"Your hair is like silk." She could not breathe while his fingers played inside the curl, his mouth curving slowly at the corners. "I always knew it would feel like this."
"Dominic, I … ," she stumbled, hardly recognizing the hoarse whisper as her own voice.
Slowly, he unwound the curl from his fingers and let the tips of them lightly trace the curve of her chin. "We should go back now, Juliana."
She drew a deep, shuddering breath to control her disappointment as once again he shut the door between them. She would never comprehend this man. Just when she felt a breakthrough was imminent, he would withdraw. But this time, she strengthened her resolve. She would find a way to understand him. She had to try, for then she might understand this bond she felt between them.
He relinquished her reins and turned back toward the main thoroughfare.
"Thank you, my lord," Juliana's voice strengthened. "A canter was just what I needed."
He turned to her with his practiced smile, but instantly his pure cornflower eyes were unreadable, and she was surprised to see his hands tighten and pull Bucephalus to a standstill. Caesar moved several steps forward before she pulled him up to cast a nervous glance over her shoulder.
Dominic sat perfectly still, the sunlight spinning a soft halo around his hair and etching clear shadows about his set lips, a haunted look draining all the life from his face.
What have I done now, Juliana wondered, and looked blindly around. All that was visible was a lone horseman. He would have stood out even on the crowded thoroughfare, though, for he was dressed completely in black, relieved only by a snowy cravat and long ruffles at his wrists. She felt curiously uneasy at his approach. Then she noticed the dark riband and eye patch that dominated the left side of his face. His mount drew nearer and passed her as if she were invisible.
The dark man stopped inches away from Dominic and stilled his horse, leaning slightly forward in his saddle. "Ah, The Marquis of Aubrey." His right eyebrow lifted awaiting a response.
"What are you doing here, Jules?" Dominic asked in low, terse tones.
The dark horse shied, sensing the tension that swelled around them like gathering thunderclouds. Juliana controlled her own mount, which pranced uneasily in place, and held her breath, anticipating some monstrous action between the two adversaries. Old enemies, she judged, maybe the war.
"I've been to the Towers to visit their graces. Your grandparents were very welcoming."
"I told you I never wanted you on my lands again!"
"Ah, but Dominic," the sneer became more pronounced, "they are not your lands, yet. And the duke was delighted to see me." He narrowed his eye and spoke very distinctly. "The old boy invited me to make the Towers my home for as long as I want."
High-strung horses, held carefully in check, circled nervously, assessing each other as warily as the two men that sat them. Jules, in black, exuding practiced charm that couldn't quite cover a menacing tone. Dominic, in buff and tan, dropping all pretense of conventional manners to threaten quite openly.
Juliana's nerves tightened her hands. She prepared to thrust Caesar between the two, anything to break the ominous spell these men wove around each other. She knew she was completely forgotten as each stared unblinkingly into the other's face.
"Stay away from the Towers, Jules. And stay away from my grandparents. That is my final word." Dominic issued his challenge and Jules laughed softly. "We had an agreement. I expect you to abide by it!"
"Dominic, Dominic," Jules shook his head disbelievingly. "That was so long ago. And we were so young. Circumstances have changed."
Bucephalus surged forward and Dominic grabbed Jules's reins, forcing his horse's head around. "Nothing has changed!" Dominic bit out. "The agreement stands. Go back to France or wherever you've been."
Jules reached out, plucking the reins from Dominic's control, sidestepping his horse away from Bucephalus, and suddenly stopped, focusing upon Juliana for the first time.
"Charming. Utterly charming." He drawled, then turned to Dominic as if expecting an introduction. When none was forthcoming, he smiled mockingly. "My brother has forgotten his manners, my dear. I am Jules Devereaux, the Comte de Saville."
Juliana sat her horse in shock. Dominic had a brother! How could this be? "Juliana Grenville, monsieur." She replied as manners demanded. What was going on now was no joyous reunion between brothers, but something quite different. Whatever it was between these two men made her shiver in fear for them.
Jules maneuvered his horse close enough to take her hand. He lifted it to his mouth for a polite kiss, but Dominic forced his horse between them, separating them.
"Don't touch her!" His face was like frozen granite. "Come, Juliana. It is time I returned you to your aunt."
He whirled Bucephalus and, giving her no time for good-byes, urged their horses into a trot. Laughter echoed behind them.
"Dominic," instinct urged her to speak. "I did not know you had a brother."
"Half brother. His mother was a widow when she married my father. The only blood we share is hers."
Chapter 7
Vauxhall was gaiety itself! The colored lanterns strung in the trees, supper boxes discreetly hidden in leafy bowers, and strolling musicians all contributed to the relaxation of society's stringent rules. No wonder the ton adored an evening here!
Lady Grenville's party was seated at a choice table, close in enough for excellent service yet allowing privacy. Still, there had been a growing disharmony throughout the evening. Eugenia had seated Charlotte between Jules and Dominic and, although adroit in the delicate handling of her mother's faux pas, she definitely was not enough of a buffer for the two men. Juliana watched from across the table, seated protectively, and deliberately away from the eligible men, between Lord Rodney and Lord Grenville.
When the divertissement began after supper, Juliana was surprised that no one else seemed to notice how the air crackled between the two brothers. Although all could see that Dominic seethed with tension, apparently she alone recognized the strain Jules was under, for he appeared every bit the bored aristocrat, twirling his quizzing glass through his fingers. But though Jules seemed as absorbed in the port bottle as the other gentlemen of the party, Juliana had the oddest sensation that he was studying her.
Lady Eugenia's domination of the conversation was so complete that the rest of the party had fallen into a nearly stupefied silence. So the disquieting feeling grew with no one able to divert the company toward a more pleasant outlook. It was foolish to slip away from the box during one of the intervals, but Juliana had to get away from Jules's intense regard. And away from Dominic. He seemed so different tonight, not at all the pleasant companion of their ride in Hyde Park. Jules's arrival as escort to Charlotte and her mother had seen to that.
Her foolish plan to ensnare Dominic in spite, and teach him a long overdue lesson in humility, had been forgotten in the face of his kindness and consideration during Ben's illness.
She only wished she understood him better, for certainly they would soon be related. Lord Rodney had barely touched his supper tonight, and to a man who so obviously enjoyed his food, that could only mean he was in love or ailing. No one watching him gaze at Sophia would have any doubt as to the cause.
Mingling in the noisy crowd, Juliana eagerly drank in the unfamiliar sights and sounds of Vauxhall. She chose the Grand Cross Walk, which traversed the whole garden and turned onto the South Walk, to more closely examine the triumphal arches. Heady with the freedom she thought she had left behind in Berkshire, she wandered too far. Finally she realized she was quite alone. No other patrons had ventured beyond the last lighted arch. She rapidly retraced her steps, relieved not to encounter any stragglers. But her luck ran out; a group of boisterous young men, who had obviously been dipping at the bottle, blocked the walkway. Quickly ducking down a smaller, less lighted path, she thought to avoid them by circling back to the Grenville box. She knew that being alone at night was unthinkable for a lady of quality and at Vauxhall it was an invitation practiced by the fashionable impures. She could find herself in quite a fix.
Studying the many dimly lit pathways that wove their way through the darkness, she finally decided on a way that should, according to her sense of direction, bring her back to the well-lit and crowded thoroughfare.