The Romantic (11 page)

He knew, even as his essence succumbed, that he would never be able to totally contain this passion again.

Which meant that in the future, his life would be hell.

He was reading in a chair near the hearth when she opened her eyes. He had changed into dry trousers and donned his coats. He looked relaxed and comfortable. And very handsome. The fire played over his features, making his eyes appear even deeper set and darker than normal. It sculpted the planes of his face with sharp lights and shadows.

Julian.
She was glad he had insisted they drop formalities. She could not remember when they had adopted them.

He set aside the book. “You are feeling better?” She pushed herself up and set aside the blanket. She noted the shadows in the room. “Yes. I fear I slept too long. It appears to be late afternoon. You should be riding back if you hope to make it before dark.” “It is not my intention to ride back today.” He said it so casually that one would assume it did not imply something improper. Probably because it did not, for him.

“I think it would be best if I remained here until you decide what to do, and we arrange whatever needs to be dealt with,” he said. “Otherwise, tonight you may hear something
outside and think men have come again and head into the sea to escape.”

“I am not that foolish, Julian.”

“No, you are not. But you are very afraid. If I am here, I think you will be less frightened.”

That was certainly true.

“There is a chamber above the stables. I will use that.”

She was sure that her good judgment would speak to her more clearly if he did not look so unbearably handsome sitting there. Instead, proprieties seemed a little silly under the circumstances. They were alone here, and where he slept really would not make any difference should the world find out. Nor did he represent any danger to her virtue.

“I am not a blushing schoolgirl. If you are going to stay, you may as well be comfortable. As for making a decision regarding what to do, I have been contemplating that for a day now, and doubt I will decide by tomorrow.”

“Then I will wait until you do. I told my clerk to manage things while I am gone, and arranged for another solicitor to handle any matters that cannot wait.”

He rose and returned the book to its shelf. As he walked back, he passed close to the writing desk.

His gaze fell upon its surface. He stopped.

He reached out and straightened the document on the desk.

“What is this?”

“A pamphlet. I have been using the time here to work on it.”

He perused the first page. “You are planning to publish a statement regarding the marriage laws?”

“It is long past time for someone to start that discussion.”

He lifted the document and read it. “It is well written, Pen.”

She glowed at his praise. “It is not all mine. I have been working on it with some other ladies. Mrs. Levanham and some others in similar straits to mine.”

“It has your voice, Pen. The same tone as your letters to me. The same music. Do you intend to put your name to this?”

“It will be taken more seriously if I do. A countess’s name will give it more influence.”

“Does Glasbury know that?”

“I cannot imagine how he would.”

“I suspect the project is fairly well known among certain circles of women. It would only take one person to pass along a draft to him.”

“Are you implying that my participation on this essay is the reason he has moved against me?”

“Considering some of its language, it could be one reason. Let me see, how did that one sentence go … ah, yes, here it is—
Laws intended to protect women become the means for condemning them to lives of miserable slavery, should they discover their husbands are not decent gentlemen but instead vile, violent, wicked spawns of the devil.
A very impressive passage, Pen. Powerful.”

“It is not as if I actually called
him
a vile, violent spawn of the devil. It is very clear I was speaking in generalities.”

“It is the rationale you give for why women should be able to leave their husbands. You left your husband. Therefore, one assumes it was your rationale. So, you
are
calling him vile and wicked.”

She smacked the sofa’s cushion in vexation. “Well, he
is
vile and wicked. Do not expect me to temper my words, Julian. Women are slaves in marriage, and it must change.”

He gazed at the papers again, but it was not clear he actually read them. “Your experiences have encouraged too harsh a view. Not all women are slaves. Your brothers’ wives are very happy.”

This was why she never told men about that pamphlet.
They
could never understand. “If a married woman is not like a slave in a marriage, it is only because her owner is benevolent. Her condition is entirely subject to her husband’s whim. That pamphlet will be published, dear friend. Whatever else happens with Glasbury, that will not be negotiable.”

Without further comment, he turned to replace the document on the desk. As he did so, his attention was distracted to another sheet that had been beneath it.

She inwardly groaned. It was her list of names for her affair of convenience.

He glanced back at her. “It appears that you did not only occupy yourself with a call to arms to free married women from bondage.”

“On the chance that I would be staying in England, I began planning a little party.”

She did not know why she lied, but something in his eyes provoked the impulse.

“A very interesting party. Male guests only.”

This was really very embarrassing. “If you must know, I was considering the choice of an affair. I thought I should weigh whether such a thing was possible or even worth contemplating seriously.”

“So this is your list of likely conspirators.” He carried the paper over to the fire where there was more light to study it. “Colin Burchard will be honored to learn he made the cut.”

“In truth, I do not really think he would be suitable.”

He peered at the paper again. “Ewan McLean?”

“Well, actually—”

“Ewan McLean?”

“It was just a—”

“Naples must have been most congenial if you put McLean on your list.”

“I do not know why you are so disapproving. You said this was worth consideration.”

“I said the idea was worth consideration, not that Ewan McLean was. I will lock you away first, Pen. He is definitely not for you.”

“I think it is for me to decide who is for me and who isn’t.”

“The hell it is.”

She had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but his attitude and tone annoyed her. “It is very difficult to compile such a list, I will have you know. Especially since it will be no more than an affair of convenience. I will not want the complications of some man professing great love or, God forbid, wanting to marry after my divorce.”

“You appear to have planned it through in minute detail.”

“That part, yes. If I get free of this yoke I do not intend to become chattel again. I would be an idiot to remarry. As for that list, it is astonishing how very few names

I could muster, without even subjecting them to due testing.”

“Due testing?”

It was the closest thing to a yell that Pen had ever heard from Julian. It caused her shoulders to press in retreat against the back of the sofa.

“Well, not actually testing—”

“Perhaps you should put an advertisement in the papers. You can have it listed under livestock. Stallion sought, something like that.”

Now, that was uncalled for, and outright rude. “What a splendid idea,” she responded. “Only why play with metaphors? The direct approach is always best. How does this sound?
Gentleman required for a temporary affair of convenience. Unexceptionable references from previous lovers required. Must be willing to be named in criminal corespondence. Should be presentable, experienced, and have a strong back.”

His glare said he did not find that humorous in the least.

“I do not understand why you are reacting like this, Julian. You agreed an affair was a simple solution. You sounded very encouraging yesterday.”

He studied the list further, looking very critical indeed. Angry, actually.

“I notice that my name is not here.”

“You are so honorable, of course, and—”

“You worry for my reputation? That is generous of you.” He strolled toward her. His dark expression made her heart rise. “However, since I am the only man who has
already shown a willingness to risk the cost, that seems an odd reason to omit me.”

He was right in front of her now.

“In fact, I have proven myself willing to risk the cost even without the prize of pleasure. If you decide to bestow your favors I think I should at least be in the running, out of courtesy if nothing else.”

He looked down. She could not speak.

“I am also the only man who would completely understand what you asked and why, Pen. The only one who would know why you needed this affair of convenience, and what it did and did not mean.”

It was not Julian the old friend gazing at her with those stormy eyes, nor was it Mr. Hampton the faithful advisor. A different man stood just inches from her, darkly displeased, projecting an aura that charged the air and made her heart pound.

His hand came to rest on her face. She stared up in silent astonishment. That touch felt very good, however. Masculine and warm and confident.

“Perhaps you did not include me because you did not think I could acquit myself well enough. After all, you have never subjected me to
due testing”

His hand commanded her head steady. A sensual anticipation scurried through her.

His head lowered and his mouth pressed hers.

It was not a long kiss, but it amazed her. She responded as if a sexual breeze had entered her. The kiss was firm enough and long enough to make explicit it was not intended as one of friendship, or even one of request.

He stopped and straightened. His gaze affected her even more than the kiss had. She could not even blink.

Then he was gone, walking away, heading calmly for the door to the terrace like a man who had thought of something else he should be attending.

chapter
8

I
f that kiss was any indication, Julian Hampton could acquit himself very well indeed.

That was the first lucid thought that entered Pen’s head as she gained some control on her flustered condition.

She sat on the sofa, trying to find some accommodation to this sudden turn in their friendship.

She had no idea what she was supposed to do now.

She stood up and looked out the window. He was not on the terrace.

He might think she was insulted by that kiss, or that she suspected his intentions now. That kiss could change everything about how one saw his help and protection and motivations, if one permitted it to.

She did not want him wondering if that were the case with her.

Her cloak was nowhere in sight, so she grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She stepped out on the terrace to see where he was.

Julian stood not far from the bottom step of the stone
stairs, on a strip of beach released by the outgoing tide. He cut a handsome image standing there, framed by the sea, his dark frock coat and hair contrasting with its pale tones. His body bore a casual stance, as if he meditated on the elements and allowed nature’s forces to flow through him.

He did not look like someone who would welcome an intrusion on his solitude.

She headed down the stairs anyway. She went and stood beside him.

He did not look at her. “You should have stayed in the cottage, Pen.”

“I am not going to take ill. I am quite recovered from my ordeal.”

“That is not what I meant.” He glanced over, then turned his attention back to the sea. “I do not intend to apologize, if that is what you expect.”

“There is no need to. It was an impulse. We all on occasion act without thinking.”

“Yes, it was an impulse. Or it may have been the most deliberate thing I have ever done in my life. I haven’t decided yet.”

She did not know what to say to that, but she felt compelled to say something. “I am surprised, that is all. Flattered, too, certainly, but mostly surprised. I had no idea that you ever thought of me that way.”

“Why wouldn’t I think of you that way? You are an attractive woman, and men have a habit of thinking of women that way in any case.”

That certainly gave the episode a commonplace color. It also explained the true reason for that kiss. A very ordinary
one that had nothing to do with impulse, or even very much with whether he thought of her that way.

His pride had been wounded, that was all. His masculinity had been insulted that the Countess of Glasbury had not included him on that silly list of potential lovers, no matter which lover she eventually chose.

Well, what did she expect? He may be an old friend, but he was still a man.

“Julian, I meant it when I said you were not on my list because you are honorable, and because of the cost to you of such a scandal. I almost wrote your name, truly. My pen was poised to do so, but consideration of all that stopped me. Of course the notion entered my mind, but under the circumstances it just seemed to be best if I removed you from consideration.”