Page 29 of Lord Trafford's Folly
Julius contemplated her with great attention, but her declaration appeared genuine.
“Your father was encouraging regarding the issue.”
Audrey smiled in agreement. “Papa was the very best of men. He would have known precisely what to say to a young patient with such an unusual condition.”
His lips curled up in response, his ill temper eased by her charming words while his thoughts returned to the kiss he yearned to claim from her inviting mouth, but a scratch on the door announced one of the servants arriving with fresh supplies.
Their smiles widened in wry amusement while they rose to their feet in haste. Julius crossed to the wardrobe to don a fresh shirt while Audrey went to open the door.
The interruption was for the best, he assured himself, because his wound ached and his head throbbed to reveal that his body was still healing from both the injury and the loss of blood.
CHAPTER 8
“For my future I have no concern, and as a true philosopher, I never would have any, for I know not what it may be.”
Giacomo Casanova
AUGUST 30, 1821
Patrick had brought down trunks from the attic filled with the discarded clothing of Julius’s cousins. In them, they had found a pair of Hessians that almost fitted Audrey’s small feet. They also found her a shirt, breeches, a waistcoat, and a cutaway coat to wear over it.
They located two beavers from Lord Hays’s wardrobe, and Audrey’s stockings were serviceable for their new disguises. They were to follow Henry Montague, who frequented far morefashionable districts than the vicar, so their workmen’s outfits would fail to blend in if they hung about for too long.
Audrey entered his room with her coat over her arm and her waistcoat hanging loose. Julius, who had been mid pulling on his Hessians, and thankful they had dried since the day of his attack, found himself fascinated by the taut fabric stretched over her full hips. He licked his lips while he battled his thoughts into a box to shut the lid, resolute in raising his eyes, only to find her frowning.
“I cannot reach the back of this waistcoat to tie it,” she announced.
“That is the least of our problems,” Julius replied, averting his gaze to stare at the ceiling while he tried to gain control over his clamoring lust.
“What?”
It was early, before dawn, and Audrey was a little grumpy. Julius squared his shoulders to deliver the news.
“It … is visible that … you are a female,” he croaked out.
He could see Audrey drop her head to peer down at herself, extending her arms out as she tried to determine what he had observed. Julius glanced down, then moved to the window to stare out at the darkened garden below. He was certain he was flushed with the heat that had been ignited at her entrance.
“I do not understand,” cried Audrey from behind him.
Several seconds passed while Julius composed himself. “Those are not … the hips of a man, I am … afraid.”
“Oh!”
“We must either find another disguise for you or?—”
A booming roll of thunder sounded. Peering up, Julius realized a bank of clouds was blocking the stars to the north in an inexorable march of darkness moving in. He exhaled with relief. If he had to spend the day with Audrey dressed as she was, he would certainly not keep his hands to himself. Whilehe understood his duty was to marry her when they returned to Lord Snarling’s home, he had no desire to form an attachment.
An attachment that could lead to breakfast plagued with terse conversation, a gradual splintering of affinity, and the eventual departure of the light, such as happened when his mother had left London behind. It was imperative he maintain some distance between them, even as he admitted that he liked Audrey. He liked her a lot. What was there not to like? He could think of no one else of his acquaintance who would merrily don a disguise and follow him into one of his escapades. She was brave, competent, and?—
Deuce it! I am cataloging all the reasons to grow attached!
“The weather is turning, so you can wear one of my overcoats,” he proclaimed.So, thankfully, I cannot leer at your womanly form.
“I am still confused.” Audrey’s tone was plaintive as she approached him, turning so he might tighten the waistcoat from behind. Julius turned back and dropped his gaze, then swallowed hard. Her arse was round. Alluring. It filled the linen breeches in a manner that would make it difficult for her to sit, considering the unforgiving nature of the fabric. And he was forced to look at it while his bare hands assisted with the waistcoat. The overcoat was the best solution because her breasts were just as compelling—No, Julius!—obvious, he corrected himself, in the gentlemen’s attire she was wearing.
“It requires a valet to assist,” he responded in a hoarse voice as he commanded his hands to remain on the tapes of the waistcoat.You shall not fondle that arse!
But, ye gods, he really, really wanted to.
