Hugh scowled. "A drop in the bucket for you, Remington."
"True. Now, I assume you've come to repay me?"
Shifting uncomfortably, Hugh said, "I was hoping to make payment Sylvia Day - Bad Boys Ahoy!
arrangements with you."
A black brow lifted. "I see. What do you propose?"
"At the end of the Season, I can repay half of what I owe, and then—"
Remington raised a hand. "I won't accept Fontaine's money. You owe me. You will pay me."
"Damnation!" Hugh flushed with anger and embarrassment. "Money is money, damn it. Why do you care where it comes from?"
"The point is, I do care."
"If you expect me to pay you out of my own pockets, it will take years."
"I'm not inclined to wait any longer. Either pay me the money, or listen to my alternate proposal."
Hugh stiffened warily. "What alternate proposal?"
Remington leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "I wish to see your sister socially. You will smooth the way for me. For every outing, every dance, every private moment with her, I will reduce your debt by ten thousand pounds."
Hugh's mouth fell open. "Bloody hell. This is extortion!"
Remington said nothing.
"Lady Julienne is close to announcing her betrothal to the Marquess of Fontaine," Hugh pointed out. "Your request could seriously jeopardize his interest in her."
Remington remained silent.
"She's a debutante, Remington, not one of your trollops. I won't whore her out for my debts."
Remington's brows rose, and Hugh colored with embarrassment at the silent Sylvia Day - Bad Boys Ahoy!
challenge that said he was doing exactly that.
"Fontaine offers marriage," he argued.
"So do I."
Hugh choked. "The devil, you say! This grows more outrageous by the moment.
Julienne can't marry you! She's an earl's daughter, for Christ's sake."
"And I am a duke's son."
"Well, yes, but you're… well… you're… Damnation, you know what the hell you are! It's not the same thing at all."
Remington shrugged, not the least bit perturbed. "Marriage is out, so we return to my offer. You may begin this evening. I want one dance with Lady Julienne.
Afterward you can deduct ten thousand pounds from your debt to me."
Hugh ran both hands through his hair before massaging his temples. "She's marrying someone else, Remington. Why not find some other chit?"
"My motives are my own." Remington rested his elbows on his desk. "I'm a very busy man, Montrose. Tell me your decision now—the money or ten moments with your sister. What shall it be?"
"This is appalling."
"Indeed?"
"You've gone mad."
"Quite possibly."
Hugh was dumbstruck, and damned himself for landing Julienne in this predicament. She was correct. It was time to get his affairs in order. "What if she refuses?"
"Then I will allow her to do so. But she must refuse me each time."
"Hell's teeth, this is abominable. You, sir, are no gentleman."
Remington smiled. "I have never claimed to be one."
"I have stipulations."
Remington nodded. "I expected you would."
"Outings must be chaperoned."
"Of course."
"If I acquire any portion of the money on my own, I can buy you out."
"Agreed."
"And"—Hugh flushed—"she's untouched. Don't think to ruin her to force my hand, or I will call you out. In case you hadn't heard, I'm an excellent shot. You would not survive the encounter."
"I accept your terms." Remington's confident expression never wavered. "I will claim the last set of the evening with Lady Julienne at the Dempsey Ball tonight.
Don't say anything to her. I will approach her myself and afford her the opportunity to refuse."
"Fine." Hugh rose and took another look around the elegantly appointed office.
"I shall never wager another shilling in my life."
"Good idea," returned Remington as he picked up his quill. "I don't like to wager myself."
Hugh gaped in astonishment and then started toward the door, muttering to himself. "Doesn't like to wager. Ridiculous. Man owns the largest gambling establishment in town."
Lucien grinned triumphantly as the door closed behind Montrose. "And I just made the biggest gamble of my life."
Julienne surveyed the glittering ballroom with bleary eyes. Hugh's trips to his Sylvia Day - Bad Boys Ahoy!
various creditors that afternoon had been successful. He assured her of the ready cooperation of all, including Lucien Remington, and seemed truly determined to take his responsibilities more seriously.
Having accomplished that, Julienne could have spent the evening at home and considered the day well spent. But Hugh had insisted she attend the Dempsey Ball. Now it was the early hours of the following morning, she was exhausted, her mind tortured by thoughts of Lucien, and her brother insisted they remain until the end. Julienne tried desperately to stifle a yawn.
"Hugh," she muttered, "I'm retiring to the ladies' room for a nap. You send for me when you're ready to depart."
He scowled. "You promised the last set to me."
"Well, then, send for me just before. If I stand here another moment, I shall embarrass myself by falling asleep on my feet."
"Fine," he grumbled. "Go."
Julienne moved away before he could change his mind. Reaching the hallway, she hid a yawn behind her gloved hand.
She screeched as she was yanked without warning into an alcove. Lucien slid the curtain closed behind her.
"What are you doing?" she cried, even as her heart leapt at his proximity.
Stunningly handsome, he was impeccably attired in evening black. She hadn't seen him all evening, and she hated to contemplate where he might have been.
"Adding to my collection of bruises?" she snapped.
He had the grace to wince. "Julienne." His voice was low and tinged with regret.
"Please forgive me for last night. I was foxed. I should never have touched you the way I did."
She lifted her chin and reached for the curtain. "You are correct about that. Now Sylvia Day - Bad Boys Ahoy!
if you will excuse me."
He gripped her elbow. "Julienne, please. Don't go yet."
"Why not? I think we've said all that needs to be said."
Lucien pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his pockets. The longing on his face arrested her. As his palm cupped her cheek, Julienne closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar scent of his skin.
"I've missed you," he whispered. "Every moment I'm not with you, I miss you."
"Lucien, don't…"
"Yes, Julienne. Look at me."
Reluctantly she lifted her lids and met his gaze, the austereness of his features stealing her breath.
"I'm so very sorry, sweet. I never wanted to hurt you."
Julienne fought the tears that threatened. "Allow me to explain something to you, Lucien. Something men of your sort don't seem to comprehend. Women are feeling creatures, at least they are until they've been hurt enough to no longer care. We reserve parts of our soul for the men who are important in our lives, places where trust and respect reside. Once those feelings are lost, you cannot reclaim them. Once they are dead, they cannot be revived." She shoved his hand away from her face. "I've heard your apology, and yet it means nothing to me.
You want me to make you feel better, to tell you I understand and forgive you, but I don't understand." She turned to leave.
"I didn't touch her," he said quickly in a voice so hoarse she barely recognized it.
"Since that day I came to your home, I haven't been with another woman. I've been faithful to you."
Julienne turned, searching his face, and found him in deadly earnest. "Why?" she Sylvia Day - Bad Boys Ahoy!
asked simply.
"You are the only woman I want." Lucien cupped her face with both hands.
"When you rejected my proposal, I lost my head. I'm not accustomed to being denied something I want so desperately. I am so very sorry, Julienne. You don't have to forgive me. All I ask is that you believe my sincerity."
His mouth lowered slowly, giving her the opportunity to pull away. With heartrending tenderness, he kissed away the tears she hadn't known were falling.
Julienne turned her head to capture his lips, and she was lost. Lost in his scent, his touch. Lost in him.
"I believe you," she whispered.
Lucien's mouth brushed along her jaw and down her throat. "Why are you wearing this high-necked dress?" he murmured.
"To hide the bruises."
He froze, his body turning hard as stone. His hands left her face and reached for the buttons on the back of her gown, his impatient fingers working with obvious familiarity of a woman's clothing.
"Lucien, no," she protested, agonizingly aware of the thinness of the curtain that separated them from the prying eyes of the ton. "Not here. Not now."
He dipped his head, hushing her with a kiss. Soon her gown gaped in the back, and he pushed it to the floor. He growled, his fingers brushing over their own prints left in the tender skin of her br**sts. "Jesus," he breathed.