“If she will. She would not speak to me this afternoon. She just stayed closeted in her chamber with the letter.” The way her hands fisted in his waistcoat and her cheek pressed to his chest made his heart thunder. Surely she would hear it, would realize he was not unmoved by her closeness.
He ought to pull away, at least a little. ’Twould be better for his peace of mind, better for the relationship they must establish of mere guardian and sojourner.
Yet was it not safest to whisper like this? “She must, and soon. I will get you away from here, Julienne, away from him before he returns.”
A shiver worked through her, and he trailed his fingers up her back to soothe it away. She let go of his waistcoat and slid her arms around him.
How was it that a sliver of heaven could find him here, of all places, when danger could pounce from any side?
“Isaac…” Again her voice was the softest of sighs. “Tell me it will be well. That the trip will be quick and my father and brothers will receive me happily. That English society will not hate me for being raised French.”
“How could they?” His fingers reached for the curls tumbling artfully over her shoulder and tangled in them as he had forbidden them from doing earlier. He found her hair as silken as he had expected. “There will no doubt be some bumps, as there always are. But it shan’t take much for them to see that you have everything they most admire. Beauty and wit. Good blood and excellent connections. All the young ladies shall be eager for your friendship, and all the young lords will be vying for your hand.”
The tips of her fingers brushed along his jaw and bade him turn his head. He obeyed them so he might find her eyes, luminous and striking even in this low light. Though now her lips were but a whisper away. Too tempting, too alluring. But she mattered too much for a simple, quick indulgence.
When she drew in a breath, he heard a quaver. “I do not want any of the young lords.”
His arms tightened around her, though he commanded them to relax again in the next moment. Much as his heart might thrill at her implication, ’twasn’t a matter of what they wanted. “Your mother will certainly want one for you—and your father too, no doubt. You are the daughter of an earl.”
“And you are the son of one, oui?”
He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. For the families of so many other young ladies, his pedigree would be enough to earn him approval. Why must he always fall for those for whom it did not? First Winter, whose family had decided she ought to wait for the richer Bennet Lane. And now Julienne, whose family would aim for a titled match. “I am not enough—”
Her hand rested on his cheek. “You are everything. I dreamed of you every night, imagined a million times that you had come back. That you had found me somehow.”
“I dreamed a million times of the same, and yet I feared that if ever I did find you, you would be out of my reach. And so you are.”
“Mais non.” Her hand pressed more firmly. Her tone bespoke fervor. “It need not be so impossible, Isaac. My father obviously trusts you and respects you or he would not have asked you to come here on his behalf. Surely—non. You are not married already, are you?”
“No.” He pulled away just enough to capture her gaze again. “Never.”
She shook her head, relief and bewilderment dueling for a place in her eyes. “I cannot fathom how that could be. Surely the young ladies all swoon when you enter a ballroom.”
A grin tugged at his mouth. “To be sure. I leave piles of fainting females in my wake wherever I go.”
“I knew it.” She smiled, though it lasted only a moment. “There has to have been someone at some point who stole your heart, non?”
He sighed and toyed with the curls still wrapped around his fingers. “A decade past, an American girl. During the Revolution. She came from a fine Loyalist family. She was beautiful and cheerful.”
Compassion welled in her eyes. “What happened?”
“She fell in love with another. And, as it turned out, she was not as loyal to the Crown as her guardians were, but she and her husband remain dear friends of mine. All worked out there as it needed to.” Which of course made him ask the question yet again—had the Lord led him all along to this place, this woman? Yet if he again had to face losing the one he loved because of a more appropriate suitor…
Julienne, at least, seemed to feel as strongly as he did. Winter had been fond of him but never in love with him. This would not be the same, even if he inevitably lost her.
Not the same at all. It would no doubt hurt even worse, because he would see her unhappiness.
“I cannot imagine why she would choose another, though I am grateful for it.” With a small smile, Julienne leaned into his hand.