“That seems quite obvious,” Maude said. “Lady Brenton likes to be seen as a beautiful woman who can ensnare any man she wants with a snap of her fingers, and Percival considers himself a leader of the ton.”
“If we threaten those things, then surely they will leave Julian alone?” Carenza asked. “The only thing we need to work out is how to do it.”
“Oh, that’s the easy part,” Olivia said. “We blackmail them. And before you both tell me you would never lower yourselves to do such a thing, think about what they’ve been prepared to do to Julian.”
By the time Julian retired to bed, he had the beginnings of a headache, his jaw was tight, and the temptation to run screaming into the night felt almost sensible. He sat down beside the fire and pressed his hands to his head. So much for his vaunted plans. Between his mother, Lady Brenton, and Mrs. Sheraton, he was beset by women who had a bone to pick with him.
He’d barely managed a word with Carenza all evening. He had a sense she’d deliberately stayed away from him, which had been both a relief and a curse. She’d never had the face for intrigue, which was why he’d deliberately left her out of his wildest schemes when they were children. He hadn’t been able to hear the conversation at her end of the table, but he’d sensed she was out of sorts.
He raised his head and stared at the connecting door between their apartments. He wanted to go to her, sink to his knees, bury his head in her lap, and let her soothe his troubled spirits. And then he wanted to take her to bed and make love to her for hours.
As if he’d called her in his mind, the door opened, and Carenza peeked into the room. “Julian?”
“I’m here.”
She came into the room. She was dressed for bed, her fair hair braided down her back and a large shawl over her nightgown.
“I am beginning to feel as if I’m the one doing all the chasing, here. This is the second time I’ve had to come into your bedchamber to find you.”
He sat back and regarded her. “You did say you wished to be in charge. Perhaps I’ve decided to sit here meekly until I’m called upon to perform for you.” There was a snap to his words that he instantly regretted.
Carenza raised her eyebrows. “I see you are feeling sorry for yourself.”
“With considerable justification.”
“I had to endure Lady Brenton suggesting I was too stupid to be your mistress and Olivia making provocative and unhelpful comments throughout dinner.”
“I had to talk to my mother.”
For a moment their gazes clashed, and then Julian sighed. “You are right. I am out of sorts, and it is all due to my inept planning. I’m sorry I invited you into this mess.”
“I’m not.” She held out her hand. “Because of this.”
He reluctantly got to his feet and took her hand. “What about it?”
“This.” She went up on tiptoe and kissed him. “When we can lock the doors and be together.”
“I suppose that does make up for a lot,” he grudgingly acknowledged, his hand curving around her buttock and bringing her against him. “Although knowing our luck, someone will set the place on fire and we’ll be discovered with flames burning the bed curtains while we’re too busy fucking to notice.”
“I wouldn’t object.”
He looked down at her. “To burning alive?”
“Don’t be such a pessimist.” She poked him in the ribs. “I was referring to the part where you mentioned being fucked.”
“Ah. NowthatI can help you with.” He picked her up and marched over to his bed.
He stripped off her nightgown, his fingers touching the slight bruise on her throat and the stronger marks on her hips where he’d held her so tightly earlier. She parted her thighs, and he cupped her mound.
“Are you sore?”
“Yes, a little.”
“Yet you still want more?” He touched her clit, which immediately started to throb under the pad of his finger. The scent of her arousal rose around him, and he slowly inhaled. “You’re insatiable.”
“Does it offend you?”
He looked up at her face, sensing the tension behind the question. “Not at all. Why would it? What more could a man want than a woman who wants him back?”
