Julius's Passion (Regency Club Venus #4) - Carole Mortimer Page 0,10

barely contain his feelings of contempt once the two of them were left alone together.

He feigned a yawn. “I trust you will excuse me?” He rose to his feet. “The visit with my great-aunt was tedious, and her accommodation mediocre at best.”

“I am sure you will find the food and your suite of rooms here to be far superior and comfortable.” Metford’s smile was smugly confident of that fact.

Julius bowed. “I am sure I shall. I will wish you a good night.” He didn’t wait for a response, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he turned sharply on his heel and hurried from the dining room. Before he gave in to the impulse to put his hands about Metford’s throat and squeeze until there was no life left.

He barely contained that frustrated anger as he took the stairs two at a time and then hurried down the hallway to his bedchamber. He closed the door firmly behind him before leaning back against it to draw in several deep and controlling breaths.

“Was dinner not to your liking?” James quirked a mocking brow from where he sat in a chair beside the window.

Julius pushed away from the door. “Metford is not to my liking,” he snapped. “What are you doing in here?”

James touched an imaginary forelock. “Returning His Lordship’s polished boots and remaining to tidy his rooms after his bath was removed.” He smiled ruefully. “I think if I fail to regain my title, I might consider future employment as a valet. There is very little work involved other than caring for His Lordship’s clothing, ordering his bath, and ensuring his rooms are always ready for him to walk back into. I was also given a delicious venison stew for my dinner below stairs, accompanied by freshly made bread to mop up the gravy. With nothing else to do, I came back up to your rooms.” He gave a leisurely stretch. “I almost dozed off in this chair, I am so warm, comfortable, and replete.”

Julius breathed out his frustration. “In contrast, I was almost tempted to strangle your uncle this evening with my bare hands.”

James gave him a sympathetic glance. “He was his usual obnoxious self, then?”

Julius nodded. “He dropped so many ‘His Graces’ and ‘His Lordships’ into the conversation that I have no idea how he has managed to stay alive this long. His only redeeming feature, as far as I can see, is that he is unfailingly kind and considerate toward your sister.”

James’s expression softened. “She has grown to be a very beautiful woman.”

His attention sharpened. “You have seen her?”

He nodded. “We almost met when I came up the servants’ stairs to your rooms and she was retiring to her bedchamber after dinner.”

“Good God…” Julius dropped into the chair opposite.

“We only almost met,” James assured. “I very quickly entered your rooms the moment I heard someone coming up the main staircase. But I left the bedchamber door slightly ajar so that I might observe Bethany as she passed by in the hallway.” He smiled wistfully. “Her coloring, golden hair and blue eyes, very much resembles the painting of my mother which hangs over the fireplace in the drawing room.”

Julius thought back to his time in the drawing room earlier. “It is no longer there…”

James’s mouth thinned. “Bastard has probably hidden it away somewhere. I had a look round some of the family rooms earlier while you were all at dinner, and I can see nothing left of my parents, or me, in those parts of the house.” He grimaced. “It is as if he wishes to obliterate any evidence we ever existed.”

Julius nodded. “As if there is only Bethany…”

James’s attention sharpened. “You have that same underlying wariness in your tone as earlier. Is my uncle mistreating Bethany in some way?”

He shook his head. “Not in the slightest. The opposite, if anything. Her every whim appears to be satisfied. To a degree, although aged nineteen, she has not Come Out in Society, and never had a Season. When I asked why not, she said it was because she dislikes London because of its wild lawlessness.” He glanced at James. “I am presuming that is because she believes you were murdered there.”

“Poor Bethany,” James groaned.

“Poor James,” Julius corrected ruefully. “You are the one who has lived the past ten years in the slums of London, while your sister has been given every luxury,” he explained at James’s questioning look.

The younger man eyed him curiously. “You think I should feel