“One would hope not,” Carenza said. “I must warn Julian to be on his guard.”
“I’m fairly sure he’s already aware of any threats to his person or to yours,” Olivia said. “One thing Julian Laurent is not, is a fool.”
Julian sank lower into his bath, his gaze on the wavering light from the candlestick in front of the mirror in his dressing room. All was quiet around him. Proctor had finished laying out his nightclothes, they’d discussed his morning attire, and he had no immediate worries. But yet …
He tipped his head back and rested it on the edge of the tub. He’d been foolish, reckless, and downright stupid to make love to Carenza in her own house, where her family or servants might discover them. He wasn’t a green, young sprig desperate to sow his oats. He was a disciplined man who thought before he acted and rarely made errors. After his meeting with his mother, he should’ve listened to his first instinct to take out his annoyance in the boxing salon and never gone near Carenza.
One touch of her fingers had set him off, and he’d taken her up against the door without caring for the consequences.
Not that she’d tried to stop him. He liked to think that if she had, he would’ve stepped back immediately and apologized. But she hadn’t. In truth, she’d encouraged him.
It would not do.
He had to find a way to regain his composure and give her what she’d asked for—the sexual expertise of an accomplished rake. The kind of man who enjoyed performing and giving pleasure without engaging his own feelings. The next time they met, he wouldn’t apologize, but he would reestablish the rules. He didn’t like feeling out of control, and he suspected it was the same for Carenza.
Perhaps a reasonable conversation between two old friends would be enough to ensure that neither of them felt out of their depth again. Slightly reassured by this notion, Julian dunked his head under the water and came up blinking to discover someone looming over his bathtub.
“Thought you’d drowned for a minute,” Aragon said cheerfully. “Was wondering whether I remembered that Dutch trick that was all the rage to pump the water out of your lungs.”
“It’s almost midnight,” Julian said. “Why are you in my bedchamber and, more importantly, which one of my staff let you in?”
Aragon handed Julian a drying cloth. “No need to get on your high horse, brother. I came through the garden, went in the back door, and came up the servants’ stairs.”
“Well, if you intended to enter the house unannounced in order to murder me, you’ve missed the perfect opportunity.” Julian dried off quickly and put on his silk banyan.
“Good Lord.” Aragon frowned. “You’re right! I could’ve held your head under the water until you drowned and just skipped off without anyone realizing I’d been here.” He paused. “I am your heir, aren’t I?”
“No, I’ve left everything to my favorite charities.” Julian sat down beside the fire to dry his hair, and Aragon joined him.
“Blast it, Julian. You know I need the money more than some ill-nourished brats.”
“But with my fortune, those children won’t be starving, will they?” Julian answered. “And I’m shocked at your lack of Christian values.”
“Mother says I just have to marry someone rich and all will be well,” Aragon said. “But none of those women want to have anything to do with me. When I do succeed in dancing with them, all they do is ask questions about you.”
“At least that gives you something interesting to talk about,” Julian said. “I hate to be inhospitable, but is there something you wanted? I was about to go to bed.”
“Oh! Yes.” Aragon sat up straight. “Lady Carenza.”
“I can’t help you.”
“Come on, Julian. You’re a friend of hers.”
“And I am under strict instructions from our mother to avoid the connection at all costs.”
Aragon’s color rose alarmingly. “I’m a grown man. Mother has no say in my personal life.”
“Tell that to her,” Julian advised. “Or else she’ll continue to rule your life as she sees fit.”
Aragon stared at him, slapped his thigh, and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll tell her what you said.”
“Please don’t, or else I’ll be in trouble again,” Julian said. “Form your own opinion on the matter and present it to her in your own words.”
“But it’s much more fun when she gets annoyed with you.” Aragon stood up.
“Not for me.” Julian met his brother’s gaze. “Have you any idea how it feels to constantly be held responsible for all the sins of the family?”
Aragon looked surprised. “I suppose she does pick on you rather a lot.”
