“If you’re so intent on leaving, let me at least help you dress. We wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’d been ravished as you left my house.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic.” She put on her shift and stepped into her petticoats, presenting him with her back to lace up her stays.
“Oh, I don’t know, it’s better than completely losing my temper over your nonsensical behavior.” He yanked her laces hard and tied them off in a neat bow.
She turned to face him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lose your temper.”
“And you never will.”
She cupped his chin. “My dearest Julian, please think for a moment. If anyone finds out I was the lady who placed the advertisement, my reputation—as you’ve repeatedly reminded me—will be in ruins. I would hate to damage you by association.” She went up on tiptoe and kissed him. “That’s all.”
He wanted to argue, but what could he say? The mere idea that anyone needed to protect him was ludicrous, and she knew it.
“You know I am right,” Carenza said. “Now, will you call a hackney cab so that I can go home? I don’t want Allegra to worry.”
“My coachman will take you,” he countered. “There is nothing to identify my carriage. I’ll walk you down to the mews if you give me a moment to dress.”
Her quick smile as she turned away wasn’t reassuring. He had a sense that he’d erred, but he didn’t know how, and he wasn’t in any fit state to inquire without probably making things worse.
“I need to put up my hair.” Carenza started searching the floor. “The pins have gone everywhere.”
Carenza sat back in Julian’s carriage and took a trembling breath. He’d offered to come with her, but she’d told him she was fine and that he should go back to bed. But she wasn’t fine. He knew her well enough to sense her distress, but she wasn’t in the right mood to discuss her emotions with the person who was currently causing most of them.
Julian was infuriating sometimes, and he brought out the worst in her—all the feelings Hector had deliberately provoked and then ridiculed to make her feel worthless. Hector had called her jealous and envious, and he’d laughed when she’d honestly tried to discuss how his behavior upset her. She’d been brought up in a house full of love, with parents who clearly adored each other but who weren’t above the occasional disagreement. Living with a man who didn’t respect her opinions had been devastating.
Originally, Hector had encouraged her to enjoy his love-making and to participate to the fullest extent. But after a while he’d started to criticize her, saying she was too eager and unbecomingly carnal for a wife. When she restrained herself, he told her she was dull, and that he needed other women to make up for her lack of skill because she was incapable of loving him properly.
She’d never told anyone how bewildered she’d felt and had learned to hide her fears of inadequacy behind a screen of ladylike behavior that Hector did approve of. She’d no longer asked him to explain himself or became upset when he started a new affair, and so he’d left her alone, allowing her to maintain the pretense that all was well.
Carenza reminded herself that she’d chosen Julian to be her lover and that the terms of their agreement had been dictated by her. If she chose to indulge her more risqué side in his bed, then he had the choice to end their relationship if he found her too much.
That was all well and good, but why was she still so upset? One thing being married to Hector had taught her was to be ruthlessly honest with herself, and she sensed she was hiding from a vital truth. She’d told herself she’d chosen Julian because she believed that as a rake, he’d be willing to fulfill her needs without any emotions being involved. But was that the lie? Had she chosen him for the simple reason that she trusted him? And, if that was true, why did it matter, and why were her feelings so intimately engaged?
CHAPTER15
“Good morning, brother.” Aragon came into Julian’s bedroom with the newspapers in his hand.
“You again? What in God’s name makes you get up so early?” Julian complained.
“My horses.” Aragon gave him a reproachful stare. “I have to exercise them before it gets busy in the park.”
“How admirable.” Julian, who at least had finished his breakfast and was almost awake, held out his hand. “Are those my newspapers?”
“Yes. I picked them up from the butler as I came in and said I’d save him a trip up the stairs.” Aragon hesitated. “There’s something I wanted to ask you about in there.”
“In the newspapers?”
Aragon paced Julian’s bedroom, his expression unusually worried. He bent down to pick up something.
“Have you lost an earring?”
“I don’t tend to wear them, Aragon.”
“Must belong to one of your paramours, then.” Aragon walked over to Julian and dropped the earring in his hand. It was one of Carenza’s emerald-and-diamond pair.
“Thank you. I’ll make sure it is reunited with its owner.” Julian waited tensely to see if his brother would put two and two together about the events of the past evening.
“Right, you are.” Aragon pointed at the newspaper. “There’s a whole column of gossip about you in there. Mother drew it to my attention over breakfast this morning. She insisted that as the head of the household I ask you what is going on.”
