Page 71 of The Duke's Return
They hadn’t shared a proper kiss then nor had they shared one this evening, though Julian had been terribly tempted. He had never had qualms before about kissing a woman. And yet now…
He hesitated. There were risks now. He feared making a mistake when it came to Genevieve. Already he had been so vulnerable.
“I had to leave,” Julian told the empty room when he found the silence unbearable.
Shutting his eyes, he recalled too easily his desperation that morning, the only thing that held him up through the day. It had been a turning point for him. He’d ignored it for so long… and here he was a year, later, finally realizing why that stayed so frequently on his mind.
I felt so clever. So relieved, thinking this would handle the matter of my family. I could make myself clear without hurting anyone. They could be satisfied and so could I. Couldn’t we all win?
Except his family liked winning and apparently they had dragged his wife into the situation the moment they had the chance.
At least they will never have another duke to beg or make demands of, not from me or any child of mine.
And then he thought of what his children would look like. What Genevieve’s children would look like. He heard their laughter and saw their smiles, and it all punched him in the gut so hard he could barely breathe.
Why did he keep thinking of what he couldn’t have?
He huffed and rolled over, determined to make it through the night. And he did. It was a lot of tossing and turning, but the evening grew darker and then eventually began to lighten with the dawn. There were no dreams that came to him, though there lingered the thought of Genevieve’s soft lips.
“Your Grace?”
Jerking up, Julian looked around wildly. He was a rumpled mess in his blankets and the sun was shining too brightly for him. “What the devil is it? What time is it?”
“A quarter to twelve, Your Grace.” His valet hesitated, his eyes dropping down. “You have a guest who insists on your presence.”
He shifted back against the headboard so he could use his hands to rub his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. I’m a duke. No one can insist on my presence.”
“Yes, your Grace. Very good, your Grace.”
Slumping, he sighed. The man clearly wanted to say something the way he rocked on his heels. Knowing his valet desired more than anything to tell him, and knowing he would have to go do something, he grudgingly asked, “Very well. Who is it? Did they share a card?”
“I’m afraid not, Your Grace. The butler inquired, but she claimed nothing was needed. The Honorable Lady Ashcombe says she will wait in your front parlor until you are able to attend her.”
A curse escaped his lips. He should have known it would be her after that letter he had sent back. But that had been his final response. What was she thinking? Climbing out of bed, Julian hastily pulled on the clothes that his valet had already been preparing for him.
They left behind the matter of his shaving and the tidying of his hair. Julian promised he would return for such matters later on, and made his way down to the front parlor.
Outside the door stood Mrs. Waverly with her hands on her hips like she had been waiting for him.
“How long has she been here? Has the duchess stopped in?”
Something clattered inside the room, making them both jump. He winced as Mrs. Waverly announced, “Her Grace welcomed our guest in over an hour ago.”
“Blast it. Someone should have woken me at once. It’s my family, my problem.”
Not that he used to think they were a problem. Had he been blind? Or had they changed? Julian didn’t know what to think about them.
“Shall I prepare a second tea tray?”
“No, she has had enough. We’ll keep it short, thank you.” Julian headed right inside where he found his youngest but most stubborn aunt, the only woman still wearing the Ashcombe name. She was huffing at pointing a finger at Genevieve.
But his wife stood with her arms crossed and her shoulders back. “I don’t appreciate the liberties you are taking, and I won’t have it. Nor will I go against my husband’s desires. I know what his letter said.”
“It can’t be true!”
Clearing his throat, he hastily moved forward. “Aunt Elizabeth! What a delight to find you here. I didn’t realize I had sent you an invitation to visit.”
Standing, the tall round woman pouted. Her hair was pulled tightly from her brow, and she wore brighter colors than he had remembered her wearing prior. He vaguely remembered her sneaking him peppermint sticks when he was just a lad.
