I learned Mrs. Woodhouse’s maiden name.”

Gregory blinked; this was not the torrid secret he’d anticipated.

“Excellent work. With such a talent for extracting information, you really must become a Bow Street runner.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, the playful expression that quickened his blood and gladdened his heart. Perhaps this hesitancy had nothing to do with him after all.

“It’s Campbell. I discovered she’s Lucas Campbell’s cousin. And…” Julia sighed. “Though I didn’t see the man, she told me that he’s staying with her in town for the Season.”

“Ah.”

The most baffling mixture of emotions crowded him in an instant. First, he wanted to find this Lucas Campbell and beat the man bloody for the pain he’d caused Julia. Second, he felt a stab of almost bitter jealousy.

Julia was quivering in his arms at mere mention of the bastard’s name. Lucas Campbell still held a powerful fascination for his wife all these years later. Even if Julia hated the man, the fact remained that the mere promise of potentially seeing him again had unmoored her.

Women didn’t experience such emotional devastation if feelings didn’t remain in even their smallest form.

“Is that all you can say? Ah?” Julia frowned.

Oh, was she growing indignant now?

“Would you like me to call the man out? Fight a duel on your behalf over ten years after he betrayed your trust?” Gregory felt Julia leave his arms, but he couldn’t stop the horrific spin of his thoughts. “Or are you afraid we’ll see him before the end of the Season?”

“Obviously the latter!”

“Why? Are you afraid he’ll slip a bag over your head and make away with you as his helpless captive?”

“As if a bag would render me helpless.” She sounded so insulted by the idea that Gregory laughed. Immediately, all the tension fled his body. God, what was he on about? Julia was not the type of woman to sit and simper for a man who’d rejected her, especially after all these years. If anything, Gregory would have to intervene and protect bloody Lucas Campbell from the Duchess of Ashworth’s molten wrath.

Julia’s eyes still blazed with fury and fire, even as a smile tugged at her lips. Those very delectable, very kissable lips.

“Your Grace, jealousy does not become you,” she said.

“Hard to believe. Nearly everything does.”

“I don’t find vanity an especially attractive quality.” Yet Julia did not resist when he embraced and kissed her. In fact, she was the one who specifically bid him lock the door and take her on the desk.

He was the one who insisted on reciting Dante.

…

Julia knew that much of polite society regarded the Vauxhall pleasure gardens as second-tier amusement. The gardens were open to the public, after all, and therefore a rather vulgar form of entertainment, but she’d missed them in the ten years she’d been absent from London. Gregory should have preferred to spend the evening at the Carnahan ball or the opera, but upon her insistence he’d been unable to refuse her the trip.

“The way they’ve strung the lanterns,” Julia marveled, strolling along the graveled path with her arm through her husband’s. “Look! Some are designed to suggest the constellations.”

“Why do I have the sinking suspicion you know the lot of them?” her husband mused.

“I believe that is Ursa Major.” Julia delighted in showing off her knowledge, because she knew how it pleased Gregory. He might pretend to the contrary, but the man found her mind an aphrodisiac. It was one of his most intoxicating qualities, the way he appreciated her wit. “The greater she-bear.”

“Hmm. I’m assuming there’s a greatest as well. I’ve only interest in the truly spectacular, my dear, as you well know.”

Oh, she had an inkling. This afternoon, they hadn’t left the library until it was almost nightfall and he’d performed at what he considered his highest ability. Julia had been happy to work toward that pinnacle.

“I say. This is a pleasant sight.” The Duke of Huntington approached them from out of the crowds, bowing slightly to Julia. “You seem far more present than you did this afternoon, Ashworth. Has your mind finally stopped its wandering?”

“A mind as formidably quick as mine needs space to ramble,” Gregory drawled.

“Or perhaps thought of Her Grace was a distraction. As it should be.”

Julia shook her head. Huntington was a charming rascal indeed. Her thoughts flitted back to Miss Winslow, and the way she’d blushed and stammered at the man’s appearance.

“You took enough of my money this afternoon, you bastard. Buy me a drink to make amends,” Gregory said.

The men laughed and wanted to head for the refreshments, but Julia wasn’t done studying the beautiful orbs of colored glass that lit the night. She bade the gentlemen leave her for a moment to secure their ale; after all, she was a capable woman surrounded by good society. She could well manage herself. As Ashworth and Huntington went in search of a drink, Julia wandered along the pathway, admiring the shimmering lanterns as they swayed in the breeze. She quickly noticed a copy of the constellation of Orion and paused to inspect it.

“Your Grace! What a pleasant surprise.”

Julia looked up in shock at Elizabeth Woodhouse’s voice. The other woman approached her, beaming upon the arm of a man.

A man Julia knew quite well.

Run away. It was the first panicked thought that went through her head as Lucas Campbell approached her. She wanted to flee, partly out of shock, partly from shame, and more than partly because she felt she’d break the man’s nose if she didn’t leave. Catching sight of him again forced Julia to relieve the agony of waiting in the rain on that long-ago night. Honestly, she was now so angry she could kill the fellow.

But his cousin was here, and Elizabeth could not be allowed to know the full extent of Julia’s past.

“Hello, Mrs. Woodhouse.” She accepted the lady’s curtsy, all while her heartbeat quickened. Julia glanced around the crowds. Where the devil was Gregory?

“I told my cousin, Lucas, of our club gathering this afternoon. When I mentioned your connection, he was most adamant about seeing you again! Though we’d no idea you’d be here tonight. What serendipity!”

“Indeed.” Campbell’s voice was as deep and smooth as it had ever been, and he sketched Julia a bow that would have been thoroughly charming had it not come from him. “Somehow, Her Grace remains completely unchanged after all this time.”

“I could not say the same for you, Mr. Campbell.” Julia struggled to keep her tone friendly, but the more she looked upon the man she’d once loved—or believed she’d loved—the greater the urge to strike him became. Julia recognized the younger man she’d adored at once. Campbell had been and still was an attractive man, over six feet tall with a strong build, blond hair, and classically handsome features. But now, the smile she had once thought sensuous resembled a smirk. His eyes, which she’d once compared to the blue of a summer sky, appeared flat and empty as a snake’s.

Quickly, Julia judged every bit of him against every bit of Ashworth, and in every possible way Lucas Campbell came up wanting.

“Indeed? Have I changed so much?” Campbell seemed puzzled, and Julia needed to remain polite.

“I only meant that it’s been so long since we saw one another. Memory plays tricks on us all.”

“Oh, I see my husband wants me. I shall leave you two a moment!” Elizabeth bustled away with a cheerful air. Julia wondered if the woman had meant for this to be an awkward meeting, but she seemed too unconcerned for that. She was a well-intentioned lady, if remarkably unperceptive.

Right now, Julia wished for Gregory. The last thing she wanted was a stroll through the gardens with Campbell.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Julia.” He looked at her as though it’d been mere days since they parted, rather than a decade. Julia realized that he still felt entitled to her attention and to informality.

“If you don’t mind, I’m married now. Your Grace is the better form of address.” Julia made certain to keep her tone frosty.

Campbell smirked, unbothered by her animosity. “I never knew you to be such a snob.”

If it hadn’t been so public here, Julia might have struck him in the shin. Or perhaps in a higher, more sensitive point on his body.

“Snobbery and propriety are hardly the same thing.” Damn it, her temper was already beginning to show itself. “Are you acquainted with my husband?”

“No, I haven’t been to London these past ten years. I’ve been up in Edinburgh.”

“Have you married?”

“Why do you ask?”

She didn’t care, truly. In fact, Julia found she couldn’t care less, which was a delight.

“It’s a polite question.”

“I never knew you to be this cold before, Ju—Your Grace.”

Julia didn’t want the whole ton to bear witness to the increasingly heated argument, so she ambled toward a hedgerow trimmed in multiple sharp, geometric shapes. Farther away from prying eyes, she spoke low.

“You’ve either forgotten what happened ten years ago, or you don’t care about the events. If the former, perhaps you need to see a physician and have your head examined. If the latter, you ought to be horsewhipped through Regent’s Park.”

“There is a third option,” Campbell said quietly. He loomed above her, drew nearer than she wanted him. “I didn’t broach the subject because I wanted to shield you from embarrassment in front of my cousin.”

“How thoughtful. And with that, Mr. Campbell, I need to find and rejoin my husband.”

Julia turned to go, but he shifted his body so that he blocked her way with ease. It was a movement done with subtle grace, so that it would not attract the attention of passersby.

“Wouldn’t you like me to explain what happened?” he whispered.

“If there was a choice between hearing your explanation and flinging myself into the Thames, I’d happily go for a swim.”

But he wasn’t budging, and Julia didn’t want to attract attention with a squabble. She couldn’t risk open gossip.

“Not a day has gone by that you’ve been far from my thoughts, Julia.” He sounded as he had so long ago, full of promise and softness. His hand reached to touch her, but he pulled back when she flinched. “I rode to Kent prepared to lift you upon the saddle in front of me and travel to Scotland all night if that’s what it took.”

“And what? You lost your way in the dark? You experienced a convenient round of amnesia? You were abducted by the faeries?”

“I stopped at an inn not three miles from Pennington Hall to rest my horse and discovered I hadn’t even enough money for a pint of ale. That was when I realized I had to protect you.”

“From what? A trip to Scotland without ale?”

“A life without money. I’d no inheritance, and no real prospects. If I had taken you away then and married you, I’d have consigned you to a life of poverty.” He looked pleadingly at her, his every expression and gesture filled with remorse. “I couldn’t face you to tell you; I knew if I rode up and found you then, I wouldn’t be strong enough to send you home. I’d have married you anyway and hated myself for it forever. So I left and made my way north to find a career. I wanted to be able to support you before I sent for you.”

It sounded tragically romantic, a man sacrificing his own happiness for the sake of the one he loved. Like something out of a mediocre novel.

“And you would have sent for me?” she asked. “Then why did you never write to tell me all of this?”

“It wouldn’t have been proper. And, I confess, I feared you hating me. In fact, I came to London this Season with the express hope that I’d find you. I prayed that you hadn’t married, and that we might finally be together. My darling, I’ve dreamed of you nightly for ten long years. How could fate be so cruel as to now keep us apart like this?”

He spoke those honeyed words with real pathos and reached for her hand again.

“You came to town to find me, did you?” Julia asked.

“Please. Is there some private place we can go? A time we can meet? I’ve so much to say to you.” The charming young man she’d known ten years ago had returned.

But Julia didn’t give him her hand. She was thinking.

“You came to find me, yet you’re still staying with your cousin for the Season.” She took a step away from him.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Campbell frowned.

“Surely a man with enough money to support a wife could find fashionable bachelor lodgings for himself. What is your profession, anyway?”

“I’ve studied to go into the law.” His tone was much more even now, and all the ardor in his gaze had dimmed.

“Studied, but you’re not practicing. Are you?” All the pieces of this insipid puzzle came together for her, and Julia forced herself not to laugh. “You never spoke a word about money when we first met. You told me of all the wonderful places on the Continent we’d go when we married.” She saw it fully. “Because you thought I’d a large enough inheritance to support you in the manner you wished to live.”

“That’s not true.” But his eyes told a different story.

“Of course. One of Lady Beaumont’s daughters is a real heiress; it’s been ton gossip since my dear father was laid to rest. But you didn’t realize it was my stepsister’s fortune, not mine, until after we agreed to wed. Isn’t that right, Mr. Campbell? And now that I’m a married woman of great fortune, you’d like nothing better than to grow close again and take whatever crumbs you can charm from me. Perhaps you fancied a risqué arrangement between us.”

“Your husband is the Duke of Ashworth, after all. Fidelity is hardly a virtue to him.”

“Interesting. I thought you knew nothing of my husband.”

Julia felt as if she’d been let out of a cage in which she’d been sitting for ten long years. Every instant she spent with Campbell made him appear smaller and lesser in her eyes. How could a man like this, who broke promises and used people, compare to the man she’d thought he was? Or to the man she’d married.

Like a thunderclap, the realization struck Julia down to her marrow. She could shake off her infatuation with Lucas Campbell so easily because now she’d known real love.

She loved her husband. She loved him passionately. Julia could have laughed with the knowledge, giddy as a child. What was she still doing with this nothing of a man in front of her, when she could be with Gregory?

“Julia. Listen to me,” Campbell pleaded. But she saw the hollow man that he was now, and she walked away from him with confidence. Let society talk if they noticed her abrupt departure; what did their gossip matter? Julia knew what was true, and what she had.

There he was, directly in her path. She nearly crashed into her husband, who stood before her as tall and imposing as ever.

“Gregory!”

But Julia’s bliss soon evaporated in the face of the duke’s cold, neutral expression.

“Huntington told me the identity of your conversational partner.” He squared his jaw. “Lucas Campbell, hmm? How extraordinary to run into him here, of all places.”