The Redemption of Julian Price(9)

They drew up in front of the stables, where Julian dismounted and handed his horse off to the groom. “Thank you, Jules. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a ride so much,” she gushed.

He reached up to assist her. Their gazes met as his strong hands closed about her waist. Her breath hitched as the laughter faded from his eyes. “I enjoyed it as well, Hen,” he replied stiffly, setting her firmly on her feet and then stepping backward a bit farther than strictly necessary.

Why the sudden formality? Although they’d had a wonderful time together, there was something different between them now, a strange and undefinable undercurrent. It had begun after the almost kiss. It felt very much like the last day they’d spent at the lake when she was thirteen. Nothing had been the same after that, and now it appeared to have happened again.

“I wish we could do it again,” she said wistfully. If only he would change his mind about staying in Shropshire. He was the only person in the world with whom she felt free to speak her mind and be herself. There was never any pretense with Julian. How wonderful it would be to spend more time together. Perhaps then she might have had a chance . . .

“I would that we could also, Hen, but sadly, I must return to London.”

“When do you leave?” she asked.

“This afternoon. I’m already packed. I need only hitch up my team.”

“I’ll be leaving for Chelsea tomorrow on the Shrewsbury mail. Perhaps I’ll see you in town?” she asked hopefully.

“You leave tomorrow? I didn’t realize you’d planned to travel so soon. When you mentioned London, I thought you were going after the wedding. Don’t all females live to plan these things?”

“Not this female.” She laughed. “I despise it. In truth, I’m looking forward to escaping all of it.”

“If that’s the case,” he grinned, “let me be your means of escape.”

“Are you offering to drive me?” Henrietta asked.

“Why not? We’re going in the same direction. As late as it is, I may as well wait and depart tomorrow. Have you much luggage?” he asked.

“Only a single trunk,” she answered. “But I have Millie to think of.”

“Millie?”

“My maid. I can’t go alone, especially not with you, Julian.”

His brow wrinkled. “Should I take exception to that?”

“No,” she said with another laugh. “It’s nothing personal. It’s just another one of those silly rules that apply to my gender.”

“If you only have one trunk, Millie can sit behind on top of it, providing she doesn’t mind the cramped space. I daresay it’ll still be more pleasant to drive with me in the open air than in a stifling mail coach full of flatulent farmers.”

“Must you be so crude, Julian?”

“But it’s true.” He chuckled. “I’ve been in such a predicament, and it was most unpleasant.”

“What if it rains?” she asked.

“Then I suppose we’ll get wet. The offer is open to you if you are willing to take the chance. I’d enjoy the company,” he said, “and you can then spend the fare you would have paid to the mail on something more enjoyable.”

“Thank you, Julian.” She grinned back. “I think I would much prefer your company to the flatulent farmers.”

“How long will you be staying on in London?” he asked.

“I’d planned on only a fortnight, but I have a feeling my aunt is going to ask me to continue on as a companion. I think this invitation was really to test how well I would suit her.”

“Is that your grand scheme, Henrietta?” Julian asked. “To throw your whole life away as a drudge to some old dragon? Is that what you really want?”

“What are my options?” she replied. “If I remain at home, I’ll be expected to care for Mama in her dotage and help raise Harry and Penelope’s children. My life will eventually become little better than that of a servant anyway. If that is destined to be my lot, I’d rather spend a few years in London with Lady Cheswick. The sacrifice would not be without its reward. She has already promised me a generous annuity when she passes, enough that I should then be able to live as I choose.” Henrietta heaved a sigh. “You don’t know how lucky you are to have been born a man.”

“It is indeed too bad you weren’t a chap, Hen. We rub along well enough that I would have invited you to stay with me.”

“But I’m not a man, Julian,” she sighed sadly.

“No,” he replied, gaze narrowed. “You most definitely are not. Can you be ready to leave by eight?”

“Yes. I can be ready.” Nearly bursting with happiness at the thought of spending two more days with him, she flashed her brightest smile. “Thank you, Julian.”

“You might not thank me if it rains,” he warned.

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve gotten me wet.” She drew back as a strange look passed over Julian’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he muttered through his teeth. “Absolutely nothing.”

***

After seeing Henrietta to the door, Julian declined an offer of tea and made a brisk departure, wondering what fiend had taken hold of him. Why had her most innocent remark conjured such salacious thoughts? It was probably her earlier comment about experiencing all that the marriage bed had to offer. He took a moment to emphasize those two words he’d never thought to couple together in a sentence—marriage and bed.