That gaping hole in Colin’s chest, the coldness in Charlotte’s eyes, and the blood—so much of it, and so red. Far too red—not like real blood, which was much darker, but bright, lurid, pretend blood. Julian drew in a deep breath and clutched at the watch in his palm. The blood was always the worst of it.
He fumbled for the table at his elbow until he found the glass of whiskey he’d abandoned last night. Ah, good. Still half full. “To your health.” He tipped the glass toward Cam, and then brought it to his lips.
“It’s not my health I’m worried about.”
Julian let the liquor sear his throat, then dropped the empty glass back onto the table. “Don’t say you’re worried for me, cuz? I’m in the pink of health.” Julian held his arms out wide. “Never been better. Just look at me.”
Cam did look at him—such a long, hard look Julian had to fight to hold his cousin’s gaze. What did those sharp green eyes see when they looked at him now? He’d never been able to hide anything from his cousin, not since they were boys. Maybe Cam knew he’d offered to pleasure Charlotte in the middle of Lord and Lady Elliott’s garden last night.
No, not offered—threatened.
What kind of hero insinuates a lady is a whore?
No kind of hero at all. Julian did drop his eyes then, desperate to avoid Cam’s searching gaze, and ran an unsteady hand down his face. Jesus. He’d been out of control from the moment he stepped into that garden last night, utterly at the mercy of the brute lurking under his skin. What else had he said to Charlotte? Damn it, he’d been so overwhelmed by his own pain and anger he couldn’t remember.
But her face, pale and anguished, the tremor in her voice when she begged him tostop—dear God. He remembered that.
He rubbed a weary hand over his eyes. The moment she arrived this morning he’d tell her how sorry he was. He’d beg her forgiveness—
“This business with Charlotte, Julian. Its best if—”
“It’s done. She’ll accompany you to Bellwood this morning.”
Cam’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? How did you manage it? Should I expect to find her bound and gagged and deposited on the floor of my carriage?”
Julian tried to smile. “A simple thanks will do.”
Cam wasn’t amused. “Your tactics with Charlotte thus far have been—”
To Julian’s relief, Cam didn’t get a chance to finish before he was interrupted by a knock on the study door. “Yes? Come.”
Phipps entered, his long face flushed with distress. “I beg your pardon, sir, but there’s a gentleman here who demands to see you, and he’s rather insistent.”
Cam raised his eyebrows. “Insistent?”
“I’m afraid so, sir. I tried to turn him away, it being far too early in the day for calls, but he pushed his way inside. Nearly knocked me down, sir.”
A strange sense of foreboding shot up Julian’s spine. “Did he give his name, Phipps?”
“Yes, sir. Lord Devon.”
“Devon!” Cam shot to his feet. “Send him away at once, Phipps.”
“No! Wait.” Julian held up his hand to stay Phipps. “Something’s wrong, Cam. It must be. Devon would never come here otherwise.”
Cam’s face paled. “Charlotte?”
Julian nodded. It had to be Charlotte, and whatever it was, it was dire. Nothing short of disaster could induce Devon to appear on Cam’s doorstep. Fear choked him as he sifted frantically through his memories of last night. What had she said? She’d asked him to stop, yes, but what else? Something about wanting to see him, to tell him something, but he hadn’t let her speak, and in the end she’d said very little.
I did weep for you. I still see your face when I close my eyes.
Julian went still, remembering.
“Phipps, give us ten minutes for Captain West to make himself presentable, then show Lord Devon in.”
“Yes, sir.” Phipps bowed and left the room.
“Get dressed, Jules. Quickly.” Cam retrieved Julian’s clothes from the chair. “For God’s sake, what did you do to them?” He cast an impatient eye over the crumpled coat and waistcoat.
