She licked her dry lips. “Does that mean you agree?”
“Hardly.” He exhaled loudly through his nose and crossed his arms over his broad chest.
She knew he desired her. She’d learned enough in life to see the signs when a man wanted her body. And Lord Rothchild, for all his kindnesses, for his fraternal protectiveness towards her, was not immune.
“Even if I were in the habit of dallying with unmarried chits, you are the sister-in-law of my friend.”
Amanda sank back against the settee. She was prepared for this line of defense. “A friend who left me here. All alone. With you.”
“In my care,” he amended. “And not all alone. The Lady Mary Cavindish is your chaperone.”
She laughed, the sound rusty from disuse. Julius looked as surprised at the noise as she. “Marcus is a smart man. If he were interested in preserving anything but the bare appearance of propriety, he would have called for another one of his aunts to come to London. Lady Mary is …” simple, sweet, and oblivious, “… inattentive. And Marcus knows that.”
“Are you implying that Montague wishes for us to become intimate?” He snorted. “He and I are close, but I don’t think he’s friend enough to wrap up his wife’s sister in a pretty bow for me to take my pleasure in.”
“And if he thought it would benefit both of us?” Staring into the darkness of the room, Amanda considered her new brother. He’d been nothing but polite and kind. But he had no illusions about the type of woman she was. He knew there was no reputation to protect. She turned to Julius, her knee brushing his. That brief contact made her skin tingle and her stomach churn. She wanted Julius. But would she have the courage to go through with it? In equal parts, he made her ache and then feel as though she were about to cast up her accounts. If she could take this step with anyone, however, it would be him. “I believe Marcus was giving us the opportunity, if we wish to take it.”
Julius cocked his head. “Why do you think you’ll never marry?”
Amanda shot to her feet. One hand curled into a fist, and not for the first time she wished she were a man. She hadn’t thought he would mock her. “All you had to do was say no. I will look elsewhere.”
She turned for the door, ignoring his curse. She couldn’t ignore his hand on her wrist.
“I apologize, Miss Wilcox. I’d forgotten—”
“That I’m soiled goods? Has the beau monde stopped whispering about the trollop who killed her father already? Who seduced him with her body, who spread her legs for half the men in prison?” His hand tensed around her wrist, and she shook herself free from his grip. “I’ve heard how I’m spoken of. My sister, the Duchess of Montague, is given the cut direct by half the ton. I’m treated as though I don’t exist. Whom, exactly, do you see me marrying?”
She pressed her palms to her stomach to keep them from shaking but she couldn’t control her voice as easily. Julius stepped forward, his face falling into shadow, and she was glad. She couldn’t bear to see his expression. The pity. The disgust. Both were equally repellant.
With as much insolence as she could muster, she dipped into a low curtsy. “If you will excuse me, my lord, it is past time for me to retire.”
“No.”
Amanda hesitated. “Pardon me?”
“I said”— Julius took another step forward—“that I will not excuse you. Not until we’ve cleared this matter up.”
Amanda stumbled back until her shoulder blades hit the bookcase. Julius rested his hands on the shelves on either side of her. His body was close, close enough to feel the heat of it through her cotton gown. He smelled of bergamot and musk, and her breath caught in her throat. A queer rolling, sliding feeling slipped through her stomach and she didn’t know whether to revel in it or try to escape the sensation. Lord Rothchild was like a drug. Intoxicating, stupefying, and thrilling. Her fingers flexed, needing to hold onto something but finding only air.
“Where do you hear these things? You never leave the house.” His breath brushed across her lips. It smelled faintly of brandy, and she wondered if she rolled up onto her toes and kissed him, if he would taste of it as well.
He leaned closer, his chest brushing against hers. “Answer me.”
She almost moaned. The tips of her breasts tingled and a hollow ache settled low in her belly. What was the question again? Oh, the insults. “If you think only those in society enjoy gossip, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“The servants.” His voice was icy. “Montague’s staff talks about you.” Julius rocked back, and her body cooled.
“Of course, they do.” Turning her head, she blinked at the burn in her eyes. She’d thought shame had been long lost to her. “I overhear them gossip about what is said of me in the other grand homes.” Intentionally, Amanda was sure. Her maids did little to hide their words. “And I’m sure if I did anything of interest, that information would be spread among the other houses.” Lifting her chin, she said, “It’s unfortunate for them that I don’t leave the premises.”
“I don’t know.” Julius tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “I find your proposition to me the most interesting event of the night.”
“What else happened to you tonight?”
Resting his hand on her shoulder, he brushed his thumb across her collarbone, sending a shiver straight down her spine. “Maybe if you weren’t too afraid to have a life outside these walls, you’d find out.”
She narrowed her eyes. Well, if that wasn’t a challenge to go after what she wanted, she didn’t know what was. Grabbing the lapels of his wool coat, she yanked him down.
His grunt of surprise was muffled by her mouth. His lips were firm, unyielding, and warm. With the tip of her tongue she poked at the seam of his mouth until the tip hit his teeth. He did taste of brandy.
