One Night With You (The Derrings #3)(66)

Knightly ran the backs of his fingers over Julianne's flushed cheek, murmuring soft unintelligible words to calm her. Julianne turned into his touch like a flower seeking the sun. Seth watched, disgusted that the bastard had the power to soothe her. Gritting his teeth against the sight of their familiarity, he pretended her words did not affect him, pretended she had not hit a nerve.

Knightly pressed a kiss to Julianne's forehead, the gesture somehow final. "I must go now." Julianne choked back a sob.

Seth looked away, hands knotted at his sides, furious with Knightly for putting her through this ordeal, for giving her hope that she could ever lead a life where courtship and marriage were the normal course of events for her.

Setting her from him, Knightly marched from the room with stoic restraint, never once looking back. Julianne stumbled to the sofa and collapsed upon it, her shoulders shaking with dry, silent sobs that wrung his heart dry. Seth approached and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. She jerked as though burned. "Don't," she cried. "Don't comfort me as though you have no hand in my misery."

"Julianne—"

"No," she bit out, her voice a crack of gunfire. "I never blamed you, Seth." She lifted her face. Tears glistened on her cheeks. "What happened to me was an accident. I never blamed you. But this, today… I shall never forgive you. You may be too afraid to love, but that doesn't give you the right to steal my chance."

She dropped her face into her hands then and wept, the sound ripping through him like the slash of a sword.

Without another word, he slipped from the salon and stalked upstairs, refusing to mull over her words, to examine them for truth. She didn't know what she was saying. Right now, pain incited her words. But the pain would fade. Along with the memory of Knightly. And time would prove him right.

He was halfway down the corridor to his chamber when the sound of his name stopped him. Turning, he faced Jane, the sight of her doing nothing to ease the betrayal stinging his heart. She knew how deeply he took his role as Julianne's guardian. She knew and had said nothing. She approached, hands clenched before her. Moistening her lips, she drew a breath and spoke quickly, as if she feared losing the courage to speak, "I know you're angry, but if you interfere between Julianne and Mr. Knightly, you will live to regret it." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Is that so?"

"Yes." She lifted that little chin of hers at a stubborn angle. "I believe she genuinely loves him."

"She hasn't a clue—"

"No. You haven't," she fired. "Don't underestimate her. She possesses a warm and loving heart."

"That is not what I hold in question," he snapped. "She cannot manage the responsibilities of marriage. Can you imagine her having children in her condition?" He shook his head. "And to a man with no prospects. Such a life would entail more than she could endure."

"What kind of life would you have her lead, then? One where she stays indoors and has someone read to her and prepare her tea? Dull and bored all of her days?"

"Yes," he boomed. "She'll be safe. Anything else carries too much risk for a woman like her."

"A woman like her?" Jane echoed, her expression one of bewildered frustration. He dragged a hand through his hair in mutual frustration. "Am I the only one aware of my sister's limitations?"

"You're certainly the only one willing to have them define the sum of her. She's not as helpless as you would have her."

"And who are you to meddle? Marrying you does not automatically invite you into all matters of my life. You have been assigned two tasks. Provide an heir and protect my sister as I would." He raked her with a withering glare. "The latter you've proven yourself ill-equipped to accomplish." She flinched and pulled back her shoulders, the blue fabric of her dress straining across her breasts, distracting him in a way he despised, evidence of his intolerable weakness for her. At a time like this, with the sting of her betrayal still fresh, he should look on her with utter apathy, his heart hard against her.

"Julianne is my friend, and although you may disagree, I have her best interest at heart." He gestured to the salon where even now the sound of his sister's tears stabbed his ears. "You may wish to reevaluate the manner in which you treat your friends."

"I'm not the one responsible for her tears! You're the culprit on that score." His eyes flicked downward, to the slight curve of her belly nearly undetectable beneath her gown. "You may carry my child, but do not mistake that you have the right to lecture me on matters involving my sister."

"Indeed." Scorn laced her voice. She gave a single, tight nod. "We're simply husband and wife. Nothing more."

Nothing more. They were becoming too damned much more. More than he had ever intended. More than he would acknowledge to her. More than he could acknowledge to himself. Shaking his head, he turned to leave. Her voice stopped him.

"Walk away," she goaded. "You're good at that. That and living in the past." Tension knotting his neck and shoulders, he swung back around. "Explain that remark." That slim nose of hers lifted, giving her the appearance of looking down on him. "If you permitted your sister to live her life, you might actually have to start living your own." Her furious gaze swept over him. "Instead of living in the past and pining for a woman who will never love anyone more than herself."