“I’ll stay with her,” Captain Blunt said.
Julia’s gaze lurched to his. Her heart skipped a beat.
Mr. Hartford nodded once. “Very well, but don’t linger. People will talk.” With that, he marched Lord Gresham from the clearing, leaving Julia and Captain Blunt alone in the moonlight.
Entirely alone.
Nothing but the crackling torchlight and the tinkle of the fountain to break the silence between them.
Julia sank down on the marble bench. She breathed deeply of the cool night air, willing her wild pulse to return to something like normal.
Captain Blunt remained where he was, standing at the edge of the clearing. A great menacing beast glowering at her as surely as he had at Lord Gresham.
But no.
There was something else in his gaze now. Something equally unsettling.
“You didn’t answer me,” he said.
She pressed a hand to her corseted midriff. “I beg your pardon?”
“Are you all right?” he asked again.
“I . . . Yes, but . . . I can’t catch my breath.”
He came closer. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No. I’m fine,” she said. “Just . . . give me a minute.”
He paced the grass in front of her as she marshaled her senses. His large frame was wrought with tension.
She studied him covertly, feeling that same unsettling pull of attraction she’d felt on every other occasion they’d met. Strange, that. He wasn’t a classically handsome man. His countenance was too saturnine. His features too harshly hewn. Indeed, there was no softness or gentleness in his face at all.
Nowhere except, perhaps, in the shape of his mouth.
His lips curved with a vague sensuality. The faintest suggestion of tenderness, marred forever by the trajectory of his scar.
Once, she’d been afraid of him. But now . . .
Now, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
A scandalous notion. She blamed Lord Gresham for putting it into her head. If he hadn’t attempted to kiss her, she wouldn’t be thinking about kisses at all.
“I’m grateful you and Mr. Hartford arrived when you did,” she said when she’d regained some of her composure.
Captain Blunt flashed her a dark glance. Apparently, it had been the wrong thing to say. “Would that I had arrived sooner.”
“I’m glad you arrived at all,” she said frankly.
He scowled. “Why the devil did you go with him?”
“I could hardly refuse. Not when he was gripping me so tightly and tugging me along with him. He’s bigger than me, in case you hadn’t noticed. And he is an earl.”
“Are you certain he didn’t hurt you?”
“No. He only scared me a little. I’m fine now.”
“Until your next encounter with him.” Captain Blunt’s jaw tightened. “Will there be another?”
Julia shuddered at the thought. She had no desire to see Lord Gresham ever again. But given the circumstances, her own desires counted for very little. Not when they stood against the adamantine will of her parents.
Good gracious. Mama would be coming home in the morning. And then, who knew what would happen?
Julia had hopes that Anne’s return the following day would alleviate some of her anxiety. But even Anne—her dearest friend in all the world—had stated in no uncertain terms that Julia’s best chance of escaping Belgrave Square was to marry. The fact was, despite all her ardent opinions, Anne was, in many ways, as much a prisoner of her family as Julia was of her own.
A dispiriting truth.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“You should refuse to see him again,” Captain Blunt advised.
“You imagine I have a choice?”
“Everyone has a choice.”
“Spoken like a man,” Julia said under her breath. She arranged the voluminous skirts of her ball gown with restless hands. “If you knew anything about ladies of my rank, you’d know our own preferences don’t matter. Not when it comes to marriage.”
Captain Blunt didn’t reply. He only paced and muttered to himself. “I knew he would try something like this. From the moment I saw him with you—”
She raised her brows. “You saw us together tonight?”
“Tonight. And at Lady Clifford’s musicale. And then again at Lady Holland’s dinner. I knew he was the type of man who—”
“I wasn’t aware—”
“Of course not,” he said harshly. “Your opinions of him must be guided by your father. And if your father approves—”
Julia gave Captain Blunt an alert look. “What do you know of that?”
“I know you deserve better.” He paused, adding, “And I know Gresham deserves a good thrashing.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “He can be in no doubt of your opinion of him. I’ve never seen you look so fierce as you did when you stepped into the clearing.”
He gave a humorless laugh. “Consider yourself fortunate.”
“I didn’t know you could look that way. As though you would tear a man limb from limb.”
“I was a soldier, Miss Wychwood. One not known for his pleasant disposition.”
Her expression sobered. “Yes. So I’ve heard.” Her hands dropped to her sides, fingers curling around the edge of the marble bench. “Indeed, only this morning, as I was leaving the park, someone told me the most alarming stories about your time in the Crimea.”
He stopped pacing and turned to face her. His gaze held hers, but he said nothing. Admitted to nothing.
A frisson of uneasiness made Julia hesitate. She considered dropping the matter altogether. After all, what difference did it make? The two of them weren’t going to end up together. But she wanted to know. She had to know.
“I wonder how many of those stories are true,” she said.
Captain Blunt appeared strangely unmoved. “All of them, very likely.”
She stared at him. “But . . . you don’t even know what this person said, or how terrible it might have been.”
“I don’t need to know. If the actions described to you were brutal, cruel, and entirely lacking in humanity, I probably committed them at one time or another.” His scarred mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. “I told you, Miss Wychwood. I wasn’t a very nice man.”