CHAPTER 13
“My errors will point to thinking men the various roads, and will teach them the great art of treading on the brink of the precipice without falling into it.”
Giacomo Casanova
Julius was confused. Utterly baffled. His desire to embrace Audrey close against him, to sniff her herbal scent, savor her warm skin, bury his face in her hair, were all fresh impulses.
This is what comes of bedding a woman I admire.
He had assisted her to clean up, and himself, before drawing her back into his bed. Patrick and Rose were discreet, but for sure, they knew that he and Audrey were up to inappropriate activities with the amount of time they had spent alone. It was inevitable they would tumble into bed.
Holding her close to his pounding heart, Julius listened to her breathing as she slipped into a satiated sleep. The desire to nibble on her shoulder for another round of lovemaking was stomped with ruthless determination. She might be a brave warrior of a delicate girl, but even so, she needed to recover from her deflowering.
Deflowering?
Julius wanted to howl. He had always made a point of pursuing experienced women—widows, for the most part—not chosen for their intellectual abilities or strength of character. Women adept in bed and willing to experiment with a variety of positions. He could not recollect bedding a single woman whom he had ardently admired or desired to spend time conversing with. The dangers of love were an ever-present horror, his parents a cautionary tale of which he was frequently reminded.
Audrey let out a small, bleating snort in her sleep, shifting closer so her buttocks rubbed against his groin in an intoxicating caress. Julius shivered in aroused despair.
This is a bleeding disaster.
He had known intuitively it would be a mistake to engage in carnal relations with Audrey. He liked her too much. Not only had he dragged her into a dangerous intrigue, he had destroyed her reputation. Her presentation of the French letter at least assured him she did not have unreasonable expectations regarding him, but he had yet to break the news that they would marry.
Audrey was not a typical female. He believed she would be displeased. That she would resist a marriage in name only. If she had not been ruined, she might have moved back to Stirling and eventually met a gentleman. Settled down and had babes of her own. That was an impossibility, considering she had disappeared with a man for a week. Not just any man—him. Noone would believe that he had not had his way with her multiple times during their absence.
Nay, there is no alternative.
Truth was, he did not care for the image of Audrey married to another. As selfish as it might be for him to want her to himself while maintaining his distance, he could not help the possessiveness. Audrey was his—dash it!
Julius was not accustomed to feeling such a riot of conflicting emotions in the wake of one of his escapades, but he was forced to admit that his daft plan had led to terrible consequences for the young lady sleeping in his arms. Yet … somehow … he could not find an iota of regret that he was holding her naked body.
Perhaps they could spend a few weeks together at the start of their marriage? Perhaps he could ensure she had a babe in her belly before he escorted her home to Stirling? Perhaps she would be less angry with him if she had a child to take care of?
Julius groaned into his pillow. What a bloody tangle. He was not accustomed to dealing with consequences, nor to the obligation to consider the needs of another. Audrey had slipped under his skin and—heaven forfend—he now cared about her and desired a happy future for her.
This is a bleeding disaster!
Carefully removing his arm from under her, he rolled out of bed to don his small clothes and buckskins. None of his ideas about their shared future were sitting right. He needed to find a better resolution but, in his experience, it needed to be set aside until later. The situation would work itself out, he concluded.
Holding the oil lamp from beside his bed, Julius padded barefoot out of the chamber, careful not to disturb the sleeping beauty in his bed. He strode down the hall to find the stairs, descending with the inkling of a memory niggling in his brain. Heading into the library with the outline of an idea forming. It would not assist him with the predicament he faced with Audrey,but it might be progress in the investigation. There was danger lurking in the shadows, and it was time to resolve the minor matter of murder. He had to secure Audrey’s safety. It was premature to concern himself with the rest.
Julius put the lamp down on a library table, the light revealing a more recent portrait of Aunt Gertrude than the one that hung in the portrait gallery. She wore her hair in a more recent fashion, and a jaunty turban added a splash of color to the ensemble.
Aunty Gertrude peered down her nose with an expression of reproach.
Julius winced. He was supposed to put aside the dilemma he faced with the physician’s daughter, not be fighting off a stabbing guilt over his despicable behavior.
“We will wed. I will provide her the protection of my name, Aunty.”
Lady Hays continued to stare.
“I swear it! I will take care of the young lady. She will not want for anything.”
It might have been his imagination, but Lady Hays sniffed in disgust. Egad, he hated disappointing his great-aunt. She would flail him alive if she knew he had deflowered Audrey under her own roof without even a betrothal contract in place. He was the worst kind of rascal for not securing an agreement to wed before engaging in carnal relations.
Julius shook his head, determined to set the matter aside. Walking over to a nearby shelf, he found an older copy of Debrett’sPeerageand brought it back to the table, thunking it down hard on the surface to help focus his attention.
Taking his seat, he bent over its pages, leafing through to look up the heritage of the three men he had been investigating. He and Abbott had attended a myriad of dinners, soirées, even a musicale and a ball to learn what they could about theirsuspects. Julius had a vague memory of attending a soirée at one of the homes of the suspects. At the time he had noted the old style of the livery uniforms—deep blue and gold-braided coats with shoulder knots, knee breeches and, more important, he seemed to recollect that the servants’ uniforms had possessed a unique feature. When one of the footmen had turned a corner, the tails of his coat had flittered up and Julius had caught sight of a patterned lining. A brief impression of green and blue.
