Page 34 of The Ruin of a Rake
Surely he was imagining the fleeting look of hurt on Courtenay’s face. Whatever it was, it disappeared and was replaced by his usual lazy indifference. “I was looking for you,” he said. He glanced pointedly at Julian’s cheek. “I see Eleanor got to you first, though.”
Julian automatically raised his hand to his cheek. “I think everyone has gone mad today.”
“I don’t think you want to get caught with me in an alcove. Let’s go.”
“I need to find Mrs. Blackett and take my leave.”
“Not with your face like that, you don’t. Come along. Very casually, to the street, as if we’re having a conversation and simply forgot to do the pretty with the hostess.”
Julian realized Courtenay had the right of it, damn him.
“After you left the terrace, Standish was flirting madly with a young widow,” Courtenay said when they were on the pavement. “I daresay he was doing it to make your sister miserable, and he was quite successful.”
Julian sighed. “Poor Eleanor.” They walked another minute in silence. “I still don’t understand why they can’t just talk and agree to make it work,” Julian burst out.
“I know you don’t, Medlock. I don’t suppose you’ve ever been in love?”
“Of course not.”
He heard Courtenay sigh. “There’s no of course about it. Anyway, love involves making your heart sort of... available. Unprotected. And you can’t properly love a person who at any moment might step on your heart and toss it into the gutter. Or, I suppose you can, but it’s a bad practice.”
To Julian’s ears, Courtenay sounded like he knew exactly how bad a practice this might be. “You know this from experience?”
“I’m the sort of poor sod who can only learn things the hard way.”
They reached Julian’s lodgings, and Courtenay walked with him up the stairs. While they waited for Julian’s valet to arrive, Courtenay took Julian’s chin in his hand. “It was a bad day, but tomorrow will be better. Let your sister and Standish figure this out on their own. This is not your problem to solve.”
It was, though, but he couldn’t admit that to Courtenay. It was bad enough to admit it to himself. “Thank you for walking me home,” Julian said, hating that Courtenay knew more than he did about anything.
Courtenay leaned in and brushed his lips over Julian’s.
“I can’t,” Julian protested, but still found his hands resting on Courtenay’s arms. “Briggs will be here any moment now.”
“I only wanted to kiss you,” Courtenay said, and he did it again.
Kisses that didn’t lead up to some kind of release were totally foreign to Julian. He had never quite understood why a person would want to get themselves all worked up without an end in sight. But now he knew: this embrace was the point, the tasting and exploration, the knowing touch of hands.
Later, when the sun had set and he was alone in his bed, he couldn’t help but think that things had all been much simpler before Courtenay had entered his life.
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning Julian sent a note to Courtenay at Eleanor’s house informing him that he was visiting Carrington Hall, Courtenay’s property near Stanmore, in order to inspect it for the new tenants. He asked whether Courtenay wished to accompany him but was positive Courtenay would decline. Julian wasn’t very much looking forward to the errand himself.
He was finishing his toast and tea when Briggs solemnly informed him that Lord Courtenay had arrived.
“Here?” Julian asked stupidly.
“Indeed, sir. Shall I show him in?”
“Of course, of course.”
Courtenay sauntered in, looking indecently handsome. At some point in the last week he had done as Julian had asked and cut his hair. But instead of cropping it, which was what Julian had intended, he had trimmed the ends so now his almost-shoulder length hair looked like a deliberate aesthetic choice rather than the result of laziness. It was, if possible, even less acceptable than before, a glaring reminder that Courtenay was not like other men. Julian desperately wanted to touch it. As if sensing Julian’s gaze, Courtenay pushed a lock of hair off his forehead.
Julian interested himself in assembling his toast crumbs in an orderly pile.
“You were going to evict my mother without even informing me beforehand?” Courtenay said without rancor.
“I mentioned it to you,” Julian protested.
