“A month, and you did not feel the need to inform me or my wife?” Karrington sat back down and flexed his neck left and right.
Henry stared at his friend, knowing that they were feeling exactly the same way. After all, they had run into the burning townhome together, and now, one of the people responsible was roaming around free.
“This is unheard of. The authorities should have been contacted.” Windchester shook his head.
“She could be anywhere by now.” St. Clara’s voice was grave, making Henry turn toward him. He thought for a moment that he saw the same pain he felt over his sister’s killer evident St. Clara’s eyes. But he knew that Amelia’s other brother hand disowned her long before her death.
“No. Josephine will certainly want revenge. I’m certain she has returned to London by now, and if that is the case, whomever she blames for her demise is not safe.” Windchester took a large drink of wine, nearly emptying the contents of the glass.
“Gentlemen, we are in the middle of dinner.” Livie tried to calm everyone down.
“She almost killed you, or have you forgotten? I won’t allow her anywhere near you or the children.” Karrington’s voice carried across the long dining table to his wife.
Livie swallowed several times, her gray-eyed stare full of hurt and pain. “No, I haven’t forgotten, Your Grace, but there is nothing to be done about her tonight.”
“I agree with my daughter. Perhaps after dinner us men can discuss what to do about the former countess,” Hempstead said calmly, looking from his daughter to Karrington.
“Is this the woman responsible for your sister’s death?” Elijah asked Henry.
Henry nodded, his voice cracking as he spoke. “Y-yes.”
“She wasn’t his sister,” his mother’s venomous voice slashed through the last of his patience.
Henry slammed his open palm down on the table, causing it to vibrate loudly. “She was my sister, and I’m tired of you pretending as if she wasn’t!” he yelled, aware that he was ruining Livie’s dinner party. He stood abruptly and turned to bow to Livie. “Excuse me, Your Grace.”
Henry needed some air. He couldn’t stay in his mother’s presence one moment longer or he might commit violence against her. And that would be ungentlemanly.
The dashing Marquess of H causes ladies to swoon from just a glance. It’s no wonder Lady F and Lady J both are fighting for his special attention. Is there more going on under the roof of the Duke and Duchess of K than anyone is aware?
Julia seethed as Florentia sang to the ladies in the Duchess Parlor. Out of all the available ladies of the ton, his mother had to choose Florentia Vaughn. The woman who tried to make both Pippa and Julia’s lives miserable. She always had a snide, cruel remark for them, as if she was better than them.
She was not.
If that was the type of woman he wanted, why would he dare kiss her? After that horrible dinner, Julia needed a moment of peace, and she did not want to listen to Florentia sing another note unless she choked on it.
Quietly, Julia excused herself and wove through the large house toward the gardens, hoping for a moment alone to think of the events of the day…and to find Henry.
The night was brisk. Julia wished she had thought to take a shawl or something with her, but like most of her ideas, she hadn’t really thought this through at all. In fact, since the moment he stepped out of the dining room, she could think of nothing else but going to him.
It was ridiculous, really. She owed him nothing, yet the way he finally stood up to his mother after all this time had awakened something in her.
She knew they would never be together again, but they did have passion, and she wanted more before she settled on a life without it. Her eyes adjusted to the dark as she walked through the garden searching for him.
Livie had taken the neglected gardens at Warren House and transformed them. They were vibrant, filled with a variety of flowers. A gazebo with chairs decorated the east side of the garden. It was simply breathtaking, shining bright in the full moon.
“What are you doing out here?” Julia startled at the sound of his voice behind her.
She turned around to face him. Henry was hidden in the shadows of Livie’s blooming roses. “I wanted to see how you were? Your mother is as awful as ever.”
“What would St. Clara think of you searching me out?” Henry tilted his head toward her, his gaze hidden by the shadows of the garden.
“St. Clara wouldn’t say anything. He trusts me completely.” The words felt heavy on her tongue, especially since the kiss. She shivered from the cool breeze that whirled around them.
“You’re freezing.” Removing his dinner jacket, Henry placed it over her shoulders.
She tried not to react to his gesture. “Thank you.” She pulled the coat tighter around her much smaller form, and it practically reached her knees.
They stood in silence. For once, she was at a loss for words. She did not know what to say to him, this former fiancé of hers. “I suspect your mother approves of Lady Florentia Vaughn. Don’t tell me you’re going to marry her?” The words made her skin crawl, making her feel like she was covered in ants.
