One Night With You (The Derrings #3)(32)

Surprise flickered in his eyes, and she looked away, regretting her impulse to defend him.

"Perhaps," Julianne allowed. "But while he was off playing war I've had enough peace to last a lifetime."

"Did I not relent and bring you here today?" he asked, leaning back and throwing an arm along the back of the sofa.

"Yes, curious that." A teasing smile lifted the corners of Julianne's mouth. "You've denied nearly all my other requests at social outings. I almost suspect you wanted to see Lady Jane." Heat lit her face.

Seth stared at Jane for a long moment before murmuring, "Perhaps." Jane wrenched her gaze away. Hoping to detract from the conversation's embarrassing turn, she motioned to the tea service one of the servants had left. "Would you care for tea? A biscuit?"

"Yes, that would be lovely," Julianne replied.

Jane poured and rose to secure the cup and saucer in Julianne's hands. "I hope it's warm enough. Lord St. Claire?" Turning, she looked down at Seth. Her breath caught to find him evaluating her person. His gaze traveled over her with a thoroughness that heated her face even more.

"Lord St. Claire?" she asked, her voice sharp.

His gaze snapped to hers.

"Tea?"

"Yes. Thank you," he murmured, accepting the cup. His eyes glowed with a mocking light. The wretch. Surely he would not leer at her if his sister could see him. She sat down hard on her seat, feeling unreasonably angry. Had he forgotten his midnight lover so quickly that he could leer at another lady? Clearly he did not pine for his Aurora. Likely their one time was already forgotten.

He lifted his cup in salute, his expression taunting as she lowered herself back into her chair. In that moment, she wished she could tell him the truth—that she was Aurora. If for no other reason than to wipe that smug look off his face.

He thought he knew her so well. Thought her just another Spencer, cut from the same cloth as her sister. A lady to mock, to scorn. Simply someone Julianne persisted in calling upon, someone who inconvenienced his life with her unwelcome friendship with his sister. Would that she could reveal to him she was more than that. A woman who defied convention to seek her own pleasure. Pleasure in the form of him.

Seth felt an odd sense of satisfaction as he watched his hostess sit so indignantly in her chair, the color riding high on her cheeks.

For weeks, he had suffered Julianne's pouts and sighs. Her attachment to Lady Jane ran deep. Damnable bonds of youth. Seth had tried to explain that Jane was a lady of the ton now, too busy to concern herself with lapsed friendships.

He had thought she genuinely cared for his sister. She had promised to call, and he had believed her. Believed that she wouldn't hurt his sister. But she had failed. Failed to keep her promise, convincing him that he should never have dropped his guard with her, never considered that she might be different from her family. Better.

Still, he had caved to his sister's demands and permitted her to call on Jane. More than that, he had accompanied her on her call. For the life of him, he could not fathom why.

"So what has kept you so occupied you could not accept a single one of my sister's invitations?" he inquired, his voice surly even to his own ears.

"Seth," Julianne reprimanded.

"It's quite all right," Jane assured Julianne. Such assurance only further rankled him. Crossing his arms, he glared at her. It was not her place to soothe his sister. She had shown how little she cared for Julianne by ignoring her these last weeks.

Jane suffered his glare, her expression cool as frost. She paused to moisten her lips, saying, "I should have made the time. My apologies, Julianne."

Seth studied her in silence, noticing that her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. The only hint of emotion in her haughty reserve.

Several times over the years, he had stared off the ship's deck at a quiet sea, reflecting over the hoyden that had chased him about the countryside, curious over what had become of her. Now he saw that she had become all that was proper and correct. A boring bit of starch in her widow's weeds. Disappointing.

And yet he devoured the sight of those lips, the full mouth that promised passion even as the rest of her hid behind ladylike diffidence. It was only that which reminded him of the girl he once knew. The girl, he admitted, had grown into a woman he would like to thaw with the heat of his mouth and hands… to strip of her mourning rags and spread naked on his bed. The unwanted thoughts brought an uncomfortable tightness to his breeches. He reached for a biscuit, intent on distraction. Chewing, he forced himself to think about his hunt for a bride. About chits like Fiona Manchester. Prospective wives that would do nothing to ignite his ardor. The sort of ladies whose drawing rooms he ought to be occupying.

At that moment, Billings strode into the room, his skinny legs swaggering like a rooster's.

"Rutledge," Billings exclaimed, tugging the ends of his plum vest over his bulging middle in a self-important air.

They stared at each another for a heavy moment, no doubt recalling their last encounter.

"Billings," he returned, inclining his head, recalling the bastard's attempt to claim Aurora.

"This is unexpected. What are you doing here?"

Jane rose. "Lord St. Claire and Lady Julianne were kind enough to call upon me. If you recall, we grew up together."

"Ah," he murmured, his gaze flicking over Julianne before returning to Seth. Awkward silence fell.