A Reluctant Betrothal by Amanda Weaver

Author:Amanda Weaver [Weaver, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-09-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Julian lingered in the library long after Grace left, sipping a glass of scotch and willing his body to cool. He needed to give her time to rejoin the party, so his own reappearance wouldn’t be remarked upon. And he needed to give himself time to wrestle with what he’d done.

He’d attacked her, compromised her, nearly hauled her skirts up and buried himself in her in Rupert’s library, with Rupert just on the other side of the house. Raising the glass to his lips again, he noted the tremor in his hands. He felt himself coming undone from the inside out. His carefully controlled behavior, his finely attuned sense of right and wrong, were fracturing like glass. One tiny tap and he might fall apart into shards.

Closing his eyes, he let the scotch burn a path down his throat and pool in his belly, praying it would burn away this mad lust on its way down. He dug the heel of his palm against his eye. If only he had the power to burn her memory from his mind entirely. No amount of scotch or self-loathing would accomplish that.

Summoning every ounce of will power he possessed, he tossed back the last of his scotch and left the parlor to find the others. They were in the parlor, all except for Grace and Lady Grantham.

“There you are, Julian,” Rupert called out.

“Where did you get off to?” Honor asked, all wide innocent eyes and trusting smile. Good lord, he was a beast. An untrustworthy, ungrateful animal.

He forced an easy smile and lied through his teeth. “I went to find Rupert and your father in the billiards room, but they’d already gone. However, I couldn’t resist trying out your table for myself. Quite magnificent, Rupert.”

“Fine table, isn’t it?” Lord Dorney said. But when he met Julian’s gaze there was something in his eyes, as if he was trying to see beneath Julian’s words. He suspects. Honor, as trusting and kind as she was, would never think to question, but her father had noticed Julian and Grace disappearing together and begun to question.

“Very fine indeed.”

“Come ’round tomorrow,” Rupert interjected. “And we’ll have a couple of games.”

He was lying to Rupert, too. Betraying everyone he loved, indulging in this wretched infatuation.

“Sounds wonderful. Have Lady Grantham and Miss Godwyn gone already?” He kept his tone appropriately disinterested through sheer force of will.

“Poor Miss Godwyn had a headache,” Honor said.

“What a shame.”

“Not enough to put her off her lesson tomorrow, though,” Rupert said. “She’s quite dedicated to improving herself.”

Julian ground his teeth together. It was no good. He couldn’t stand here all night calmly discussing Grace, listening to Honor and Rupert talk about this home they’d designed for her comfort as Rupert’s wife.

“I think I’m off as well.”

“But it’s early yet,” Rupert protested.

“Are you well, Knighton?” Dorney asked, his piercing gaze dancing between Julian’s eyes.

“I will be,” he assured them. “I’m just a bit more tired than I realized. A good night’s sleep and I’ll be back to normal.

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