Ruthless Charmer (37 page)

Claudia smiled fully then, and Julian could feel the warmth and brilliance of it on his heart, thawing the ice. She laughed gaily, a melodious sound he had not heard in weeks. "Papa was quite displeased with me, I'll have you know. Swore I ruined a perfectly good pair of slippers."

"I thought it rather festive," he said, and realized that he was smiling, too.

"I don't know how you managed to see all that," she continued laughingly. "You were clear across the ballroom, surrounded by your many female admirers. I think they were four or five deep. And as I recall, Miss Chatham was among the most ardent."

He remembered, all right. Even remembered kissing a panting Miss Chatham in the vestibule and wishing it had been Claudia. "A pity you weren't among them," he said.

Claudia's smile slowly faded; her blue-gray eyes locked with his for a long moment, and Julian had the sensation that she could see past his protective armor, past the ice. "I was among them," she said at last. "I have always been among them—you just couldn't see me. And I shall always be among them, regardless of what may come."

Speech eluded him. He suddenly moved forward, wanting to touch her, wanting to demand the truth from her. Reaching across the gap between them, he tenderly ran his hand over her elbow, down to her wrist, wrapping his fingers firmly around it. "Claudia," he said low, "never tell me something like that if only to appease your troubled conscience. Never tell me that unless you mean it with all your heart—"

"My lord, the coach is ready," intoned Tinley from the doorway. Startled, Julian turned toward the old man as he hobbled into the room to rest against a chair. "In the drive, nice and warm for milady," he added with a self-satisfied grin.

The old man's timing was incredible. "Thank you," Julian uttered with only a modicum of civility, and looked again at Claudia. She was smiling, her eyes were sparkling, and slowly, uncertainly, he stood, his hand floating up her arm to her elbow to help her to her feet.

She rose gracefully, hesitating slightly as she stood before him. "I do mean it, Julian, with all my heart," she murmured, and rocked up to the tips of her little rose slippers to shyly kiss the corner of his mouth.

Before he could recover from the extraordinary sensation of that simple kiss, she was walking toward Tinley, putting out a hand to steady the old man as he hobbled to the door. Dumbly, Julian followed her to the foyer, staring hard at her as she donned her cloak and bonnet, struggling into his gloves as he struggled to believe her. He followed her just as dumbly out onto the hard, crusty snow, feeling her gay laughter invade his very marrow when she slipped and knocked against him.

And when the coach lurched forward, jostling them as the driver searched for the smoothest stretch of road, he regarded her suspiciously, afraid to believe her. She responded with a soft smile, her eyes sparkling as brilliantly as the jewels at her throat. "You don't believe me," she said at last.

"Not entirely," he admitted cautiously. But God knows I want to.

The coach lurched sharply to one side Claudia tried to brace herself, but began to slip from the velvet squabs. Julian instantly reached for her, catching her under her arms, and without thinking, dragged her into his lap. "I want to believe you."

Something flashed in her eyes; she abruptly grabbed his head, holding him with surprising strength as she kissed him, sliding her lush lips across his, nipping at the flesh along the edge of his mouth. She crushed her lithesome body to him while he carefully, almost unwilling, moved his hand delicately along her shoulder and neck, to her cheek, cautiously cupping her face.

The coach lurched again, and just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Claudia lifted her head, gazing down at him as she took several deep breaths. "I don't know how to convince you," she said. "I don't even know if I should." She moved off his lap to sit beside him. Julian did not respond, fearing that he might show her how desperate he was to be convinced, how dangerously close he had come to it by virtue of one smoldering kiss. Artlessly, she leaned against him as if they were old lovers, staring thoughtfully out the window as the coach bounced along. He quietly curled his hand around hers, and Claudia responded by squeezing his fingers.

Julian felt the reassuring little squeeze all the way to his heart, and wondered if he was perfectly mad to believe it could be right between the two of them, that they could be old lovers one day.

The Earl of Albright had, against his better judgment, brought his wife along on what was intended to be a very short trip to London. He had fully intended to return to Longbridge, his country estate, by the end of the week. Certainly, he had not meant to stay so long, much less host a supper party. But his wife, Lilliana, had insisted upon it, reminding him that she had been stuck at Longbridge for weeks without so much as a single guest and no one to talk to but him and the baby and various and sundry cows. And then she had shoved him flat on his back so that she might guarantee the answer she wanted by making passionate love to him. He was, as usual, quite helpless.

Therefore, he and Arthur stood at the sideboard, surveying the roomful of guests. Lilliana and Claudia were laughing gaily with the Duchess of Sutherland, Lauren. There was Arthur's brother Alex, the Duke of Sutherland, seated on a settee with Louis Renault and Lord Boxworth, engaged in heated conversation about the latest spate of parliamentary reforms. Ladies Boxworth and Renault were in attendance, and naturally, Julian Dane, who stood to one side quietly sipping from a glass of port and watching his wife like a hawk.

Adrian slid his gaze from Julian to Arthur with a smirk. "I'd say the old chap has it rather bad."

"Right awful," Arthur replied immediately, "although I'd venture to guess he doesn't yet know it. He was never very astute in matters of the heart."

"What, you would judge the man by the number of broken hearts left in his wake over the years?" Adrian asked laughingly.

"Did you see him at supper? Gazing like a lovesick lad when she spoke of organizing women's labor. He's gone round the bend, if you ask me—smitten with a woman born to trouble," Arthur observed, clearly amused.

"I'll say," Adrian muttered as he slipped his gaze to Claudia. "Do you know she actually had Lilliana convinced that the daughters of my tenants would do well with a summer in London at our considerable expense? Lilliana had drafted a rather complicated schedule for it, and was about to go and explain it all at a tenants' meeting before I caught her."

"A summer in London? What on earth for?" Arthur asked, clearly confused.

Adrian frowned. "Culture and education."

Arthur looked at Adrian; the two men simultaneously broke into laughter.

If Julian had heard the exchange, he might have laughed, too. But he hadn't heard a bloody thing all night—Claudia had consumed him. If he wasn't simply gazing at her, he was thinking about that ride in the coach. And if he wasn't thinking about that, he was feeling rather proud of her eloquent argument to organize women's labor.

Now, in the red drawing room, he was impatiently biding his time until he could make a proper escape, take his wife home, and continue the discussion begun in the coach. Having had the intervening hours to reflect, he was more than happy to let Claudia convince him that she adored him. He had even gone so far as to allow himself the fantasy that they might put the awful past behind them and begin fresh-—starting with his making love to her. Over and over again, if he was so fortunate.

But then Max, Adrian's butler, caught his eye. The diminutive little man appeared in the door, hopping nervously from one foot to the other as Adrian sauntered forward. Julian knew Max, knew he tended toward the dramatic, but he nonetheless had a terrible sense of foreboding when Max motioned wildly in the direction of the vestibule and a frown creased Adrian's brow.

The sudden commotion in the corridor startled Julian; he moved to the center of the room as Adrian stepped across the threshold. "Ho there!" he called gruffly. "What do you think you are doing?"

Before anyone could react, Stanwood suddenly appeared at the threshold, looking wildly furious. Julian's stomach dropped; he quickly stepped around the settee as Stanwood barreled past Adrian and into the room. "Halt there, Stanwood!" he bellowed, ignoring the cry of alarm that came from one of the women. "I will thank you to leave Lord Albright's home at once—"

"Not before you tell me where she is! What have you done with my wife?!"

"Oh, dear God! What has happened to Sophie?" Eugenie shrieked.

Julian lurched forward as Stanwood, practically foaming at the mouth, whirled toward Eugenie. "She's gone! You have taken her from me, but it won't do you any good! That slut belongs to me now!"

Julian did not realize that the roar of indignation was his own. It hardly registered on him that Sophie was missing—his rage made him too deaf, too blind to anything but Stanwood and his own firm intent to kill him this time. He lunged, shoving Stanwood into the wall with a hard blow to the bastard's eye. Quickly regaining his balance, Julian raised his arm again, but someone restrained him as three footmen rushed to subdue

Stanwood. Furious, Julian struggled against the restraint; Adrian said heatedly, "Don't, Kettering! He's not worth it!"

"Did you think you could hide her from me forever?" Stanwood gasped, struggling against the hold of the three men. "You can't, Kettering. She belongs to me now, every inch of her and her bloody fortune! I will do with that whore what I like—"

"Stop it!" Claudia shrieked. "_I_ took her!"

A stunned hush fell across the room; Julian felt as if the floor had shifted beneath his feet. She had taken Sophie? His mind could not absorb that, or the implications of it. He shrugged out of Arthur and Louis's grasp, mindlessly straightened his waistcoat before he turned to look at her. "What do you mean, Claudia?" he asked evenly, despite the rage boiling in him just beneath the surface.

"You bitch," Stanwood breathed rabidly. "You came into my home and took my wife from me? That's a bloody crime, you stupid—"

Julian jerked around, pinning Stanwood to the wall with a murderous gaze as the footmen yanked him out of Julian's reach. "One more word, and I will kill you, so help me God!"

"Call me what you will, sir," Claudia said, her voice trembling. "But you won't lay a hand on her again!"

"Dear God! Where is she?" Eugenie cried hysterically. "What on earth have you done with her?"

Claudia looked wildly around her, her gaze skimming blindly across them all before settling on Stanwood again. "Sh-she is quite safe. But I won't tell you where, not until I am certain she is safe from him!" Her hands gripped her gown, balling the fabric.

Julian could sense the hysteria rising in her just as acutely as he felt the fury rising in himself. He could scarcely believe what he was hearing, unable to fathom how she might have done this, how she might have defied the law and him and stolen his sister. How she had neglected to tell him what she had done.

"You will pay for this, Lady Kettering! With your life, if I've anything to do with it!" Stanwood shouted.

"Take him!" Adrian roared. "Throw him out near the river. Shoot him if he causes a scene!"

"I'll go and make sure he doesn't," Arthur said, striding forward, and followed the servants out as they dragged Stanwood away.

"What of my wife!" he screamed as they forced him into the corridor. "I demand to know where she is!"

Julian jerked around to stare at his wife. Claudia gasped audibly for her breath; the expression on her face was one of terror. And he was struck with the notion that he had never felt more impotent than he did at this moment, incapable of controlling one goddam thing. Trying desperately to control his temper, he walked to her side. "We've got to get out of here."

"Julian, wait!" Ann cried. "We must know what she has done with Sophie!"

"I will speak with her, Ann!" he said gruffly, and glanced at Adrian, who seemed to sense how ridiculously sorry he was—he waved him on. Julian did not hesitate. Clamping an iron hold on Claudia, he pushed her into the corridor, propelling her forward when she stumbled on her hem. He said not a word other than to demand their coach, then stoically accepted their cloaks from a nervous footman, tossing Claudia's around her shoulders.

"Julian—" she started, but he was unable to speak, barely able to breathe, and stopped her from saying more by grabbing her arm and pushing her outside and into the coach as rage clawed at his throat.

Once inside, she tried again. "Julian, please, I—"

"No," he said simply, dangerously. She seemed to almost disappear into the squabs then, eyeing him warily as the coach pitched through the snow-covered streets of London.

The ride home was unbearable; silence stretched between them like an ocean. With each jolt the coach took over the icy roads, he despised her more. She had gelded him, publicly emasculated him. Jesus Christ, the whirlwind of emotion and confusion she had caused in him for two years now had exhausted him beyond reason or caring. There was simply nothing left in him, nothing else she could use up.

He wanted only to know where Sophie was.

When they reached Kettering House, Julian cut a scathing glance across her as he climbed out of the coach. When he extended his hand to help her down, Claudia grabbed his wrist and would not let go. His anger spiraled out of control; he jerked his arm up, yanking free of her and flinging her hand away from him. Ignoring the looks of astonishment on the faces of the driver and the two footmen, he stormed inside and up the grand staircase. The Demon's Spawn followed him.

Stalking into his rooms, he whirled around to face her, dragging ragged breaths of air as he clawed at his neckcloth and tossed it carelessly aside. "Where is she?" he managed to choke out.

"Please, listen to me—"

"Where is she?" he roared to the ceiling.

Claudia jumped several steps backward. "On my life, she is safe, Julian, I swear it—"

"How dare you swear anything to me! Do you even realize that you have committed a crime? Where is she?"