“You might have discouraged it, but children will find a way to be friends despite adult disapproval,” Julian countered.
“You should not have reintroduced her to him, then.”
“He asked me to,” Julian said. “I told him you wouldn’t approve.”
“On that we can agree. Carenza Musgrove is not a fitting bride for my son. Her family are not at all the thing.”
“Aragon would never marry without your consent, ma’am. He adores you.” Julian couldn’t quite believe he was having to defend his older brother. “I also suspect Lady Carenza is not horse-mad enough for him.”
“You will keep him away from her.”
Julian raised an eyebrow. “He is a grown man capable of managing his own affairs, and you’ve made quite certain that he would never listen to me or take my advice over yours.”
His mother’s lips thinned, and she stared at him. “I see you intend to be as unhelpful as ever. I don’t know why I bothered to ask.”
He rose to his feet. “To be perfectly honest, ma’am, neither do I. But then, I’ve always been a disappointment to you, and I’m sure you’ll feel vindicated that nothing has changed.” He bowed. “I’ll see myself out.”
He went down the stairs, the familiar feeling of resentment and frustration settling in his chest. She didn’t like him—her own child—and she never would. He rarely allowed her to rile him anymore, but sometimes …
He nodded his thanks to the butler as he opened the front door for him. Perhaps he should go to Jackson’s and find someone to spar with, because his mood certainly wasn’t presentable in polite company. He stepped up into his phaeton and took the reins back from his tiger.
In truth, he’d like to see Carenza and take her to bed. He took a few deep breaths, his unseeing gaze on the busy road in front of him. Eventually, his groom coughed.
“Horses don’t like this standing about, guv.”
“You’re quite correct.” He clicked to his lead horse and eased his way into the traffic between a brewery cart and a closed carriage. “Hang on.”
It was one of the rare occasions when Carenza was by herself in the town house. Allegra had gone out with Maude to the dressmaker’s, and Carenza had set herself the task of writing a letter to her parents—something that was long overdue. The last thing she wanted was for her father to grow anxious and decide to come to London. She was trying to think of how to detail her social timetable without mentioning that Julian had been her escort to almost every event of the past week.
Her father might not pick up on such things, but her mother would. Carenza didn’t want to get into any discussion as to her current choices—choices that would horrify her father and probably amuse her mother. Even in the short week since Julian had first taken her to bed, she was behaving differently.
She put down her pen and stared out the small window that overlooked the garden. There was no denying it—she was aware of him in such a different way now. When he stood behind her, she smelled his skin and yearned to lean back and rub her face against his throat until he grabbed hold of her and …
“Mr. Julian Laurent, my lady.”
“Oh!”
She stood up in something of a rush as Julian came into her private sitting room. As usual, he looked perfect, his cravat intricately knotted and fastened with a diamond pin, his breeches tightly fitted and tucked into tall, black riding boots. She went over to greet him, and the butler left the room.
“Am I disturbing you?” He bowed, his expression unreadable. “I did tell the butler that my visit was not expected.”
“You are practically family, sir,” Carenza said. “There is no need to stand on ceremony with me.”
She studied his face. This was another new source of awareness. She now understood how much he concealed behind his exquisite exterior. Despite his apparent ease, one of his fists was clenched, and he was vibrating like a coiled spring.
“What’s wrong?” she blurted.
He raised a perfect eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
She cupped his chin. “You’re angry about something.”
He turned his head so that her thumb brushed his lips, and he sucked it into his mouth.
“God …” Carenza grabbed hold of his shoulder.
He jerked her hard against his body and kissed her with a roughness that offered no compromise. She allowed him to back her against the door and fumbled to turn the key while he continued to ravish her mouth.
He kissed his way down her neck to her shoulder, thrusting one hand into the front of her bodice to cup her breast while the other hand rucked up her skirts. He wrenched his mouth away, his breathing as erratic as hers.
