Page 55 of The Duke's Return
“We are neighbors in this house,” he responded at last. “Therefore, we cannot help but be familiar with one another.”
It was a surprise when Tristan straightened up to say, “That’s balderdash, Julian. I think you’re lying to yourself.”
“Me? Lying to myself? I lie to everyone, Tristan, but not my friends and certainly not to myself. It’s not half as amusing oruseful,” he added with a slight grin. He tried not to think about why it felt hard to keep up.
“I met her,” his friend pointed out. “The woman is a firework no matter how you or anyone wishes to ignore her. Besides, I saw for myself how you look at her.”
Brushing him off, he wondered when Tristan would let the matter off. “Tristan, of course I look at her. She’s my wife. If we’re in the same room, it would be blatantly rude not to look at her.”
He forced himself to stay seated even as the thumping of his heart threatened to choke him. The room was much too warm. He fanned himself, trying to stay focused on denying whatever nonsense his friend said.
“But you like her.” Scooting to the end of his seat, Tristan brightened with a sharp curve of the lips. “You want her, don’t you? But you’re keeping her at a distaste, God knows why. As you said, she is your wife. She isn’t like the others, is she? Your duchess isn’t just any other woman. You like her, you feel something, and it scares you witless.”
Julian’s mouth opened in bewilderment, wondering how life had come to this point. Hadn’t he had this same conversation with Tristan over his wife? He ransacked his mind for the memory even while trying to deny it, to be certain this was different.
It is. It has to be.
He scrambled for an excuse. For an explanation. For any words that would confirm that he was right, and Tristan was wrong.
But then there was a quiet knock at the door before it opened, silencing him immediately.
His gaze sharpened as Genevieve stepped into the room. Tall and radiant, she gracefully balanced a tea tray in her hands. There was another servant behind her with another tray, it appeared, and they both looked at him.
“I apologize for the interruption, my lords,” she said still poised and collected. “I trust you don’t mind a quick interruption with your drinks and food?”
Tristan rose to welcome her into the room, gesturing for her to come in as though it were his place. Though Julian shot him a look of betrayal, his friend didn’t glance his way once.
“Thank you, Duchess, for the personal delivery,” he said before shooting Julian a pointed look.
He felt his blood rushing to his skull when she smiled at Tristan like they were friends. Like Julian didn’t matter. He rose to his feet abruptly, but didn’t feel the relief he sought when Genevieve faced him. Possibly because her smile was fading.
Bringing the tea tray over to the nearby chaise and table, she set it down. “Shall I prepare your cups?”
Tristan had to manage the conversation as Julian struggled to sort out his heartbeat. Why had his friend said that about him and his wife a moment ago? It put him all out of sorts now.
“Thank you, but no. We can do that ourselves,” Tristan reassured her.
“Very well. Leslie, you can set the tray down here and return to the kitchen,” Genevieve reassured the maid. She pulled paper from her pockets, turning to Julian. “I believe Lady Penbury promised an invitation to the charity soiree at her ball and it has just now been delivered for this evening. Might I have a wordwith you about this? I think it would be a perfect opportunity to––”
His gaze shifted from Tristan’s meaningful look to Genevieve’s collected and polite manners. It was too much for Julian. His spine stiffened and he stepped back, nearly tumbling into his chair.
Shaking his head, Julian said sharply, “Not now. Can’t you see I’m in the middle of an important conversation?”
The circle of Genevieve’s opened lips collapsed as she pressed them tightly together. She blinked, staring at him. It felt as though he had lit a fire as light shined through her narrowed eyes. The emotion welling up inside her was too much. A short glance was all he could endure before looking away.
“I beg your pardon,” she said in tightly formed words. “I did not realize.”
Nodding, he coughed lightly. Then he avoided her gaze as he said, “We can discuss it another time, but not now. Not in here. I’d like to have some privacy with the duke here.”
He saw enough that her cheeks flooded with pink. With a deep nod for Tristan, Genevieve murmured quietly, “My sincerest apologies, Your Grace, for the mistake.”
With a short nod from Tristan, Genevieve departed the room at once. The door clicked neatly shut behind her.
The silence threatened to swallow Julian well. He nearly choked on his next breath. Even though she had taken her leave, the tension radiated through the room with such heat. He wouldn’t forget that flush on her. So sweet. So cruel. Why he had acted so short with her, Julian couldn’t be certain.
Feeling Tristan’s gaze on him, he tentatively grasped his glass again which sat on his desk. He thought of an excuse to fill the silence but then his friend beat him to it.
“You’re a bloody fool,” Tristan said after that long, painful pause. “What happened to your wits, old man? She’s not only beautiful, your duchess, but she’s obviously clever and kind, even brave to put up with the likes of you on any day. Better than any of us deserve. You run now, Julian, and you will lose her for good.”
