Page 18 of Discovering Her Earl

“You are permitted to feel any way you wish, as am I.”

His attempts to have her warm to him were clearly going in the opposite direction. He needed to do something to rectify the situation.

He thought of a hundred things he could say to charm his way out of his awkward situation.

I obviously didn’t know what true beauty was back then. This had some truth to it, but not enough to win her over.

I knew you were too good for the likes of me. Even more truth, but she wouldn’t believe he was sincere.

When I was a child I spoke as a child and was distracted by breasts. No. He couldn’t win her respect with blasphemy. Besides, that was a lie. He was still distracted by breasts. Currently hers. Blast it all.

What was wrong with him? He could come up with a cheeky quip that would have worked on any other woman of the ton. Except this one, apparently.

Rather than address the reason he had ignored her on multiple occasions—because he truly had no answer—he shared something he hadn’t shared with anyone.

“My father didn’t allow me to be left-handed.”

She blinked, no doubt as surprised by what he’d said as he was.

“Did he believe you to be evil? I thought that thinking had been done away with long ago.”

Julian shook his head and set down the fork on the left side of his plate so he could flex his fingers. The pain from being cracked on the knuckles was long gone, but he remembered the ache.

“No. He didn’t think I was evil. He thought it unfitting of his heir.”

Her brows creased as she stared at her plate. If she was attempting to find reason in his father’s rationale, she would be disappointed. There was nothing rational about his father.

“There were actually many, many things about me he found unacceptable. I was never smart enough, brave enough, fast enough. I was too tall, too unruly, too… left-handed.”

He offered a strained laugh but continued. In for a penny, as it were.

“I was reminded daily that I was a disgrace. Being Scottish made it more difficult to be taken seriously in London, and he could only be glad he would be dead when I took over the title so he wouldn’t have to see such an abomination.”

She reached across the small table and rested her hand on top of his, shattering whatever distance had settled between them earlier.

He hadn’t felt such comfort since he’d been a lad and his mother had been alive. Though the way his body responded to her touch made it clear he didn’t think of her in a motherly way. At all.

He needed to stop this before it went too far and he did something she would truly have a reason to hate him for.

Slipping his hand out from under hers was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done, but he did so and offered a smile.

“After he died, I went back to using my left hand. My penmanship is now legible if not a bit smudged, and I don’t spill nearly as much of my dinner on my lap.”

She smiled and he could see the kindness in her eyes. That she would allow him to brush off the uncomfortable situation with a jest was greatly appreciated.

Strangely it wasn’t as uncomfortable as he expected. Being with her felt freeing in a way he’d never experienced with another person.

He puzzled over it as they fell in companionable silence while finishing their meals.

One theory was that he had nothing to gain in winning over the irksome miss. But he knew immediately that didn’t fit. He cared. He cared a great deal what she thought of him.

Perhaps it was that her expectations of him were already low or non-existent that the pressure to dazzle her was just as low. But again, that didn’t feel right. He wanted to dazzle her, he just wanted to do so by being himself instead of the jester he normally played to win the affection of the ton.

He choked on a bite of parsnip.

He’d known he liked her. He had wanted her to like him. He hadn’t realized he needed her to like the real Julian.

Dear God, what a disappointment he’d set for himself.