Chapter 6

CHAPTER6

“Ihate him! I hate his clothes and his hair and his face and—argh!”

It was the morning after Lady Pembroke’s ball, and both sisters were in Julia’s bedchamber. Mary was enjoying a cup of tea, but Julia could not sit still.

From the moment she awoke, her thoughts had been filled with Andrew and the stormy kiss they shared in that study. She had left him there, feeling a bit unbalanced herself, and she had never been quite the same ever since.

For one, she had had difficulty sleeping and had spent most of her time in bed miserably awake, her thoughts filled with nothing but him. She even wondered if he was thinking of her in much the same way.

Oh, she had tried to avoid him for the rest of the night, but he was always there, right at the periphery of her vision, like some sort of specter.

No man had ever had such an effect on her before—she made certain of that. Why, then, was Andrew Walford occupying her waking thoughts?

Julia paced the length of her bedchamber while her sister sat primly on the upholstered couch, regarding her with mild interest. Once in a while, Mary would calmly take a sip from her teacup, but she refrained from saying anything as she let Julia vent out her intense dislike for the Marquess of Trowbridge.

“He really is the most insufferable fool I have ever had the misfortune to meet!” Julia huffed as she plopped onto the couch beside her sister in a most unladylike manner. “I still cannot believe that he could be related to Selina when she is the sweetest soul on this planet!”

Mary only smiled softly at her. “Well, there are a great many people who tell me that we cannot possibly be sisters, so it is quite possible that Lord Trowbridge and Selina are siblings.”

“Who said that? Nothing can be further from the truth!”

Despite her temper, Julia had always had a soft spot for her younger sister. Unlike her, Mary was far more quiet to the point that Lady Powell often bemoaned the fact that she had given birth to a tempest and a wallflower. But only Julia was truly aware of how perceptive Mary could be, and if she did not speak, it was simply because she chose not to, for she much preferred to observe.

Be that as it may, the ton was rather fond of comparisons, and if two sisters were as disparate as Mary and Julia themselves, the contrast was even more striking.

“We know how the minds of the ton work.” Mary patted her sister’s hand reassuringly. “It is not worth it to lend our attention to everything they say.”

“True.”

“But tell me, Sister.” Mary turned towards Julia with a look of concern. “Did something happen between you and Lord Trowbridge last night?”

“W-what do you mean?” Julia casually averted her gaze.

Something did happen. She just did not know how she could tell Mary—or anyone else, for that matter.

Mary shrugged delicately. “You have always disliked the Marquess but never to this extent. You have disagreed with him on every matter and taunted him at every turn but nothing like… well, this.”

And by “this,” Mary probably meant the flustered way in which Julia had spent the better part of the morning bitterly complaining about even the slightest flaw in Andrew’s appearance and character. If he were to hear any of what she had been ranting about, no doubt he would have a few choice things to say on that matter also.

He always did.

“You know I have always hated him ever since I heard him tell Selina I was not capable of being a good friend,” Julia groused. “The man had set himself against me from the very beginning.”

And she, in turn, had made sure to aggravate him all the more.

“So you have.” Mary nodded sagely. “You two could never seem to agree on anything… except for one thing.”

Julia looked at her younger sister with a frown. “And what is that, may I ask?”

“Well, you both hated the Duke of Barrington for quite a while during his courtship with Selina.”

Julia pursed her lips. “In all honesty, he was not exactly the perfect suitor young ladies want for themselves. Even if he is a duke and whatnot.”

“That did not stop you from antagonizing him,” Mary reminded her. “And you know, he does not have the most outstanding temper in London.”

“He is a rather ornery one, is he not? I wonder what Selina saw in him besides his excellent looks.”

“One could wonder the same thing about you and the Marquess of Trowbridge,” Mary remarked wryly.

Julia stood up indignantly at that. “Lord Trowbridge is nothing at all like the Duke of Barrington!”

Her sister looked pointedly at her before calmly sipping her tea once more. “Oh, do sit down, Julia. Of course, they are quite different.”

Julia felt as if she had fallen in one of her sister’s traps yet again, but she could not quite put a finger on it. Mary had a rather particular way of catching people unawares with her words alone, and that, coupled with her quiet perceptiveness, made her quite formidable in her own way.

“I merely meant to say that you have always disliked the Marquess, even though he is quite handsome and appears to be rather charming with the ladies,” Mary pointed out. “Not at all that different from how dear Selina used to complain about His Grace before their courtship.” She paused thoughtfully and then added, “I might even think she became even more frustrated with him during their courtship—but what do I know about gentlemen and courting?”

Julia felt a slight pang at her sister’s soft, self-effacing smile.

While there was a never-ending stream of gentlemen begging for a dance with her, her younger sister was often made to stand in the corners during balls, left to quietly observe the glittering world of the ton as if she was not a part of it all.

Julia reached for Mary’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “You will find a nice gentleman, someday. One who will value you far more than dowries and jewels.”

“I should hope so.” Mary smiled placidly. “Otherwise, Mama will never let me have another quiet day in my life, and I do so like my peace and quiet.”

Both sisters shared a look before they burst into giggles. Lady Powell, indeed, had been so occupied in that grand endeavor of Society mamas ever since Julia made her debut, and now, with Mary out in Society as well, she must be feeling all the pressure to see both her daughters well and happily settled.

“Now, back to the subject of the Marquess of Trowbridge.”

Julia groaned. “I wish I could just get away from him, Mary—I do.”

And the memory of that kiss, too…

She had hardly slept a wink last night, tossing and turning in her bed as an endless loop of the way Andrew held her and kissed her churned in her mind. How his lips moved over hers with a fierce gentleness she had never known before.

In his arms, she felt like bursting into flames, and there was that strange, tantalizing pressure coiling up so slowly in the pit of her belly—she had never felt anything like it before.

And to think she would experience it with the most antagonistic man she had ever known!

“I did notice that you both disappeared at some point in the ball last night,” Mary told her quietly.

Julia stiffened. “Did anyone else notice it?”

Her sister shook her head. “Not that I know of. Everybody seemed far too entertained with the champagne tower that Lady Pembroke brought out around that time.”

“What about Mama?”

Mary shook her head. “I do not think she noticed either.”

Inwardly, Julia breathed a sigh of relief. If anyone else had noticed that she and the Marquess of Trowbridge were both missing at the same time, it would have spelled disaster. Tongues always wagged at the slightest hint of a scandal, and it only took one spark to set the whole of London ablaze with gossip.

“I just wish I could get away from him,” Julia repeated glumly. “I think I would be perfectly happy if I never get to see him again.”

Maybe then I could be rid of this insanity that has come over me…

“Well, that would prove to be rather difficult,” Mary pointed out. “For tomorrow evening, at least. You do remember that we are going to the opera with Selina, His Grace, and Lord Trowbridge tomorrow.”

They would be sharing the same box, Julia recalled, courtesy of the Duke of Barrington. The prospect of spending a moment with Andrew in the same room was already quite… uncomfortable, never mind a much more intimate space like a theater box.

Julia felt even more helplessly entangled in a web not solely of her own weaving.

I really should not have gone to the study. I should have known that no good ever comes out of meeting men unchaperoned…

If she had not done so, she might have been perfectly happy spending the rest of her life in ignorant bliss, never knowing the kind of passion she had experienced last night in the arms of a man she did not even like.

But if she did not like him, then why did she feel irrevocably drawn to him? It was almost as if there was an invisible force compelling her to step closer to him.

Julia shook her head inwardly. It was madness—there had to be no other explanation for it.