Juliette stared up at him, unsure if she’d heard him right.
Before she could ask he sketched a bow and bid her a good evening. He then strode away brusquely, leaving her utterly alone and more confused than she’d ever been before in her life.
Chapter 10
Florian left Brand House with haste. It was imperative that he arrive home as quickly as possible so he could lock himself away in his study and find solace in the bottle of brandy awaiting him there. Christ, what a mess his life had turned into!
Lady Juliette had been stunning this evening as usual, her white diaphanous gown hugging her delicate body in a manner that could only mean to entice. And it had. He’d scarcely been able to peel his gaze away from the fullness of her breasts or the delicate lace that held her gown up. How easy it would have been to pull it down over her shoulders and undo her stays... It had been impossible for him to think of much else after holding her in his arms. Pressed up against him, although by accident, she’d made him incredibly aware of her feminine softness and that alluring fragrance that always clung to her person.
And he’d held her close longer than necessary, alarmingly reluctant to let her go. To his dismay, he’d sensed she felt the same, her shallow breaths and the rapid beat of her heart keeping pace with his own, alerting him to a shared sense of awareness and... desire. It hadn’t been clear at first, but later, when he’d impulsively—scandalously—touched her arm to stay her progress and stroked her skin with his thumb, he’d heard the slight hitch in her breathing, watched her gaze drop to his mouth and seen her lips part in preparation for a kiss that never came.
He wondered if she was even aware of how ready she’d been to accept his advances. It was unlikely, considering how young she was. Chances were she had no experience with being pursued in earnest. Especially when considering how protective her brother had been of her until now. Apparently he’d trusted the Warwicks to chaperone her for a change, except she’d somehow managed to elude their watchful eyes when escaping out into the garden. Neither one had come looking for her, perhaps because they’d thought she was keeping company with Miss Saunders. Florian had seen the two women together on his way out to the terrace and decided not to approach them.
Instead, she’d found him, even if it had been by chance.
But the intimacy they’d shared, not only through touch, but through conversation, had instilled in him a feeling of unity that he’d never experienced in anyone else’s company before. He’d been surprised to discover how much she knew about him and he’d been flattered by the compliments she’d given.
Initially, he’d gone into medicine with the intention of undoing some of the harm his father had done in the world. He’d simply sought to balance the scales. But then he’d taken to it with uncanny ease, his fascination with medical discoveries and new surgical methods driving his thirst for additional knowledge. He’d applied himself and he’d studied hard, impressing his mentors with his dogged insistence to find the best treatment available for his patients.
Discovering Lady Juliette’s appreciation for his accomplishments, that her interest in his field of expertise surpassed polite conversation, only made him want her more. She was temptation incarnate and a woman he had no business wanting, even after he claimed his title. Ironically, Society would claim she wasn’t good enough for him. Especially not once he became duke.
But they would be wrong.
Those people knew him to be an earl’s grandson, an upstanding member of Society and the physician most of them turned to when they were sick. They did not know of the monster who’d sired him or of the horrifying way in which it had happened. To subject an innocent woman like Lady Juliette to such a disturbing blemish would be beyond cruel. Best then for him to forget her before it was too late.
Which was easier said than done since they were now working together.
Groaning, he raked his fingers through his hair and hailed a hackney. Arriving home ten minutes later, he let himself in through the front door and shut it firmly behind him. He had three servants in total—Baker, his man of affairs who doubled as butler, Jillian, the maid, and Mrs. Croft, his cook—none of whom stayed overnight. A couple of letters littered the floor, one bearing his uncle’s seal. Picking both of them up, Florian tossed his gloves on a nearby table and made his way to his study. He stoked the fire in the grate and sought out the brandy he’d been looking forward to savoring. Pouring a full measure, he threw it back, then refilled his glass and dropped down into the nearest chair.
Setting his glass aside, he stretched out his legs and picked up his uncle’s letter, tearing open the seal and scanning the bold script on the crisp white paper.
Florian,
My affairs are now completely in order. Funds have been set aside for your aunt, and my secretary has dispatched letters to my estates, instructing the caretakers and housekeepers there on how to proceed once I am gone. Hopefully, this will ease the coming transition for you.
Sincerely,
George Talcott
Expelling a breath, Florian opened the second letter and froze.
Your intention to save St. Giles interferes with my plan to destroy it. Forget the people who live there, Florian, or those nearest and dearest to you will suffer the consequence.
Righting himself, he leaned forward and reread the missive before crumpling it up in his hand so tightly his knuckles turned white. Rising, he tossed the ball of paper into the fire and hurled the rest of his brandy after it, producing a burst of angry flames. There was only one man he could think of who’d want to threaten him like this. Except it couldn’t possibly be him. Could it? To suppose that William Mortedge, the American investor thetonhad welcomed into their midst, and Bartholomew, were one and the same was ludicrous. Whatever similarities the two men shared had to be coincidental. Which made Florian all the more curious to know who’d sent the letter and why that person would want to see the people of St. Giles suffer.
Florian woke at precisely seven o’clock the following morning. Once dressed, he descended to the dining room where he devoured two eggs, some bacon, a fried tomato and a slice of toast, washing it all down with a strong cup of tea before heading toward his study. Perhaps he ought to confide in Baker about the threat.
The thought had barely formed when a loud knock at the front door halted his progress. Florian strode forward and opened it to find his brother with a cheerful expression upon his face. “Good morning, Henry.” He opened the door a bit wider and stepped aside so Henry could enter. “I am surprised to see you this early. I would have bet a thousand pounds on you still being abed.”
Henry grinned. “I have not yet slept.” He began removing his gloves while following Florian into the study where Baker was busy with the ledgers.
“Would you please give us the room?” Florian asked his servant.
Baker was already on his feet and gathering up papers. A second later he was gone, leaving Florian and Henry alone in private. “Busy night at the club?” Florian gestured for Henry to sit.
“Running a business requires commitment. Surely you can understand that, considering how busy your work keeps you.” Henry sat and so did Florian. “Besides, it was impossible for me to contemplate rest after reading the headline in theMayfair Chroniclethis morning. Have you seen it?”
“Not yet,” Florian said.
