Chapter 3

CHAPTER3

Let me see… which gentleman should I dance with first tonight?

Julia smiled from behind her fan as she subtly craned her neck over the crush that filled the ballroom.

The task of selecting one’s match was a most daunting occupation but one in which the young ladies of the ton applied themselves with a dedication that would put the most diligent of men to shame. Society’s mamas planned each and every appearance down to the minutest details, and every ballroom turned into a battlefield.

From which suitor would be given the honor of the first—and, quite scandalously, a second—dance to the accessories one chose to wear for the night, everything had to be considered thoroughly.

Colors were one of the main strategic points in a young lady’s arsenal, and they normally gravitated towards lighter pastels which provided a sense of youthful femininity.

Julia, however, regularly defied these conventional rules of warfare. For Lady Pembroke’s ball, she had chosen a gown of a deep blue-green color that would threaten to wash out a lady’s coloring and make her look sickly. Instead, it only served to highlight the creaminess of her skin, her red hair and blue eyes standing out so vividly that it was as if she was a living flame.

And, indeed, anyone who got too close ran the risk of getting themselves burned, for everyone knew how her temper matched her fiery hair.

Mary sighed and shared a knowing look with Selina as they watched the Viscount of Cosby walk away stiffly, his eyes betraying the dejection he suffered yet again at the hands of Julia.

“I… think you should have been a bit gentler with him, Julia,” Selina chided gently. “The man looked like he had suffered a physical blow when you rejected him like that.”

“Mama will not be pleased,” Mary added with a soft sigh. “You know she has set her heart on Lord Cosby as your match. The poor man looked so shocked, I am amazed he was able to remain standing and bear it all with dignity.”

Julia opened her mouth to reply when a deep baritone interrupted their conversation.

“The poor man has not had the good sense to realize what he had just escaped at the last minute.”

The scathing remark had the uncanny effect of raising her hackles, even as it sent a slight tingle running down her spine as she turned around to face the smug profile of the Marquess of Trowbridge.

“My Lord.” Julia smiled up at him. “I had no idea you were in such dire need of entertainment that you would join in a conversation where you are not wanted.”

The Marquess raised a dark eyebrow at her, and she inwardly lamented that such a handsome countenance could possess such an infuriating personality.

Truly, one ought not to judge by looks alone. Andrew Walford and Lord Cosby are certainly proof of that!

“I do not need your permission to join in on a conversation where my sister is involved.” The Marquess frowned at her, his eyebrows furrowing in a display of masculine anger.

“Your sister is already a woman grown and married,” Julia reminded him. “Besides, everything is relative anyway. I might have been persuaded to accept Lord Cosby’s suit if I had no other choice except… well, you.”

She took a secret delight in the way his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked at her as if he might throttle her, and she did not understand it, really, why she relished riling him up like this.

Was it because it was so easy? Or was it because he could just as easily incite her to anger?

Perhaps it was both, but she had no desire to dwell on the specifics of her encounters with the Marquess of Trowbridge.

“Thankfully,” she continued, choosing to blithely ignore his thunderous expression, “there are a great many more catches waiting to be caught.” She waved her dance card before him gloatingly and winked. “Perhaps if you fixed that attitude of yours, I might even be persuaded to put your name on this list. Alas, your company leaves much to be desired, My Lord. Good evening.”

She did not stay long enough to wait for his reply as she turned around and walked off to the refreshments table, putting a little extra sway to her hips. She was sure he was going to manage another insult if she let him have the chance.

It had always been like this with Andrew Walford, and she saw no evidence that it was going to change.

They simply hated each other, and that was about the only thing they could both agree on.

* * *

She was the most infuriating woman alive—and also the most damned intoxicating creature he had had the misfortune to come across.

Andrew seethed as he watched the cursed woman walk away from him in the most pompously tantalizing manner possible. He was sure she was exaggerating her movements to taunt him with her curves, but he would be damned if he let her—or anyone else, for that matter—see that.

“Andrew.”

Andrew turned his gaze away from Julia Lewis’s disappearing form to find Selina looking at him with disapproval as she was wont to do every single time he and her best friend crossed paths. For the life of him, he would never understand how his sweet younger sister could be friends with a firebrand like her—the two women were as different as night and day!

He sighed. “I know, I know. I should have known better than to let her draw me into that.”

“On the contrary, My Lord. I think you both enjoy crossing swords with each other.”

He looked at the younger Lewis sister in surprise. Unlike Julia, Mary was much quieter and more timid. She was also rather shockingly perceptive.

“Why would I want to cross swords when I cannot even stomach crossing paths with her,” he grumbled.

Mary only smiled quietly and wisely chose not to reply.

“Trowbridge! I thought it was you I saw with Lady Julia Lewis!”

Andrew frowned as another gentleman approached him from behind with a jovial smile. “Lord Caraway.”

Somehow, the man’s smile seemed to irritate him all the more.

“Did you manage to secure a spot on her dance card?” Lord Caraway inquired. “I have been trying to approach her for the better part of this evening.”

“Fortunately, I have not,” Andrew sneered in derision, wondering for the hundredth time that night why anyone would want to suffer through a handful of minutes with that ill-tempered woman. “And I have no desire to. That woman is more likely to bite my head off than dance with me.”

Lord Caraway merely laughed and shook his head. “But then, it would be well worth it, would it not?”

Before Andrew could say anything more on that matter, Lord Caraway clapped a hand on his shoulder, before making his way towards the refreshments table to look for her. Andrew glowered at the blissfully oblivious fool.

“There goes another one.” He heard his sister sigh. “Really, Andrew—you are about the only man that Julia despises more than Lord Cosby, and that is more your fault than anyone else’s.”

Andrew snorted. “Far be it from me to decipher what sorcery she has cast upon these weak-minded men.”

“Julia does not hate Lord Cosby,” Mary corrected gently. “She merely… does not want to marry him, but he is ever so persistent.”

Not that it would matter much to the Viscount. He was either a fool to pursue Julia after the countless times she had rejected him, or he simply did not respect her opinions enough as he plowed on. Andrew did not know which one was worse.

There is nothing more disgusting than a man who forces himself on a woman even when she clearly does not desire him…

Andrew glanced surreptitiously at the refreshments table and found Julia laughing with Lord Caraway, both of them appearing to enjoy each other’s company very much. It seemed that the man had found a way onto her dance card after all although the sight of them together made Andrew want to hit the wall. Or Lord Caraway.

Why were they so enamored with her, anyway?

It was true that she was strikingly beautiful in an almost dazzling way with her alluring curves and vivid coloring. He would be lying if he denied that.

But what about her sharp tongue? Did they somehow relish being insulted?

Perhaps it was the chase, he realized with sudden alacrity. For these men, Julia had somehow become an unattainable prize—one they would fight over to obtain.

He also knew that some of them might not fight fairly.

For all the veneer of civility, he knew that some men were beasts at heart. Having kept a close eye on his sister for many years, he had more than enough experience with such men.

Andrew watched from a distance as Julia seemed to excuse herself from Lord Caraway before she moved away to the terrace… probably for a breath of fresh air. Lord Caraway seemed to hesitate, contemplating whether to follow her or not, and he seemed to choose the latter, for which Andrew sighed in relief.

But no. The fool had to follow her outside after all, and Andrew was not too sure if he could stand by the sidelines anymore…

It won’t be too long. Julia Lewis is not someone Caraway can manage with ease…

He smiled to himself at the thought. Julia was quite possibly more than capable of handling one unruly suitor… She would eviscerate and emasculate the poor man, and Andrew would have worried for nothing.

But then, the minutes passed in agonizing slowness, and yet, both of them were yet to emerge from the double doors that led out onto the terrace. Andrew shifted on his feet once more and looked around.

Neither Selina nor Mary seemed to have noticed that Julia was already gone for quite some time. Any longer and tongues might already start wagging.

And he really did not like the look Lord Caraway had on his face when he followed Julia out onto the terrace.

Clenching his fists, Andrew strode towards the same doors. At the very least, he expected Julia to be in the process of surgically making mincemeat of Lord Caraway’s dignity with that barbed tongue of hers.

What he came upon instead made his blood boil.

Julia was standing with her back against the balustrade, her blue eyes sparkling with an angry fire, her lips pulled into a tight line. Lord Caraway—that bloody idiot—gripped her wrist as she struggled against him.

“For the last time, Lord Caraway,” she warned, “unhand me.”

“Oh, no, my pet,” the fool crooned. “I have seen how you look at me and how you looked at that idiot Cosby. You are in dire need of a man who will—”

Andrew’s arm shot out, and his hand clamped down hard on Lord Caraway’s shoulder, stopping him mid-sentence. “She told you to unhand her, Caraway,” he growled before he pulled him bodily away from her. “It would seem you did not take my warning seriously earlier.”

Lord Caraway stumbled back in shock as Andrew put himself between him and Julia. “What the hell, Trowbridge! That harlot—”

“One more word, Caraway, and I might decide that you have no need for teeth.”

Andrew’s words came out in a silky drawl, but the danger in them was unmistakable. He watched as Lord Caraway stepped back, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“I cannot believe you would defend this harlot over—”

Andrew’s smile was soft and sinister as he raised his fist and sent it flying straight towards Lord Caraway’s jaw.