Page 180 of Her Beast

“Yes?” he prodded.

“You are terrible. You know what I wanted.”

“I do.”

“I am ready for it,” she said. “I know you think I’m not, but I’ve—”

Malcolm laid a finger across her lips. “Shh.” He took the necklace from its silk nest and clasped it around her long, slim neck. “Lovely,” he said when he stood back.

Julia glanced in the mirror and smiled. “It is very beautiful, thank you.”

“Youare very beautiful.” He corrected, and then held out a hand. “Come, your birthday guests await.”

∞∞∞

Julia smiled as she glanced around the dining room, the sight of all her friends and family gathered together causing a warm feeling in her belly.

Beside the fire were Richard and Nanny, who were chatting and laughing with Lily, her husband Robert, and his recently widowed sister, Mary.

Julia had never met Mary before, but she’d recently moved in with Lily and the earl, so her friend had asked if she could come tonight.

“Mary is so sad-eyed and quiet it’s hard to remember she’s even in the room,” Lily had assured her.

Dorian and Dominic, who were home for the Easter break, were working on an intricate puzzle that was set out on a large table in the other corner, their ginger heads close together.

Her little brothers had taken Thomas Harlow’s death harder than Julia had expected, certainly harder than the news of their mother’s demise in the same freak carriage accident that had plunged both to their deaths.

Interestingly, it was Malcolm’s company that cheered the twins the most. They’d taken to him quickly, haunting his steps whenever they came to visit, and pestering him with endless questions about the emporium and all its interesting innovations.

Julia knew they mourned their parents, but it really was true what she’d told Malcolm: neither Nadine nor Thomas had ever spent any time with them. They would have grown up with ample money and luxuries but no love to speak of.

They had been delighted to discover they had an older brother and were touchingly careful in the way they treated Richard, behaving less boisterously so as not to agitate her gentle twin.

In another corner of the room was Mr. Smith—or Smith as she now called him—who was talking to Edward and Nora Fanshawe.

Julia was still a bit intimidated by the big, brusque industrialist, but it enchanted her how much Edward loved his wife and she was pleased that Malcolm had another friend.

Although Nora was older than Julia, the two of them had immediately taken to each other and Julia absolutely adored her. Already Nora felt more like a sister than a friend.

Thanks to Nora’s patient mentoring Julia was also becoming a better painter, although she would never be even half as good as the other woman. Still, Malcolm appeared to love her paintings and that was good enough for Julia.

Thinking of her husband made her look for him. He was standing with John, the two of them actuallytalkingfor a change, rather than Malcolm just barking orders at his gentle secretary.

She suspected that John Butkins would never be entirely easy about socializing with his employer, but he, too, had become a good friend to Julia and she considered him part of her new family.

He was kind, considerate, and clever and he also knew her husband better than almost anyone. She was grateful that he lived in their house and was thrilled that he would be coming with them at the end of the summer when they removed to the country house Malcolm had leased not far from Lily and Robert.

John’s presence would be a normalizing influence on Malcolm, whom she knew was nervous about not only leaving the comfort of his lair, but also living in the country for the first time in his life.

As Julia looked around at the people in the room, she couldn’t believe how much her life had changed in only a few months, and how happy she was.

She knew that Malcolm had worried when Brian’s body had been discovered in a seamy part of Paris, dead by the hand of an unknown assailant.

“You aren’t a little bit sad?” he’d asked that night, after making almost careful love to her.

“Will you think me unnatural if I say that I’m glad?” she’d asked.

“I’ll think you perfect, just as I always do.”

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