The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(55)
With tightly pursed lips, her skepticism slipped once again. “Please, don’t. I’m not and never will be fooled by such sayings.”
He blinked, not certain he’d heard her correctly. He was giving her a compliment and she was throwing it right back in his face in disbelief. “Why is it so hard to believe that I wanted to spend time in your company?”
“My lord—”
“‘My lord’ is it?” His nostrils flared as he exhaled in an attempt to keep himself from shaking some sense into her. “Why is it so hard to believe that you’re attractive? Sometimes I don’t have a clue as to what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours.”
“I’m not the type of woman you find attractive,” she said. By now, that steel determination of hers had taken up residence in her stance. “I’m not Lady Miranda.”
He shook his head in an attempt to quiet the need to shout his frustration. “I don’t give a damn about Lady Miranda or any of those other chits that parade about town seeking a husband. I danced with her for reasons other than her company.”
“Such as laughter and smiles and looks of flirtation and infatuation…” Her voice trailed to nothing at the words. Suddenly, a scarlet color blossomed across her cheeks. With that little outburst, she’d disclosed that he did affect her—perhaps a great deal. The idea delighted him and eliminated his remaining consternation at her earlier denial of her attraction.
Not allowing her to turn away from him, he closed the distance between them until they almost touched chest to chest. She had no choice but to look into his eyes. “Perhaps you saw that on her face, but I assure you that I wasn’t feeling any of those things.”
He drew a deep breath and allowed her lilac scent to fill him. Every inch of his body tightened in readiness as he lowered his lips to hers. The slightest moan escaped her, and her mint breath scented with brandy brushed against his lips. With an ease that warred with his rising desire, he kissed her. The taste of her soft lips threatened to unleash an insatiable need, one only she could satisfy. He forced himself to slow his movements. On a gentle sigh, she opened her mouth, inviting him to take more. For an instant, he slanted his mouth over hers to do just that. Then reason prevailed, and he drew back. He didn’t dare take more from her, though he wanted to crush her to him and ravish her mouth as he did last night.
He had other plans for his little embezzler—a long-term strategy that would lead her to trust him and relieve some of her ever-present burden. He’d tease and tempt her until she begged him for more. He’d show her passion and desire until she writhed for more.
He’d make her believe she was beautiful.
Even if it was his complete undoing.
*
The next morning found March’s sisters in high spirits as they broke their fast. Faith leaned close and whispered, “I still cannot fathom why there are four footmen ready to attend us at breakfast every morning. At Lawson Court, we cooked and cleaned for ourselves.”
Glee laced the wonderment in her sister’s eyes. Their circumstances had catapulted from poverty to great wealth in just a short order. March surveyed the breakfast room that overlooked Langham Hall’s beautiful park. The opulent gold and pink baroque decorating didn’t diminish the coziness of their morning gatherings. Their acceptance in the Langham home was a true testament of the duke and duchess’s generosity.
Julia was a veritable chatterbox this morning. Yesterday afternoon, the Earl of Queensgrace had come to call on her with a small but delightful posy. March and Faith had already heard her thorough monologue regarding the Scottish lord’s refined manners and elegance, but the unfortunate Lord William had not. When he happened to sit with them in the breakfast room, Julia had jumped at the opportunity to share her story with someone else.
“The marquess had the posy especially made for me and delivered it himself.” As she regaled Lord William with every minute of the previous afternoon’s visit with the Scottish lord, Julia buttered her toast. It made little difference that she’d slathered butter on the piece of bread three different times. She was too enthralled with yesterday to pay the poor slice much attention. “He said the violets matched my eyes.”
Michael’s brother sat patiently sipping his coffee, and occasionally nodded his encouragement. March glanced at Faith, who had bowed her head in embarrassment over Julia’s continued onslaught extolling the virtues of the young lord.
“The marquess asked if he could take me for a ride in Hyde Park.” Julia finally stopped talking and sighed as she looked at the gloomy gray skies outside. “I don’t care if it’s a torrential rainstorm. I’m going.”
William regarded her and took another sip of coffee while trying to hide his smile. “Julia, it’s sleeting outside. You’ll freeze to death.” He folded the paper in his hands and stared as if it offered a welcomed reprieve from her incessant nattering. “Besides no one of the ton will see you with the young lord. They will all be home by a fire staying warm, which is my advice for you. Don’t appear too eager, my dear. Men hate that.”
“They do?” Julia’s brows drew together, and she frowned. “What should I do?” Her beautiful face melted into an unease that lined her brow.
March shook her head. “He’s teasing you, dearest.”
Julia narrowed her eyes at William, and this time he allowed himself to laugh aloud. “Forgive me, it’s just that you reminded me of Emma when she found something passionate to dwell on. She was an expert at holding all of us captive at the dinner table until she had finished her dissertations. I would always tease her unmercifully and couldn’t resist with you.”