Chapter Five
“I’m warning younot to fall in love with me,” Delphine purred, tucking her hands around his elbow.
They walked among the museum’s exhibition hall, filled to the brim with paintings and people with large hats. He almost stumbled with her bold speech. “I beg your pardon?”
She smirked at his reaction, pleased she’d caught him off guard. This was their fifth outing together, and that seemed to be what she enjoyed doing the most. He had not yet tried to kiss her, not even her hand, for fear of what she might say next.
“Men tend to fall in love with me and then propose marriage, and I must tell you that I won’t be marrying anyone. My portion from my late husband stipulates that it lasts only so long as I remain unmarried. But that doesn’t dictate what I do in my spare time.”
Julian choked. She was most brazenly suggesting that she was available for not just museum strolls.
“I thought we ought to get that out of the way, so we can have a proper look round today. I didn’t want you to be distracted.”
Julian swallowed after a coughing fit. “Very considerate of you.”
She patted his arm. “Don’t think I wouldn’t look out for your best interests, for they dovetail quite nicely with mine.”
Julian wondered what his best interests were, precisely, but his entire mind had gone blank. They stared at paintings in lovely gilded frames, and he couldn’t remember a single one. His body buzzed with what she insinuated. The release that she promised wrapped up in the heady smell of vanilla and lilies. The woman was a walking scandal, and he had to admit, he didn’t want to leave her side.
Her lips were plump and pink and it was difficult to not think of what they might taste like. She caught him staring and her mouth curved in approval. He shook his head, trying to come out of the intoxication. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman, and he’d never been with a woman like this, so knowing, so confidant, so obvious.
He exhaled with an audible breath, trying to compose himself. It had been a long time since lust had made such a fool of him, too. At least he knew the difference now between lust and love. Lust made you feel a fool, love made you feel a monster. She snuggled deeper into his elbow, seemingly pleased with his discomfort.
They rounded a corner into the next room, only to run directly into the younger Bridewell brother, who looked so much like his father, only sporting his mother’s golden hair. The sight knocked the wind—and the lust—out of Julian.
“Sir Julian!” Mr. Bridewell exclaimed, looking thoroughly pleased. “So good to see you here.”
“Delightful,” Julian managed to say, wishing Delphine would loosen her grip on him.
“I’d like you to meet my wife,” Bridewell said, angling his elbow forward to bring his wife into Julian’s periscoped view.
“A pleasure.” Julian bowed.
“She too was on the Matterhorn expedition,” Bridewell boasted. Pride showed through his expression, and Julian marked it. There were few men who were so viscerallyproudof their wives. Or at least, proud of the woman themselves, and not proud that they were the ones to marry her, for whatever reason. In Julian’s experience, men were proud of their wives’ beauty, not of their climbing skill. And it struck him suddenly that if he were the type to marry, he’d want to follow Mr. Bridewell’s example.
Mrs. Bridewell’s cheeks pinked, but she made no move to contradict him or belittle her accomplishment. She was pretty, with dark chestnut hair and warm brown eyes. “Quite the adventure,” she said instead.
“I can imagine,” Julian said, his heart warming for the charm of this couple.
“Miss Bridewell tells me you have an interest in the Matterhorn,” Mrs. Bridewell said.
Julian stiffened, but smiled. There was something instinctive about keeping Delphine out of the way of his mountaineering efforts. He simply didn’t want to share it with her. Not yet.
“I do. But first, let me introduce Lady DeMarius, the dowager countess.”
Delphine gave him a charming smile and fluttered her dark lashes at him. “Oh Julian, you make me sound so ancient.”
No one in the group could overlook how familiarly she addressed him. She was staking her claim on him as much as he’d tried to hide his interest in the Matterhorn. They chattered on aimlessly, Julian impatient to move them along the hall.
“Do you have a particular interest in art?” Julian asked the couple, hoping this would steer the conversation away from the speculation on Delphine and how deep his acquaintance with her was.
“I did not, at least, not until the Matterhorn,” Mrs. Bridewell confessed. “I had some ah, injuries, from the descent, and while I convalesced in Zermatt, I took art lessons from another lady climber’s husband. Oh dear, that does sound convoluted, doesn’t it?”
“It really isn’t,” Mr. Bridewell continued. “At least, not for The Ladies’ Alpine Society.”
“I beg your pardon?” Delphine asked.
“The Ladies’ Alpine Society, ma’am. It consists of myself, Miss Ophelia Bridewell, who is my sister-in-law, Mrs. Leopold Moon, and Mrs. Karl Vogel.”
