Page 52 of The Secret of the Dashing Detective
“This, son,” Mrs. Lewis continued with that finger out again, “is none other than Lady Juliana Remington, who is the sister of the Duke of Warwick – also sired bythat man. And unless a miracle has transpired – which I am highly in doubt of – she isnotmarried to this investigator.”
Dr. Lewis stopped, frozen now, as he stared at Juliana before looking back at his mother.
Finally, he spoke, although it seemed he wasn’t entirely sure what to say.
“It is hard to know where to begin,” he said in slow, measured tones and a calmness that would be required in his profession, “with the fact that my father was a duke, that I have half-siblings, or that the two of you have been lying to me for reasons unknown.”
“None of it matters,” his mother said, wrapping her arm around his elbow. “We are going.”
“Please don’t,” Juliana said, surprising them all by stepping forward. “There is so much I would like to speak to you about.”
“Their family is poisonous,” Mrs. Lewis said, her eyes narrowing, and Juliana reminded herself that it was not her fault the woman held such sentiments, but her father’s – like so many things in her life had been. “We must go.”
Dr. Lewis stared at them for a moment as though uncertain what to say but seemed resigned to follow his mother out.
Just before he turned from them, after his mother had already started down the hall, Juliana silently touched his arm, and when he looked back, she placed her card in his hand. He said nothing, made no reaction, but he did pocket it – leaving Juliana with some hope.
* * *
“Well,”Matthew said, collapsing into a chair. “That was… unexpected.”
Juliana paced back and forth in front of him, across the carpet that Matthew’s sisters had added at her suggestion. At first she had been reluctant to make the recommendations, unsure of who would pay for it all, but Matthew had assured her that he could afford it – it had more been a matter of time and taste than whether he had the money.
“Did you have any idea he would bring his mother?”
“None,” he said, not enjoying seeing her agitation, even though he had a similar sensation deep in his own chest.
“He is never going to forgive us. Never. Just when I thought that perhaps we could build a relationship with him, that I could get to know him better, that I had gained another brother—”
“Juliana,” he said, knowing he needed to stop her before she became too upset to think clearly. “There was never any way that we were going to be able to honestly befriend Lewis unless he knew our true identities. Otherwise, it was all based on a lie, one that he was bound to discover, especially when you never had a child.”
“I know,” she said, flinging her hands up in the air. “I know you’re right. I simply feel… wretched. I never should have thought this would work. I never should have done any of this. I just…” she stopped and stared at him. “I suppose I just liked the thought of getting to know him better. And I especially liked the thought of being your wife.”
He stood from the large, overstuffed armchair he occupied whenever he took a moment to actually relax in his quarters and began walking over to her, stopping when he was right in front of her. He looked down at her hands, taking them in his.
“I shouldn’t admit this,” he surprised himself by saying. “Not to you or to myself. But I liked it too.”
She looked up, her lips but a breath away from his.
“Has it all fallen apart?”
He reached up and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear.
“Some of it has, that is for certain,” he murmured. “But not all of it. Certainly not all of it.”
She had initiated so many of their kisses, but this time it was different. This time it was his lips coming to hers, claiming them, reminding her that no matter what society said, no matter what the wise decision would be when their future together was near impossible, he would leave her with kisses so great and memorable that no one else would ever compare.
He should be ashamed of doing so, but he couldn’t be. Not when it came to Juliana. For if this was the way he would claim her, by making love to her lips, then claim her he would.
“Matthew,” she murmured against his mouth when they paused to take a breath, her fingers inching up his chest until they made their way to loop around his shoulders and she pulled him in closer to her. “You make me feel… everything.”
He bent his head into her shoulder and inhaled the sweetness of her scent, like gingerbread at Christmas.
“I know, Jules,” he said. “I know.”
“Make me feel more,” she said, looking up at him with glistening eyes, but he was already shaking his head.
“I cannot,” he said, even as his hands slid up and down her back, drawing her in closer.
