Her Perfect Earl by Beth Pattillo

Author:Beth Pattillo
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BelleBooks Inc.
Published: 2013-08-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

JULIAN LINGERED IN the hip bath as he drew in great lungfuls of air. He had downed two cups of the prescribed tea and scrubbed himself within an inch of his life. His valet had borne off his clothes to be burnt. An hour after he’d entered his bedchamber, every trace of cat had been banished. The footman had poured the last pail of hot water into the bath and disappeared. Now there was only the firelight, the warmth of the water, and the sweet, blessed air in his lungs.

His honor—nay, Esmie’s honor—had been saved by a cat. With a groan, Julian leaned forward and splashed his face, then took the pitcher the footman had left, scooped some water, and poured it over his head. The impromptu shower could not compare with the shame that spilled over him. The abandonment of his principles appalled him. He had never lost control in such a manner. He was not a man to justify his own desires with self-serving excuses.

With a towel, he wiped the water from his eyes. If it were only his own honor, he would offer for her without delay. Damnation, if it were only his own future and his own name, he would seize Esmerelda Fortune with both hands and drag her to the nearest parson. But he could not consider himself. Since the day his father had marched him into the study and driven home with his cane what it meant to be the future Earl of Ashforth, Julian had not regarded himself or his own wishes. Perfection, his father had said through clenched teeth as he lashed Julian’s backside, was worth any pain, any price. He had believed his father’s words. He had striven to be what was expected of him. He knew he was intelligent and capable and a leader of men. An Ashforth could be nothing less. An Ashforth could marry no one less perfect than himself. No, he could only burn for a thin, gray-eyed termagant who thwarted him at every turn and drove him to distraction.

Julian shivered. The water had grown cool.

He would have to send her away. Her loss pained him far more than the disappearance of the Corinna, for one was a prize for the intellect, but the other had been salve for his soul. He shoved himself upward and reached for a dry piece of toweling. A knock sounded at the door, and he cursed under his breath. Far too many people prowled his house in the middle of the night.

He climbed from the bath and wrapped the toweling around his waist as he crossed the room. His valet was a stickler for modesty, a rather odd quality in a manservant. Perhaps he should remind the man that servants were meant to make life simpler, not more complex.

“Come in, and be quick about it.” He flung open the door and stood to the side so he would not be in full view of the corridor.

“My lord!”

Julian’s head whipped around. Esmie stood in the doorway, swollen eyes and all, but her expression was not one of sorrow.

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