Page 126 of The Language of Love

Henry allowed himself a very unpleasant smile, which grew even larger when his cousin blanched. “That is what we shall talk about in three-quarters of an hour.” He tossed his frayed linen napkin onto the table and stood.

Unfortunately, the door opened before he left and Julia entered.

Her face lit up when she saw him. For a moment, it transported him back twenty years and his heart lurched uncomfortably in his chest. How many hours had he spent dreaming about her smiling at him like that? Several days’ worth of mooning if you added it all up.

Now her smile just made him want to hurt her—not physically. No, he wanted to crush her spirit and humiliate her. He wanted to see her weeping and humbled, cast out and terrified for her future, as he had been all those years ago.

He wanted retribution.

It was not a gentlemanly feeling, but he didn’t give a damn.

“Henry, I’d begun to suspect that you only materialized long enough to eat your dinner every night.” Her laughter was melodic enough to make angels weep.

“Suspect no longer, Julia. Here I am.” He smiled and her own smile dimmed at whatever she saw on his face.

“I wanted to speak to you, when you have a moment, Henry.”

“How serendipitous, Julia. I wish to speak to you.” He stepped closer to her than was polite.

Julia, no shrinking violet, did not step away. Indeed, she blossomed, like some rare variety of flower that only bloomed when exposed to male attention. “Serendipitous, indeed,” she purred, her eyes all but caressing his body as they flickered over him.

He smirked at the lustful expression she’d so easily conjured. “I shall be in my study. You may pick your time—nine and noon are already taken.”

“You didn’t let me pick my time,” Edmund said.

Henry ignored him, not taking his attention from the beautiful viper before him.

“I am meant to be at the vicarage this afternoon,” she said. “Would tomorrow be too late?”

“Tomorrow is fine.” In fact, it would be better; Henry didn’t want to have the two of them on the same day. He might not be able to control his punitive impulses.

“One o’clock?” she asked.

“One o’clock it is.” He sketched a bow and left the two of them to whatever it was they were plotting and scheming. And he knew they were up to something, although what, he couldn’t say. All he knew for certain was that it would involve money.

Edmund had received a small bequest in his cousin’s will, but there wasn’t enough money left to fulfill it—at least not without help from Henry. And Julia’s jointure was entirely funded from Henry’s pocket. It wasn’t his legal duty to support either of them—and he’d not planned to do so. But now that he was married, he’d changed his position. He would pay ten times as much to get them out of his house.

Henry worked his way through not only today’s correspondence, but all the other business that he’d allowed to pile up over the last week.

He was deep in a letter from the captain of his newest ship when Edmund knocked and entered.

“Are you too busy?” he asked, hopefully eyeing Henry’s disaster of a desk.

“Not too busy for you, cousin. Please, have a seat.”

Henry took off the spectacles he needed to read and leaned back in his chair. A quick glance at the nearby long-case clock said his cousin was twenty minutes late. So, Edmund was showing a bit of teeth, was he?

He smiled; Edmund’s puny rebellion would make breaking him to bridle more enjoyable.

“I shan’t beat about the bush, Edmund.” Henry made a mental note to ask Annis about that idiom later. “Why are you here?”

Edmund blinked. “But you asked me to come.”

“No, not in my library. Why are you living in my house?”

“The family has always lived at Stoke.”

“Spinster aunts and relatives too old to care for themselves have always had a place at Stoke. But you have your own estate.”