Page 29 of Lucien's Gamble

“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 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 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.”

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