Chapter 19

19

The ballroom was full to bursting with London’s elite.

Caroline nodded along as the ladies prattled on about fashion and gossip. Vultures dressed in silk and feathers. But behind her practised smile, Caroline focused on more valuable conversations. She had positioned herself near the wives of investors in Kellerman’s dubious trade venture, listening closely.

The women tittered about the weather and speculated about the season’s most extravagant upcoming ball, but nothing of consequence reached Caroline’s ears. At least not until the hungry lions turned towards more tantalising fare.

“It’s so lovely to see you here, duchess,” Lady Kenilworth said, a sly smile curling her lips. “And your handsome husband, too, of course.”

Ah, there it was. Caroline swallowed down a grimace. “Thank you. I’ll be certain to tell Hastings.”

“I heard he saved you from that dreadful bombing,” Mrs Trumbull said, breathless. “That he held you in his arms after a dead faint. Did he truly carry you over the rubble to safety?”

Caroline resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Oh, for heaven’s sake. She supposed the story of the formidable Duke of Hastings cradling his wife’s limp form sold more papers than the truth – that she’d barked orders, covered in dust and blood.

“It was an alarming experience,” she said. “Fortunately, Hastings proved himself quite gallant in the aftermath.”

“I do hope they find the vile culprit,” another woman fretted. “I almost didn’t attend tonight, but I couldn’t possibly miss it. Mr Kellerman’s so charming, isn’t he?”

Caroline tried not to glance at the man in question lest her distaste show. “I couldn’t say. I don’t believe I’ve made Mr Kellerman’s acquaintance before this week.” Time to redirect their hunger. “Tell me, how long has he been a fixture in London society?”

“Only since last year. He was abroad for ages before that.” Lady Kenilworth lowered her voice. “But there are hints of rather low beginnings despite his obvious education and polish. I heard he began life in Cheapside. Or was it Spitalfields?”

“Surely not,” another woman said.

“No one seems to know his family or origins,” mused another gossip. Her predatory gaze tracked Kellerman through the crowd. “I’ve heard whispers he might be a tanner’s son.”

More dramatic gasping.

Caroline arched a brow, layering her tone with mild surprise. “How extraordinary. Though clearly, he has adapted himself well to high society.” She filed away the gossip for later scrutiny.

Across the sea of feathers and finery, Julian stood scanning the crowd. When their gazes caught, he lifted two fingers in a subtle summons before turning to slip through the gilded doors.

With a final serene smile, Caroline made her excuses. “I’m feeling a bit hot. Do enjoy the rest of the evening, ladies.” She abandoned her half-full champagne flute and departed the stuffy ballroom, ignoring the raised eyebrows.

In the muted hall, away from the revelry, she found Julian waiting around the corner. Before she could react, he grasped her wrist and tugged her into a darkened study. Caroline’s startled gasp was muffled against his shirtfront as Julian kicked the door shut and backed her against it.

Warmth flushed through her. His clean scent surrounded her, soap and starch and skin. She had forgotten how he could gentle her and inflame her in the same breath.

“Really, Julian. Must you accost me like a barbarian?”

Despite her chiding tone, she always loved seeing this side of him. The aristocratic polish stripped away to reveal the focused man beneath. The man only she was allowed to know.

Julian’s mouth twitched. “My apologies. I needed to speak with you urgently, and discretion seemed warranted.” Then he leaned in and nipped at her earlobe. “And I thought you enjoyed it when I let slip the civilised veneer.”

Heat swept her cheeks, confirmation enough.

“This is hardly private,” Caroline said, acutely aware of the ballroom’s proximity, the faint strains of music penetrating the study walls. She resisted the urge to lean into his warmth. “What was so urgent it couldn’t wait until we got home?”

“I need you to scrutinise something.”

Frowning, Caroline accepted the page and angled it towards the meagre light. The outline of a heraldic crest was just visible, the ink still fresh. He must have scribbled it quickly.

“A family seal?” she murmured.

“On a signet ring Kellerman wore,” Julian confirmed. “Have you seen it anywhere?”

“No. But the style does strike me as familiar. I can’t say precisely why. With better light, perhaps—”

A scuffling outside the study door cut her off abruptly. In one smooth motion, Julian grasped her wrist and pulled Caroline through an inset door she hadn’t even noticed, concealed in the ornate wood panelling. Pitch black inside, some kind of small storage closet or antechamber.

Caroline drew a steadying breath, intensely aware of Julian’s nearness. She could just make out the angular lines of his face mere inches from her own in the gloom, feel the warmth of his lean body bracketing hers. His breaths whispered across her eyelashes. She should step back, move away. But the cramped space tethered them close, chests brushing.

In the next room, furniture creaked. The hiss and flare of a lucifer striking was as loud as a gunshot in the ensuing silence. Together, they waited, attuned to every sound filtering through the thin dividing wall. But whoever had entered the study showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.

When a thud sounded right outside the concealed door, Caroline muffled her gasp against Julian’s shirtfront on instinct. His breaths came more rapidly now, grazing her cheek.

Julian turned his face into her hair and put his lips against her ear. “Don’t move,” he breathed. Gooseflesh swept down her neck and along her spine at the sensation. His voice dropped impossibly lower. “God, duchess, can’t you feel what you do to me?”

He grasped her hips, pressing her against his cock. Caroline released a breath, eyes slipping shut. Then her lips parted on a silent gasp as his hand rose to her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple through the silk.

The door clicked shut in the outer room. Still, neither of them moved.

The air in the small chamber felt electric and alive. His grip tightened on her waist, a wordless warning.

Caroline was seized by a recklessness she hadn’t experienced in years. When her mouth found his in the dark, the space between them fractured. Julian backed her against the wall. He kissed her with none of his usual careful restraint – all tongue and teeth and desperation. Caroline’s fingers sank into his hair, opening for him eagerly.

He groaned against her lips. His hands slid down to grip her backside and tug her more firmly against him. He rocked his hips, teasing friction that was at once too much and not enough.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” His voice was sin in the dark. “Bend you over and take you hard the way we used to? Remind you who you belong to?”

Caroline shuddered, dizzy with need. Anyone could walk in and catch them at any moment. But propriety and caution had melted beneath relentless desire.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Here. Now.”

Julian released a shattered breath. “Then turn around.” The command was raw with wanting. “Fingers first. I want you writhing and desperate to stay quiet.”

Then he slid his hand beneath her skirts to find the slit in her drawers.

“So wet for me already,” Julian said, pushing two fingers inside her.

Caroline’s head fell back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

Julian’s teeth grazed the tender skin of her neck. “You’ve been imagining this all night, haven’t you? Pretending to be proper while picturing my cock inside you, pleasuring you where anyone might find us?”

Oh, God. “Yes,” she gasped.

The admission drew a rough, desperate sound from his throat. Caroline heard the rustle of fabric behind her as Julian freed himself one-handed. And then he thrust into her in a ruthless stroke that stole the breath from her lungs.

His hand clamped over her mouth at her sharp cry. “Hush now. Wouldn’t want anyone hearing you beg for this, would we?”

The vulgar words sent heat spiking through her. All thought scattered, her world reduced to white-hot ecstasy. The obscene slap of skin, his breath rough in her ear, restraints of propriety stripped away until only raw need remained.

Caroline let him manoeuvre her wrists behind her back, pinned tight in his bruising grip – the restraint only heightened her arousal. Each powerful stroke built the pressure higher. Rational thought fractured to pure sensation.

When he laughed, it was a low, dark sound. “I love seeing you like this. This is what you wanted from me, isn’t it?”

Caroline bit down on his palm. He played the perfect aristocrat, but this was the truth between them. Here, away from prying eyes, there were no rules. No restraints to bind them.

“Julian—” She broke off on a shattered gasp as he quickened his pace again.

Nothing existed but Julian surrounding her. Possessing her. As her climax crashed through her, she muffled her noises against his hand. He followed seconds later, cursing rough and low against her throat, his fingers digging bruises into her hips.

Caroline felt untethered. Remade. As though he had reached beneath her ribs to touch some secret, vulnerable part of her.

Julian gently turned her in his arms, then opened the door a crack to allow in the light. His burning gaze took in her dishevelled appearance, something close to awe in his eyes.

“Here. Let me help set you to rights.” He smoothed his hands over her tousled hair and rumpled skirts. When she was passably tidy, that devastating little smile curled his lips again. “One might accuse you of making me behave like a barbarian.”

“One might accuse you of enjoying it.” Caroline smoothed her gown, ensuring she looked presentable once more. Then she leaned to whisper, “I certainly do.”