As the girl headed over to the carriage and Stebbins helped her up onto the bench with the driver, the little girl pressed that card close to her chest and stared adoringly back at Harris with all the awe that fueled Julia’s heart’s very beat.
Oh, God, there would be absolutely no recovering from this.
Julia was lost.
Chapter 15
Julia was going to make her debut.
And there could be no doubting that because of her beauty, and spirit, and the dowry the duchess had fixed on her, Julia would find herself quickly wed.
But along the way, so much had been confused.
For Harris.
He’d become confused.
Each moment he’d spent with her, his reservations had faded, and he’d forgotten he was supposed to be worrying about her intentions for the duchess and had known only that he… enjoyed being with her. He enjoyed her bluntness. He appreciated her realness, either when she was telling Harris where he could go or in those more unguarded moments when she was so unfiltered in her exuberance and joy at pleasures that, because of their simplicity, had gone previously unappreciated by him.
Now, he found himself relishing the time he spent with her and refusing to let himself think about the inevitable outcome of her entry into Polite Society.
As Harris made his way to the duchess’ ballroom, he heard annoyed, nasally tones spill out into the corridor. “No. No. No. It is one, two, three, crisp and even. From the top…”
Harris had made himself stay away after what had happened at Gunther’s and her brave display on the streets in challenging one of Society’s most powerful peeresses and a duke. She’d not only abandoned her own pleasures that day, but she’d given up those comforts to go to the rescue of someone most people failed to see. There’d been a raw honesty to her joy and surprise that day, none of which could be feigned and all of which had proven contagious.
And he’d run like hell.
Only to be drawn back, not because of the suspicions he’d carried, but because, strangely, he’d found himself missing her.
Only to arrive four days later to the duchess’ ballroom and discover she’d gone.
For a breathtaking siren stood in her place. Frozen in the doorway, Harris drank in the sight of the woman at the opposite end of the ballroom, her auburn tresses drawn and twisted like a coronet about her head. The sun’s rays toyed with those tresses, highlighting hundreds of shades of browns and reds and blondes, more colors than he’d ever known a shade of hair could be. He moved his gaze over her lean, lithe frame. He’d always admired a voluptuous, gently rounded form, only to find out what a damned fool he’d been, only to discover just how wrong his eye had been. A wave of desire jolted through him. The pale yellow satin gown she wore accentuated a nipped waist and delicate bustline. She’d the look of a Spartan warrioress accustomed to time in the sun.
“Harris has arrived!”
Midwaltz, the lady missed a step, and the audience across the way all turned, effectively breaking that trance she’d held over him.
Finding himself the focus of the suddenly silent, small crowd of people in the ballroom, he felt his neck go hot.
“Are you going to just stand there?” The duchess waved Harris over. “Do join us, my boy.”
Ironically, for the first time in almost two decades, dumbstruck as he’d been at the sight of Julia, he felt like the boy his godmother had called him out as. A green one at that. Donning a grin, he headed across the ballroom. “I cannot imagine anything I’d enjoy more,” he said when he reached the small gathering. Harris sketched a bow. All the while, it took a forcible effort to not gawk at the lady beside him, who’d gone from duck to swan.
“Ahem,” the bespectacled governess hired by the duchess said, and Julia promptly sank into a curtsy.
“My lord,” she murmured. Her tones, husky and sultry, wrapped around him, and this time he didn’t fight it—he couldn’t fight it—he moved his gaze over Julia, drinking in the sight of—
Lady Cowpen shoved an elbow into his side. “She’s been practicing.” She gave him a sly look. “Coming along rather nicely.”
Of its own will, Harris’ gaze slid over to Julia once more, and he resisted the urge to swallow. God, the distance had been needed.
“Indeed,” he murmured, and a delicate blush filled Julia’s cheeks. Realizing his blunder, Harris coughed into his hand. “That is… indeed?”
Julia flashed a wry grin. “Lady Cowpen is being generous. I’m just a”—she brought the pads of her forefinger and thumb together so they nearly kissed—“smidge away from ‘dismal failure.’”
“I rather doubt that,” Harris said.
The duchess patted his hand affectionately. “Charming as ever, this one is.”
Aye, Harris was known amongst Society for being a charming rogue, and yet, the words he’d spoken just then had been the truth.
“Perhaps we could enlist your assistance with Julia’s waltzing lessons,” his godmother suggested. “Lord knows this one here has been dismal”—she motioned to the tiny fellow staring impatiently at their tableau—“and hardly as pleasant of character.”
Color filled the dance instructor’s cheeks.
Julia was immediately shaking her head. “Oh, no. I’m certain his lordship has any number of more important matters to attend than… than… getting his toes trampled by me.”
“Of course he doesn’t.” Lady Cavendish chuckled. “You’re probably keeping the boy from his clubs and wagers.”
He frowned. She’d paint him in such a…
Correct light? a jeering voice taunted at the back of his mind. For the older countess was
