get up, please. I’ll return momentarily.” Just as soon as I find Julian and drag him back, too .
As she smoothed her skirts, she tried not to feel defeated. Yes, she could handle these settings alone. But given the choice, she would prefer to handle them with Julian.
When had he become so essential to her?
She turned away from the card table and moved to quit the room.
Then she stopped. Because Julian was there in the doorway, headed toward her.
When their eyes met, they each stumbled to a halt. He smiled at the coincidence. She pressed her lips together. In unison, they exchanged brief nods, followed by matching expressions of suppressed laughter. A whole conversation, crammed into the space of a moment, with nary a word exchanged. The understanding and patience she craved … it was all there, waiting in his eyes. Strange impulses tugged at her. The strongest of which being the desire to run at the man, fling both arms around his neck, and hope—just breathe and wait and hope, with her pulse thundering in her ears—that his arms would naturally wrap around her, too.
But before she could embarrass them both, Julian’s gaze cut away, darting to the card players behind her. Lily watched his face blanch, then flush crimson with fury. His lips formed crisp, distinct words. Words not intended for her, but for someone beyond her right shoulder.
“What the devil did you just say?”
Oh, dear. The commander must have made some remark when she’d turned away. Something insensitive, when she couldn’t overhear. And of course, Julian was incapable of letting such remarks pass. His mouth thinned to a tight, angry line. At his sides, his hands balled into formidable fists.
He was going to hurt someone. Soon.
Lily stepped in front of him. The scene wasn’t disastrous yet. If she pretended to be oblivious to the whole situation, everyone else could act the same. “Mr. Bellamy,” she said lightly. “I … I was just on my way to get some air. Would you take me for a turn about the garden?”
She took his hand. Or rather, his wrist, since his hand was a solid lump of knuckles and thumb.
He glared past her, at the commander. “You’re a bastard. Don’t think she doesn’t know it.”
“Julian,” she whispered, frantic. “Take me for a turn in the garden. Now.”
This time, she did not wait for his agreement. Mining a reserve of strength she hadn’t known she possessed, Lily yanked him by the wrist until he did an about-face. She thrust her arm through his, linking him securely at her side. He stiffened for a moment, as though his mind and muscles were at odds over how to respond. But when she stepped forward, he did too. Thank heaven. Together, they left the drawing room and the card tables and the commander behind.
But they never made it anywhere near the garden.
Lily tugged him into the first available space—a room just across the corridor—and, with a quick glance about for servants, carefully shut the door behind them. This must be Amelia’s day room. The room was thick with overstuffed furniture designed for comfort, not fashion, and needlework baskets and homely curios occupied the tables. The windows were hung with plush velvet draperies. It was the perfect place for a private conversation.
Just the same, she strove to keep her voice low as she turned to Julian. “What was all that, then?”
His face shuttered. “Nothing.”
“For pity’s sake, you can tell me. I gather the commander made some jesting remark, one he knew I couldn’t hear. It must have been quite ill-mannered, to turn you that particular shade of red.”
Julian just shook his head, refusing to answer. He took a few paces, swinging the tension from his arms as he walked.
Lily crossed her arms over her chest. Because the room was cold, and because she needed a hug—and it seemed Julian would not offer one. “Will you make me guess? Let me see … We were playing whist, and I left them shorthanded. Ah. It must have
As she smoothed her skirts, she tried not to feel defeated. Yes, she could handle these settings alone. But given the choice, she would prefer to handle them with Julian.
When had he become so essential to her?
She turned away from the card table and moved to quit the room.
Then she stopped. Because Julian was there in the doorway, headed toward her.
When their eyes met, they each stumbled to a halt. He smiled at the coincidence. She pressed her lips together. In unison, they exchanged brief nods, followed by matching expressions of suppressed laughter. A whole conversation, crammed into the space of a moment, with nary a word exchanged. The understanding and patience she craved … it was all there, waiting in his eyes. Strange impulses tugged at her. The strongest of which being the desire to run at the man, fling both arms around his neck, and hope—just breathe and wait and hope, with her pulse thundering in her ears—that his arms would naturally wrap around her, too.
But before she could embarrass them both, Julian’s gaze cut away, darting to the card players behind her. Lily watched his face blanch, then flush crimson with fury. His lips formed crisp, distinct words. Words not intended for her, but for someone beyond her right shoulder.
“What the devil did you just say?”
Oh, dear. The commander must have made some remark when she’d turned away. Something insensitive, when she couldn’t overhear. And of course, Julian was incapable of letting such remarks pass. His mouth thinned to a tight, angry line. At his sides, his hands balled into formidable fists.
He was going to hurt someone. Soon.
Lily stepped in front of him. The scene wasn’t disastrous yet. If she pretended to be oblivious to the whole situation, everyone else could act the same. “Mr. Bellamy,” she said lightly. “I … I was just on my way to get some air. Would you take me for a turn about the garden?”
She took his hand. Or rather, his wrist, since his hand was a solid lump of knuckles and thumb.
He glared past her, at the commander. “You’re a bastard. Don’t think she doesn’t know it.”
“Julian,” she whispered, frantic. “Take me for a turn in the garden. Now.”
This time, she did not wait for his agreement. Mining a reserve of strength she hadn’t known she possessed, Lily yanked him by the wrist until he did an about-face. She thrust her arm through his, linking him securely at her side. He stiffened for a moment, as though his mind and muscles were at odds over how to respond. But when she stepped forward, he did too. Thank heaven. Together, they left the drawing room and the card tables and the commander behind.
But they never made it anywhere near the garden.
Lily tugged him into the first available space—a room just across the corridor—and, with a quick glance about for servants, carefully shut the door behind them. This must be Amelia’s day room. The room was thick with overstuffed furniture designed for comfort, not fashion, and needlework baskets and homely curios occupied the tables. The windows were hung with plush velvet draperies. It was the perfect place for a private conversation.
Just the same, she strove to keep her voice low as she turned to Julian. “What was all that, then?”
His face shuttered. “Nothing.”
“For pity’s sake, you can tell me. I gather the commander made some jesting remark, one he knew I couldn’t hear. It must have been quite ill-mannered, to turn you that particular shade of red.”
Julian just shook his head, refusing to answer. He took a few paces, swinging the tension from his arms as he walked.
Lily crossed her arms over her chest. Because the room was cold, and because she needed a hug—and it seemed Julian would not offer one. “Will you make me guess? Let me see … We were playing whist, and I left them shorthanded. Ah. It must have
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