Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)(38)

Another, more prudent lady would be grateful he’d showed restraint. It was a true compliment, that Julian liked and respected her too much to seduce her. That he’d been attracted to her all this time, but he valued their friendship too much to act on that desire. He didn’t want Lily to be just another garter decorating the club’s billiard room. She understood. It was decent of him. She’d always known him to be a decent man, at heart. It was only … she’d just had her first taste of his indecent side.

And she’d liked it, a great deal.

Finally, she opened her eyes. Only to find him wearing a sheepish grin.

“Lily, I only meant to say … I’m sorry, but there’s a damned parrot on my shoulder.”

She jerked her gaze to the right. There, from its perch on Julian’s impeccably tailored sleeve, the bird in question swiveled its head and stretched its beak in a squawk.

Lily put a hand over her mouth, laughing into it until tears streaked her face. Tears of relief, more than amusement. “Dratted bird,” she finally managed. “What a nuisance you are.”

“Shall I take him away?”

“No, no. Just one more way he reminds me of you.”

“Brilliant.” With a gentle touch and soothing words, he coaxed the bird from his arm to his outstretched finger. He returned the parrot to its cage and latched the door.

When he came back to Lily, Julian’s expression was serious. “All joking aside, Lily. You know nothing can happen between us.”

“Something’s already happened between us.”

He sighed. “Nothing more.”

“Julian, please. I asked for one kiss. We shared one kiss. If it can never go further than that, I understand. All I’m asking is … don’t dismiss what happened. Don’t wish it away.” She reached for his hand. “And don’t leave. Or if you must go, take me with you. I don’t want to be alone. I’ve been spending far too much time alone. We could go somewhere, anywhere … What about the theater?”

His surprise was evident. “The theater?”

“Yes.” The idea took form as she spoke. “Yes, I want to go to the theater. I read in the paper they’re doing something of Molière’s at Drury Lane. I should like to see it. I haven’t been to the theater in years.”

“Then why do you want to go now?”

“I just do. And you must take me. We made a bargain, Julian. You promised me three nights.”

“I promised three social events.”

“The theater is a social event,” she countered. “One I thought you typically enjoy.”

To be truthful, the theater had never held a great deal of fascination for Lily, and even less after she’d lost her hearing. But she just knew she couldn’t sit at home alone tonight, wondering where Julian was and whether he was safe … and now, when she slept, dreaming of his kiss. Since she didn’t suppose she could conjure up a second last-minute dinner party in two days, the theater it must be.

At length, he said, “Leo always had a box at Drury Lane. Unless you’ve loaned it out, I suppose it’s been sitting empty.”

“Oh, dear.” Her stomach knotted. “No. I can’t go sit in Leo’s box. It’s just not right. Everyone will be staring and whispering about him, about me. I can’t abide the thought of it.”

“Shall I find another box?”

“No, no. Everyone will still be staring. And they’ll still be whispering. About Leo, about me, about why I’m not in Leo’s box.” She blew out her breath. This hadn’t been such a brilliant idea after all. “Besides, I can’t follow anything from his box. It’s at an odd angle, and much too far above the stage. That’s the reason I stopped attending years ago. I wish I could just go and sit on benches in the pit, the way the common people do.”

“Lily, you’re the daughter of a marquess. You are not common people.”

“Sometimes I wish I were.”

He turned a meaningful glance around the room. Marking the expensive pianoforte, the silver-framed portraits on the wall, the gilt chandelier overhead. “No, you don’t.”

Her cheeks heated as she absorbed his gentle rebuke. Though he pointedly never discussed his past, she suspected that Julian had not always lived so affluently as he did now. She, by contrast, had always enjoyed a life of wealth and privilege. From an early age, she and Leo had been taught to be mindful of their advantages. She could hear Mother’s litany in her ears: Be grateful to God, humble before friends, charitable to those less fortunate.

“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling churlish and small. Her eyes stung with frustration. “I didn’t mean to sound petulant.”

He caught her chin and tilted her face to his. “You didn’t. Just disappointed.” His gaze searched hers. “This is really that important to you? A night at the theater?”

She nodded. It was that important to her, for reasons she didn’t quite comprehend. “If you’ll take me.”

“I’m going to leave.” Releasing her chin, he warded off her protest with an open palm. “But I will come back for you at seven. Be ready. Do something simple with your hair, and wear your plainest gown.”

“That’s not how I would dress for the theater.”