Page 48

“ C hurl.”

Juliana stirred at the scraping sound at her window. Motionless in her bed, she held her breath. Perhaps she had dreamed it.

A sharp thud followed the man’s single word. “Juliana?” the man asked, the voice familiar.

Her heart rammed hard against her ribcage. She sat up in bed and tried to tamp down the fear rising in her throat. “Who’s there?”

“Juliana? Don’t be alarmed. It’s me. Victor.”

Victor? She scrambled from the bed and lit the lamp on her bedside table.

Still not certain she wasn’t dreaming, she rubbed her eyes.

“Victor, what are you doing here?” He looked a fright. What appeared to be an ivy leaf was stuck in his hair. An ugly red scrape slashed across his right cheek, and he was missing a shoe.

“I had to see you.”

“In the middle of the night? And how did you get in here?” Her gaze darted to the open window.

“I climbed up.”

He sounded extraordinarily proud.

She rushed forward to get a closer look at him. Other than the scratch, disheveled clothing, and missing footwear, he seemed no worse for wear. She plucked the leaf out of his hair. “What were you thinking? You could have been killed.”

“Nash assured me I would only break a leg. And even if I did fall to my death, it would have been worth it, because I realized I don’t want to live without you.”

She blinked. What? Victor’s two odd statements warred for attention. The weight of the second required more time to digest, so she addressed the first. “Nash? He knew?”

“It was his idea.”

Prepared to deliver a few harsh words to Lord Nash, she rushed to the window and peered down. No one remained on the terrace below. “He’s not there.”

“The churl left me as I climbed up. You would think he’d be keen to watch me fall and break my neck.”

She turned back around, right into Victor. His hands wrapped around her waist. He was impossibly close. Heat from his fingers seared through her thin nightrail. The hard planes of his chest pressing against her breasts made her dizzy.

“Steady.” His breath brushed against her upturned face as she looked deep into his eyes. Their gazes held, the moment stretching between them taut and fragile. Silence enveloped them with only their ragged breathing filling the void.

She needed to think, and she couldn’t with him so near. Giving a gentle push against his solid chest, she stepped back to give her body and her mind space. His arms slipped from her waist and dropped to his side.

“Please, Juliana.” He reached for her again, and she held up a hand. The dejected look on his face broke her heart.

“Why? Why would it be worth risking your life?”

“Because I love you.”

Her mind stuttered to a halt. “No. You think you love me because I remind you of Adalyn.”

His shoulders slumped. “I know that’s what you think, but it’s not true.

Tonight, seeing Adalyn again made everything clear.

Yes, it was a shock, but more than that, I realized that I loved a person who only existed in my imagination.

Not the real Adalyn. I think I loved what she represented.

Someone different from the society misses of the ton.

Independent and determined. But I didn’t really know her.

I’m ashamed to say I saw her as a way to rebel against society’s constraints, especially my mother. ”

A sudden chill raced through her. “But isn’t it the same with me? Your mother doesn’t approve. And what about when you take your father’s place as viscount? Regardless of Drake’s title, I’m still a commoner.”

“I realize it looks that way, and I hate to admit, it was one of the things that attracted me to you initially. But then...then I got to know you. Learn about your own hopes and dreams. Watched your heroic rescue of Eva Somersby. How you support me in my passion for the arts. Your kindness and generosity to everyone around you, no matter their station in life. That’s the kind of woman I want by my side.

I should have said something sooner. Should have been more direct.

Instead, I presumed you were crying off because you didn’t love me. Do you love me, Juliana?”

“I...I do.” Tears blurred her vision. Everything in her wanted to believe their marriage could work.

He stepped closer and took her hands. “Then it’s settled. You’ll marry me?”

“I want to. More than anything.”

Light filtered across his face, and, in a blink, the joy in his eyes transformed into a question. “I sense a ‘but’ in your answer. Have I waited too long? Am I too late?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“You say you were attracted to both Adalyn and me because we represented a way to rebel against society. But what if that same reason drives us apart? One day, in the distant future, you will be Viscount Cartwright. What will society say if you have a wife born of commoners? Drake’s grandfather disowned his own son because he married my mother, the daughter of a tailor.

I am the granddaughter of a tailor, Victor.

My father was a steward. I have no aristocratic blood.

What if the ton shuns me and possibly our children? ”

“Do you really think I give a damn about what society thinks?”

“You should. You have a responsibility. Don’t think I don’t understand. I’ve seen the burden Drake carries. Thank goodness he has Honoria, the daughter of a marquess. She was reared for the aristocratic life. What do I know about running a grand house, or hosting parties for society?”

He squeezed her hands. “Have you forgotten how many people attended the ball in our honor this evening? Your brother is a powerful man. We have friends, Juliana. Good friends who accept you. Petty people who wouldn’t accept us are not worth our time.

And you’re an intelligent woman. You can learn all the facets of running a home.

You would have help—a housekeeper, butler, servants. ”

“Those are skills, but it won’t change who I am inside. It’s more than learning the rules of etiquette. Members of society have an innate confidence, an elegance—even superiority—that can’t be taught. I’ll never be one of them. Never fit in.”

He shook his head, the smile tipping his lips—indulgent. “Juliana, haven’t you heard what I’ve said? I don’t want you to be like them. Even I don’t want to be like them. I know who you are. Free from artifice. Authentic. Different, yes, but I love you for who are just the way you are.”

Everything he said was true. She couldn’t deny it. Pondering his words, for the first time since Drake had assumed his role as duke, she felt comfortable in her own skin.

“You really love me?” It seemed too wonderful to be true.

He cupped her face with his hand, his thumb running gently over her cheek. “With all my heart. I know I’ve given you reason to doubt, but I would give anything to show you just how much I love you. Do you want me to climb down and back up again? ”

She answered him with a laugh.

“No? Very well. But if you promise to marry me, I will spend the rest of my life proving my love.”

Risk. Wasn’t all of life a risk? What guarantee did anyone have? Love, even if it was fleeting, was worth the risk.

“I do love you, Victor, and I believe you. Believe in you.”

“And you’ll marry me?” The expectation, the hope, written across his face tugged at her heart.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Thank God.” His eyes drifted shut, and he tugged her to him.

The space between them whispered away, leaving only the gentle scrape of his evening clothes against her silk nightrail.

Holding her in his arms, he lowered his head and kissed her. Lightly at first, a soft brush of lips against lips, he deepened the kiss as she surrendered, feeling the love he professed with each press of his mouth to hers.

One of his hands left her waist and cradled the back of her head, his fingers tangling in the locks of her hair.

Over and over, he kissed her, the delicious sensation of his mouth on hers driving all rational thought from her mind until they were both panting and breathless.

When he rested his forehead against hers, he exhaled a contented sigh.

“I could do this all night. But I should leave and let you get some sleep. Promise you’ll marry me? You won’t change your mind?”

Her heart ached at the pleading in his eyes. She couldn’t blame him if he doubted her. “Yes. I mean no. I mean, yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Good.” He kissed her forehead and turned toward the window.

Impulsively, she grabbed his arm. “You can’t go out the window! You’ll fall.”

“I can’t fall. We’re getting married in two days.” His jest did nothing to relieve her worry. “Just don’t change your mind again.”

“Let me check the hall.” The door creaked as she cracked it open and peeked outside. Footsteps echoed up the stairs. She quickly closed the door. “You can’t go out that way either.”

With tenderness that melted her heart, he ran his fingertips over her lips. “What do you suggest?”

Juliana’s thoughts drifted back to her conversation with Drake earlier that evening. Although he didn’t admit it in so many words, Juliana understood his implication. To prove her love and commitment to Drake, Honoria had given herself to him the night of the house party ball.

Clasping his hand to her face, Juliana made a decision. She could prove her love and commitment to Victor that very night. “Don’t go. Stay the rest of the night with me. I’ll figure out a way to sneak you from the house early in the morning before the servants rise.”

Heat from his gaze scorched her. “If you insist.”

Victor never imagined Juliana would invite him to spend the night with her, even if Nash had implied she would swoon into his arms from his heroics of climbing three stories to her window.

But at that moment, as she stood before him—the light from the lamp shining through her nightrail and outlining her figure—he could think of nothing else but making love to her.