Chapter Two
Perhaps Nick and Amelia would understand. It wasn’t as if he’d set out to encounter their cousin, or to flirt with her. It was one more instance of serendipity. Practically fated. They were his truest friends—actual friends, not just a society acquaintanceship—and his intentions weren’t necessarily dishonorable. He could flirt with a woman without taking her to bed. It didn’t happen often, but he was almost certain he was capable of it. He harmlessly flirted with Amelia all the time. That was at least one account in his favor, and in the same family no less.
Not that his responses to Miss Fairchild were entirely harmless. The line of her neck as they rode back to the house was regal perfection, but then an innocent pink flush dusted her cheeks when she caught him admiring her. When she cast her eyes aside in modesty, there was a mischievous twinkle to them and an impish tilt to the corner of her mouth. The complexity of her taunted him. He wanted to know what she was thinking.
He also wanted to know if she blushed pink all over.
Their little party had started down a long gravel driveway, so it was probably prudent for Jasper to stop staring at Miss Fairchild like a randy youth. “I must confess, I had planned on borrowing Nicholas’s empty house. I didn’t realize he and Amelia were back already.”
“They’re not. I meant to surprise them by being here when they return.” Her cheeks went delightfully pink again. “We’re alone for the time being.”
He spent a moment with the imaginings that brought to life before reason broke through. “I shouldn’t stay, then. I’ll just wait until the doctor confirms you’re in good health, and then find somewhere else. Without a chaperone, it would be quite the scandal.”
She looked up from under thick lashes, managing to appear innocent and suggestive at the same time. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
A fortnight. It would take a fortnight to do everything that look brought to Jasper’s mind, and another to start all over and do it again. “I adore secrets.”
“I’ll go see about sending for a doctor.” Miss Fairchild’s maid launched herself from her horse in a flurry of skirts and hurried inside, grumbling about wickedness and ruin as she went.
“Don’t mind Nora,” Miss Fairchild said quickly. “She’s just a bit protective.”
“As she should be. She has someone very precious in her charge.” Jasper waved off the groom that stepped out to help Miss Fairchild down. When she put her hands on his shoulders, he lowered her slowly down each inch of his body. It was devilishly forward, and she ought to have slapped him, but she seemed perfectly willing to wander this path to ruin he was leading them down. If she was amenable to an entertaining diversion, Jasper was game. That was why he’d come, after all—to escape his present.
He kept his arm around her waist when her feet finally touched the ground and ran his gloved thumb along the line of her lower lip. Her mouth opened, just the slightest of parts, and he repeated the gesture. “What shall we do to occupy ourselves while we’re all alone?”
“What can’t we do?” No guile. No pretense of affront. She wanted him.
Jasper lowered his mouth, slowly closing the distance between them, drawn in by her challenge.
“A doctor has been—” The formal tones of a decidedly butler-ly figure intruded. He cleared his throat.
Miss Fairchild stiffened and the moment was lost. She leaned away from Jasper.
“As I was saying; a groom is getting the doctor, my lady.”
So, there were a few limitations to their game. Not to worry. Jasper relished a challenge. “Let’s get you settled inside.”
He scooped her up, feeling a profound sense of satisfaction when her arms wrapped around his neck. The curves of her pressed against his chest and arm. Her face might be angelic, but beneath all the layers her form was sinful. As they crossed the threshold into the foyer, he murmured against her ear. “You are delightfully luscious, Miss Fairchild.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Is that your way of warning me I am about to be dropped?”
“Dropped?” Jasper met her eyes. “I may never put you down.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to, because I need a moment to tidy myself before the doctor arrives.”
“You look ravishing.” Even the smear of mud across the bridge of her nose and cheek was tantalizing.
“You’re a shameless flatterer, Lord Bellamy.”
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” There was that mischievous twinkle again. They reached the foyer, and she gestured for him to put her down. “Winslow, will you show Lord Bellamy to a room? I’m certain he’d enjoy a bath.”
Right. He no doubt smelled like he’d been doing hard labor. His formal clothing hadn’t held up very well on the long ride, either. “I haven’t any luggage. Do you think Nick would mind if I helped myself to some of his clothes?”
She raised an eyebrow at his lack of luggage, but thankfully didn’t ask about it. “I think he’d have to be here to mind, and he’s not.”
He most certainly was not. Jasper would have to be very careful not to revert to less respectable pursuits. It was one thing to push the boundaries of convention and flirt with a beautiful woman. It was quite another to leap straight over them and ravish a close friend’s cousin. “Then I shall see you for drinks before dinner. I promise to be much better presented.”
She nodded, and he left her—all the while extremely aware that she was watching him walk every step of the staircase. They would have to be very careful, indeed.
Jasper raided Nicholas’s wardrobe while he waited for the bath. If there were any interesting pieces to be had, Nick had taken them with him on his trip. None of the intricate patterns or flashing jewel tones Jasper preferred—just the run-of-the-mill black, brown, and navy of every country lord in Britain. When Nicholas did return, they would have to have a talk. Just because Nick had devoted himself to the respectable pursuit of the law didn’t mean he had to look as boring as his profession.
At least they were of a similar size. Jasper might not cut his usual dashing figure, but the sleeves would fall where they ought to and his shoulders wouldn’t be impossibly cramped in ill-fitting tailoring. It was the best one could hope for when one fled the city without any belongings.
The melancholy returned while he bathed. Without Miss Fairchild’s alluring presence, the reality of what he’d done set in. He’d left the queen and every other powerful lord of the nation twiddling their thumbs, waiting for a ceremony that couldn’t happen without him. It would have been a legendary scandal to be proud of—if he’d planned it. If he’d done it for any reason other than his inability to accept a world without his grandfather in it.
There was no undoing it. The best thing would be to put it from his mind for as long as he could. With deep concentration, Jasper tied his cravat into the deceptively simple arrangement he favored. It took a great deal of effort to make it look so easily done, but it was worth it for the effect. The reflection in the mirror nodded back at him with approval; it was the perfect arrangement for an evening of flirtation.
And there would be flirting. Jasper would inundate Miss Fairchild with a profusion of subtle seductions. It was Jasper’s duty, and his pleasure, to entertain his hostess. It added a sense of purpose to his escape that sent a thrill racing beneath his skin. He finished himself off with a dash of Nicholas’s cologne—and was immediately paralyzed with memory. It had never registered before that his grandfather and Nicholas wore similar scents, but it registered now as the smell of bergamot transported Jasper back to their last day together.
Laughter shook his grandfather, until it became a hacking cough that shook the bed. The duke gestured and Jasper rushed to pour a glass of water. When he’d calmed from the fit, the duke said, “Don’t make me laugh. I’m not quite ready to die yet.”
“I would appreciate it if you’d wait another few years.” They’d be lucky to get another few days. “Thirty or so ought to do it.”
“Enough of that. It’s time, and you know it. Now pay attention, because I’ve got things to say.”
Jasper leaned in, clasping the weathered hands that weakened under the ravaging sickness. Hands that had held the world together.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get more time. The responsibility of the dukedom isn’t meant for the young. You would have had your thirty years, if your father had—” His grandfather broke into another fit of coughing, but it subsided quickly. “He should have had it before you.”
“That’s not your fault.”
“Not yours, either, but that’s the way it is. Still, I’m glad you’ve lived the way you have. You’ve had adventures enough for twenty men. You’re younger than you ought to be, but you won’t have nearly as many regrets as you would have. You’ve lived.”
In the mirror, Jasper’s face hid the truth of the life he’d led. There were no lines to show for the days on end of debauchery, uninterrupted by sleep or any hint of wholesomeness. Not even lines of grief could find purchase. Even his skin rejected the truth, who he was supposed to be now.
“Are you still glad, grandfather?” Jasper had never learned to be the sort of man who could live up to his grandfather’s legacy. The sort of man who did the right thing, instead of the interesting thing.
Julia was not familiar with this doctor. Fortunately, it would be unseemly for Lord Bellamy to be present while she was examined, so there was no need to maintain the farce of the twisted ankle. She could put an end to this visit without ever having to leave her chair by the fire.
The door swung inward and the doctor crossed the plush carpet of her bedroom, hand outstretched. “Miss Fairchild, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I hear you’ve had an eventful—”
“Thank you for your concern, but I will not be allowing an examination.” There was nothing wrong with her that he could fix. As an afterthought, she smiled to soften her tone.
“Falling from a horse can cause all manner of complications. You may not feel them at first. You could have a broken bone or strained ligament, not to mention a possible concussion to your brain.”
“I am aware of the risks, and my brain is fine. My lady’s maid is extremely well-versed in the signs of concussion, fever, and internal difficulties. If anything should arise, she is more than capable of seeing to it.”
“My lady, while I am sure your lady’s maid is a fine companion—”
Julia let out a deep breath. She may very well have suffered some sort of damage to think she could get away with this kind of deception. “I was born with an exposed spine condition, sir. Unless that is your area of expertise, your services will not be helpful.”
The doctor’s eyes widened. “But you’re an adult.”
“So I am. It’s a miracle.” There was no correlating enthusiasm in her voice. The miracle had involved endless procedures throughout Julia’s life, not to mention regular invasions of her privacy and patience.
“How was it managed? Did you have a surgeon or—”
“Thank you very much for your time.” She stood and ushered him toward the door. His attention was riveted to her limping steps. Julia had endured the fascination of the doctors that her parents hired for her, but she didn’t owe this man anything. “I appreciate your concern, but your services are not needed.”
“I really should examine you, just in case.”
“That won’t be necessary.” He wanted to see the scar—they always did. One would think the rough patch of skin on her lower back was the bloody Sistine Chapel, rather than the result of painful and repeated injections. Julia didn’t allow anyone to see it anymore, not even Nora. She was not some exhibit to be gawked at. “Leave your bill with the butler on your way out.”
The door closed behind him, and Julia sat back down to wait. The fire on the hearth reflected in the lacquered surfaces of the desk and armoire. They might as well be the fires of damnation. Any moment Lord Bellamy would burst in, full of affront, demanding to know if what the doctor told him was true. Or perhaps he’d be so offended by the lie that he would just leave without saying anything at all.
The pop of the door latch sounded. Julia squared her shoulders and took a deep breath as the handle turned and the door opened.
“My lady.” Nora’s skirts brushed against the frame as she stepped in and closed the door behind her. “The doctor is gone.”
“And Lord Bellamy?” She held her breath while she waited for the answer.
“Begging your pardon, Lady Julia, but have you completely lost your mind? Juniper Fairchild? Where on earth…” Nora’s complaints died off when confronted with Julia’s raised eyebrows. “Lord Bellamy is still cleaning up from his ride. They did not speak before the doctor left.”
So the game was still afoot. The dread fell away, leaving Julia with a rapid heartbeat and an overwhelming sense of daring. She could give whatever medical explanation she liked. For the foreseeable future—at least until Nicholas and Amelia returned—she could be Miss Juniper Fairchild and flirt with the outrageous Viscount Bellamy to her heart’s content.
“Tell Winthrop that the staff is to call me Miss Fairchild or Lady Juniper from now on. If that is too taxing, they may restrict themselves to ‘my lady.’”
“May I ask how long you think you’ll be able to keep this up?”
“You may not.” Julia’s chin lifted with authority. So what if she was operating without a plan? Sometimes a proper adventure had to be improvised. “After you help me decide between the rose silk or the crimson, tell Winthrop what I said.”
“The crimson is too bold for an unmarried woman. Why your father lets you order those outrageous colors—”
“The crimson it is.” Julia grinned, unable to suppress her excitement. “I feel like being bold.”
Nora grumbled as she helped Julia into the dress. “I should have said the pink made you look like a harlot, so you’d be sure to choose it.”
“You should have. You’re slipping, Nora.”
“It’s that Lord Bellamy. He makes me nervous. They say things about him, you know.”
Oh, Julia knew. They said he was one of the most sought-after lovers on the continent, where he chose to spend most of his time. Men and women alike tried to catch his notice. Only the most remarkable succeeded. And here he was, alone in the country with her. Just the thought was enough to keep her awake all night.
Nora stepped back with a sigh. “You’re readier than any decent woman ought to be.”
“Thank you. Now, go tell Winthrop.”
The maid grumbled her way out of the room. Julia checked her hair in the glass one last time, and followed—only to stop short at Lord Bellamy waiting in the hallway outside her room.
He smiled. “Each time I see you, you are even lovelier than the last.”
A flush heated her cheeks, and she cursed silently. Sophisticated women did not blush. “I was covered in mud before.”
“And you were still more stunning than any woman for miles.”
She accepted his arm with a sideways glance. “Oh? You’d already met every woman for miles by the time you got around to meeting me?”
“Every darling one of them. None compared to you on your worst day.” He didn’t miss a beat.
“You haven’t seen me on my worst day.”
“Then I hope you’ll let me, so that on that day I can reiterate your magnificence.”
That produced another wave of warmth across her skin. Julia was going to enjoy sparring with him almost as much as she enjoyed the way he looked at her, like she was some kind of marvel.
At the top of the stairs, all thoughts of flattering glances vanished. If she held Lord Bellamy as tightly as she usually held the railing, he would think her indelicate. If she didn’t, and she fell, she could very well meet her death at the bottom of the stairs. And then there was a matter of pace. Having already fallen once today, a second time would be tempting the devil too much for even Julia’s reckless spirit. They started down at a much faster rate than the one she set for safe travel up and down steps.
“Perhaps you should go down without me, I think I—” Her fingers clamped down on his arm as she fumbled. Her heart went into a lurch as she pitched forward, but his arm snapped out and hauled her back. “It’s all right. I’m all right. I just lost my footing for a moment.”
“Well, I’m not all right. I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes, and it wasn’t the enjoyable parts.” His hands slid to her shoulders, steadying her.
His touch was intoxicating, changing the reason for her rapid heartbeat. “Perhaps we could go a little slower. If you lose your footing, we’ll both be done for.”
Lord Bellamy’s eyebrow raised imperiously. “A less confident man might take that as an attack on his athleticism.”
“It’s fortunate, then, that you’re very self-assured.” She gave him what she hoped was a teasing smile.
“Very.” There was a slight upward curve at the edge of his mouth. “You’re quite right about taking it slower—I should have been mindful of your ankle. Hold me tightly. None of this timid grip nonsense. If I still have feeling in my hand, you’re being remiss.”
Her smile this time was genuine. “All right.”
“Let’s move to the railing. There’s no one here to see that we’re not gliding gracefully down the center.” His grumbled tones made her laugh.
She leaned into him once she had a firm grip on the railing. “There are only five steps left.”
He cast her a sideways glance. “Those could be the most treacherous ones.”
“I think we’ll manage.”
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, her tension disappeared. Until she realized stairs were just one of many complications. She hadn’t thought about what having him here would mean—only how to keep him from finding out the truth. There were a number of things she navigated every day that could give her away. Even if they didn’t, she would be constantly worrying that they might.
“This was not how I planned the beginning of our evening.”
“Oh?” she asked. “I’m sorry.”
The edge of his mouth tipped up, giving him away. “Oh, yes. You clearly tried to hurl yourself down the stairs. I didn’t realize you were a daredevil.”
If you only knew. Every step, every sniffle, every childhood tumble that left her mother gasping, white as a sheet. Any little thing could have been the end. It still could be, though the threat was much diminished now, and for the most part her family had stopped treating her as if she were on the brink of death.
She shook off her dark thoughts. “I like to live dangerously, Lord Bellamy.”
“I shall do my best to keep up.” His dark-brown eyes shone in the chandelier light as they entered the parlor. “Now, I think we ought to change the subject to what a vision you are in crimson silk.”
The damnable heat returned. “Thank you.”
“Was your visit with the doctor helpful?”
“Not particularly.” She arranged herself on the settee while he poured their drinks. “I’ve suffered no lasting damage, but there is nothing to be done about my ankle except to wait it out.”
“Will you think me a terrible villain if I admit to delight at the idea of being called upon to carry you again?”
No matter how much she enjoyed his touch, it was time to put an end to that particular concept. “Villain? No. Perhaps a bit of a rake, but I should tell you—I don’t much enjoy being carried.”
“Oh.” His face fell. “I’m sorry. I should have asked.”
“I do enjoy your company,” she rushed to assure him. “Very much.”
His smile returned as he took the chair across from her. “How bold of you, Miss Fairchild.”
It was a perfect opening. “Does boldness offend you, Lord Bellamy?”
“Not in the slightest.” He sipped his drink, watching her over the rim of the glass. “If you don’t mind a little boldness in return—what brought you to Berkshire?”
Bother. “Must I have a reason?”
He grinned. “Never. I just wondered. Kent is lovely in spring, and it can’t be very exciting to sit in an empty house waiting on your cousin’s return.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I nearly died, and a handsome stranger followed me home.” She smiled down at her glass. “I can’t imagine a more exciting day.”
As a connoisseur of exciting days, Lord Bellamy had no doubt experienced more outrageous adventures, but this was by far the most diverting day of Julia’s life.
“But you can’t have known that would happen. I certainly didn’t.”
“And you know everything?” she teased. “Fine. I am attempting to escape a scandal. What do you think about that?”
“I think you’re in grave danger. Just being near me is a recipe for scandal.”
She laughed; if he only knew. “It seems we have that in common, then.”
He studied his glass thoughtfully before looking back up at her. A dark lock of hair fell across his brow, and the full curve of his lips stole the entirety of Julia’s attention. “May I sit by you?”
Goose bumps of anticipation raised on her skin. “Do you intend to misbehave?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Then, by all means.” Julia shifted in her seat, corralling her skirts to make room for him to sit deliciously close.
Like something out of a dream, Lord Bellamy gently lifted her hand and placed it palm upward in his own. Her lips parted at his touch. He stroked his finger across the surface of her skin. She shivered. This was not happening. She truly had hit her head, and she was imagining it all.
If it was a dream, then may it never stop.
Julia’s eyelids fell closed as he stroked the length of each finger, each line on her palm. He investigated the bones of her wrist, tracing their outlines. When his thumb snuck under the fabric of her sleeve, circling against the sensitive skin there, she whimpered.
“What foolhardy chaperone left you unattended?” he murmured.
The words barely made sense. None of her imaginings could capture the sensation of actually being touched like this. How could the brushing of hands feel so wicked?
“There’s no point to my having a chaperone,” she managed.
Any moment, the entire charade could come crashing down. Until then, she needed as much of this feeling as he was willing to provide. Enough to last her a lifetime, as it would likely have to.
“Why is that?” He lifted her wrist to his lips and placed a kiss against it.
“What?” The word left her mouth as a breath. To think she might have missed this.
Lord Bellamy hummed his approval. The kisses continued—the pad of her thumb, the tips of her fingers. Each new feeling drew an oh from Julia’s mouth. It was everything she’d ever wanted until, suddenly, it wasn’t enough. He smiled against her skin. “Why is a chaperone pointless?”
“I’m not…” Julia realized what they were talking about. She’d almost given up the game without realizing it. “I do as I please. My reputation was ruined long ago.”
He pressed another kiss against her palm. “And yet, you still blush when I compliment you.”
Julia’s thudding heart skipped a beat. “There are many ways for a reputation to fall to ruin. Not all of them are…”
“Sensual?”
Julia’s breath caught. “Yes.”
“That’s a shame.” He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb against the corner of her lip.
It was truly going to happen. Julia Bishop, society outcast, was going to be kissed by a handsome rogue. Would it feel strange? Would her entire body tingle? Would he attempt to put his tongue in her mouth? If he did, would she like it? She almost wished she hadn’t mined Mia for so many details, because then there would be less to worry about.
His fingertips brushed against her cheek, dragging little sparks of pleasure with them as they slid into the hair at her temple. He leaned forward with a mischievous tilt to his lips.
“My Lady, it’s—” Nora’s voice sounded in time with the opening door.
Lord Bellamy leaned back, putting distance between them as his hand dropped away.
“For God’s sake, Nora!” Julia was going to strangle her. “Were you listening at the door?”
The maid’s attention shifted between them. Her mouth tightened with disapproval. “Seems like maybe I should have been. It’s almost time for dinner.”
“And?”
“And there’s a matter we need to take care of, unless you’d like—”
“No!” The last thing Julia wanted was Nora blurting out Julia’s chamber pot schedule. No doubt she would find a way to throw in a mention of the leg and back massages Julia underwent for mobility out of spite. “All right. I’ll be there in a moment.”
Nora narrowed her eyes at them one last time before turning to go—leaving the door open.
“I swear, she was put on this earth to menace me,” Julia grumbled and stood up. “I should go.”
Lord Bellamy’s grin was crooked and impossibly charming as he stood up with her. “I think you’d better. Your Nora seems a very serious sort of woman. But Miss Fairchild?”
The honey of his tone rolled over her skin, making her want to stretch into the sound. “Yes?”
“Come back soon? I’m looking forward to your company for dinner.”
As was she. Julia left the room, meeting Nora in the hallway and letting herself be ushered into one of the side rooms in Nicholas and Amelia’s house that didn’t seem to have any particular purpose.
Nora shoved the chamber pot into Julia’s hands.
“We could have done this before I left my room.”
“It wasn’t eight o’clock before. The schedule says—”
“I know what the bloody schedule says.” Julia loathed the schedule, but she knew better than to trifle with it. That was how infections happened, and days spent miserable, trapped in bed. Why did reality insist on ruining what would otherwise have been a perfectly romantic evening? She finished the necessary actions and straightened her skirts. “Happy?”
“Rarely.”
Wasn’t that the truth. Julia left the maid behind and went back to the parlor, where her dining partner was finishing his drink. “Shall we go in, Lord Bellamy?”
He rose with a smile, putting her hand on his arm once again. “On one condition. You must stop calling me Lord Bellamy. It’s only fitting that you use my given name if we’re to be partners in danger.”
Jasper. Just thinking it sent a delicious shiver through her. She’d whispered it a thousand times alone in her room before they’d met, but now she had the right to say it where he could hear it.
“And you must call me—” Damn.
“Juniper.” He rolled it from his mouth with poetry, but it fell like a rock to Julia’s ears.
Julia. She wanted to shout it to the frescoed ceiling. She wanted to hear her name on his lips. “I’ve never liked my name very much.”
“What would you like me to call you?”
Darling. Dearest. My love. “I don’t know.”
“Then I will endeavor to find something that suits you. How do you feel about Chaucer’s Thisbe?”
Julia could not have kept the grimace from her face if her life had depended upon it.
“What’s wrong with Thisbe?” Jasper asked, as if it was a legitimate question.
“Aside from everything?” She gestured her frustration with the hand that wasn’t resting on the crook of his elbow. “She hides while Pyramus stabs himself in the chest. It’s ludicrous.”
“He thought she was dead—he was overcome with grief.”
“He was an idiot. There was no body. I’d like to think the sort of man I’d fall in love with would do a little more investigating before deciding to end it all.”
Jasper snickered. “All right. No Thisbe.”
“What about Victoria?” Julia asked.
It was Jasper’s turn to grimace.
She gasped. “Victoria and Albert have a love for the ages.”
If he had unkind opinions toward the royal couple, Julia might have to rethink their entire association. She was a devoted follower of all things Victoria.
Jasper lifted his hands in a defensive gesture. “It would just be a little awkward, since Victoria is a relative of mine.”
“You and Queen Victoria.”
“Her father and my mother were cousins.”
Julia stopped abruptly.
The kinship she felt to the queen could not be understated. Julia and Victoria were only a year apart in age, and they’d both grown up in isolation. Not to mention that Julia was obviously meant to be a royal. She’d spent every spare minute absorbing as much gossip on Victoria and Albert as she could. The idea that she was in a full-fledged flirt with one of Victoria’s family members…
“You’re in line for the English throne.” It was too much to process.
“I mean, it’s not a short line and I’m hardly at the front.” Jasper winked at her. “And I’m surprised to hear you chose Victoria as your idol. She’s very reserved.”
“She’s the queen.” Julia shook her head. The entire situation was beyond belief. Julia Bishop, outcast, was having an unchaperoned adventure with Queen Victoria’s handsome cousin. It couldn’t be more of a dream come true unless Julia suddenly became the regent herself.
“I’m far more interested in you than I am in talking about my cousin.”
Julia was wrong. Having Jasper DeVere declare her more intriguing than the monarch was a dream come true—and if there was any justice in the world, she would never wake up.