He made her intentions sound so terribly mercenary when they were not.
She frowned at him. “All I want is the inheritance which will enable myself and my daughter to live unencumbered.”
“In New York City?” he pressed.
“Somewhere else,” she said, for she had not decided where. “Perhaps Philadelphia. Or West. I have not given it much contemplation just yet.”
“And who will go with you?” he demanded. “A lover?”
A lover was the last thought on her mind. She had only time and heart for Emily. But for some reason, making that admission to him felt wrong. She wanted him to wonder. To suffer as she had done. To cut him, just a bit, where it might hurt.
“You have had lovers of your own,” she told him calmly. “Why should I be held to a different standard merely because I am a woman?”
The guilty flush creeping over the sharp blades of his cheekbones said everything.
His unspeaking admission weighed on her heart like the heaviest boulder. Jealousy, shimmering and sharp, arced through her. Electric in its power and pain. Of course he would have taken other lovers. But the thought of him with another woman still almost brought her to her knees, even after the intervening time and distance. Still brought her low, made her feel once more that same, soul-robbing vulnerability she had experienced on the day she had discovered who the man she loved truly was.
“I will be free to do as I choose,” she continued, pleased with herself for the calm in her voice, which was not at all a reflection of the inner battles being waged. “Your portion of the funds will be placed into whatever account you like. Your hatred of me is strong. You never need see me again.”
“No,” he bit out.
“No?” She could not have heard him properly. How could he deny her now, after the tenderness he showed their daughter? “You must be joking.”
“Do I look as if I am making a stupid drawing room sally, Julianna?” he demanded, grim.
Emily distracted Julianna before she could form a reply, by losing her balance and falling. She struck her head on the floor and began to cry. Julianna rose and rushed toward her, but Shelbourne was faster. He reached their daughter first and was the one who scooped her into his protective embrace, rocking her, kissing the top of her head, crooning to her.
“Hush, little darling,” he was saying while fixing Julianna with a pointed glare that, if it had been a dagger, would have sliced her to shreds. “Papa has you now, and Papa will always keep you safe.”
“Give her to me,” she said, feeling territorial and confused, denied of her maternal right.
Julianna was the one to calm Emily, to soothe her. Not Shelbourne. How dare he?
“She is happy with me.” He glared at Julianna some more. “She was not safe, walking by herself. She is unsteady on her feet. Even a simpleton could see that, and yet you insisted she walk on her own. Now she has struck her head. Because of you.”
She was incredulous. Was he truly accusing her of putting Emily in danger?
“It is ordinary for a child her age to fall,” she told him. “She falls every day. It is commonplace. A spot of tears here or there, and then she goes again. Falling is how a babe learns her balance.”
“I will not allow you to take her from me, Julianna,” he said, rubbing Emily’s back in slow, calming motions.
Emily had stopped crying. She blinked, fat teardrops rolling down her pudgy cheeks. And then she stared at Shelbourne some more, her hands reaching for his jaw, then for the chin that was the same as hers, only larger and masculine and covered with the dark shadow of whiskers.
The stubble must have caused a strange, new sensation on her soft palms, for Emily made a sound of surprise, and then she grabbed Shelbourne’s nose instead. He bore her inquisitive touches with grace and patience.
Two things Julianna had not come to expect from him.
It was proving a day of endless surprises.
She cleared her throat, which had gone thick with emotion. “I am not taking her from you, Shelbourne. I am her mother. I am all she knows. America is where we live. I will be taking her home.”
“This is her home,” he insisted. “England. She is my daughter. She is a Davenport. I will not allow you to disappear into the vast fabric of the Americas with her.”
“I have no intention of disappearing.” For the first time, a new fear hit her. Not the fear that he would refuse to marry her so she could meet the terms of her eccentric uncle’s will, but instead that he would demand to be a part of Emily’s life. “But surely you understand she cannot stay in England. We were not married when she was born. She will never be accepted.”
His nostrils flared. “And once more, Julianna, whose fault is that? I asked you to marry me, if you will recall. You declined and then fled across an entire ocean without ever once attempting to contact me.”
Yes, she had done those things. She could not deny them. But he was not as innocent in this tragedy of theirs as he would pretend. There was a reason she had refused him. A very good one.
