Scandalous Liaisons (17 page)

“Stop!” she cried, leaping to her feet. “I don’t want to know.”

Lucien straightened, staring at the top of her downcast head. “Julienne.” His voice dropped seductively. “I’m extremely wealthy. I can help your brother, and I can give you everything Fontaine can, except for a title. Is a title so important to you?”

She lifted her chin, her gaze soft and liquid with tears. “No. A title does not matter to me, Lucien.”

He reached out and captured her hand. “Then take me,” he urged, sweat misting his skin. “I’ll take care of everything. I’ll take care of you.”

“Oh, Lucien,” Julienne breathed. “I cannot.”

“Why?”

Her chin quivered. “Because I couldn’t bear to share you if you were mine.”

Lucien was stunned. “But you will tolerate a peer’s indiscretions? I don’t understand.”

“I know.” She sighed miserably. “We must forget this conversation. Your friendship is important to me, Lucien. I—”

“Friendship?”
His hands tightened brutally on hers. She winced, but he couldn’t make himself release her. “We are more than friends, Julienne. My fingers have been inside you. I’ve held your naked body against mine. You have taken my cock in your mouth—”

She covered his mouth with her hand. “Please, don’t be angry. I would never take advantage of your desire by forcing you into marriage. You would be miserable tied down in such a way, which would, in turn, make me miserable. I can meet with you. We can arrange to—”

“You will fuck me,” he snapped, “but not wed me?” He broke into a sweat, even though his heart was cold.

A tear rolled down her cheek, breaking him, and he fought back in self-defense.

“You act as if my background and social standing were of no consequence to you, but that’s a lie, Julienne. You consider me beneath you. Not worthy of marriage. I’m good enough to fuck, but nothing more.” Lucien dropped her hand and turned away. He didn’t trust himself to touch her. He might do something completely idiotic—like drop to his knees and beg.

“That’s not true!” she cried. “You know that’s not true.”

He shot her a furious glance, and the sight of her tore at him. Her lush mouth, which had loved his body so ardently the night before, was quivering, and she was struggling to hold back tears.

The damned thing was, so was he.

Without a word, Lucien strode through the open French doors and out to the garden beyond. He heard Julienne calling his name, her voice choked and pleading, but he couldn’t go back.

God, how he wanted her!
His hands were shaking and his breath shuddering as he mounted his horse in the mews. He was completely undone, knowing, as he pulled away from Julienne’s home, that it would be the last time he ever spoke to her.

Julienne watched Lucien boldly, uncaring who saw her. After weeks of self-imposed exile, he’d reappeared in Society looking leaner and paler, the skin around his eyes shadowed. He didn’t look well, but to Julienne he looked wonderful. Beautifully dressed in evening attire, he stood out from the crowd, his presence so compelling and so uncivilized despite his refined exterior.

Lucien must have felt her regard. He turned his head and met her gaze, his expression altering not at all upon seeing her. He turned back to his companion, a voluptuous and obviously smitten woman of the world. An experienced femme fatale, with flame-red hair and lips, who held his arm and rubbed her full breasts against it, while Lucien sliced Julienne through the heart with the cut direct.

She reminded herself that she’d never had a claim to him. Even when he’d rashly offered marriage, Lucien had never agreed to be hers. But that didn’t stop her from feeling as if she would cast up her accounts all over the ballroom floor.

“What are you contemplating, Lady Julienne?” Fontaine asked as he leaned over her.

“I’m thinking you should ask me to dance.”

Her handsome suitor’s mouth curved in a smile that caused other women to swoon, yet affected Julienne not at all. “Another dance?” he murmured. “How deliciously scandalous.”

With consummate skill, he moved her from the edge of the dance floor and into the line of waiting couples. As the music began and they moved with the other dancers, she watched Lucien lead the redhead to a deserted corner, his hand cupping the curve of her derriere. Dismayed, Julienne missed a step. Fontaine’s arm tightened, supporting her, his quick response preventing any embarrassment for them.

“Thank you,” she said, with a grateful smile, swallowing back her misery.

Justin tilted his head in acknowledgment. “We rub along well together.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “We do.”

His gaze filled with satisfaction. Their nuptials were quickly becoming a foregone conclusion. Soon, very soon, Julienne would have to explain her brother’s plight. Raised an aristocrat, the same as she was, the present Marquess of Fontaine knew the workings of upper-tier marriages, and her situation, while pitiable, was fairly common. In fact, she was almost certain he already knew of her brother’s troubles.

When the reel ended, Justin escorted her back to Aunt Eugenia before departing for another event. Try as she might, and she did try, Julienne couldn’t stop herself from looking for Lucien. When she found him, she clasped a gloved hand over her mouth, containing a sob. Lucien was leaning over his red-haired lover, whispering in her ear and nuzzling her throat, the picture of rapturous attentiveness.

“Excuse me, Aunt Eugenia.” She turned away, her chest tight. “I have to sneeze.” She moved with haste toward the nearest hallway.

Afraid to go into the ladies’ retiring room and hazard running into other guests, Julienne made her way farther down the hall, where unlit tapers offered privacy. She slipped into the third closed door and shut it behind her. For a moment, she was blind in the darkness, but she stumbled her way to an open-sided chaise, where she threw herself down and began to cry in earnest. Arrested by grief, she didn’t hear the bolt slide home. When a large, ungloved hand covered her mouth, her eyes flew open in shock.

And clashed with Lucien’s furious gaze.

His intent was obvious as he covered her body with his own. Removing his hand, he replaced it with his lips, his wonderful scent overpowered by brandy, which filled her nostrils and flavored his kisses. Her heart raced and her chest ached as she struggled for air, her body coming to immediate arousal, needing him like it needed food and water.

Julienne tasted blood as her teeth cut the soft insides of her lips. He tasted it, too, and it seemed to inflame him, his ardor mounting until he took her mouth with savage intensity. A delicious shudder heated her body. Against her will, she arched upward into his cock, wanting him . . . needing him to fill the emptiness he’d left behind.

Lucien groaned at her response, his hands wandering possessively over her curves, the heat of his erection burning through her satin gown. His feet slipped between her own and then slid outward, forcing her legs as far apart as her dress would allow.

Where once there had been tender exploration and affection, there now was only pain and fury. Lucien’s hand gripped her breast convulsively, hurtfully, making her wince. Julienne’s hands moved off the chaise, sliding under his coat and waistcoat, tearing at his buttons in her desperation to get to his skin. Lucien yanked her skirts upward, ripping her stockings. The delicate threads of her gown popped, protesting his rough treatment. He lifted his mouth, and she gasped for air.

“You’ve ruined me.” His hands shook as they reached under her skirts. “I’ve been unable to bed another woman . . . since the last time I touched you.”

She smothered a sob, hating the thought that he’d even tried, and deeply, endlessly relieved that he’d failed.

“Go to your whore,” she cried, even as she held him tightly to her. Even as she prayed he wouldn’t.

“Damn you to hell!” he cursed, gripping her thigh with bruising strength. “You’re so willing to discard me.”

His fingers reached her sex, and he gave a tortured groan. “So wet, almost dripping. Can anyone else make you feel like this, Julienne? Or is this only for me?”

“Lucien—”

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked hoarsely as he slid his fingers inside her.

She tried to pull away, but her traitorous body welcomed him with a rush of moisture. “I don’t want . . . y-your anger . . .”

“You want
me
,” he whispered savagely. “But you’ll send me to another’s bed.” His damp cheek pressed against hers, his hot breath burning across her ear. “That woman out there—she’s desperate for me, Julienne, as mad for me as you are, but she won’t turn me away. In an hour, I’ll be deep inside of her, and she’ll be screaming my name . . . while you rot in your virginal bed.”

“Bastard,” she sobbed, her hands fisting against his back. “Why are you doing this?”

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” His mouth moved feverishly, pressing openmouthed kisses against her neck.

“Go to hell!”

“Ah, sweet,” he murmured, his velvety voice filling with sadness, his thrusting fingers never ceasing their torment. “You can’t say it, can you? You crave me too much.”

Julienne moaned as the pleasure built, Lucien’s fingers slipping easily through the cream that flowed from her, pumping faster and faster, making her writhe with the need for more than just this.

“Does it feel good, my love?” He pressed his damp forehead to hers. “Your cunt is so drenched, so hot and tight. I could fuck you properly, Julienne. Ram my cock in you until you scream with pleasure. Would you like that?”

She pressed herself against him, her hips lifting to give him greater access. “Lucien . . .”

He ground his erection into her leg. “You’ll miss me when you’re married to your philandering marquess.” He nuzzled the side of her face. “But I’ll accommodate you when you want to be held like this . . . pleasured like this. Wear those trousers and come to my club.”

“I hate you for this,” she sobbed. And she hated herself for loving him anyway.

“Show me how much you hate me, Julienne. I want to feel it when you come around my fingers.”

Lucien reached farther into her, stroking skillfully. And she climaxed on his command, a white hot, exploding orgasm that had her moaning his name. He swallowed her pleasured cries in his mouth, groaning along with her, holding her shuddering body tightly against him.

When it was over, Julienne gasped for air and strengthened her resolve. Before Lucien could pull away, she bucked upward, forcing his fingers from her and throwing him to the floor. She was atop him in an instant, straddling his thighs and shoving his palms under her knees, using the weight of her body to pin his hands to the floor. She drew off her long gloves and tore open the placket of his breeches.

He growled. “What are you doing?”

Staring down at his handsome features, Julienne watched the play of emotions that burned in his gaze. Her hands pulled his cock free and gripped him firmly. Her smile was feral.

“You won’t have anything left for that woman by the time I’m done with you, Lucien Remington.” She bent forward and licked his bottom lip, savoring his taste. Her hands slid along the hot length of his shaft, loving the feel of him. “I’m going to wring you dry.”

“I could throw you off easily,” he threatened.

“Ah, but you won’t.” Her thumbs drifted over the engorged head, feeling the slickness of his seed everywhere. “You crave me too much.”

He squeezed his eyes closed with a curse, unable to deny it.

“Did you come when I did, Lucien?” She lubricated her palms and then curled her hands around him. “How terribly naughty of you. But you’re still so hard, ready to do it again.”

His hips began to pump upward as she used both hands to stroke him off. “Jesus . . . Julienne . . .” Sweat dripped from his brow, dampening the inky hair on his forehead.

“What a shame for your trollop,” she murmured. “I have no experience with male anatomy, but I know you’re well-endowed. So hot and huge. My hands can barely close around your cock.” She pressed her mouth against his ear. “Like a wild stallion. But that woman out there won’t have the pleasure of riding you tonight.” Biting the lobe of his ear, she whispered hotly, “You will never be mine, but for tonight, at least, you won’t be hers either.”

Lucien growled.

His fingers flexed against her kneecaps, and his shaft pulsed in her hands. Julienne memorized the beauty of his face flushed with passion, his gorgeous eyes narrowed and watching her, his mouth swollen and parted on heaving gasps. She stroked him faster, running her thumbs over the slickness on the tip, wanting to give him pleasure. Pumping her fists with greater and greater urgency, Julienne relished the guttural cries that tore from his throat.

She loved the feel of him, soft satin over steel, and the way he liked to be pleasured, hard and primitive. His entire body tensed beneath her, his cock swelled in her hands, telling her how close he was.

“Come for me, darling,” she urged. “Come until there’s nothing left for any other woman.”

He cursed, and then twisted his hips, releasing his seed in powerful spurts across the rug. Julienne continued to attend to him, drawing out everything he had, until her hands were covered in his semen, until Lucien slumped in exhaustion, his body twitching, his breathing labored.

Only then did she release him. She brushed featherlight kisses across his closed lids and parted lips, all the while carefully unwinding his cravat. Then she wiped her hands off with it. She stood and tossed the ruined linen on his chest.

“Good-bye, Lucien.”

Glorious with anger, she left him spent on the floor.

Julienne collected Aunt Eugenia and left the ball immediately.

She was relieved to return to Montrose Hall. With her emotions in turmoil, she longed for a glass of sherry and a warm bath. As the butler closed the door behind them, their housekeeper approached with a letter in hand. “Lord Montrose returned this evening, my lady. I was told to present this to you upon your return.”

“Dear heaven,” Eugenia muttered. “What now?”

Julienne opened the missive and read quickly. Furious, she stomped her slippered foot on the marble floor. “The idiot returned to London only to leave straight away for a party.”

“
A party?
With what we’ve been through these last weeks?”

“I will need my cloak back,” Julienne informed the startled butler. “And have the carriage brought around again.”

“No, Julienne.”

She turned wide-eyed to her aunt.

Eugenia shook her head. “Our position is too precarious. Risking your reputation at a time like this could lead to our ruin. I’m ashamed of myself for allowing Hugh to run wild like this, and I’m ashamed that you’ve been the one to go haring after him every time.” She sighed. “I haven’t done a very good job of being the disciplinarian, I’m afraid. It’s time I corrected that. I shall be the one to go after him.”

Julienne leaned over and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “You’ve done a remarkable job. But you’ll have to trust me. The places Hugh frequents would make you swoon, and we can’t have that.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I was married, and you’re just a—”

“Do you know what a dildo is?”

Eugenia’s eyes widened. “Good grief!”

“Or the Kama Sutra?”

Eugenia waved her hands in front of her face. “Of course, I’ve heard of such things, but for you to have been exposed . . . Good heavens.”

“See? You’re already on the verge of a fit of vapors.” Julienne grabbed her aunt’s elbow and led her toward the stairs. “I shall see to Hugh.”

“You cannot go back to Remington’s! If Fontaine were to hear of it—”

“I don’t believe Hugh went to Remington’s,” she said dryly. “He owes too much money there.”

“Too much . . . Oh, dear God, we’re ruined!” Eugenia shook her head, resigned.

“Now, now. Order some hot tea and settle in. Don’t worry yourself. I will locate Hugh, and we’ll sort this entire mess out.” She prodded her aunt up the stairs.

“I don’t feel right about you going out alone at this hour, Julienne.”

“I know,” she soothed. “I won’t be gone long.”

“The last time you said that, you spent the night with Lucien Remington!”

“Aunt Eugenia!” Julienne glanced around the foyer in dismay. “Keep your voice down!”

Her aunt grumbled her way up the stairs, glancing down at the foyer indecisively every few steps.

Julienne moved into the study to wait for the carriage, and poured herself two fingers of Hugh’s expensive brandy. She lifted the tumbler and downed the contents, coughing and wincing as the potent liquor burned its way down her throat. Her body still hummed vibrantly from her earlier orgasm, but deep inside, her heart was cold. The things Lucien had said . . . that woman he was with . . .

No. She couldn’t think of that now, or she would go mad.

She had to think about Hugh, who was in for a surprise. She was weary of his irresponsibility, and at the present moment, she was furious with every male on the planet.

Her brother was about to discover that firsthand.

 

It was nearly dawn, and Julienne was close to exhaustion by the time the carriage pulled up to the fourth house. She was relying on her coachman to find her brother based on his knowledge of Hugh’s favorite haunts. This was her final stop. If this was not the correct party, she would return to Montrose Hall and wait for Hugh there.

Her footman climbed the steps and made the necessary inquiries. Moments later, he opened the carriage door. “Lord Montrose arrived an hour past, my lady.”

“Good.” She alighted from the carriage and wrapped her cloak tighter around her.

As she walked up the short staircase, Julienne admired the grand Georgian design. It was large for a townhouse, and the beautifully maintained façade proudly boasted the wealth of its owner. The door was held open, and she swept right in, using the hood of her cloak to hide her face.

She found her brother in a richly appointed billiards room, surrounded by a large and boisterous group of gentlemen and demimondaines. Julienne waited for him to notice her in the doorway, unwilling to risk stepping inside. Hugh laughed at a pretty brunette’s witticism and then glanced her way. Despite her hood and cloak, he recognized her. His humor fled, turning into wide-eyed, mouth-agape horror. He left his companions without a word and hastened toward her with his long-legged stride. Gripping her elbow, he pulled her into the shadows.

Hugh La Coeur was renowned for a great many things in addition to his propensity for hedonism. He was a beautiful male specimen, with golden hair and dark, heavy-lidded eyes. He’d emerged victorious from two duels, and was considered to be an expert marksman and swordsman. If only he’d focus that level of intensity on making money, they could climb out of the financial mire they were in now.

“Jules, what the devil are you doing here?” he cried.

“What do you think, Hugh?” Her voice rose with anger. “You irresponsible, self-centered—”

He clamped a tobacco-scented hand over her mouth and tugged her down the hall. Opening a closed door, he pushed her into a dimly lit parlor. “If Fontaine heard word of your presence in this house, it would be a disaster!”

Julienne pulled her arm from his grip. “And then he might not be inclined to offer for me, and you would be ruined in debt. I can well collect your concern.”

Hugh had the decency to flush. “You would be ruined as well,” he pointed out gruffly.

“At this point, Hugh, I would find the loss of my reputation to be worth it if you would learn your lesson.” She slashed her hand through the air. “Your rakehell days are over. I’ve come to like Lord Fontaine. It troubles me to think of his money being used to pay for your selfish indulgences. I will not allow him to support you forever. You must do your duty to the title. You need to maintain the estates, make the tenants happy, and find someone you can trust to make some investments for you.”

Hugh gaped. “Hell’s teeth! I will not engage in trade!”

“Swallow your pride,” she snapped. “You have squandered centuries of Le Coeur heritage in less than a decade. Now you must find a way to rebuild it.” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “And you will start doing so immediately. You no longer have the luxury of parties such as these. You should be home, sleeping, in preparation for the day’s hard work on the morrow.”

“Damnation.” His hands went to his hips. “I will not be dictated to!”

“And you will not whore me out to pay for your lifestyle!”

Hugh was shocked into silence. He was still young enough that his hard living had not yet etched its passing on his handsome face, but that wouldn’t last long. If he continued on his present course of endless indulgences, he would age before his time. But Julienne would fight tooth and nail before she allowed that to happen.

He lowered his head. “Ah hell, Jules. You are correct, as usual. I’m dreadfully sorry for having gotten us into this morass.” He ran a hand through his hair and looked at her with suddenly weary eyes. “I’m not suited to being Montrose. I never have been. You have no idea how often I wish Father and Mother were still alive. I miss them, and I had so much yet to learn . . .”

“I understand, Hugh, truly. But you are the only one who can do this,” she said with a sigh. “We all have responsibilities in life. This is your burden to bear. I will assist you as best I can and help you find your footing, but you will have to do what is necessary to keep yourself there.”

He began to pace. “Have you discussed our situation with Fontaine?”

“Not yet.”

“But Jules,” Hugh cried, “you have to tell him.”

Julienne narrowed her eyes. “Exactly how much trouble are we in?”

He flushed, and her gut clenched.

“Cut to the heart of it,” she ordered. “I don’t have the stomach to listen to an accounting of every shilling.”

Hugh quit pacing and faced her squarely. “It’s mostly gambling debts.”

“I’m aware of that. How much, Hugh?” She rubbed the space between her brows, fighting off a headache.

“Well, I owe White’s twenty thousand pounds and—”

“
Twenty thousand?”
she screeched.

“Hush, Jules!” He winced and shot a glance at the door. “Perhaps you should sit.”

“Good heavens,” she muttered, her eyes widening. Julienne began to tap her foot in a rapid staccato on the Aubusson rug. “Tell me that is your largest creditor.”

“Now, Julienne, I realize—”

“Out with it. We don’t have all night.”

“We should discuss this at home.”

“Oh, no. Right here will be sufficient.” She arched a brow. “Who is your largest creditor, and how much do you owe them?”

Hugh’s shoulders slumped. “Remington’s. I owe one hundred thousand pounds.”

Julienne swayed on her feet.
“One hundred thousand?”
she breathed as the blood drained from her face. “To Lucien Remington?”

He reached out to steady her. “Don’t faint, Jules,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry about all of this, but that bastard Remington kept my accounts open. White’s cut me off at twenty thousand, but—”

“No more!” she snapped, pushing him away. “Don’t blame Lucien Remington for your weakness. I will not have you disparaging him in any way. Do you understand?
In any way.
He has made something of himself, built an empire.
You
have done this to us. You alone are responsible.”

Hugh recoiled from her sharp tone, one she’d never used with him before. “He could ruin us!”

“And who gave him that power?” she countered.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off with an upraised hand. “I’m exhausted, and I don’t wish to discuss your problems anymore this evening. Fetch your cloak. We’re leaving.”

 

As the door to the parlor closed, the two intertwined figures on the settee separated, and one sat up.

“Fascinating,” Amanda murmured, as she straightened her bodice.

Magnus, Duke of Glasser, brushed aside her dark hair to nuzzle her neck. “Not as fascinating as what I have right here,” he murmured wickedly.

“Glass, for heaven’s sake. Don’t you realize we’ve just met our future daughter-in-law?” She brushed his roving hands away.

The duke heaved a long-suffering sigh and sat up beside her. “We didn’t
meet
anyone. We eavesdropped. And it sounded like the chit has her claws in Fontaine. Why would she want Charles?”

“Charles?”
She rolled her eyes. “For heaven’s sake, Glass, pay attention. I’m talking about Lucien.”

“Lucien?” he queried, obviously confused. “She’s an earl’s daughter. And from the sound of it, she’s well on her way to being a marchioness. What would she want with Lucien?”

“What woman wouldn’t want Lucien? He’s the spitting image of you, handsome devil that you are.” She smiled seductively. “And didn’t you hear Lady Julienne defend him? There’s something afoot there. She
likes
him.”

“Lots of women like Lucien,” Magnus pointed out with a good dollop of fatherly pride. “Doesn’t mean he wants to marry them. Who knows if he’s even met the gel before?”

Amanda attempted to restore some order to her hair. “Trust me, darling. A woman knows these things. Lady Julienne took a personal offense to Montrose’s comments. I can assure you, they’ve met. You’ll see I’m right.”

She squealed as she was tackled back onto the settee.

“I’ve got something to show you,” the duke growled. “Right here.”

 

“You look awful.”

Lucien scowled as he paced the empty hazard room of Remington’s. “To hell with you, too, Marchant.”

His man-of-affairs laughed. “It’s unusually early for you to be here.”

“
You’re
here,” Lucien retorted.

“I’m always here at this time.” Marchant sighed at Lucien’s skeptical glance. “You truly have no idea what you pay me for, do you?”

Lucien paused in his pacing and glared. “I’m certain I don’t pay you to harass and insult me, so be on your way.”

“I have something to discuss with you, Lucien.”

“Not now. I’m not in the mood.”

“It is precisely your present mood that necessitates my speaking with you.”

“Bloody hell and damnation!” Lucien leaned against a hazard table and crossed his arms, his head throbbing viciously. “Out with it then. And make haste.”

“I gave you some bad advice the other day.”

Lucien arched a brow. “Not something you want to tell me, Harold. One of the things I pay you for is your advice. If it’s not worth hearing, I may sack you.”

“The employee in me is quaking in his boots,” Marchant said wryly. “But as your friend, I must continue regardless.”

Lucien closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. God help him.

“I don’t think you should allow Lady Julienne to marry any of the men on that list I compiled.”

Lucien’s eyes flew open. “Why? What’s wrong with them?”

“’Tis not what’s wrong with them, but what’s wrong with
you.”
Marchant’s eyes were kind behind his spectacles. “You’re lovesick.”

“I am not!”

“You are. You’re barely tolerable. The employees are avoiding you, the customers are steering clear of your company, you’ve been drinking yourself into a stupor every night, and instead of going home, you’ve been staying in your rooms upstairs.”

“I own the damn place!” Lucien growled. “I can spend the night here if I wish.”