SoundsofLove (13 page)

An unexpected disappointment shot through her. “How do you
know I ate no lunch?”

“I sent two footmen, and one of them inquired with the
innkeeper after you left.”

Relief flooded her. Likely, his men were in the dining area
near Victor and Molly, within earshot of her private room. He had been
protecting her.

“A forfeit, my lord,” Violet interrupted their conversation.

His eyes warmed as he gazed at Cathryn. “Indeed. Well, I
believe one of my secret desires was quenched already tonight.”

Cathryn slapped him playfully on the arm. “Julian!”

He chuckled. “She brings out the beast in me.”

He nuzzled her bare neck playfully as if to prove his point,
and she giggled at the tickling of his hair and breath. He awakened her skin
once again and she longed for the return of his touch the instant he withdrew.

“Let me think.” He gazed out into the dark shadows beyond
the twinkling of the clearing. “Well…I should like my sons to feel some
affection from their mother. Yes, I’ve always had a desire for a wife who would
be more than my mother is.” He looked at their puzzled faces and added, “She’s
been a fine hostess at times, but…she’s colder than marble.” He picked up his
wineglass. “I don’t believe she ever held me as a child, and I went from wet
nurse to nanny to boarding school. It might be a proper British upbringing, but
it was a bloody cold childhood.”

Cathryn’s heart opened to him and she covered his hand with
hers under the table. Her mother had been warm and loving, her father
preoccupied but caring. Julian was a passionate creature, but could someone
denied love as a child ever come to love fully? She felt herself falling in
love with him already. Perhaps she’d best hold her emotions in check.

“It won’t be that way in our home. If we have children,” she
said softly, even as she tamped down her anxiety over her possible barrenness, “I
shall nurse them myself and keep them at home until they ask to go away.”

“Thank you, love.” He turned away to cough lightly into his
free hand, and Cathryn thought she saw tears in his eyes.

She glanced at Violet and Darbonne, whose attention was divided
between the sumptuous meal and Julian’s emotional disclosure.

He seemed to realize he had cast a pall over the party, and
he smiled at Darbonne. “I’ve even come to accept my father’s mistress as a
necessity for him.”

“Master Aubrey?”

Cathryn’s jaw dropped as she stared at him. “Your father’s
mistress is a man?”

Both men burst into laughter, and it was a moment before
Julian said, “No, love, no. Master Aubrey is our fencing master. The title is a
courtesy.”

“Mrs. Fiona Aubrey?”

“Yes, do you know her?”

“Vaguely, we both spend time with children at the Chelsea
poorhouse. I’ve only seen her in passing, but she’s quite a favorite amongst
the children.”

Darbonne’s voice was incredulous. “What on earth is Master
Aubrey teaching the children?”

“Fencing—with wooden swords, of course. Mostly to assist the
younger residents in obtaining employment in the theatre, but her students seem
to rise above the others regardless of their occupation. I heard that she’s
been doing this for ten years or more. I’m surprised you weren’t aware.”

Julian and Darbonne exchanged a baffled look that indicated
this was a total surprise. “No, love. I’d always thought of her as, well,
rather mercenary.”

“She is ruthless when she has the mask on,” Darbonne added. “Her
reflexes are beyond par. With a light sword, I think she is unbeatable.”

Julian nodded. “She was a camp follower throughout
Napoleon’s campaigns, although her family was quite wealthy. Her father was a
captain and a master swordsman. He taught her himself and then sent her to
study in Italy and France.” Picking up a lyre cutter, he carved a silky slice
of foie gras, dropped it onto a wedge of toast and handed it to Cathryn.

Her plate was heaped before her, but she took his offering
with a smile. “How did she come to be your father’s mistress?” She bit into the
toast and the savory topping melted on her palate. She sighed with contentment
at the luscious taste and textures.

He prepared himself a canapé as he responded. “In early
1816, only eight months after Waterloo, Miss Aubrey arrived at Literell
Hall—our country residence near York—as my sisters’ governess. She was woefully
unprepared academically, but her heroic father’s wartime connections vouched
for her, and she had several offers. I met her on my school break and she became
my fencing instructor, and then my father’s.” He took a bite as the others
digested this information. “That winter Father took ill with a fever, and she
nursed him tirelessly for nearly two months. He claims she saved his life.” He
finished his toast and fixed another. “I’m not certain my mother was even aware
of the bond that grew between them during his convalescence.” He offered the
pâté to Cathryn, but a piece of fishcake was already on way to her mouth, and
she reluctantly declined. He smiled at her warmly before he finished. “The next
spring my father moved to London and set her up with a house and a small
fencing studio. She began to call herself Mrs. Aubrey and he has rarely left
London since.” He ate with enthusiasm once he completed his story.

Between portions, Cathryn asked, “Do they have children?”

He reached for his wineglass, and she did the same. “No, his
doctors said his fever may have rendered him sterile, but in any case, she has
no issue I am aware of.”

She washed down her first course with fine red wine and then
asked, “She’s very lovely and nearly your age. Did you ever yearn for her?”

A queer look crossed his features and she regretted her
impertinence. He took a long drink of wine and avoided the question.

Darbonne saved him from answering. “Every man she knows
wants her on some level, but most fear her too much to approach her.”

Violet was busy eating, so Cathryn asked for her. “Does that
include you, Mr. Darbonne?”

“I wouldn’t be a man if I weren’t attracted to a woman as
beautiful and full of
joie de vivre
as Fiona Aubrey. Out of respect for
the marquis, and with no small fear for my pride and person, I never gave her
serious consideration. She is an extraordinary instructor, however, and I enjoy
her company. Indeed, if she had a men’s club attached to her fencing studio, it
would be full at all hours.”

Imagining a younger Julian meeting the stunning Miss Aubrey
and becoming her private student, Cathryn realized that he very likely had
yearned wildly for her—perhaps he still did. A pang of jealousy piqued her and
she asked, “Does she sleep with men besides your father?”

Julian shot her an odd look, and then he chuckled. “Rarely,
but there have been some very public adventures over the years. She has a weakness
for dashing cavalrymen.”

“Don’t we all?” Violet muttered as she nibbled on a tender
morsel of pheasant.

Cathryn laughed and the gentlemen joined her. That comment
was out of character for Violet. Perhaps they should slow down on the wine or
she would be regretting her actions.

“We all have weaknesses, that’s true,” Darbonne offered. “I’ve
heard, and I believe this is public knowledge and not mere gossip, but I heard
that she spent a summer in Paris with a woman—many years ago.”

The women looked at him blankly, so he clarified. “As
lovers.”

Both women gasped and Violet coughed into her napkin before
she said, “Dear heavens, she shouldn’t be serving at the poorhouse if she’s of
such character.”

Julian barked a laugh that startled them all. “Sorry,” he
said a bit sheepishly. “I should think the poorhouse would take anyone willing
to enter the premises. Fiona’s distant junkets are hardly grounds for
disqualifying her.”

“There are children—”

He cut Violet off. “That she is obviously helping. No one
ever accused her of molesting innocents.”

Violet sipped her wine as she considered this and Cathryn
intervened. “Of course not. Mrs. Aubrey is unconventional, but her
contributions are noble.”

Julian nodded and he filled his mouth with steak, likely to
keep from saying something he would regret. Cathryn appreciated such restraint
and set to enjoying the repast in earnest.

Julian’s heart raced as he tried to appear calm. He hated
discussing Fiona and rued bringing her name up. But it was done, and now
Cathryn knew his secret. Darbonne had laid it out clear as day, and Cathryn
wasn’t dense. He loved Fiona Aubrey. What male in his position wouldn’t have
fallen in love with the adventurous, beautiful mistress of the sword? His love
was not as deep or as pure as during his youth, but he would always feel an
abiding affection for the woman.

He wished Darbonne hadn’t brought up Fiona’s female lovers.
He’d boxed more than one taunting schoolmate who accused Fiona of lifting
skirts, and he’d left Cambridge at the earliest opportunity to avoid any more
conflicts over his father’s audacious mistress. Once she had taken up with his
father, he’d left her alone for three years, not seeing her even for fencing
instruction.

It irked him to this day that when she first strayed, the
affair was not with him as he’d always hoped. She could have had any man in
London, but instead, she took off to Paris with her tentmate from the war
trail, the infamous Melina Burns.

Three hours later, Cathryn thought herself completely spent
after two energetic rounds of lovemaking. She was dozing blissfully under cover
of her luxurious cloak when she heard Violet and Darbonne return to the
adjoining supper box. Julian was spooned behind her and snoring lightly, but he
stirred first. His arm tightened around her, and he whispered, “Should we give
them privacy?” The violins tuned up for another song.

She was certain that Violet and her partner had heard their
cries of delight at some point during the past hours, and she shrugged lightly,
overcome by lethargy as she murmured, “I don’t want to move until I must.”

His low chuckle reverberated throughout her and was oddly
comforting. “If we stay, we’ll be moving.” He stroked down her side to her hip
and rested his hand on her thigh.

Three times he had taken her already, and each time she had
found her own release. She was pleasantly exhausted from the rigors of such
intense erotic exercise. “Again?” she whispered, and he nuzzled her neck with a
low
murr
. An ember of desire flickered within her, and she smiled into
the dark warmth of her cloak.

Violet’s hushed voice could be heard clearly. “Do you think
they’re sleeping? They haven’t made any noise for some time.”

“Yes, darling, I’m sure they’ve fallen asleep,” whispered
Darbonne with clear intent. “We’ll be quiet. Shhh.”

Julian made a distinct snoring sound, and Cathryn suppressed
a giggle. There was no noise from the other supper box for some time, and
Cathryn dozed as she imagined the couple was kissing. Julian continued his
light snore, but his hand began to wander over her belly and up to her breasts.

One violin began to play a romantic tune, and the other
followed a few seconds later, echoing the first player. The violins played cat
and mouse with one another for several bars and then settled into a sensual
rhythm perfect for lovemaking.

During the brief breaks in the music, Violet’s breathy
giggles could be heard, and Cathryn assumed Darbonne was taking some liberty
beyond kissing, perhaps stroking her exposed breasts. The music continued, and
Cathryn wondered briefly if she should put an end to the evening before Violet
did something she would regret when she was sober. Cathryn tensed and began to
rise.

Julian whispered in her ear, “She’s a grown woman, love.”
His hand was wreaking havoc on her senses and the desire to leave him
evaporated. “Would you deny her this?” He tugged gently on her nipples and
Cathryn arched against him.

“No,” she murmured.

A series of whimpers and low moans could now be heard over
the musicians, along with the rustle of satin. Violet’s gown was being lifted
or removed. Julian raised Cathryn’s leg slightly and slid his erection between
her thighs, delighting her with each slow stroke.

“Oh, Rune,” Violet’s voice trilled, “I don’t think you
should—” Darbonne must have ignored her, because Violet’s agitation was evident
when she said, “Rune, that’s not how it’s done in England.”

Julian and Cathryn shook with laughter, but they managed to
keep quiet.

Rune’s voice was muffled. “Shhh. Relax, darling.”

Violet whispered loudly, “I can’t relax with you…down there.”

Cathryn was so curious she nearly rose from her comfortable
resting place to peek at the couple over the low bolster that separated them,
but Julian’s arm was a welcome fetter.

A desperate whisper followed. “I tell you, Rune, that’s not
how Englishmen make love.”

Cathryn could not hold back a giggle, but she clamped her
hand over her mouth to keep quiet. Julian buried his face in her back and his
chuckles vibrated throughout her.

Heavy breathing and soft grunts followed, and Cathryn could
see shadows shifting in the overhead mirror. Julian lifted her leg and probed
her wetness with his rigid shaft.

“Well,” Violet moaned, as if feeling the same glorious
pleasure Cathryn felt. “That’s lovely, Rune,” she encouraged breathlessly.

Julian sank into Cathryn with a low groan. He stretched her
wide and ground against her with perfect pressure, while she listened to her
friend making love only feet away.

“Lovely, Rune, that’s…divine.” Each encouraging syllable was
laced with building pleasure, and it seemed only a minute before Violet began
to pant her impending ecstasy. “Yes…yes…yes…divine.” Rustling sounds
accompanied her quiet pleas, until a high keening cry stilled the air, and for
a moment, Cathryn felt Violet’s fervor thrill through her. Even the musicians
seemed to pause before they hurried into another tune.

Rune’s moans followed, mixed with strange sucking sounds
followed by a long, low grunt.

Julian’s hand was busy between her thighs as he stroked her
tender nub and thrust vigorously in and out of her slick passage. Cathryn could
not contain her own cries of delight as he edged her higher and higher towards
her own pleasure. When the pinnacle came, she muffled her whimpers in the plush
cushion beneath her face as Julian emptied himself inside her with a satisfied
groan.

“Bloody hell, that was wicked,” he whispered in her ear.

Cathryn nodded wordlessly as she recovered, and a torrent of
emotions washed over her. That had been incredibly wanton, listening to another
couple making love, as she did the same with a man who was not yet her husband.
How was she going to face Violet—or Rune? And whatever had Rune been doing to
Violet that she thought improper, when she later encouraged further intimacy?

* * * * *

Julian and Darbonne left the ladies at nearly one in the
morning, and the two men shared a tired grin as they settled across from one
another in the earl’s coach.

“Quite a night, Ahlquist. I’ll always be in your debt.
Violet is remarkable.”

Julian’s chest filled with pride. Cathryn had proven herself
a worthy mate. He had chosen well, and a new life, full of passion and meaning,
beckoned him. “Agreed. The ladies were all we could ask for and more.” He
glanced out the window as the carriage began moving, and his thoughts turned to
the next step in securing Cathryn. “What are your plans for the rest of the
night?”

Darbonne’s grin increased. “Take to my bed to play the
night’s events over in my head, unless you have something on your mind.”

He inhaled deeply, and steeled himself for the inevitable. “Yes,
I do. I think I should like to call in your credit. Have you been to Oxford?”

“Not yet, but I’m keen to see the place.”

Julian smiled at his enthusiasm, and welcomed the good
humor. “We’ll go tonight unless you have commitments in the morning. I expect
to be back in London midday.”

“I take it you need to speak with Hedges.”

Hearing the man’s name said aloud had a surprisingly strong
visceral effect on him, and it was several seconds before he responded. “He
laid hands on Cathryn.”

Darbonne scoffed in disgust. “He caused her tender shoulder?”

“Yes.” A fury surfaced that was unlike any he had ever
experienced. Thinking of Cathryn being mistreated in any way caused his blood
to heat and his chest to constrict.

“Damn the man.”

His next breath came painfully, and his fury burst from deep
within, but he kept his voice low. “That is my intention.” Such men deserved no
mercy. “Hell has a special place for those who abuse women and children.” He
stared out at the passing houses and wondered if perhaps he should bring swords
or pistols to call the baron out, but decided against such an escalation of
hostilities.

Darbonne asked gravely, “Will there be weapons involved?”

He glanced at the man’s Hessians. “You have a dagger?”

“Of course.” Carrying a boot knife was a requirement of
membership in Fiona’s studio.

“That will suffice for today.” He would love to send Hedges
to an early grave, but self-control was at the core of honor. Unfortunately,
the law was the virtuous choice. He needed to convince Hedges to annul his
marriage contract with Cathryn. “Today we fight with our wits. I only need stop
by my house to gather a book from my library.” Perhaps later he would seek more
appropriate retribution for hurting her and so many others.

“A book?”

“
Digenis Acritis
. Do you know it?”

“Only small bits, and that was long ago.”

Julian’s stomach dropped. It had been fifteen years since
he’d studied the Acritic songs. “Do you read Byzantine Greek?”

“No, sorry. Only some ancient Greek and a little Latin.”

He was glad for his large collection of dictionaries. “Well,
I’ll have to renew my knowledge before daybreak.”

The coach slowed as they entered Oxford’s center, and Julian
closed his notebooks and steeled himself for the confrontation. A glance at his
watch told him it was time for the morning meal, and he woke Darbonne before he
directed his driver. When they reached the Senior Common Room at Lincoln
College, they found Hedges seated at the high table of the hall with the other
dons, hovering over a laden breakfast plate.

The Hall hushed as Julian and Darbonne made their way
swiftly to Hedge’s side, with only murmurs of Ahlquist’s name punctuating the
quiet. The don’s eyes were narrow and his lips pinched as they approached. The
other fellows edged away.

Julian could not fully keep the anger from his voice. “A
word outside, Sir Percival.”

“You’re not welcome here, Ahlquist.” Hedges pointed towards
the door with his knife.

“Would you rather we discussed Lady Sibley in front of your
colleagues?”

“My wife is none of your concern.”

Julian’s hand itched to reach for his dagger, but instead he
said, “You sent her to me. I only meant to thank you.”

Hedges glanced at his evening attire. “I see you’ve come
from the fruitless whore’s bed.”

Julian grabbed him by the back of his stiff collar and
hauled him out of his chair, throwing him off the dais and onto the wooden
floor below. The clamor of students rushing to catch the action masked the
choking sound Hedges made as he hit the ground. Julian pounced on his chest and
pinned him with a knee and a growl. “If you ever lay hands on her again, I will
cut off your tiny ballocks and stuff them up your loose arse.”

“She’s my bloody wife,” he sputtered. “I’ll touch her
whenever I bloody well please.”

The dagger was in Julian’s hand and at Hedges’ throat in
under a second. “You sent her to me. I claim her now.” He nicked the man’s jaw
with the razor tip and drew a drop of blood. “Do you understand?”

“I made a settlement on her.”

The blade pressed harder and Julian heard Darbonne clear his
throat behind him.

It was not enough to stem the rising tide of his fury. “She’s
not a bloody slave, you weasel-faced sack of shit.”

“She sold herself to me.”

Another nick of the bony jaw and Darbonne touched his shoulder.
“Wits, my lord.”

Julian glanced up from his victim’s crimson face to behold a
white-capped sea of pale witnesses. He reluctantly removed his knee from
Hedges’ chest and secured his dagger as he stood. Reaching into his waistcoat
pocket, he withdrew six hundred-pound notes and tossed them at the scholar.

“I’ve just bought her freedom back, with interest.” He
dragged his hands through his hair and wished he could kill the man. “You’re to
have no further contact with her.”

“She must be a great shag for you to want her so badly,”
Hedges taunted as he started to sit up and count the money. “You’ll be done
with her in a month—”

Two daggers were at his throat before he finished his
sentence.

Julian spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “I thought
you preferred boys.”“

A hush fell over the room, and the baron’s malevolent eyes
darted between Julian and Darbonne as he spoke through clenched teeth. “Get out
of my hall.”

“No further contact with her,” Julian hissed. “Ever.” He
wanted to rid the world of this vermin, but the schoolboys did not deserve to
see such a grim spectacle.

Darbonne added a disgusted grunt before he backed away and
sheathed his dagger. He straightened his dinner jacket and offered a hand to
Julian.

Instead of taking it, Julian leaned in and whispered in
Hedges’ ear.

The don’s eyes widened as he listened, and a wild look came
over his face as he grabbed for Julian’s collar in spite of the dagger pressed
to his neck. “No!” He jerked, and the knife carved a long slit before Julian
could withdraw it. The ugly gash oozed red, and Hedges covered the wound with
one hand as he screamed, “It’s not possible!”

Julian shook free and wiped the blood from the dagger on his
glove before replacing the weapon in his boot. With a nod to Darbonne, he
started for the door. The sea of agitated bodies parted for them to pass, and
Julian rode the wave of adulation out of the room.

“What did you say to him?” Darbonne wore a cocky grin as
they pushed open the heavy outer doors to leave the ancient hall.

“The last line of the
Digenis Acritis
,” Julian said
as he gulped in the cool morning air. God, he hated being inside institutions,
no matter how exalted. “It appears I retained some of my Byzantine Greek.”

“Well done.” The tall American clapped him on the back. “Did
you notice that no one came to his defense, and that you appeared the hero in
the room?”

He grinned. “I
was
the hero in that room. It felt
bloody great.” He punched Darbonne’s arm. “And you as well. Thank you. Consider
your debt paid in full.”

“No, Ahlquist, I’m afraid I’m more in your debt than ever. I
would have paid well to see such entertainment.” They reached the waiting coach
and climbed aboard. “I would like to see this adventure through with you, if
you ever need an ally.”

* * * * *

Percival Hedges clutched his throbbing neck as he slammed
the outer door of his suite and hurried to his washbasin. The morning’s water
from his shaving was still there, and he dumped the murky slop into the chamber
pot. “Damn housekeeper,” he muttered as he refreshed the water from a pitcher. “Why
do I pay her so—”