The Runaway Viscount, page 10
Lord Pritchard strolled into the billiards room. “The whist tournament is starting shortly, if you’re interested.” He moved toward the sideboard, and Lucas and Roth stepped aside. “Had to come in here for the brandy, which I see you’re drinking. It’s the best in the house.” He poured what was left in the bottle into a fresh glass. “I do hope there’s more of it. Cheers!” He raised his glass and took a drink before striding from the room.
“I suppose I’ll play whist,” Roth said.
“You don’t sound enthusiastic,” Lucas observed.
“We’re leaving day after tomorrow, so if I’m to determine if Mrs. Dunthorpe would be an acceptable countess, I must get on with it.” He finished the rest of his brandy and set the empty glass on the sideboard.
“Acceptable… That sounds rather dull. After your last marriage, I truly hope you can find a thrilling, passionate countess. Doesn’t that sound more appealing?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re too romantically minded?”
“This from a gentleman who was gravely disappointed by the emotional frigidity of his wife. I’d say it takes a romantically minded chap to recognize another one.” Lucas chuckled.
Roth shook his head. “You coming?”
“I’ll go with you and see if I want to play.”
“You mean, you’ll look for Mrs. Sheldon, and if she isn’t there, you’ll decline.” Roth snorted. “You’re incredibly transparent.”
Lucas gave him a sardonic stare. “Apparently, I must bare my soul to her.”
“You’ll thank me.”
“Unless she runs away horrified.”
Roth laughed. “If that happens, there’s something you’re not telling me.”
They left the billiards room, and upon arriving for the whist tournament, Lucas saw that Juliana was not present. She was likely in her room or the library.
“Just be forthright about your expectations.” Roth clapped Lucas’s shoulder before heading into the drawing room.
Lucas turned and went to the library. At first glance, she didn’t seem to be there either. Disappointment curled through him, but he knew it would be short-lived. He’d find her. He started to turn.
“Lucas?”
Whipping back around, he scanned the library once more. Juliana poked her head from one of the alcoves along the right side of the room.
Lucas made his way to her, his disappointment forgotten. “I didn’t see you there.”
The alcove, between two bookcases, contained a cushioned bench on which Julian was curled with a book.
“It’s almost private,” she said with a slight smile. “Almost.”
“Everyone is playing whist. I daresay we’ll have all the privacy we want.”
She closed the book she was reading on her forefinger. “Are you suggesting something scandalous?” She looked so regal with her gorgeous hair styled atop her head, a pearl comb nestled in the dark curls. The ivory-and-peach gown draping her looked like a delicious confection.
Lucas licked his lips as his body roared into full arousal. “I can’t seem to be in your presence without wanting you most fiercely. And when I am not in your presence, I am plotting how to rectify that.”
“Is your desire all that motivates you?” she asked, turning toward him and sliding her feet to the floor.
“Not entirely, no. My desire for you is not confined to the physical. I am eager to just be with you.” He sat down beside her. “If you’re concerned that I am only drawn to you because of our attraction, you must know it’s more than that.” He’d only just begun to realize how much more.
“I am not concerned, actually. I shouldn’t have asked,” she said rather breezily. “We are conducting an affair, so it is both right and expected that we are driven by our physical desire.”
He angled himself toward her on the bench and had to slide his hand under his thigh to keep from touching her. “I feel I must be honest and tell you that I am moved by far more than the physical when it comes to you. When I think of this party ending the day after tomorrow, I am nearly despondent.”
“This from the Runaway Viscount who had no compunction about abandoning me.”
He heard the humor in her voice but wondered if she still harbored any hurt. Perhaps she always would. He gave up trying not to touch her and took her free hand in his. “I regret that more than anything I’ve ever done. And I don’t want to repeat that mistake. I’d rather not ‘run away’ at all. I’ve begun to think we could have more than a temporary liaison.”
She stiffened, her hand freezing in his. Then she withdrew it. “I’ve told you—I am content as I am. You need to find a wife, and that won’t be me.”
“But I want it to be you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I believe we could be very happy together.”
She gave him a tremulous smile and cupped his cheek. “You will find the right woman, and she will be very lucky.”
“Why won’t you consider a future with me?”
“I’ve told you that I can’t have children. That should be enough to convince you. I’ve also explained that I like my life as it is. Furthermore, your wife should be someone from the aristocracy, shouldn’t she?”
His suspicion that she did not reciprocate his feelings seemed accurate. Damn, he hadn’t expected how sharply that would hurt. “Do you feel nothing for me, then? Beyond the physical.”
“I do care for you, but I will not be your wife.”
“Not even if I declare my love for you?”
Her jaw seemed to clench. “Not even then. I hope you will respect my decision.”
“Of course. But I am still disappointed.” He reached for her, intending to cup her chin, but dropped his hand back to his lap. “If it matters, I don’t care that you aren’t from an aristocratic family, nor am I bothered by whether you can have children or not.”
He was surprised to find this was true. After Alicia had been born, he’d wanted so desperately to keep her. Could he really accept a life without children? He looked at Juliana and knew he could. Love was what he wanted, what he’d been running away from.
Surprise flashed in her gaze. “You aren’t?”
“I know we can be happy.” And at some point—if she agreed to marry him—he’d tell her about his daughter. He’d never shared her existence with anyone.
Her features tightened. “I wish I shared your optimism.”
Without it, they couldn’t make a future together. He stood. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. Forgive me. My parents had a love match, as did my brother, and you’ve made me certain I want that too. I thought, I’d hoped, you and I might make that match. Good afternoon.” He inclined his head and left the library.
Instead of retreating to his room or some other uninhabited place in the house, he strode toward the drawing room. If he appeared at the whist tournament without Juliana, the others would note his presence and her absence. They’d speculate as to whether their affair was over, which it was.
Pain cut through him, but he rose above it. He wouldn’t wallow, at least not here. There would be plenty of time to lick his wounds after the party at Roth’s hunting lodge.
Chapter 8
Juliana didn’t seek out Lady Cosford to request that she and Lucas not be seated next to each other at dinner. She hadn’t wanted to draw attention to their separation. Or perhaps she’d just wanted to be near him at least one more time.
That had been a mistake.
The dinner had passed slowly and painfully as they worked to avoid speaking to one another. She didn’t think he’d even looked in her direction for more than a fleeting moment. At the end, she couldn’t leave the dining room quickly enough.
However, before she could escape to the library or her bedchamber, Lady Cosford swooped in and pulled her aside on the way to the drawing room. The conversation had been short.
Lady Cosford looked at her in distress. “What’s happened between you and Audlington?”
Juliana wasn’t about to share details. “Nothing.”
Frowning, Lady Cosford had persisted. “It is clear that things between you have dramatically cooled—and quickly too. I’m sorry to see it.”
“Don’t be.” Juliana gave her a bright smile. “I think you’re aware that the viscount is seeking a wife. I am not, however, in the market for a husband. We simply do not suit.”
“Oh.” Lady Cosford looked crestfallen, as if she had some sort of personal investment in Juliana and Lucas’s relationship.
“Don’t be sad,” Juliana said. “I’m not. Come, let’s go to the drawing room.”
She hadn’t really wanted to go, but she felt she had to demonstrate that she was still in high spirits. If Lady Cosford had noticed their behavior at dinner, everyone else would have too.
That meant suffering the ladies’ curiosity. Juliana drank her first glass of sherry very quickly and immediately asked the footman for a refill. She purposely sat in a chair on the periphery of the room.
Lady Bradford, a dowager countess in her early thirties with three daughters, took the nearest chair and sipped her sherry. “Hard to believe the party is nearly over,” she said conversationally.
“Mmm.” Juliana sipped her second glass more slowly. She realized it would be better if she could direct the conversation. “Have you enjoyed yourself?”
The dowager nodded. “More than I anticipated actually. You?”
“The same, I think. This is not my typical entertainment. I feel slightly out of my element with all of you.”
“You mustn’t. Here, we are all friends of the Cosfords, and they are such a delightful couple. They would only associate with the loveliest people, ergo, we are all worthy and wonderful.”
Juliana laughed softly. “What a positive outlook.”
“I try. I’m sorry that it looks as though you and Lord Audlington have fallen out.”
Tensing, Juliana tried to appear nonchalant. “Does it?”
Lady Bradford waved her free hand. “I don’t mean to be intrusive. Forgive me.”
The dowager was probably around the same age as Lucas. And she was clearly able to produce children. That they were all girls so far didn’t mean she couldn’t give him an heir. “The viscount is a thoroughly charming gentleman,” Juliana said. “He’s in the market for a wife, if that interests you.”
“It didn’t interest you, I take it?”
Juliana shook her head with a slight smile. “I’m comfortably settled.”
“And no desire to be a mother?” Lady Bradford took a drink of her sherry. “It’s difficult, I confess, but then I have three girls who are very close in age and tend to band together against me. They seem to think they are bordering on adulthood, but they most certainly are not,” she added wryly. “All that is to say, I understand not wanting to bother with children.” Faint color stained her round cheeks. “Goodness, that makes me sound a bit cold. I adore my girls. Truly.”
An uncomfortable ache spread in Juliana’s gut. She hadn’t thought she missed being a mother—it just wasn’t something she’d contemplated too deeply after failing to conceive. Why torture oneself with what couldn’t be?
She realized she was trying to adopt the same attitude regarding Lucas. Why torture herself with feeling emotion for him when there was no future for them?
Not wanting to endure the torment didn’t mean the emotion wasn’t there. It was there, lurking in the shadows. Just as it had been nearly two years ago when they’d met. She’d tried to shrug away the hurt of him leaving or at least to bury it deeply.
She was afraid to acknowledge her true feelings, let alone embrace them. Perhaps she was the Runaway Widow.
Forcing a weak smile, she said, “Your daughters are lucky to have you. Please excuse me.”
Juliana left the drawing room without a backward glance. Thoughts jumbled in her mind, and her throat felt thick. She didn’t even stop at the library. Instead, she went up to her bedchamber.
There, she finished the rest of her sherry and set the empty glass on the desk. Perhaps she could ring for a bottle. That would surely keep the emotions at bay.
He wanted to marry her!
She’d come to this party seeking a liaison, never expecting she’d encounter the man who’d broken her heart nearly two years earlier. Broken her heart? What nonsense was that?
Or was it?
Even if she hadn’t fallen in love with him at the Pack Horse, and she wasn’t sure she had, she’d felt something. She’d been smitten with how he’d treated the Garretts—giving them his room and likely paying for it, allowing himself to be a snowball target for their children. His subsequent abandonment hadn’t fit the man she’d briefly come to know.
She’d brushed it away as if it hadn’t hurt, as if it couldn’t hurt her. Hadn’t she been doing that since her marriage to Vincent had failed to live up to her expectations? What would happen if she surrendered to how she really felt about Lucas? Was she ready to admit she’d fallen in love?
None of that mattered. She had no reason to believe a marriage to him wouldn’t end up like her disappointing marriage to Vincent. Furthermore, she couldn’t give Lucas an heir, and he would certainly grow to resent that.
Oh, it’s far easier and less painful to convince yourself of these things instead of facing the truth, isn’t it?
A dark sob startled her. She realized the sound had come from her own mouth. She clapped her shaking hand over her lips.
At some point, she’d decided it was better not to hope for anything, whether it was love or happiness or motherhood, because then she couldn’t be hurt or disappointed. And no, she had no guarantee that any risk would pay off—her marriage was evidence of that.
Instead of ringing for sherry, Juliana went to sit by the fire. It didn’t warm her, nor did she expect it to. A cold emptiness had settled into her bones, and she doubted it would dissipate.
The maid who’d been assigned to Juliana came into the chamber. “Oh! I didn’t realize you were here. I was going to prepare the bed. Do you require assistance?”
Juliana supposed the young woman could help her disrobe. “If you don’t mind.” She rose from the chair, her limbs wooden as she made her way toward her dressing area.
The maid was quiet while she divested Juliana of her evening gown and underclothes. While Juliana donned her nightclothes, the maid went to turn down the bed. Then she stoked the fire.
Feeling rather ineffectual and generally pathetic, Juliana frowned. This was not like her. She’d never wallowed. Not when she’d realized her marriage was a failure, and certainly not when Vincent had died.
She’d also never let herself truly feel. Perhaps it was time she finally allowed that.
“Fine,” she grumbled as if she were capitulating to an invisible force.
“What’s that, ma’am?” the maid asked, turning from the fireplace.
“Nothing.” Juliana gave her a vague smile. “Thank you for your assistance.”
After the maid left, Juliana went to the fire and held out her hands. She could warm the chill inside her, and she would. Mayhap she would even seek help. There was one person who knew precisely how to heat every part of her.
She looked to the clock on the mantel. It was probably too early for Lucas to return to his room, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t go and wait for him.
Emboldened to embrace her emotions, she turned and stalked to the door. She froze just before she opened it. Was this what she truly wanted? To come into the light and admit what she felt for Lucas?
If she waited, the party would be over, and they would go their separate ways again. Except hadn’t he said he’d been thinking of going to Skipton to see her? Perhaps he’d pursue her.
No. She’d been clear in her rejection of him. She couldn’t expect he would seek another refusal.
This was her move to make.
Juliana slowly opened the door and looked to make sure no one was around. Moving quickly, she made her way to Lucas’s chamber. She pushed open the door without knocking and stepped inside.
His chamber was larger than hers and included a separate dressing room. She supposed that was because he was a viscount.
“Good evening, my lord.” The masculine voice came from the dressing room doorway just as the valet passed through it. His dark eyes widened upon seeing Juliana. “You are not his lordship.”
“No. Are you expecting him?”
“He sent word that he wished to retire early.” The man, a few years younger than Juliana, frowned. “I thought you were him arriving.”
She smiled warmly. “I’ll just wait for him.” She’d almost added, “if you don’t mind,” but didn’t want a reason to leave. She was staying until she’d said what she needed to.
Before she could move to the seating area near the fireplace, the door opened behind her. She turned to see Lucas staring at her in surprise. “Juliana.”
“I hope you don’t mind that I came to speak with you. I was just telling your valet that I planned to wait.”
Lucas continued to stare at her, murmuring, “I see.” At length, he looked toward his valet. “Thank you, Welton. I can manage.”
The valet inclined his head, then went back into the dressing chamber.
“He’s staying?” Juliana asked, thinking she didn’t want to bare her soul in front of the stranger.
“There’s a door that leads to the servants’ stairs,” Lucas said. Moving past her, he went to peer into the dressing chamber. “He’s gone.” Turning to face her, he frowned. “Why are you here? I can’t imagine what else we have to say.”
Had he really given up so easily?
Wasn’t that what she’d wanted him to do?
Taking a deep breath, she walked slowly toward him. “I came to tell you that I was…” She hesitated. “No, I am afraid.”
His brow furrowed. “Of what?”
She stopped in front of him where he stood in the doorway to the dressing chamber. “That marrying you will end up being like when I married Vincent. That you’ll resent the fact that I can’t give you an heir. That loving you and inevitably losing you will hurt unbearably.” Her heart pounded as though she’d run up three flights of stairs.
