Prince of Ravenscar (Sherbrooke Brides 11)

He stared down at her, mesmerized. “She’s twenty-seven. Surely she has.”

“Ladies are not like gentlemen, Julian. A lady can be one hundred and untouched, a virgin still. There are no societal dictates that allow an unmarried lady any sort of freedom at all.”

“Surely she has been kissed.”

“I do know there was a gentleman a long time ago, but her father, my grandfather, Baron Roche, discovered he wanted her money, and so Roxanne kicked him out. There hasn’t been any gentleman since. I am afraid she will start wearing caps any day now.” Sophie tightened her hold on him, then gave him a brilliant smile. “There is no one about save us, Julian.” And she went on her tiptoes and kissed him, her skirts whipping madly about his legs.

The spaniels forgot the seagull and barked and leapt around them.

When Julian raised his head, he felt lust roiling thick and hot in his blood. He wanted to kiss every beautiful inch of her, listen to her moan, laugh when he kissed her toes—instead, he stood very still. Sophie lightly patted his cheek. “It will be all right, Julian, you’ll see.” She whistled for the spaniels and strode like a young boy toward Ravenscar, not looking back. To Julian’s surprise, his dogs left him to race after her. How had she gained their loyalty so quickly?

He walked to the cliff and looked out over the vast expanse of turbulent water. Rain, he thought, any minute now. What the devil was he going to do? He could still taste her in his mouth.

40

If Richard was surprised to see his father and sister when he escorted Leah into the drawing room early that evening, he gave no outward sign of it. He stood for a moment in the doorway, looking toward the windows, listening as the rain slapped loud against the glass, the wind whipping up in a mad fever, lashing the trees sideways. Leah, however, said, “Goodness, my lord, how very nice to see you. And such a surprise. Good evening to you, Vicky. What a dreadful night to travel.”

The baron lifted Leah’s hand, lightly touched his lips to her wrist. “It was a very short trip, my dear, and the rain wasn’t coming down quite so fiercely. I’m sure the horses are happy to be cozy in your stable, Julian.”

He crossed to where Corinne sat, resplendent in a black gown, Julian’s beautiful pearls in three loops around her neck, and eased himself into a chair opposite her.

“We are quite a party this evening,” Corinne said, brow raised as she surveyed her guests. “Despite this hideous storm, Cook was singing, a sure sign her pickled salmon will be ambrosia.”

“I did not know you intended to visit, Father,” Richard said, his voice stark.

“Julian sent me an invitation,” the baron said easily. “Truth be told, it is rather quiet at the manor, and Vicky gave one or two very deep sighs, so I decided, despite the weather, this would be a welcome diversion.”

Richard wasn’t happy, it was clear to everyone in the room. Why, Julian wondered. Had Richard intended to try to gullet him this evening, at least verbally, and now he couldn’t in his father’s presence? Or didn’t he want his father to know he was bedding Sophie’s aunt?

He heard Devlin laugh, turned to smile at him. He was talking to Vicky and Roxanne, and if Julian wasn’t mistaken, it seemed Vicky bloomed under his attention. He watched Roxanne take a small step back, turn, and speak to Sophie.

He’d tried to avoid looking at her, but now he looked his fill. She looked amazing in a cream satin gown, and her breasts—no, he wouldn’t remark upon her breasts. Julian turned back to the baron, drew him aside.

Pouffer appeared in the doorway, bowed to Corinne. “Dinner is served, your grace.”

The old man looked natty, Julian thought, his linen as white as Julian’s, his black suit shining, his black boots a mirror. His shoulders were ramrod straight, his head thrown back. He was obviously enjoying himself immensely. Julian felt a stab of guilt. He’d been gone for three years. And Pouffer could have died. Thank God he hadn’t. And now everything was different. He wasn’t at all certain why it was different, but it was. This was his father’s home, and now it was his, and Ravenscar deserved more than a part-time master. No, not a master, a prince. The Prince of Ravenscar. It was his kingdom. His father had ordained it so.

“I have brought you something, Julian,” Rupert said. “I had it well wrapped against our inclement weather.”

Julian smiled at the baron, his head cocked to one side.

“Come, Rupert, what did you bring Julian?” Corinne asked, coming to her feet. “Ah, I see, you wish to surprise him, to have him stew about it over dinner. Well done. Do tell me as we walk to the dining room.” The baron took her arm and led her away, his head lowered to hers.

After a dinner of excellent pickled salmon, buttered grouse, squab pie, and a mélange of peas and carrots and onions, Cook presented her own special Banbury cakes for dessert. Julian watched his guests, wondered what the baron had brought him, and kept wondering, but he knew he wouldn’t ask, just as, he suspected, the baron did. Julian had always loved surprises, even as a small boy. He would never forget the morning his mother had awakened him and told him to follow her. He had skipped and run all the way to the stables, where a chestnut pony stood, eating oats from the bin. He’d never forgotten the joy that had welled up in him. Clancy had died only four years earlier, old and content. What had the baron brought him?

Everyone else at the table was also curious, and guesses abounded, but Julian offered none at all. Roxanne said thoughtfully, “Perhaps it is another spaniel, Julian. What shall you name him? Wait, the baron wouldn’t have bundled him up like a package, would he?”

“No spaniel, Miss Radcliffe,” Rupert said, and toasted her with his wineglass.

Richard said, “You gave him something that belonged to Lily, perhaps? Some token for him to ponder throughout what time he has left?”

His father frowned at him. “No, I have nothing that belonged to your sister, save her small portrait.”

Vicky said, her voice firm and adult, “I think it must be one of your valued books, Father. About animal husbandry, perhaps?”

The guesses continued, the baron shaking his head with each one, a small smile playing over his mouth.

Julian held his peace until the ladies rose to leave the gentlemen to their port.