A Disgraceful Miss (3 page)

It was Daniel’s birthday, and Angelica was a mass of nerves. She had neither seen nor spoken to Julian since the dance. It was questionable whether or not she’d be able to eat a thing this evening, what with the knot in her stomach and trembling anticipation to see Julian again. He was certain to make an appearance, to wish Daniel well if for naught else; failure to do so would invite questions, of the sort she was fairly certain he wouldn’t want to be put to.

The mantel clock chimed nine.

“How unlike Vinedale, to be tardy,” said Charlotte with a frown. “Do you suppose we should send round and inquire? He usually puts in a good hour before we dine, and tonight is a special celebration.”

“I take your point, Charlotte, but I don’t think we need to loose the hounds just yet.” Daniel took a seat beside his wife. “I saw him at the club this afternoon, so he hasn’t taken ill. Even that nasty gash he took chasing Angelica’s thief looks better.”

“I do hope so. Do you think it will scar?”

“There’s no avoiding it, deep as it is.” Daniel patted Charlotte’s hand, while Angelica’s heart sank at the thought. He was permanently marked because of her? “Don’t know what he was thinking to go after the man. We may be back in England but the criminals are every bit as bad or worse as the
thugs
infesting Indian markets.”

Angelica frowned.
Thug
was a word Julian had also used. Had they run into some of these
thugs
while they were serving in the army there?

“Vine never could tolerate a thief. A few years back, there was a merchant in Bombay robbed while we took coffee at a local shop. Vine took off like a rifle shot after the ruffian. Caught him in no time, too.”

“Telling stories about me?” Angelica was listening so closely she jumped in surprise when Julian’s voice rang out. His visits were so frequent the butler no longer bothered to announce him. “Next you’ll be giving away my secrets.” He smiled as he crossed the room to claim a seat that seemed a world away, it was so far across the room.

Daniel laughed. “You haven’t any secrets that I know of, Vine. You are the most open person I’ve ever met.”

“Oh, I think you’d be surprised,” Julian murmured and Angelica held her breath. Did he just cut his eyes toward her? It happened so quickly, she might have imagined it if it weren’t for the faint color that rushed his cheeks. Was Julian actually…blushing? Or was it just the healthy pink of a healing wound?

The memory of his demanding lips on hers flashed in her mind and stole her breath. Daniel would not be pleased if he knew. Julian had likely glanced in warning that this was a secret he intended to keep.

“I find that very difficult to believe,” declared Charlotte. “A man whose first impulse is to chase down a thief, rather than to stop and worry about soiling his threads, is a selfless gentleman in my book. Thank you, Vine, for looking after our…after Angelica for us.”

Now it was Angelica’s turn to blush. Everyone in the room knew that Charlotte and Daniel were Angelica’s true parents. It just wasn’t something that any of them spoke aloud, for fear of the servants spreading gossip.

“Indeed, it was my pleasure to be of assistance.”

“Well, we owe you
another
debt. Continue this way, my friend, and we’ll be indebted to you for life,” Daniel said.

Julian shrugged the comment away, as if the thought of anyone being indebted to him was unwelcome. And that gave Angelica pause. Julian didn’t have anyone that she could ascertain. No parents, siblings, or family of his own. There didn’t even seem to be anyone in line to inherit should Julian die without issue. And, with the exception of leisure time spent with Daniel, Julian hadn’t made any effort to change matters. No obligations or ties anywhere. How very lonely that must be.

“Your face seems to be healing nicely, Vinedale,” Charlotte said and leaned forward, her expression earnest. “If you hadn’t been there with Angelica, who knows what else might have happened?”

Daniel stood and poured Vinedale a drink. “I’ve had a word with Lord George Cavendish, and he’s agreed to secure the arcade with former members of his regiment, stationed as beadles. I’d like to see a thief get past one of his hussars in the future.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what the world is coming to.” Charlotte shook her head and rose. “Shall we move to the dining room and continue our discussion? I hope you don’t mind that we’ll be dining
à la russe
tonight. I’d like for the servants to practice handling the dishes properly before we host that dinner party next week.”

Since the household typically dined traditionally,
à la français
, the servants were used to delivering the entire meal at once to the table where guests could fill their plates according to their wish. The new Russian style of dining involved the servants bringing out individually plated courses and was rapidly become the more popular way to dine.

Charlotte rose from the sofa with her usual grace, took two steps and then, in slow motion, began to crumple, collapsing toward the floor like a marionette with severed strings. Thankfully, Daniel was just behind her and caught her about the waist.

“Dear heavens,” Angelica cried and surged forward. “Charlotte!”

“Charlotte?” Daniel swept his wilting wife into his arms.

“Here now, what’s this?” Julian was across the room in no time, as worried as the rest of them.

“I don’t know. She’s been off her meals the past few days and now this. I’m taking her back to her chamber to rest while Jiggs fetches a physician.” Then Daniel was gone, leaving Angelica alone to fret with only Julian for company.

After the household died down and the physician departed, Angelica had been allowed a brief visit to assure her of her mother’s well-being. A little pale, Charlotte was awake and she reclined within Daniel’s stunned embrace, a dreamy smile on her face.

Angelica wandered down the stairs, deep in thought about this latest turn of events. She didn’t belong, not here and not within the home she had grown up in. How false her entire life seemed when she had learned about her natural family, her true parents. She had only begun to feel like she was a part of this family, and now she stood again on the perimeter, watching as they built a new family together.

Not that she was upset about the life her parents were building. On the contrary, she was delighted for them. They deserved their happiness. But that didn’t mean that Angelica wasn’t lonely.

Lord, she was so lonely, she ached with it. She wanted something as meaningful, as fulfilling and consuming, for herself. She wanted to share her life with a man as dedicated to her as her parents were to each other.

Julian? Or Bradley?

Certainly Julian was older, but he wasn’t
old
. She liked that he knew his own mind, had made his way in the world long before he’d inherited his peerage. It gave him an assurance that the other
ton
gentlemen seemed only able to mimic, like so many brilliant-plumed macaws dutifully repeating their master’s token words.

What reached out to her the most was the loneliness that was so much a part of Julian. It echoed the emptiness that filled her since she became detached from her old life and her sense of family.

Would it be possible for two such damaged souls to fill the void in each other?

Bradley, on the other hand, seemed as boyish and carefree as ever. Interchangeable with the other dandies who had vied for her attention this Season, he seemed unpolished as he postured and jested with his brothers. What did he offer, besides exuberance?

At the base of the stairs, she paused to retrieve Charlotte’s silk shawl, dropped in the haste with which she had been rushed above-stairs. Angelica folded the luxurious wrap and draped it over her forearm, then headed toward the drawing room.

With Julian she felt…essential? Complete. Attuned to him in some elemental way.

Aroused.

Heavens, that kiss. Heat rose to her cheeks as she recalled the feel of his embrace, those assured hands holding her just so.

After closing the door for fear a servant would come upon her in her distraction, Angelica realized that she was not alone. The chamber seemed altered in the same indescribable way air changed in the midst of a lightning storm, crisp and sharp and full of awareness. Her heartbeat accelerated. There was only one person who could do
that
to a room.

Julian.

“I’m surprised you waited,” she said, still facing the door panel, a tremor shaking her. Inexplicably, she was afraid to turn. Afraid that he would finally spurn her and squash her tender heart.

“I wasn’t about to depart until I was reassured of Charlotte’s well-being.”

Angelica turned and found him across the room, haunting that same distant chair he’d claimed earlier.

“Indeed, she’ll be fine,” she said and crossed to the sofa. Julian watched her closely.

My, what a couple of caricatures they were, taking the roles of formality to ease the awkwardness, as if something fundamental had not changed between them in that alleyway. “She’s
enceinte
.”

“Pregnant?” Julian’s eyes flashed silver and a smile lit his face. He sighed as if he were releasing all of the tension that worry had crafted. “Daniel must be delighted.”

“Ecstatic.” Angelica fiddled with a tea service that had been delivered at some point, no doubt to provision their guest while the physician was conducting his examinations. On closer inspection, she found the brew had gone cold and replaced the lid with a frown. “Shall I send for more tea?”

“Not on my account, thank you.”

She nodded then sat back and closed her eyes with a sigh of her own. A moment later, she felt the thick, brocaded cushion beneath her shift, as if Julian had joined her on the sofa though she hadn’t heard a footstep. His scent, that warm citrus-infused bay rum he favored, drifted to her like a caress. She peeked from beneath her lashes and there he was. So close that she could touch him.

Close enough to entice him to another kiss?

“May I ask you something?” Julian said, staring at her lips.

“That depends.”

His head tilted. “On what?”

“On whether or not you’re going to ask to kiss me again.”

The breath he took was so deep and long that his nostrils flared slightly. He ran his hand through his hair, leaving a wake of ruffled locks. “God,” he muttered as if to himself. “You do tempt me.”

Did she really? Heat pooled in her center, seeping through her system like honey oozing across a hot scone. Angelica leaned in slightly, parting her lips in offering.

“Are you tempted now?” she prompted when he didn’t say anything further, didn’t move. Didn’t do anything but stare at her lips as if he were starving. Then he blinked and she wondered if it had only been her imagination.

“Do you have feelings for Bradley Carston?”

Was he jealous? She rather liked the thought that he might be. The warm, tingly feeling continued to spread. “Why?”

“Tell me.”

“I’m not certain, Julian.”

He didn’t seem to notice her use of his given name. They were now so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek. So close, yet not near enough.

A single finger skimmed her cheek. “Have you asked him to kiss you as you ask me?”

“No, Julian.” The words were faint, barely a sound on an exhale. Her body trembled as she shifted infinitesimally closer, silently daring—begging—him to touch her. To take charge.

His eyes flared as if he noticed her use of his given name this time and liked it. A lot. As if he couldn’t help himself.

The heat coalesced in her loins. “I care for
you
.”

Like a river at flood stage, he rushed her, pressing his lips to hers and tangling his fingers in her hair, cradling the back of her head in his palm. Devouring her.

Without hesitation, she opened to him, enjoying the sensations of desire and need. She licked across the seam of his lips in encouragement. Julian responded with a low rumbling sound, his own tongue coming out to play in an erotic duel.

It felt so right, to be in his arms.

Of their own accord, her hands settled on his shoulders and she could feel the rising tension, his muscles bunched under her fingertips like the flanks of a steeplechaser taking a hedge.

When he pulled back, as if to stop the decadence of their embrace, she twined her arms around his neck and tugged. The momentum pulled him forward, held him in place until he took over with a groan, pressing until she was pinned between his hard torso and the soft cushion.

His fingertips skimmed the modest edge of her gown as if testing the barrier for weakness. Goose bumps rose in the wake. When, at her shoulder, he hooked a finger under the tiny cap sleeve and tugged, the fabric and shift gave way, easing down. Baring her shoulder. Teasing her senses.

As he licked and nibbled his way down her neck, she held her breath, her insides quivering. He nipped at the delicate skin of her collarbone then kissed it as if offering condolence for the rough treatment.

A tug and her gown loosened, only to be nudged aside. His mouth was questing. Nuzzling. The rough brush of his cheek abraded the tender skin just before his lips closed over her nipple. The moist heat caused her to gasp, and a shock of sensation raced down her spine like a lightning bolt straight to her loins. Her nipple peaked and his tongue curled around the tip, encouraging it to pucker so tightly as to be almost painful.

Angelica lost all sense of self. Of where they were. She could only focus on Julian laving her breast, and the fire the rhythmic licks set to her blood. She splayed her fingers across his head to hold him in place, to encourage him to continue that wild, tugging sensation. Never had she imagined such pleasure existed.

An impatient pull at his hair elicited a chuckle when he abandoned one breast for the other, now liberated from her clothing as well.

She was aflame, lost to the overwhelming feeling that raced through her like molten lead. She was restless, unsettled, and needed to move. To touch, feel, taste. She slipped her hands down, between them and under the folds of his jacket till she felt the crisp linen of his shirt, the heat of his skin through the thin layer of material.

Julian paused and raised up. “Stop,” he muttered, his body taut, frozen just inches above her flushed skin. “We have to halt. Now.” His rapid breaths stimulated her wet, sensitized nipples.

“No. I want you to debauch me as you promised.” There was no way she was going to let him cease. Not yet. It felt too good. She dug her fingernails into his back to prove the point, delighting in the strangled gasp it elicited, a sound of pleasure and pain.

“A servant could discover us.” His eyes flashed silver.

“They won’t. They’ve long since learned not to open closed doors in this house.” Was it wrong to enjoy the sight of Julian, his lips reddened and poised above her naked breasts? She was damp between her legs, impatient for more. She arched her back, straining to offer her flesh to him, silently begging him to accept her offer.

For the first time in a long while, Angelica didn’t feel so alone, didn’t feel as if she watched from afar as others experienced life. She felt connected. Vital. And she didn’t want it to end.

“Julian,” Angelica whispered, unable to keep any longer from begging. “Please.”

When he met her gaze this time, his eyes were nearly black, the pupils dilated till the gray was nothing but a halo around the dark depths that promised no quarter. “I want to lick more than your breasts, Angelica. Will you let me?”

She wasn’t certain what he was asking for, but if the result was anything like what she’d just experienced, she’d let him do whatever he wanted.

She gulped. “Yes, please.”

If it had started raining right there in the drawing room, Angelica could not have been any more surprised than when Julian pulled away and dropped to his knees. Her legs dangled off of the sofa, her position raising her hems much higher than was appropriate. Julian encircled each exposed ankle with his warm hands. Slowly, he ran them up her calves, raising her skirts along the way. For a moment he paused when he reached the garters tied at her knees, then his hands were hot upon the bare skin of her thighs. When her skirts were folded back to her waist, he paused again and looked up.

If she had thought the image of him at her breast was breathtaking, it was nothing compared to the sight of him hovering over her naked thighs, the tight curls of her mound revealed to him. If she didn’t exhale soon, she might faint. But she couldn’t. Couldn’t do anything but watch as he gently pulled her knees apart, lifted one bent leg and placed her foot high on the sofa.

Julian stared at the vulnerable, slick flesh that he’d exposed, and then he inhaled, long and slow. “I can smell your desire already. You’re hot for me, aren’t you?”

She nodded, unable to blink, to look away in a maidenly show of shyness. She couldn’t think of anything other than
please
. Or
more
.

Julian reached up and placed her empty hand at her breast. “Rub yourself if it feels good. I’d like to watch you do that, pleasure yourself.”

Angelica squeezed her breasts reflexively, a trail of excitement flaring at Julian’s words, and at the feel of her hands doing something with the soft flesh other than wash them indifferently. How silly of her; she’d never realized she could pleasure herself in such a way. She kneaded them in her hands, her stiff nipples jabbing at her palms, causing her to tremble more, to lose a little more control. Between Julian’s hot gaze and her own ministrations, her body clenched. Cool air skimmed her damp flesh.

His eyes flared and he swallowed hard. “God, you learn quickly.”

“It feels so good, Julian.”

She felt the brush of his hand at the top of her thigh, grazing the delicate folds at the juncture, eliciting a frisson of sensation.

“And to think we’ve only just begun.” His smile was positively wicked, and then he moved and Angelica was left to stare at the dark hair that crowned his head.

When he kissed her
there
, at that most secret spot of her body, she would have slid off the sofa if he hadn’t pressed a restraining hand to her pelvis; she was so surprised that he…would. That it would feel so…

Then she felt the delicate probing of…oh, dear heavens…was that his
tongue?

Julian still held her in place with one hand and the other she could feel parting, separating her folds so that his tongue—that wicked, velvety muscle—could lick and probe and cause her to completely lose her mind.

Someone was gasping, emitting little sounds, and in some distant corner of her mind Angelica realized she was the source. But she didn’t care, she was lost, caught up in a rising feeling, her hips helpless to do anything but rock rhythmically. Instinctively.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he paused to murmur against her flesh. “Relax and let it take you.”

This time his tongue rubbed, pressing against an unbelievably sensitive spot. His fingers skimmed her folds, teasing the highly sensitized opening. Taunting her where she ached the most, where her body clenched and tensed and sought something more.

Angelica rocked harder as Julian thumbed her faster, his growls of encouragement sending her passion higher. And then the fever reached a crescendo, everything dimmed and she was awash in pulsing waves of indescribable pleasure, her extremities numb as if every drop of blood had been sucked into her core to feed the sensation.

Julian gently kissed where she still throbbed, and then he rose up, looming as he claimed her lips in a musky, sybaritic kiss. Propped onto his forearms, he surrounded her, his hips pressed intimately between her thighs. The evidence of his arousal was a thick ridge, and he shifted his hips slowly back and forth to rub along her sensitive folds.