Like some lovesick suitor? Like the man who had spent the entirety of their time apart writing her letters he had never posted?
Sidney cleared his throat. “That is unnecessary, Grove, but I do thank you for the recommendation. Let us commence with the shaving, shall we?”
Today, of all days, struck him as one he did not want to allow Julianna to gain the upper hand.
* * *
Julianna wasin the nursery with Emily when Shelbourne abruptly crossed the threshold, stalking into the room with an air of seductive menace that was not lost on her. His jaw was perfectly clean shaven. Nary a hint of shadow.
He was beautiful, drat him.
The night before, that ridiculously handsome face had been between her legs. And then he had been inside her, rigid and hard and perfect. The delicious weight of his body pinning her to the carpet, the scent of him—bay and man—the abrasion of the Axminster on her sensitive skin…everything that had haunted her as she tried in vain to sleep after returning to her own chamber hit her now.
She had locked her chamber door last night. She had not done so to keep him from her. Rather, she had done it to keep herself from wandering back into his territory. Into his bed. She had no shame where this man was concerned. He was her greatest weakness.
Her most delicious sin.
“Papa!” Emily cried as she took note of her father.
Naturally, Shelbourne was upon them in an instant, bending low, arms outstretched to their daughter. Emily toddled to him, her balance getting surer with each day. She was growing so quickly. Too quickly.
Julianna pursed her lips and tamped down a surge of resentment as Shelbourne scooped their daughter into an embrace and proceeded to make silly faces at her until she erupted in a fit of giggles. Thank goodness Johnston was not about.
“How is my darling this morning?” he asked Emily softly, pressing a kiss to her full cheek.
“Bub!” she exclaimed, clasping his cheeks with her tiny hands and then lowering her face toward his, open-mouthed, to deliver a wet baby kiss to his chin.
To his credit, Shelbourne did not so much as wince, not even when Emily raised her head and promptly caught his nose in her tiny fist.
“Nose,” Shelbourne said gently. “Papa’s nose.”
“Papa! Bub!”
Julianna could not quite contain her smirk. Did he truly think he could waltz into Emily’s life and instantly teach her to speak fluent English? Surely he must realize Julianna had been teaching Emily to speak—or at least attempting to—all this time, without him?
“Nose,” he repeated.
“You must recall her age,” Julianna told Shelbourne coolly.
“Papa! No!” Emily tugged on Shelbourne’s aforementioned feature with enough force that he grimaced.
His pain was lost upon Julianna, however. All she took note of was that her daughter, whom she had devoted herself to raising in secret for the last year, had attempted to repeat a new word. A word Shelbourne had just taught her.
“Yes, poppet.” He beamed at Emily with so much raw, pure love that Julianna had to look away. “Papa’s nose!”
The sudden, irresistible urge to punch Papa’s handsome nose struck her. She was acutely aware that she was standing on the periphery once more, Shelbourne and their daughter bonding. And though she reminded herself that their bonding was necessary and important, she could not deny that feeling suddenly left out—cast aside—felt terrible.
Especially after she had been foolish enough to play the wanton for him last night. One day of marriage, and already she had been in the palm of his hand, willing and ready. How did she intend to escape him when giving herself to him as if she were no better than the treats delivered to her on a tray at his behest the evening before?
“No!” Emily clapped, proud.
Julianna bit her lip, hating herself.
“Have you breakfasted?” Shelbourne asked, startling her.
His tone was polite, almost as if they were strangers rather than two people who had shagged each other all over the Axminster the night before.
If he wanted to be polite, she would be polite.
