Clara settled her teacup into its saucer with an unladylike clatter and stood. “Perhaps you ought to ask Lord Ravenscroft, Lady Josephine, for it would seem he knows far better than I. If you will excuse me, I really am quite tired after all the excitement of this morning and I must retire.”
Ignoring the startled expressions of the earl’s sisters and the watchful gaze of the earl himself, she fled the chamber. It was only when she reached the main hall that she realized she hadn’t a clue where she was retreating to. She was in a stranger’s home. A stranger who had deceived her. Hugging her arms about her middle, she stopped and pressed her back against the wall, closing her eyes.
Julian watched his new wife scurrying from the drawing room in a flurry of navy and rose-patterned skirts. Damn it, he’d bungled things badly. She didn’t even know her way around their home and yet she was so desperate to flee him that she dashed away as if the devil himself nipped at her heels. And perhaps he did, for Lord knew the thoughts running through his mind ever since Clara had first appeared in his study had been anything but angelic.
He’d hoped to give her time to adjust, to seduce her into seeing the merits of being his countess. But when she’d realized he’d left his sisters uninformed about the nature of their union, he’d known the moment the pieces of the puzzle had come together in her mind. He wouldn’t lie to her. He respected her far too much for further pretense.
“Your new bride hardly exudes the air of a lady who is thrilled to be married,” Alexandra observed, interrupting his troubled thoughts.
“She rather seemed in a hurry to remove herself from your presence,” Josephine added.
He gritted his teeth and glowered at his irksome sisters. “You will mind your manners about her. Treat her with respect, and if you’ve bloody well got any of it in you, kindness. Lord knows she deserves all that and more.”
His sisters stared at him as if he were an insect pinned for their study. Damn them, he didn’t appreciate their cheek. Or their vulgarity. Or their appalling lack of tact. And he damn well didn’t appreciate being observed, for he couldn’t shake the impression that he’d revealed more of himself than he’d intended. Perhaps more of himself than he even knew existed.
“I didn’t dare believe the scandal sheets when they proclaimed this a love match,” Alexandra said.
“But it is a love match, isn’t it?” Josephine asked.
“One sided, or so it seems.” Alexandra’s tone was wry.
Jesus. It most assuredly was not a love match, as love was a finer emotion he never cared to experience again. Lust, however, was another beast entirely. Naturally, he couldn’t share that bit with the meddlesome duo before him.
“Where the hell are you getting scandal sheets?” he demanded instead. “I forbid you to read such tripe.”
His sisters beamed at him. Alexandra clapped her hands. “This shall be great fun, shan’t it Jo?”
Julian growled. “If you continue to refuse to behave, I’ll send the both of you to a convent to live out the rest of your years.”
His threat issued, he stood and took his leave of them, determined to find his wife. He’d already tarried too long in an effort to correct their infernal behavior. It didn’t take him long to locate Clara. She leaned against the faded damask in the main hall, looking as if she held up the entire weight of the wall with her small shoulders. How young she appeared suddenly. How defeated. Her eyes had been closed, but they flew open when she heard him approach.
“Clara.” An odd sensation settled heavily upon his chest. Surely not remorse?
“What do you want, Lord Ravenscroft?” Resignation underscored her words.
She was asking about more than just this moment in the hall. She didn’t merely wonder why he’d followed her. She wondered why he’d married her. Why he’d allowed her to believe he’d load her aboard the first Virginia-bound vessel she could find after they wed. Why he’d never once corrected her when she reminded him their marriage would be in name only. Why he had her dowry in his coffers but no intention of letting her go.
It was simple.
He wanted her.
From the moment she’d appeared in his study wearing that monstrosity of a hat, blustering and offering herself to him like a feast for a starved man, he’d been drawn to her. She was a beauty, but it was more than that. She was innocent, sharp-witted, brave to a fault. She smelled of summer and her body was meant for sin. Meant for him. But Clara Whitney was not the sort of lady he could have. At least, not if he’d been entirely truthful with her.
And so, he hadn’t bothered to disillusion her. He’d made clear to her that he desired her. His intention to seduce her had never been a secret. The rest, however, had been facilitated by his silence. He wouldn’t regret his actions now, but neither did he like the defeated wariness in her expression.
He closed the last of the distance between them. “Need you ask, little dove? I wantyou.”
When he would have stroked her cheek, she flinched away from his touch. “You cannot have me.”
Stubborn woman. Julian braced a hand on the wall above her head, trapping her. “I already have you.”
“Not truly.” Defiance flashed in her blue eyes. “I could return to my father’s home now.”
“How will you get there, love? I’ll not be the architect of your retreat.” He couldn’t resist tracing her jaw. Her skin was softer than silk, purer than cream. “Will you walk? Hire a hack? Perhaps you’ll send for dearest Papa and he can barge in here bearing a six-shooter. Then you’ll cry to him about your innocent intentions to dupe him into settling a marriage portion on you so that you could defy him and flee to Virginia.”
A flush tinged her cheekbones. His barb had found its mark. No, they were neither of them innocent in their little drama. If she hadn’t been bold enough to thwart her father’s good intentions for her, she’d never have landed herself in her current predicament. But that was Julian’s good fortune.
“You dare to take me to task when you tricked me into marrying you?” Her voice was cold, cutting.
