Emily Hendrickson (29 page)

“I told you that would be hideously expensive,” she temporized. “You ought not to waste your money on such a frivolous scheme, for you know he will never acquire the money to pay you back.” Chloe dared to meet his gaze and wondered at the expression she found there. He looked more than pensive, he almost looked sad. She attributed it to the recent altercation with Twisdale and patted Julian on the arm, forcing her other desires to the back of her mind. “I feel certain you will find something else to spend your gold on. A new horse, perhaps?”

“I have all the horses I require at the moment,” he said with a sort of defeated expression on his face.

Chloe disentangled herself from his clasp and moved toward the door. “At least you can cease worrying about my aunt. Elinor has become betrothed to Sir Augustus.”

“I thought he needed money,” Julian said. He sounded rather amused and Chloe glanced back to see he was now smiling.

“It seems that her stepson offered her a vast sum of money if she would marry and remove herself from London. She and Sir Augustus are to travel on the Continent, or so Laura writes.”

“Perhaps they will meet Twisdale while there.”

“Please excuse me, Julian, I have a few things to attend,” Chloe blurted out, unable to stand being so close to him in such an intimate situation.

Julian watched his wife hurry from the room with a wry expression on his face. Odd, when he had checked his reflection in the looking glass this morning, it had seemed the same one that had charmed the ladies in London. Yet his own little wife who he adored ran from him at every turn.

He picked up the confession the cook had signed and placed it in a folder to be sent to London along with the statement he would obtain from his under-gardener. It seemed a futile exercise, but he felt constrained to do what he might to punish Twisdale.

That Friday Chloe reminded Julian they were to dine with the Hopgoods that evening. Since the atmosphere at St. Aubyn’s Court was becoming more tense by the day, both occupants were only too happy to seek the company of others.

All was going well until Chloe began to dress. She had sent Ellen off to press her silk shawl and then decided she’d not wait for her return to slip on her gown. It had seemed such a simple affair, with a back that hooked up, then tied with a bow. Surely she could manage it.

She could not. Twisting about and trying this way and that, she decided that women’s gowns were designed to require a maid.

“Oh,” she cried in frustration, ready to remove the dratted thing and fling it to a corner.

“Are you having a problem, dear wife?” came an amused drawl from the door that led to the sitting room.

“Julian!” she gasped, whirling about to stare at her husband while clutching her gown to her bosom. This portion of her anatomy was decently covered in a sheer white linen shift over her stays. Feet clad in white stockings peeped from beneath the dragging hem of the dress, but she felt horridly uncovered.

“Your maid?” he said, slowly crossing the room, coming closer and closer.

“Pressing my silk shawl. It was frightfully wrinkled and I wished to have it this evening. I thought to dress myself, but find most gowns are impossible to manage on one’s own.” Chloe babbled, she knew it. But the sight of Julian in his shirtsleeves had a strange effect on her ability to think straight.

“Perhaps I could assist you.” Without waiting for her to tell him to depart at once, Julian walked around her to calmly take the fabric from her hands and began to hook up the back. His fingers felt cool against the heat of her skin when he came to the upper part of the dress. Even through the sheer lace and silk sarcenet of her gown, her thin linen shift, and the stays she had been exquisitely conscious of his touch. On her bare skin it was a delicious sensation, something of the sort that ought to be forbidden.

“Are you cold?” he inquired, all solicitous. “You shivered when I did up your gown.” He placed warm hands on her bare shoulders as though to test her temperature. She didn’t know what he found, but was certain that she must be feverish.

He walked around her as though to study the gown and Chloe wondered if he knew the difference between a shiver from cold and a trembling from desire. She would wager he did.

“That is a very lovely gown and becomes you well,” he said in that sensuously husky voice she had heard on occasion before. It was that tone that prompted her knees to turn weak, her voice to fail, and her heart to do curious flip-flops.

“I…I like it,” she stammered at last, knowing she must sound like the veriest fool.

“As do I, not to mention the delightful package it wraps.” He ran a finger across her shoulder, then followed that light, seductive touch with his lips, caressing her with the most erotic whisper against her skin.

Chloe shut her eyes, reveling for a moment in his attentions. If only he had not been forced to marry her. If only he were not so skilled. Or perhaps she ought to be thankful for that small mercy, for he would soon tire of her and take himself off. If he failed to do that, she must escape from him.

He would be her undoing. One of these days she would throw herself into that scoundrel’s arms and demand he ravish her, or whatever it was that husbands did to their wives. All she knew of the matter was that she wanted most desperately to explore the world that Julian revealed to her in tantalizing glimpses.

Then he kissed her closed lids, and at last her mouth.

Oh, Chloe wanted to forget about that dinner, the world, and above all the promise she had made to Julian that she would free him. She wanted nothing more than to remain by his side. Only she was honorable and kept her word.

But, oh, it was hard. His kiss was enticing, alluring, and madly wonderful.

When he released her, she said the first thing that popped into her bemused brain. “No wonder you were such a successful scoundrel. You do that beautifully.”

Had she tossed a bowl of iced water in his face she could not have shocked him more, it seemed. He pulled away from her, giving her a look compounded of hurt and anger—or so it appeared to her.

“That is not the correct thing to say to your husband when he kisses you, dear wife,” he snapped, then turned from her and marched from the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Well,” she replied to the closed door, “I was not the one who was a scoundrel, after all.”

The door to the hallway opened and Ellen slipped in bearing the silk shawl, now nicely pressed.

“Sorry, miss, nothing seemed to go right in the laundry room this afternoon. Just one thing after another.”

While she bustled about adjusting the ribbons on Chloe’s gown and other little attentions, Chloe could not help but reflect that the sentiment could well cover the situation in the bedroom as well.

The evening went well, she supposed later when driving back to Aubynwood. If the Squire and Mrs. Hopgood noticed the particular strain that existed between the newly-weds, they gave no indication of it.

Mrs. Hopgood proved to be a charming, intelligent lady and quite fascinated with London fashions. She prompted Chloe into revealing every current mode that existed before her retirement to the country upon her marriage to Julian.

Across the room Julian and the squire had sat in comfortable conversation discussing the coming fall season and the likelihood of excellent hunting. Twisdale was not mentioned by an unspoken mutual agreement.

Chloe marveled that the man who had been the toast of the ton could sit so at ease with the squire. She knew better than to say anything, however. She had decided that Julian was a trifle touchy about his past as a scoundrel. She couldn’t think why, since he had behaved in that manner for so long and apparently enjoyed it.

Julian drove through the moonlit night at a rapid pace, whisking them around the corners at such speed that Chloe slid across the seat until she was pressed tightly against his body. She felt it necessary to cling to him, but refused to utter a word of rebuke, for he seemed in an odd mood.

When they reached Aubynwood, Chloe felt the tension between her and Julian intensify. They entered the house and walked up the stairs in silence. At the door to her room, Julian paused, staring down at her with a frown.

“Good night,” she ventured to offer. “It was a very pleasant evening. And, Julian, please remember that I will do my very best to keep my promises to you.”

He shook his head as though puzzled by her remark but said nothing about it. “I wish to speak with you in the morning. There are certain things we must discuss.”

Chloe knew what they were. He wanted to tell her that he was returning to London and his old life. He refused to see her way of dissolving their marriage and would try no other. Now he would leave her in the country so he might pursue his old ways—chasing elegant women and living the life of a scoundrel.

Well, she would not have it that way. Annoyed with everyone in the world, especially Julian, she did not want him to be able to hide behind her skirts when a lady became too insistent. He should be free to pull himself out of any predicaments!

Maybe that was why he had kissed her, so to turn her up sweet and she’d not mind his leaving. Well, she would go first and
now,
without telling him a word about it.

Deeply incensed, Chloe quietly agreed to meet in the morning, then entered her room.

Frustrated to distraction, Julian did not go to his room, but turned and ran down the steps and out to the stables, where he saddled his horse and tore off across the countryside for a midnight ride.

Ellen entered Chloe’s bedroom from where she slept. The maid was still alert and neatly dressed. “Ma’am?”

“Pack what you can of my things, enough to see me for several days until the rest of my belongings can be sent to me. I have had a sudden message from my Cousin Elizabeth. I must go to her at once.” Chloe was sorry for the fabrication, but knew she needed a powerful excuse so to convince her maid.

“Indeed, ma’am,” the maid softly replied, then swiftly commenced to pack the basic requirements for a Lady of Quality. Chloe slipped down to send a request for a carriage to take her to the village. Here she could hire a post chaise for the reminder of the trip.

When ready, Chloe cautioned the maid, “Ellen, I do not wish to disturb my husband. We exchanged a few words about…my going to see my cousin. She needs me and I will go.” Chloe could almost believe her tale, so convincing she sounded.

They slipped from the room and down the stairs, out a side door, and around to the stables with no one the wiser. The groom silently drove them to the village, too mindful of the ways of his betters to question any mad behavior.

At the inn, Chloe managed to convince the innkeeper that she wished to travel by post chaise rather than the St. Aubyn coach, claiming she did not want to take the coach away when her husband needed it himself.

Since most men came before women, the innkeeper was satisfied and made the arrangements.

Chloe perched uneasily on a chair while she waited for the post chaise to be brought forward. What if Julian decided to invade her room again and found her missing? He would come after her and be utterly furious, although why, Chloe could not understand. She had made her promise and the sooner she kept it the better. Indeed, it would have been far wiser if she had taken herself off to visit some cousin immediately after the wedding instead of going along with him and falling more and more in love with the man. Oh, he was a dreadful scoundrel, make no mistake about it.

At last she was summoned to the post chaise and with a suspicious Ellen trailing behind her, they entered the carriage and took off in the vague direction of Cousin Elizabeth’s country home. Chloe had been most careful to confide her direction to the driver, afraid the innkeeper would pass the information along to Julian in the odd event he did come searching for her.

“You left Mr. St. Aubyn a note, did you not?” her drowsy maid inquired.

“I did, you may be certain.” Chloe had been most careful as to what she had put down in that note, too.

“He will not like this in the least,” the maid predicted before dropping off to sleep.

* * * *

“Hell’s bells,” Julian ranted when he found his wife had decamped. He had slept late following his ride, then decided to check on her come morning. Her room had been oddly silent. He had become accustomed to her gentle murmuring to her maid. Instead he found the note,

“I have gone to keep my promise. Your Chloe.” Promise!

Julian searched her closet and drawers, discovering that quite a few items were missing—at least he presumed she must have packed enough for several days before departing.

It wasn’t until he queried the groom that he found his first clue.

“Took her to the village. She said it were a matter of emergency, something to do with a cousin.”

Julian thanked the groom, then fumed all the way back to the house. His dear wife had cousins ranging from one end of England to the other. How he was to find her before she discovered the truth and hated him for his deception he didn’t know. But he had to try. Last evening had revealed another delightfully responsive side to his beloved wife that he fully intended to explore, the sooner the better. Before he totally lost what mind he had left at this point.

* * * *

“I think we are lost,” Chloe said to Ellen after a searching gaze out of the post chaise window.

“Can’t see a thing from here. If you were to ask me, that last driver were more than a trifle tipsy,” Ellen replied, her nose glued to the window on the other side of the chrome yellow post chaise, also searching through the fog.

“I cannot recall a fog this dense. Whatever shall we do?” When Chloe had decided to leave Aubynwood she had not figured on becoming lost in a fog with a tipsy driver and her maid.

“We could just sit here,” Ellen offered hesitantly and most reluctantly. “But that fog gets cold and damp and we could both come down with a case of galloping consumption and be dead before anyone finds us.”

“Nonsense,” Chloe said but not sounding convinced at this diagnosis from her normally silent maid, “the color yellow alone should alert anyone that there is trouble here, what with the coach standing idle and all.”