My Fair Mistress (17 page)

As they did upon occasion, she and Maris had stopped today at Hatchard’s book shop to peruse the latest inventory. Cousin Henrietta was absent, having decided instead to visit a friend in Kew. Laughingly, Henrietta had remarked that she’d been so busy of late she scarcely had time to think, what with all of Maris’s callers and social engagements. An afternoon of quiet, she had said, was exactly what her old bones required.

Cousin Henrietta was right about Maris, Julianna thought. Her sister was in great demand these days with a regular circle of friends and several attentive gentleman callers, including Viscount Middleton. Lord Doughton, a young man with a love of art and music, frequently stopped by the Allerton House drawing room, as did the handsome, stalwart Major Waring.

Julianna wasn’t certain, but she wondered if her sister might be developing a special affection for the major. Maris’s eyes seemed to sparkle more brightly and she laughed more often whenever he paid a call. And she was always pleased to accompany him on a stroll or for a ride in the park, returning in a sunny, exuberant humor.

But her young sister was having far too much fun flitting from ball to rout to soiree to worry about anything more serious than what to wear on her next outing and which gentleman she would choose to escort her into supper at midnight. Let her be busy, Julianna decided, and enjoy the rest of the Season.

Yet Maris wasn’t the only one with an abundance of obligations these days. Julianna’s own schedule was inordinately full—though for completely different reasons than her sister’s. Juggled into the mix of parties and teas and balls were her afternoon assignations with Rafe.

With the Season in full swing, meeting him had become more complicated, and she’d taken to having to switch the occasional day. She’d even met him a couple of times in the morning, getting only a few hours’ sleep before sneaking over to the house in Queens Square while most of her acquaintance were still fast asleep.

Luckily, Rafe didn’t seem to mind the adjustments, or if he did, he refrained from saying. She knew he understood that her time was no longer completely her own. She had a duty to her sister and needed, more than ever before, to be careful when and where she went, and by whom she was seen.

Neither of them ever discussed their initial bargain, nor mentioned the debt still owed to him. Four months from now and her obligation would be met. She would be free to walk away and never see Rafe again, if that is what she wished.

But do I wish it?
she pondered.

Footfalls intruded upon her thoughts. Glancing up, she watched the Earl of Summersfield stride toward her, his patrician face alive with pleasure.

“Lady Hawthorne, well met! I did not expect to find you here today. What a happy occasion this is!”

Executing an elegant bow, he straightened, displaying a set of straight, white teeth in an irresistibly cheerful smile.

She smiled back, finding it quite impossible to do otherwise. Not that she had any reason to resist—Lord Summersfield was a very amiable man. He was also a very persistent man, never seeming to fatigue in his quest to convince her to accept his hand in marriage. He had asked so often, and she had refused so frequently, that the ritual had by now taken on the semblance of a game.

She worried about hurting him, but he assured her each and every time she refused his suit that he was in no way wounded, content to be her friend until she decided to let him become more.

Secretly, she suspected he was not truly serious, wondering whether he would be more alarmed than thrilled if she ever did decide to accept. But therein lay the perfection of the game, since she assumed both of them knew he was safe from any real risk. As much as she liked and respected him, she felt no more than mild affection for him and would never consent to be his wife.

“My lord, always a pleasure, though I would have expected to find you out-of-doors on such a gloriously sunny day as this.”

“When radiance such as yours can be discovered inside, why would any man venture out?”

“Please, my lord, what have I told you about such unnecessary flattery? You must stop this instant.” She softened her command with a smile.

He laid a gloved hand across the breast of his finely tailored Clarence blue coat. “But that would be censorship of the grossest kind, and to that I must object. When beauty appears in my path, I must stop and sing out its praises. And you, dear lady, are very definitely worth the effort of a song. An entire chorus, in fact, you are looking so markedly lovely. I assure you, my feelings cannot be contained.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Enough. You will make my head swell to three times its normal size and then explode. Only think of the dreadful mess that would make.”

The earl barked out a laugh, drawing the attention of several nearby patrons.

“See, you are getting us in trouble,” Julianna said.

“Would that I could convince you to let me get you into more. Care to run away? Gretna is only a coach ride distant.”

“What I care to do is choose a book. Now tell me, my lord, which authors have you come here seeking?”

At the shout of a man’s laugh, Rafe turned his head, the book he held suddenly forgotten in his hand.

Julianna.

There she stood, only a few feet across the room, luminous in a day dress the color of young green apples. Lush and dark as sable, her beautiful hair was neatly tucked beneath a very fetching hat, a pert white feather bobbing as she nodded her head.

His heart gave a single hard thump, blood quickening the way it always did when the two of them were in the same room. So powerfully attuned to her, Rafe didn’t know how he could have walked into the shop and not known instantly that she was there as well.

Smiling merrily, she laughed at some remark made by the man at her side.

Who is he?

Rafe clenched his teeth as he watched. Obviously the man was known to her, their demeanor speaking of long acquaintance and an intimacy he did not like.

No, he didn’t like it one jot.

Barely watching what he did, Rafe shoved the book he held back onto a shelf. He’d taken two steps forward before he stopped, remembering where he was and why he could not approach her. Here in this bookstore, he and Julianna were not supposed to have met. In public, he had promised her they would always behave as strangers. Fists tight at his sides, he swallowed a growl and fought the need to stride forward and whisk her away.

The other man wanted her, of that he had no doubt. Did Julianna realize it? Did she know she was the object of her companion’s desire, all the leather-bound tomes surrounding them nothing more than a convenient distraction?

The aristocrat extended his arm. A muscle twitched near Rafe’s eye as Julianna laughed again and set her hand on his sleeve.

Rafe must have made a noise, he realized, because just then she turned and looked straight at him. Her pretty eyes widened, an expression of surprise and, if he was not mistaken, undisguised pleasure warming her velvety gaze. In the next instant, though, the expression faded, replaced by clear concern.

Raising a single eyebrow, he gave her a nearly imperceptible nod.

From across the room, Julianna stared, awareness sizzling inside her.

Rafe is here,
she thought.
Oh my!

Her lips curved slightly at the corners before she dipped her chin and let her lashes fan downward to shield her gaze.

If they had been alone, she knew Rafe would have wrapped her in his arms and crushed his lips to hers in some remote corner of the store. With her heart threatening to jump out of her chest, she inhaled and strove for calm, astonishment rushing like quicksilver through her veins.

Looking as powerfully resplendent as any lord, Rafe stood tall and impressive in a form-fitting bottle-green coat that displayed the breadth of his shoulders and enhanced the color of his eyes, his irises gleaming like shards of pale green glass. Impeccable cravat, tan waistcoat, buff trousers, and polished Hessians completed his attire, together with a fine beaver top hat perched at a rakish angle atop his head.

She shivered, feeling his presence as strongly as if he were touching her. Perversely she was also aware, almost painfully so, of the social distance between them. More than the illicit nature of their affair, the yawning chasm of class distinctions rose between them, solid and unscalable as a brick wall.

Had she been alone in the shop, she might have ignored prudence and crossed the room to greet him. Heaven knows she longed to do so. But with Lord Summersfield looking on, as well as her sister nearby, Julianna felt compelled to maintain her place and her silence. To all outward appearances, Rafe must remain a stranger in her eyes. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she forced herself not to gaze in his direction again.

“I may be mistaken, but I think that is Rafe Pendragon,” Summersfield remarked in a low voice. “They say he’s giving Rothschild real competition in financial circles these days, and is very nearly as wealthy. I understand Pendragon recently brokered some loans on behalf of Wellington in order to help finance the continued push into Spain.”

Really?
she thought. She knew Rafe was a rich, influential financier, but she hadn’t realized he was assisting in the war effort. Her heart warmed at the information, even as her guilt increased for her decision to ignore him.

“Curious,” Summersfield continued, “but he seems to be looking at you.”

Her gaze flashed upward again, dismayed to see that the earl was correct.

What does Rafe think he’s doing?

“Well, if he is looking my way, I cannot imagine why,” she dissembled.

Summersfield smiled. “I assume the man is smitten with your beauty.”

“Yes, well, he should know better than to stare.”

Dear God, Rafe, quit staring!

“Good day, my lord,” Maris chimed, approaching quite unexpectedly from behind them. “Whatever is it the two of you are discussing so hush-hush? Ooh, who is that? He is quite the handsomest man I have ever seen.”

Summersfield quirked a brow in mock offense. “I may be in error, but was I just insulted?”

Maris giggled, quite at her ease. “Oh, never fear Lord Summersfield. You are quite handsome too.”

He exchanged a smile. “My thanks, Lady Maris, for the reassurance to my poor deflated pride.”

“Oh my, is he coming over?” Maris exclaimed. “Do you think he means to speak to us?”

In dread, Julianna watched Rafe saunter forward, his gaze sweeping over her.

Surely, he doesn’t mean to speak to me.

She knew she wasn’t a good enough actress to pretend to make his acquaintance, scandalous as such a meeting would be. One word, a single look from her, and everyone would realize the truth. The whole world would know he was her lover.

Panic threatened as he walked closer, each step bringing him dangerously near. Then, only a few feet distant, he made an abrupt left turn and disappeared into the stacks as if books had been his intent all along.

She exhaled, only then realizing she had been holding her breath, leaving her mildly dizzy.

“What a shame,” Maris declared. “I was hoping for an introduction to find out if he sounds as wonderful as he looks.”

Better,
Julianna thought silently,
he sounds even better.

Instead, she steadied herself, then turned to her sister. “An introduction would have been quite improper, as well you know. Now if you are done perusing the shelves, I believe it is time we departed.”

Maris shot her a puzzled look. “I am sorry, Jules. I did not mean to upset you. You look a bit pale. Are you all right?”

Summersfield nodded. “Yes, Lady Hawthorne, you do appear peaked of a sudden.”

“A touch of the headache, that is all. It shall pass away soon enough, I expect.”

“I know just the cure.” Summersfield smiled and rubbed her gloved hand where it still rested on his arm. “Cakes and ices at Gunter’s. Why don’t you ladies allow me to escort you for a restorative repast? We’ll order a large pot of tea as well. That and a sweet will put everything to rights again.”

Julianna wanted to refuse. After her encounter, or rather her near encounter with Rafe, she would much rather have retreated to the safety of home. But she could tell by the expression on her sister’s face that Maris was excited by the thought of the outing.

“Yes, thank you, my lord. That would be most delightful.”

Pausing at the counter first to pay for Maris’s selection, they soon made their way outside. It was only as she was climbing into Summersfield’s carriage that she saw Rafe again, coming out of the shop.

Their gazes collided, a glower on his saturnine face. Turning on his heel, he strode away.

Oh dear,
she thought.

Moments later the carriage moved forward.