Alonzo quickly set himself away from her, climbing to his feet, staying at a respectable distance.
“Over here, Willa,” Julia called back to her friend. “The duke and I were admiring the fountain.” She looked to him for support.
But he cast a quick glance at the erotic fountain, the man and woman in their state of undress, and covered his face. “If she sees the fountain…”
Julia recognized her mistake and looked utterly crushed. She stared at the fountain, too.
With a sigh, just as Willa neared the ring of trees, he shrugged out of his coat and threw it over the fountain, caring little if his jacket got wet or not. If it spared Julia any amount of humiliation, it would be worth it.
“There you are.” Willa arrived with a smile and held out her hands to her friend. “Mother is only a few yards behind me. Supper will be served shortly.”
Julia nodded and took her friend’s hand, then gazed at him. “Thank you for the walk, Your Grace. Will you be joining us for supper?”
“Yes,” he said casually. “After I have had my fill of the evening air.”
Once the women were out of sight, the duke threw himself down on the bench, overwrought by painful desire, his member as hard as the fantasy-like figures embracing each other on the fountain.At least the lucky bastard in the fountain, he thought as he ripped his coat from over the statue,had his hands full of female flesh.
What are you doing?
Perhaps the better question would be what was henotwilling to do to win Lady Julia?
She had captured his undivided attention. Inspired him to take a critical look at himself. Forced him to act civilly when all he wanted to do was resort to his unbridled ways, fornicating with the most attractive, available women—ones that did not make him question himself or feel any regret for his past.
Chapter Fifteen
It was difficultfor Alonzo to act self-assured, especially after his frustrating yet endearing encounter with Lady Julia in the gardens, when she was ignoring him in favor of the gentleman sitting to her left. The duke had strategically been seated to her right, giving him a supposed advantage to monopolize her time and attention. But how could their hostess, the Duke of Stanhope’s sister, have mistakenly seated another eligible bachelor next to her? It rankled that he did not know the man—and that he was American.
Alonzo had no patience for the inelegant ways of Americans, their pompous superiority, self-righteousness, and pretend interest in everything British. Except for his interest in English women—that appeared to be genuine.
He took a rather boorish drink of wine and intentionally set his glass down with more force than he should. Lady Amelia, seated across from him, raised her eyebrows in question.
“Is the wine not to your liking, Your Grace?”
Wishing he could pretend her question was drowned out by the noisy conversation around them, and the fact that a silver candelabra stood between them, if he hadn’t been looking in her direction, he might have gotten away with it.
“No, Lady Amelia,” he assured her, “this vintage of wine is one of my favorites, it’s the choice of certain guests I question.”
He should not have spoken so freely, but it was too late. For several other guests around him stopped to listen if he had other grievances to air in public. Unfortunately, his rude comment served no purpose, for Julia remained deeply engaged in conversation with her new friend.
Lady Amelia raised her glass in salute to Alonzo, smiled coquettishly at him, then took a deep drink, her gaze never leaving him. Ah, yes, playing the innocent admirer. Always the choicest way to capture Alonzo’s unwavering attention. Widowed for more than two years now, this wasn’t the first time Amelia had paraded herself in front of him. Though she did so with a care for the rules of Society, it was no secret she was looking for a long-term arrangement with a nobleman such as him.
Men like him were often regarded as never being sincere, but the widow only required pleasure, not protection or money, for her late husband had left her independently wealthy.
“Will you sing for us tonight?” Lady Amelia asked, leaning forward, excitement in her eyes.
“Sing?” He had not considered it.
“Yes,” she said. “Anything would be appreciated.”
Once again Alonzo drowned his concerns in the wine, gripping the glass tightly, looking up and down the long table and surveying the thirty-six guests that had been hand-chosen to attend this very private house party. Of course, Lady Julia, Lady Willa, and her mother were invited because Alonzo had made a special request to the Duke of Stanhope, but nobody else need know that.
Just then, Julia turned in Alonzo’s direction, cast him a dreamy look, one of promise and challenge, and smiled. Did she know how captivating her dark eyes were—how enticing her neck appeared with her hair piled high on her head, revealing her pale flesh? He licked his lips and returned her pleasant expression, hoping she would understand his frustration without him having to say it outright.
“Your Grace,” she said. “Did I hear correctly, you may sing tonight?”
He did not wish to sing for anyone but her. To hum his favorite song between her luscious, milky breasts, or possibly between her delectable thighs. He could easily show her the supremacy of being a Verdi baritone—how his lower range allowed him to hold his notes longer—or holdotherimportant things longer.
Yet, the more he thought about it, something became undeniably clear—his talent served only as an impediment where Lady Julia was concerned. The trappings of prestige and wealth, the general ridiculousness of theton, did nothing to captivate Julia. His notoriety, and yes, he would not deny it, had the opposite effect on her. Rather… he gazed across the elegantly set table to where Lady Amelia still watched him closely. If he wanted to claim a woman such as her, then he should sing tonight.
