Minutes passed, and with the glow of release gradually fading, the lightness in his chest was slowly replaced by a growing sense of apprehension. Juliana had not given him any assurances that she would withhold his identity from her brother when she revealed the truth of her virginity, but that was not what frightened him. Leowelcomedexposure. He deserved whatever punishment the man deemed fitting, most particularly because Leo knew that despite his assertions, it would prove a struggle to keep his hands—and eager cock—from Juliana during their six-hour journey to Derby.
But then there was Elizabeth. Any ill attention tohisname would transfer to her.
Damnation, he’d cocked it up. He’d sworn to himself, and to his brother’s memory, that he would remain celibate, and yet here he was with a freshly deflowered woman in his arms and the scent of sex permeating the air.
Juliana stroked her fingers along his side, blissfully unaware of the silent battle being waged in his heart. Gooseflesh spread over his skin, and he bit back a curse. Damn, but he’d missed being touched thusly.
The door burst open. “Good morning, Miss Smith. I understand that we’re preparing your belongings for travel this—” The maid broke off on a gasp.
Leo smoothly pulled the coverlet over the both of them as the startled maid covered her eyes with one hand.
“My apologies, your lordship!” the maid squeaked before awkwardly clomping from the room.
A sense of doom settled on his heart. That was it. Leo’s gut churned, and he closed his eyes on a silent oath. The fragile glass house that he’d built around himself would come crashing down.
* * *
Juliana’s pulsedrummed in her ears.Lordship?Her gaze darted to Leo’s face. His eyes were closed, his face a mask of resignation. A dreadful prickling began in her hands and at the back of her neck, and her skin felt cold all over.
How could he be a lord? In all the time that she’d spent in his home, she’d not heard a single servant address him by his title or as “my lord”—until that very moment. Not even little Lizzy had mentioned a title in their tea service rehearsals. And if hedidhave a title, why in heaven’s name would he not use it?
“Juliana, I—”
“Who are you?” she asked in a hoarse whisper, pulling away from his embrace and putting as much distance between them as the bed would allow.
His eyes squeezed tightly shut, his complexion growing pallid. “I am the Marquess of Livingston.”
Juliana frowned. “The Marquess of—” Her eyebrows snapped up, and in an effort to sit up, she lost her balance and toppled from the bed.
Thunk. Pain shot through her hip and back, and she hissed a breath.
The Marquess cursed and scrambled from the bed, offering his hands to her. “Juliana! Are you all right?”
No, she was not. His was the name that had darkened newspapers, gossip columns—even fashion magazines, for pity’s sake!—for nearly seven months.The Murderous Marquess, they’d named him, the label often accompanied by piratical vernacular, most likely in reference to his large tattoo. She did not know precisely what had occurred, but she knew that the true murderer had come forward and the Marquess had been acquitted only days before his scheduled hanging. Good heavens, and here he was!
Ignoring his proffered hands, she crawled to her chemise and slipped it over her head.
“Juliana,” he said gutturally.
She sat upon the floor, her back against the bed and her knees drawn up to her chest, and wrapped her arms about her legs. Being furious with the man for withholding the truth of his identity would make her a hypocrite. Though truthfully, Juliana wasn’t certain that was what she felt. Shock, certainly, bemusement, naturally…but also pain.
Covering her chest with one hand, she recognized the ache there. Yes, she was hurting. Due not, perhaps, to what he’d kept from her, but to the simple affirmation that she oughtn’t trust anyone. And that she’d clearly begun to trust Leo.
Neither of them had been honest and, her feelings notwithstanding, she couldn’t blame the man for withholding the truth of his title.
She blinked back into the moment and looked at him.
The floor grew too cold, so Juliana stood, her hands twisted in the thin fabric of her chemise. Her core throbbed twice, vividly reminding her of what she’d just done with this man. With Leo, the acquitted Murderous Marquess.
His hair was mussed and his skin pallid. He must know that she recognized his name—for surely all of England recognized it. It had only been two years since he was released, after all.
He cleared his throat and scratched at his short blond beard. “You know, then.”
Unsure what to say, Juliana nodded.
Indeed, whatcouldshe say? Did he keep his title a secret only from her, or did he try to hide from it, himself? Very likely, the circumstance of his crude misnomer caused him heartache, and—oh, Lord! That must be Elizabeth’s father: the brother that Leo had been accused of murdering. It would certainly explain the uncle and niece’s strained relationship before Juliana had arrived.
She locked gazes with the man before swiftly turning away to retrieve her discarded stays and frock from the floor.
