Five Wicked Kisses - A Tasty Regency Tidbit Page 4

  As soon as he returned home, he was going to pen the viscount a letter, warning him well away from Miss Tate. He had no doubt Wrenforth would comply.

  How dare that huge-nosed fellow put his hands on Juliana, let alone kiss her? Robert was half-tempted to call him out. But no - that would only add to the titters and raised eyebrows that had met their return to the ballroom. Not that the ton’s trivial gossip mattered to him. He had only one goal.

  Robert balled his hands and strode on, little caring that the wind whipped his coat fiercely behind him. It matched his mood well. A bit of driving sleet would have added the finishing touch. A pity it was May.

  Wrenforth had made him waste one of those tremendously expensive kisses. Robert had plans for those five kisses, each one mapped out to ensnare Juliana’s senses. But no - his careful seduction had been overturned by the primal instinct to possess.

  Revenge was a damned complicated beast.

  No matter, he still had one kiss left. Despite the wasted opportunity this evening, he had no doubt of the outcome.

  It would only take him one more afternoon to finish cracking Juliana Tate’s heart into a dozen pieces.

  ~CHAPTER SEVEN~

  “Juliana!” Henrietta rushed down the hall and gave her a hug, under the disapproving eye of the butler. “Your hat and pelisse are simply soaked. Come to the drawing room, and I’ll ring for tea immediately.”

  “I left in such haste, I forgot my umbrella,” Juliana said. “I didn’t think coming up the walk would make me so wet.”

  As if to punctuate her words, rain spattered heavily against the sidelights on either side of Henrietta’s mahogany front door. It was one of those spring days filled with sudden squalls - one moment the sun peeking cheerfully out from behind silver-limned clouds, the next, dark and ferocious rain pounding the cobblestones.

  In the drawing room, Henrietta pulled two chairs up to the hearth and insisted Juliana take the closest one.

  “I’ll not have you catching a chill and wasting away like some tragic heroine,” her friend said.

  Juliana laced her icy fingers together. Although she was nearly sitting in the coals, little heat penetrated the cold that gripped her.

  “I’m afraid I’m headed in that direction in any case,” she said. “The tragic heroine, I mean. I received a letter today from Viscount Wrenforth.”

  She swallowed, fear a heavy lump in her chest. But surely Henrietta would know what to do - her friend could always be relied upon for some kind of solution.

  “Goodness.” Henrietta’s eyes widened. “Has he heard the gossip, then?”

  Juliana shivered. “What gossip? And that reminds me - why didn’t you tell me the ton calls me the Ice Maiden?”

  “I knew it would only wound you. Besides, there’s no truth to it!”

  “Truth has very little bearing on what the scandalmongers say - you know that as well as I.” Juliana frowned at her friend. “Now, what current gossip are you referring to?”

  “I’m afraid they’re saying that you are…er,” Henrietta bit her lip, “dallying with the Earl of Eastbrook.”

  “Dallying? You mean, that I’m his current mistress?” Juliana dropped her gaze to her hands. “I suppose it would appear to be the case - though I’ve told you Robert holds me in no regard. It is nothing more than a payment of debts owed.”

  She knew that was true. Why, then, did her foolish soul try to believe otherwise?

  The blood was finally returning to her fingers, making them sting fiercely. Now if only her toes would unthaw. And her heart? She only wished it were frozen as solid as the gossips claimed.

  “Tell me.” Henrietta leaned forward. “What did Viscount Wrenforth say in his letter?”

  “Oh, Hen.” Juliana blinked back the sharp sting of tears. “He said that I should not misinterpret his attentions, and that while he found me admirable, he would prefer to do so from a greater distance. He wished me well, and farewell - all in four miserly sentences.”

  “Blast it.” Henrietta handed over her handkerchief, then pursed her lips in thought. “Viscount Wrenforth is an unfortunate coward. You are better off without him. Truly, it was a narrow escape. Just think of being wedded to that nose for the rest of your life.”

  Juliana wiped her eyes. “If only his character were as strong as his nose, he’d be an admirable gentlman. But I’m quite certain he let Robert run him off without a protest.”

  “Well then, we will simply have to come up with another plan.”

  “I don’t think I can snare a husband, with the gossip circulating that I am Robert’s mistress.” She wadded Henrietta’s kerchief between her hands. “Viscount Wrenforth seems proof enough of that.”

  Henrietta gave a short nod. “Then there is only one thing you can do. If Robert Pembroke is going to be so careless with your reputation, you must negotiate new terms.”

  ~CHAPTER EIGHT~

  It was the last Thursday. The last kiss.

  Robert strode into the Tate’s town house, anticipation firing his steps. The culmination of his revenge lay within his grasp. He dismissed the emptiness that echoed just behind the thought. Of course he would be slightly adrift, after striving for so long toward this one goal. But the thrill of victory would carry him through.

  He entered the parlor, closing the door firmly behind him. Juliana was waiting for him - but instead of standing warily behind the settee, she was sitting upon it. Her hair was loosely bound up in a style that looked vaguely Grecian, and her gown had been altered to a more flattering cut.

  “Robert.” She inclined her head, light sheening over her golden hair.

  What had happened to the stiff, unyielding Juliana? Yes, the kiss in the conservatory had been incendiary, but it hadn’t changed anything between them.

  Or had it? Did she now fancy herself in love with him? Triumph flashed through him. He had won.

  “I…” She wet her lips. “Sit down. Please. We have something to discuss.”

  He waited a moment, to show he wasn’t hers to command, then lowered himself to the settee. The length of his thigh pressed against hers, but she did not shift away.

  “I don’t intend to waste my time today in talking,” he said.

  Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. “I’m well aware that my debt is not yet paid. But, Lord Eastbrook, I must ask. Is your intent to ruin me completely?”

  “Ruin you? No, not at all.”

  He wanted Juliana in pain, brought low - but not in a literal sense. Reducing her to poverty or destroying her social standing had never been his aim. He wanted her to suffer exactly as he had. Nothing more, nothing less.

  “Are you quite certain?” She let out a dry laugh. “Your association with me is not going unremarked. Perhaps you require more than five kisses, after all.”

  “Are you accusing me of breaking my word?” He kept his voice even, though his temper spiked. “I assure you, once I have taken this final kiss, I will be done with you.”

  “You may be finished with me, but the ton will believe you are just beginning.” She raised her chin and stared him straight in the eye. “You have frightened off the only suitor I had, and no more will be forthcoming.”

  “Don’t tell me Viscount Wrenforth was truly essaying for your hand?” The thought made something uncomfortably stir inside him.

  “Of course he was!” She narrowed her eyes. “Do you think I’m that unworthy? And now… now my family is ruined. He was my only chance to make a match that could have saved us.”

  “I saved you.”

  “You did not. You only kept us from debtor’s prison. All our money is gone, Robert. We have nothing.” She dropped her head, despair clear in the curve of her shoulders.

  “What about the estate, the rents?” An odd, hollow feeling beat through him. Had he misjudged so badly?

  Juliana’s family had never been tremendously well off, but their property had brought in a tidy annual sum. Not much, compared to what Robert now held as the Earl of Eastbrook,
but certainly enough to keep the Tate family in comfort.

  “Father mortgaged everything.” Her voice was nearly a whisper. “We have until the end of the month, and then even this townhouse will be gone.”

  Damn it. He should have investigated more closely when he’d bought up her father’s debts. His gaze went to her hands, clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were white.

  This was not the victory over Juliana he had planned. He was suddenly chilled, unsure of his direction.

  “Take me, Robert.” She raised desperate eyes to him. “I’m ruined in the eyes of the ton - you heard the gossip at the Caswell’s ball, as well as I. Now that Wrenforth has flown, no one will believe…” She swallowed. “Make me your mistress.”

  “No!” The word was out before he could even consider it.

  Juliana as his mistress - somehow he could not stomach the notion, despite his carefully planned seduction. He could not use her in such a fashion, no matter what she had done to him. Though he could scarcely admit it, she deserved better than a life forever tainted by scandal.

  Her face went pale and he caught the sparkle of tears in her eyes before she turned her head away.

  Bloody hell. How had it gone so wrong? He was at an utter loss.

  “This was not what I had intended.” He grated the words out. “Consider your debt paid. I will have your father’s notes delivered to you later today.”

  He rose, and she looked up sharply, misery still etched on her face.

  “You can’t simply leave,” she said.

  There was nothing else he could do. Surely some solution would come to him - but not now, while his thoughts were so impossibly tangled with the sight of her.

  He could not even bid her farewell. Victory turned to ashes in his mouth as he strode out of the parlor. He collected his hat and gloves from the butler, then stormed out onto the walk.

  He was brought up short by the sight of an umbrella pointed directly at his midriff.

  “Halt right there, Robert Pembroke,” a shrill voice said.

  A young lady dressed in violet stood before him. She looked vaguely familiar… ah yes, the Brightstone girl, Juliana’s bosom friend. Possibly the only person in London who knew of their previous acquaintance.

  “Miss Brightstone.” He tipped his hat, then tried to move past.

  “You, sir, will remain here until I’ve said my piece.” She brandished her umbrella at him.

  Robert took a careful step back. “I pray it’s short - I’m required elsewhere. Miss Tate would doubtless be glad of your company. She’s a bit overset.”

  “Whatever you have done to Juliana,” the young lady said, “she is blameless.”

  “I think not.” He bit the words out.

  “You’re being a complete fool.” She glared at him. “Why would Juliana scheme to break your heart? She was terribly in love with you. I dare say, she still is.”

  “Her parting words to me four years ago indicated otherwise.”

  “You don’t think her dragon of a mother had anything to do with that?” Miss Brightsone stamped her foot.

  “Even if she did, Juliana could have shown some spine! We were planning…” He checked himself. How much did Miss Brightstone know?

  “To run away together, yes. And Juliana would have, too, except that her mother caught wind of it. But do you know who bore the brunt?”

  Robert shook his head. So far, there was nothing in Miss Brightstone’s tale to make him change his mind about Juliana’s faithlessness.

  “Her brother.” The young lady lowered her umbrella. “Her younger brother, who was locked in his wardrobe - his wardrobe! - without any food, until Juliana broke it off with you. Their mother would have starved him for days. The sound of his crying was horrible.” She met his gaze. “Do you really think Juliana should have abandoned her brother in order to run off with you?”

  “I… didn’t know. Blast it! She could have told me.”

  His memory of the past was suddenly tilted - all the things he had thought true now cast in an odd, sideways light. Had Juliana loved him, after all? Had his revenge been built on a lie? The cold suspicion of it crept through his bones.

  “She could not have told you - not and kept her brother safe. You had to believe completely that she was done with you, or her brother would pay the consequences, over and over. Their mother…” Miss Brightsone looked away. “She was not a pleasant woman.”

  His heart gave a bitter lurch. “Juliana was quite convincing.”

  “She had to be. Oh, try to understand what it was like for her! Her heart broke as much as yours did. Maybe even more.”

  Robert shook his head, attempting to settle his thoughts into some semblance of order. Only one thing was clear - he must see Juliana again, immediately. He spun on his heel and headed back toward the front door.

  “Wait!” Miss Brightstone cried.

  He ignored her, ignored the butler’s startled expression as he strode past, and flung open the parlor door.

  Juliana looked up. Her eyes widened - clearly she had been weeping.

  “Robert!” She scrambled to her feet, a handkerchief clutched in one hand. “What are you - ”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” He took her by the shoulders and searched her expression. “Juliana - if I had known you still cared for me four years ago, I would have crossed fire to be with you. I would have slain dragons.”

  She swallowed. “My mother… was a dragon in truth. But how did you find out?”

  “I met Miss Brightstone coming up the walk.” A shiver moved through him. Had the young lady been a minute later, he never would have known the truth. Juliana would be lost to him. Forever, this time. “You should have told me.”

  She bit her lip. “Secrecy is… a difficult habit to break. We had to keep silence on so many things, my brother and I. There was nothing you could have done, Robert.”

  His heart twisted inside him. They had both suffered, and he had thought to punish her for it? After what she’d had to endure, he felt like a blind fool.

  “I should have realized,” he said. “I would have taken you away from there in a heartbeat.”

  “And my brother, too? Supported us, hidden us?” She shook her head. “I know you would have tried - but I could not have asked it of you.”

  He wanted to argue with her, wanted to unwind the past and make different, better choices - but perhaps she was right. He let out a breath. They had been so young, full of innocence about the world. Faced with such difficulty, he wanted to think they could have triumphed - but he would never know.

  “Then why didn’t you tell me, once your mother was dead?”

  “You hated me.” She turned her face away. “And I could not blame you for it. Besides, you wouldn’t have believed me.”

  “I believe you now.”

  He did. The past had righted itself, and now shone with a bright clarity. What was done could not be undone, and he would always be sorry for it - but the future lay, full of sudden promise, before them.

  “Juliana - forgive me. I…” He cleared his throat. “I needed a reason to see you, to kiss you - and told myself it was all for revenge.”

  “I had hoped it was more, though I knew I was yearning for the moon. But I still could not refuse you.” She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes, her expression clear and open. “Robert - I love you. I have always loved you.”

  Damn, she was so courageous it put him to shame.

  “I love you, Juliana.”

  His voice was low, rough against the word he had sworn did not exist. The word his heart had newly discovered, buried as it had been under years of lies.

  Love.

  What an idiot he had been, twisting his own feelings into a mockery of the truth. A buried fragment of the Shakespeare they had used to quote floated up in his mind.

  “Eternity was in our lips and eyes,” he said, touching her cheek.

  “Antony and Cleopatra.” She smiled up at him. “Oh, but we wil
l not come to such a bitter end after all, will we?”

  “It’s been bitter enough - for both of us. I’m so terribly sorry, my love.” He wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her senseless. “The day you turned me away, I was coming to ask you…”

  For a moment that young man lay just beneath his skin, striding up the blossom-filled lane, a simple gold ring in his pocket and a heart full of nothing but light.

  “I know.” She sounded breathless.

  He slipped the heavy signet ring of the Earls of Eastbrook from his finger.

  “Bedamned if I’m going to waste another moment - or risk losing you again.” He went down on one knee on the threadbare carpet and took her hand. “Juliana Charlotte Tate, will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”

  “I…” Her eyes were bright, and a smile trembled on her lips. “Oh Robert - I will!”

  He slid the ring onto her finger and closed her hand over it, then rose and gathered her tightly to him. The scent of orange-flower water was suddenly the happiest smell in the entire world. He dipped his head and inhaled deeply, letting the golden crown of her hair tickle his face.

  “There is one thing,” she said, her voice muffled against his coat.

  “Yes?” He loosened his embrace so that he could look directly at her.

  “The matter of a final kiss.” Her cheeks flushed a becoming pink. “That is, I believe there is one more payment owed. In a certain… place.”

  He nearly laughed out loud. So she had been thinking of his mouth there, between her legs. Ah, but he was going to seduce her, again and again, for years to come.

  “I see you are going to be a delightfully wanton wife.”

  “Since I have no dowry, I’m afraid I must owe you kisses for that as well.” She gave him a look edged with mischief. “How many, do you think? Five hundred?”

  “Five thousand, at least. And I owe you that many in turn, in penance.”

  “I would think you do.” She was laughing at him, now. “Be careful, my lord. I may lead you into conservatories and kiss you most wickedly.”

  “Good - I expect nothing less.”