Page 41 of Never Love a Lord
“Then what are we, Sybilla?” Julian asked, and moved Lucy to sit between them on the couch when she squirmed.
“I don’t know.” She looked down at the child, whose little face rested against the plush upholstery, turned up toward Sybilla, regarding her with wide eyes. Sybilla had the urge to reach out and run a finger over the curve of that soft-looking cheek. “You must resemble your mother, Lady Lucy,” she said softly.
“She does,” Julian admitted.
The child suddenly lunged toward Sybilla with a little squeal, toppling halfway onto Sybilla’s leg. She managed to catch the baby before she rolled off the couch onto the floor. The child’s middle was plump and firm, and much more substantial than she’d seemed when swaying atop Julian Griffin’s arm. Sybilla had caught Lucy under the arms, and since Julian did not reach for her right away, Sybilla pulled the baby onto her own lap and held her slightly away. She wasn’t certain how to proceed.
“That’s a lovely vision,” Julian said with a stupid smile.
Sybilla frowned at him. “You can have her back at any moment.”
“No, I think I rather enjoy watching the two of you.”
Lucy discovered the string of pearls around Sybilla’s wrist and began hinging her fingers back and forth over the small round jewels. A little coo of amazement came from her, and Sybilla was struck by the sweetness of it.
“Do you fancy jewels?” she asked.
“Pah-pah-pah-pah,” Lucy replied.
Julian laughed. “Another thing she inherited from her mother, I’m afraid.”
Sybilla could not help the slight, bemused smile that came to her mouth as she watched the baby’s continued delight with the bracelet. She suddenly pulled the child against her stomach and brought both her hands together around the child, slipping the pearls from her arm. She looped them back on themselves, making a double strand, and then carefully fit Lucy’s chubby left hand through the bracelet.
“There you are, then,” she said. “You may have them.”
Lucy squealed shrilly and then began jerking at the costly piece. “Pah! Pah-pah-pah!”
Julian seemed quite surprised. “That’s very kind of you, Sybilla, but I think that perhaps an item of such value is a bit of a flamboyant toy for a child.”
“They were my mother’s,” Sybilla said, continuing despite herself to be enchanted by the baby’s every movement with the bracelet. “Lucy fancies them. I find suddenly that I do not.” She looked at Julian. “You gave me a gift. I have nothing to give you. So this will have to do, I’m afraid.”
“Thank you,” Julian said, and his amber eyes seemed ablaze with something Sybilla could not name. “Sybilla, what if we were to marry?”
Her breathing stopped. “Marry?” she repeated, as if she had never heard the term before. “Each other, you mean?”
Julian laughed. “Yes, each other. Perhaps we could convince Edward—”
“That because I married someone with a title that he would allow me to keep Fallstowe? That’s unlikely, I think.”
“Not impossible, though,” Julian said mildly.
“I do doubt the king would allow me to marry anyone at all of the nobility once you expose what you have discovered about my mother,” she said. “And even if he did, there is very little likelihood that he would allow me to retain Fallstowe. So what then? You take me from my home to wherever it is you live in London? To host feasts and shop at the fairs?”
He stared at her for a long time. “Would that be so terrible a life?”
“As opposed to prison or death?” she asked. “I suppose not, but one never knows. We are hardly familiar with each other.”
She thought he might be offended by her remark, but he laughed instead. “The time for you to shoulder all has come to an end, whether you want to admit it or not. You will need someone to take care of you.”
“I can take care of myself,” Sybilla argued awkwardly, bringing her attention back to the baby. She noticed that her knees had begun to bounce the child gently without her permission.
“I don’t think so,” Julian said. “Not anymore. And certainly not like I could take care of you.”
The way he said it, so confidently, so intimately, made Sybilla’s stomach flutter, and she felt like a silly fool for it. Then when he slid down the seat toward her, laying his arm across the back of the couch behind her, making a little nook for her and the child on her lap, her arms broke out in gooseflesh.
“Come to my room again tonight, and let me convince you.”
Warning bells went off in Sybilla’s mind. “I don’t think that’s possible,” she said stiffly. “Haven’t you heard? I don’t carry on relationships. You may take your child now, please.”
