My Fair Marchioness (Scandalous Affairs Book 3) by Christi Caldwell (best short books to read txt) 📗

And yet, another one of those enigmatic smiles graced his lips and dimpled his cheeks.

“What a clever thing you are,” the other man said, his approving grin indicating her words had proven anything but a deterrent to him and his attentions. “I look forward to continuing our… acquaintance.”

“I am afraid I must join you some other time, Rothesby.” Harris spoke in chilled tones. “I am otherwise occupied this day.”

Harris might distrust her. But he’d still not allow one of his social equals to insult her, and it spoke volumes about the man beside her.

“That is unfortunate.” The other man inclined his head. “We shall meet up one of these days this week.” With that, he dropped a bow for Julia. “Lady Julia, an absolute pleasure.” The gent managed to turn that last word into a purr, which she knew firsthand was a man’s attempt at seduction, and yet, she’d heard enough over the years to be anything but impressed by him.

“Your Grace,” she said coolly.

The moment Rothesby had gone, Harris looked at Julia. “I am sorry about that. He is an arse most times, with an eye that’s more improper than it should be, but he’s also a loyal friend.”

“You needn’t make apologies for the ill behavior of another, Harris.”

“Then allow me to make apologies for my own earlier ill behaviors,” he said, and she tensed, reminded all over again that he’d extended the most gracious olive branch, defended her, and now she’d continue to perpetuate a lie.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she murmured.

Several couples converged upon the area that Julia and Harris had made theirs, stealing the all-too-brief, but all-too-welcome, moment of intimacy between them.

He held a hand out. “Shall we?”

She hesitated. Yes, it had been inevitable that their time here would come to an end, and yet, she hated that it must. She wanted to stay here, as they’d been when the copse had been their private oasis, and they’d conversed freely about children’s dreams and the magic of wishes. Alas, she had also learned the aching lesson that any and all moments of pure happiness were fleeting. She placed her fingers in his and allowed him to hand her up.

Wordlessly, he caught her gently by the waist, his enormous palms spanning it as he lifted her up onto the curricle bench.

Coming around the curricle, he joined her on the seat.

When he’d guided the chestnuts onward and put the little gathering of others who’d stolen their sanctuary behind them, Julia looked up, studying him as he drove.

There was a seriousness to this man, a cynicism that had a palpable energy, and she wondered at that. What caused one such as Harris to be so very guarded in life? What, when she’d believed the nobility lived lives without struggle or hardship?

As if he felt her eyes upon him, Harris glanced over. “What is it?”

“I had a wonderful time,” she said softly, and her answer was not a lie. She had. Today had been the singularly most magical moment of her entire life. “I… thank you.”

He inclined his head.

Chapter 11

Since Julia’s arrival days earlier, the duchess continued to enlist Harris’s efforts where Julia was concerned. He escorted the young woman about London. He dined with her, the duchess, and countesses and afterwards joined them for refreshments and music.

And Harris, who’d always avoided the respectable found himself…enjoying his time with Julia.

Why, he’d even enjoyed their latest outing together, this morning. Even when tasked as he’d been earlier today with squiring her and three other women about London, to be seen, his godmother had insisted. He’d found it hadn’t been any task, at all.

He’d enjoyed it more than he should and more than could ever be good or safe for him. Especially as with every passing moment he and Julia spent together, the ease in being with her…the bond between them, deepened.

It was why after returning Julia, the duchess, and the countesses back to Her Grace’s residence that afternoon, Harris headed for his clubs…in search of a drink.

One that he needed desperately.

Stalking through White’s, he was headed for his table when his gaze caught on the figure occupying the one adjacent to his.

Rothesby lifted his half-filled brandy snifter in salute, motioning him over.

Bloody hell.

Mayhap the decision to come here had been the wrong one after all.

He briefly considered reversing course. Alas, to do so would yield more questions. Even more. Ones that Harris had little wish to answer.

Even if Rothesby was a friend. Even if they had gotten on since Eton and Oxford, and he’d stood beside him through that tense, ugly ceremony that had been his first—and last—wedding.

“She’s quite delicious,” his friend said with the usual ease he used when referring to all women.

The man was a rake of the first order. Not at all different from Harris in his appreciation of the fairer sex, and yet, something grated this time. “She is the duchess’ niece,” he said tightly.

“It’s still entirely fair to acknowledge the lady’s beauty.” Rothesby hailed a servant. “In fact, I’d say the duchess would be offended if I did not remark upon it.”

A footman arrived with a snifter for Harris.

He accepted the glass with a word of thanks, and as he poured himself a glass, he considered the other man’s words.

Aye, she was beautiful. At their first meeting, he’d been unable to see past his own reservations about her. It hadn’t been until he’d run into her in that music room later that night, with the moon’s glow bathing her heart-shaped features in the softest light, that he’d appreciated her form and beauty as being different than those he usually appreciated, and all the more… interesting for it.

As they’d made the remainder of the way from Hyde