Chapter 21

21

Caroline sat motionless in the sitting room. She watched dust motes dance through the bands of sunlight and tried not to think about Julian.

She’d been fretting since he’d raced off with Mr Wentworth that morning. When she’d objected to being left behind, Julian had pinned her with that intense, protective stare. The imprint of his blistering kiss still lingered, fogging her mind as effectively as any drug. She could summon the sensation too easily – the possessive sweep of his tongue, the bite of his teeth. A kiss designed to weaken knees and steal breath. Oh yes, it had done its work flawlessly.

And now there was nothing she could do but sit there, a dutiful wife biding her time.

Percy’s arrival jolted Caroline from her dark musings. “A Mr Grey here to see you, Your Grace.”

“Send him in, Percy.” She cast her gaze over the picked-over sandwiches and pot of tepid tea. “And bring fresh tea, if you please. The good Darjeeling.” She forced brightness into her tone that felt brittle even to her own ears. “Oh, and sandwiches. A lot of them.”

Percy’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. “A lot, Your Grace?”

“Oh yes. A frankly ludicrous amount. Enough to feed a regiment.”

A familiar chuckle emanated from the doorway. “A regiment? My dear duchess, what sort of appetite do you think I have?”

Her closest friend, Richard Grey, sauntered into the room, looking too pleased with himself for the early hour. He moved with effortless grace, projecting the confidence of a man who knew his place in the world. Settling into the chair opposite her, he helped himself to a sandwich from the platter – one she’d been picking at earlier. Richard took an obnoxiously large bite and flashed her a shameless grin.

“Can you blame me for thinking you half starved?” Caroline said. “Every time I see you, my larders are mysteriously depleted. You descend like a scavenging fox set loose among helpless hens.”

Clutching his chest as if affronted, Richard adopted a wounded expression. “Here I am, barely hours after kissing my darling wife and babe goodbye, rushing to attend to you in your time of need – ready to provide comfort and solace. And this is the thanks I get?” He took another defiant bite of the sandwich. “Have a care, Caro. I could waste away to a husk on such meagre rations.”

“Oh yes, utterly selfless. Practically a saint.” She reached over and patted his hand with fond exasperation. “I’m quite certain Anne knows precisely where you dashed off to this morning. Let me guess… was it a spot of light blackmail? Beating someone to a pulp in a back alley?”

Richard grinned, sharp and wolfish. “I’ll have you know I’m an upstanding gentleman and devoted family man now.” The twitch of his lips turned wicked. “I’ve already begun compiling prime blackmail material to share with Lillian when she comes of age.”

“You’ll do no such thing. Anne will string you up by your cravat if you corrupt the child too early. Can’t you at least wait until she starts walking?”

“And deny my daughter her proper education? Anne’s probably whispering seditious ideas to her. Mark my words, Lillian will have the pair of us wrapped around her little finger before long.”

“And how is Anne adapting to motherhood?”

His smile softened around the edges. “It’s been… an adjustment. Anne prefers to take on the role of the nursemaid, and it turns out an infant doesn’t adhere to one’s schedule or respect closed doors. All babies appear as angry, squalling potatoes fresh from the womb, but she’s developed a distinct personality.” He gave her a wink. “But Anne and I are managing well enough.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure you are,” Caroline said dryly.

Percy arrived with the tea tray. While the butler set the service between them, Caroline studied Richard, catalogued the new contentment. This man who had helped hold her fragile pieces together after she’d shattered. She was happy for him, truly. But the sentiment came with an edge of wistfulness.

An old grief that never faded.

She waited until they were alone again to ask, “Tell me more about how you and Anne are getting on. I want to hear everything about dear Lillian.”

Richard helped himself to far more sugar than any grown man should reasonably consume. “Anne and I are deliriously happy but as exhausted as one might expect. Worth it, though.” He took a slow sip, his keen gaze never leaving her face. “It takes some time, learning to put another tiny human’s needs before one’s own convenience. Much less sleep to be had. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” His smile turned self-deprecating. “Never pictured myself as the doting papa, yet here I am reading poetry to an infant more interested in gnawing the pages. Do remind me how you take your tea, darling. One lump or two?”

“Just one, please.” She watched him plop a cube in her cup, followed by a careless splash of milk.

“I hear our wayward duke has finally deigned to grace your doorstep again after all this time.” Richard’s tone remained mild, but she detected the edge beneath the silk. Her friend had never cared for Julian, and clearly, that hadn’t changed. “Shall I pry for details, or must I resort to bribing your staff?”

The question she’d been dreading. Caroline tensed, dropping her gaze to the swirling eddies in her tea as she tried to corral her fraying thoughts. Their reconciliation was still so fresh, the old wounds barely beginning to knit. She hardly knew how to explain the jagged pieces of their history in a way that made any sense.

“His apartment in town was let, so he’s staying here for now,” she said. “And I’d like to ask him to remain indefinitely.”

“Would you now?” Richard took a slow sip of tea, but his nonchalance didn’t fool her. “I confess, it’s difficult to be overjoyed at his return after so many years of indifference towards you. I’m half tempted to string him up in the courtyard, but Anne forbade it. Told me not to meddle.”

Despite everything, Caroline let out a quiet laugh. “Anne is very wise. And I’m sure she’d be cross if you started brawling with a duke on a London street.”

Richard’s smile held an edge. “As if I’d be so gauche. There are subtler ways to make displeasure known.” He set down his teacup with a soft clink. “But don’t change the subject. You never told me what happened between you and Hastings.”

Caroline stared down into her cup. “It’s complicated.”

Richard’s voice remained patient. “I’ve put men in the ground for far less cause than having hurt you. Hastings will be no exception if that’s what you want. Complicated intrigues me.”

“It’s difficult to explain,” she began. “We were so young when we wed, and he’d originally planned to marry our friend Grace that year. But we both made a hasty decision in a moment of… well, you know how these things happen.”

All humour fled Richard’s expression. He reached over and covered her hand with his own, giving a gentle squeeze. “I believe I understand well enough.”

The quiet empathy in his voice loosened some of the tightness in Caroline’s chest. “And then we lost Grace shortly after the wedding. He left to give the news to her father and sister.” She cleared the emotion clogging her throat. “And while he was gone, I lost our baby.”

“Oh, Caro. I’m so sorry.” Agony rippled across Richard’s face. This new father would clearly burn the world down for his wife and child. “I didn’t know.”

Caroline managed a tremulous almost-smile, emotions scraped raw and bleeding. “It was a long time ago.”

He shook his head, refusing to allow her to minimise the depth of those wounds. “May I hug you? You look as though you need one.”

At her slight nod, he came around the table and sat beside her, wrapping her in a fierce embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair. “I didn’t mean to cause you distress with my prying. Simply say the word, and I’ll go outside and punch myself for my spectacular idiocy just now. I’d consider it a privilege.”

A faint laugh escaped her this time. She gave him a final squeeze before relaxing back. “No fisticuffs required, but I appreciate the offer.”

“Very well. But let it be known the offer remains open if you need it.”

Footsteps echoed down the corridor before Caroline could respond. She glanced up as Julian appeared in the doorway.

Caroline watched his expression shutter as he took in the cosy tableau; Richard’s arm was draped around her shoulders. For a heartbeat, his stride faltered. Caroline fancied she could hear the neat click of locks sliding into place. In the span of a blink, the remote and untouchable Duke of Hastings stood before them once more.

Without a word, Julian removed his gloves and overcoat, laying them neatly across a side table. He moved with calm, economical motions, giving no hint of his inner turbulence. When he turned back to them, his expression remained fixed in icy politeness. Only the arctic chill of his gaze gave any indication of his mood.

“Forgive the interruption, duchess. I wasn’t aware you had a guest.” He inclined his head in greeting. “Grey.”

“Hastings,” Richard returned coolly, still lounging on the divan beside Caroline. He made no move to stand or withdraw his arm from around her shoulders.

Julian’s gaze tracked the casual contact, pale eyes shuttering further. “To what do we owe the unexpected pleasure?”

Smooth as cream, that question. But the words dripped disdain.

Before Richard could come back with an equally biting riposte, Caroline interjected, “Richard stopped by to check on me. He wanted to ensure I was all right after the bombing.”

“How thoughtful. As you can see, my wife remains quite healthy and intact. So your concern, while admirable, was unnecessary.”

“One can never be too careful.” Richard’s own smile was tight. “I’ll always be here when Caro needs me. Whether it’s for cheering up or mending a broken heart. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

The temperature in the elegant little sitting room plunged. Caroline watched darkness sweep across Julian’s expression, there and gone between one heartbeat and the next. His sculpted features might as well have been carved from marble. Beautiful. Remote. Untouchable.

Sensing the mounting tension, Caroline extricated herself from Richard’s embrace and rose to her feet. She conjured up a smile that felt thin and brittle on her lips. “Thank you for coming, Richard. Do give your family my love.”

Richard rose as well, blue eyes intent on her face. “Of course. Visit us soon, won’t you? I’m sure Anne and Lillian would love to see you.” Then he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Best brace yourself when I leave. But a little jealousy is good for the soul.”

Before she could respond, Richard quickly kissed her hand and departed with a wink.

The silence left in his wake felt oppressive. Julian stood still in the centre of the room, muscles coiled tight beneath his expensive tailored jacket. A predator leashed by the barest of threads.

The stoic duke peeling away.

And then, gone.

Julian crossed the room in three swift strides and crushed his mouth to hers. No warning, no questions, just pure heat and blatant possession. His tongue swept past her lips to stroke along hers, staking his claim in no uncertain terms. Caroline melted into the contact, the heady taste and feel of him sweeping all coherent thought away in a hot rush.

Before she could catch her breath, Julian was lifting her into his arms. Caroline clung to him as he mounted the stairs, heedless of servants.

Once the bedroom door was shut and locked behind them, Julian set her back on her feet. His gaze scorched over her with its intensity.

“What happened at Charing Cross?” Caroline demanded breathlessly, still reeling.

“Crisis averted,” he said, ruthlessly unbuttoning her dress. “I need you naked.”

Desire speared through her, sharp and hot. “Are you jealous?” she whispered, arching her neck as his teeth grazed her throat.

A harsh exhale that might’ve been a laugh ghosted across her skin. “Furious with myself. Seeing him…” Julian’s voice dropped, words scraping raw against her ear. “You called for Grey that night in Edinburgh last year when I pulled you from the flames. Do you remember? I was holding you in my arms, and he was the one you trusted. He was a comfort you needed, and I failed to provide.”

Shame lanced through her. She had few memories of Edinburgh. Richard and Anne’s hasty wedding, the sudden heat that filled her bedchamber – then hazy fragments glimpsed through smoke and fire-lit dark.

Take me home, Richard. Take me to Ravenhill. I want to go home.

She remembered wanting to be buried beside her son. But the admission lodged like broken glass in her throat, too jagged to voice aloud.

She hadn’t realised how much that moment had hurt Julian. Taken all their damaged edges and fractured them further. Introduced more doubt in an already shattered foundation.

Before she could speak, Julian cut off her words with his mouth, fierce and uncompromising. She lost herself in the kiss, the possessive sweep of his hands over her bare skin. He touched her as if he were imprinting himself on her very bones, searing away any lingering ghosts.

There was only this – him and her.

And all the half-healed wounds between them.