Page 90 of Better Love Next Time
He was twenty years-old today. And Kitty was going to share a tomb with Anthony. And writhe her sweet, luscious body over Anthony’s philandering cock. Because his friend would never be faithful, and Kitty would stand by him, believing his lies to the bloody end.
Julian bathed and dressed in a frock coat of forest green, a red waistcoat, and buckskin breeches. He didn’t shave. He didn’t queue his hair. It was all inappropriate for dinner. He resembled a corsair ready for a fox hunt. Let Kitty adore Anthony in his silk. At least his nails were clean. He could compare his calluses to Anthony’s soft hands. A second son who willingly dirtied his hands in trade versus an heir to a wealthy earldom.
Julian unscrewed the scowl from his face when he entered the drawing room and crossed to the most important person in the room now that Kitty was Anthony’s. His mother. In tasteless sentimentality, he hugged the air out of her lungs, kissed her cheeks, and praised her beauty.
Startled, she gulped for air when he set her back and appraised his appearance. Her eyes glassed over. “Julian, my son, you are a man full grown. And so handsome.”
Like Kitty, his mother always made him feel better than he ought. He loved her for it.
Oliver arrived to convey his wife’s felicitations for his health.
Julian grinned. “She still has not forgiven me for the engagement party, has she?”
“Never will,” his brother replied, looking him over. “The earl will be pleased to know you have transformed into the pirate he believes you are.”
“Be sure to embellish. I had a dagger and an earring.”
Oliver chuckled and poured him a drink. Julian busked Caroline’s cheek because he kept his enemies close. Father Dunlevy wished him happy and looked over at Anthony and Kitty with fatherly approval.
“I believe Katherine is enjoying herself as is the Earl of Wetherden’s son,” Dunlevy said.
If the remark was meant to solicit jealousy, it did not. Julian was past jealousy. He was not going to marry her. Anthony was.
His mother agreed with Dunlevy. “And such a lovely young lady. Most pretty manners. Don’t you agree, Julian?” She appraised his reaction which was nothing short of indifferent, and said under her breath, “Anthony seems quite taken. He would do well to consider Miss Babbington for his future countess. Girls raised in the country make excellent wives and mothers.”
And lovers, Julian thought.
“Though when Georgiana relayed to me Anthony’s partiality to Miss Babbington, I was hard-pressed to agree, given his aversion to matrimony.”
Julian flashed a tight smile. “That was me, Mother.” He hardened his gaze on Georgiana. Of course, she was part of this. Likely leading the charge.
“Well, you are young,” his mother said.
“Not even in my majority.”
“True, but it never hurts to start early. As your brother did.” His mother looked to Oliver, who had four daughters and no heir. “Well, in any case, there is still time to find the right girl. Does Miss Babbington have a sister?”
“No. She does not have a sister.” Julian stalked off to Oliver.
His brother raised a private toast to Julian. “Thought for sure you’d leg-shackle yourself to Miss Babbington. Seems Anthony got a leg up on you. Shame. She’s a rare one.”
“There is nothing rare about her.”
Oliver chuckled in his brandy glass. “If you say so.”
Julian shifted and looked down on his brother. The position also afforded an excellent view of Kitty. “If Georgie put you up to this, tell her I’m not marrying Miss Babbington.”
His brother slapped his shoulder. “What’s that pirate term of yours for a boat trapped without wind?”
“In irons.”
“Right.” Oliver squinted. “That’s you.”
Julian gritted his teeth. Oliver started on politics, providing Julian freedom to study Kitty while appearing engaged in discussion.
God, she looked beautiful sitting next to Anthony. It wasn’t the pink silk gown spread in splendor. He preferred her naked. Or her hair’s elegant style. He preferred it unpinned and curling down her back. It wasn’t her face. He preferred her gazing in adoration at him. It wasn’t her fingers, shoulders, feet, smile,nose, or the dusting of freckles that came every summer and faded in winter. It wasn’t just her mind or spirit.
It was all of her. Because he knew all of her.
