His mood was again mocking, his eyes devouring, hers nervous and uncertain. Under his openly admiring regard, she flushed crimson. She heard his soft laugh, then he turned and went into the drawing room for his meeting with her aunt. As she followed him she noted that he was completely at ease and terribly confident of himself.
Lady Standish was seated in her usual chair by the hearth and did not trouble herself to rise when he entered. The turn of her head and the coldness of her smile conveyed very clearly that she did not approve of this marriage and that he should refuse to have any part of it.
‘I think you are expecting me, Lady Standish,’ Julius said in crisp tones, seeing Beatrice take a position away from her aunt.
‘I am. Please be seated.’
‘No, thank you,’ his hard, confident voice replied. ‘I am content to stand.’
‘As you wish. I am interested to know your opinion about this outrageous situation concerning my niece. I am sure you will agree that her conduct is shocking.’
‘I do agree, Lady Standish.’ He glanced at the young woman in question with a mocking smile lightly curving his lips, wondering how she would react if he were to tell her how he had been unable to wipe her from his mind. Memories of the way she had felt in his arms, the heady sweetness of her kiss, had kept him awake all night. What a proud, spirited beauty she was. She excited him, she shocked him, and while he did not consider himself remotely in love with her, he was in her thrall.
He was aware of what she wanted and was tempted to refuse her, but the prospect of his safe, orderly life without her horrified him. It was as if she’d bewitched him, this wicked, beautiful creature, and he could not break away.
Julius had suffered hardship and tragedy throughout his life and his emotions had been stunted, which was why he had never married. His relationships with women were about sex. Just the same, he mused as he looked at Beatrice Fanshaw, life could still deliver surprises.
It was a difficult moment for Beatrice, who did not know what to expect. She wanted to maintain an air of cool disdain, to face Lord Chadwick in calm defiance, but her mauled pride and an aching distrust of the future assailed her senses. Momentarily blinded by a rush of tears, she lowered her head, but, furious with herself that she should display such weakness, lifted it again and found his amber eyes resting on her with something akin to compassion or pity. It was almost too much for her to bear.
‘Beatrice always was an underhand, quarrelsome girl,’ Lady Standish went on coldly. ‘She has a tendency to deceit and does not have the character and disposition of my own dear daughter, Astrid. You have given some thought to her—her idea,’ she said, for want of a better word.
Beatrice knew then why she disliked her aunt so much, for it was in her nature to wound her cruelly. No matter how she had tried to please and obey her when she had come to Standish House, all her efforts were repulsed and repaid by such words as Lady Standish had just uttered. The accusation cut her to the heart, especially as her aunt had voiced it before Lord Chadwick. The unkindness painted her as some kind of artful, obnoxious creature, tainting any future happiness she hoped for.
Julius considered Beatrice a moment before replying to Lady Standish’s question. ‘As a matter of fact I have given it considerable thought.’
He stared rigidly at Beatrice, his profile harsh and forbidding. With a sinking heart she knew he was thinking hard for some way out of marrying her; she also knew that behind that tautly controlled façade was a terrible volcanic rage. With the silence grating on her nerves, she held herself still and waited for him to speak, his expression becoming darker and more ominous by the second.
When Julius saw her putting up a valiant fight for control, a fight she won, his temper softened. Standing before him, she looked like a proud young queen, her eyes sparkling like twin jewels.
‘And have you come to the sensible conclusion that you don’t suit?’ Lady Standish remarked coldly.
‘On the contrary,’ he replied, bringing his gaze back to her, ‘I think we might suit very well. In the beginning I confess to being shocked by the forfeit your niece asked of me and I