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all you need to
know, Lord Denbigh," she replied. "All you have to do is kiss
me." She too stood, boldly walking toward him, those sizable breasts
threatening to fall from the bodice of her white linen gown. Three months ago
he would have not only kissed her but made love to every inch of that
curvaceous body. But that was three months before Julianna had moved from the
corner of his life to front and center.
    She stopped, but inches from his.
He could smell the soft scent of lilac, feel the warmth of her breath.
"Kiss me, Jonathan."
    He leaned in, and she closed her
eyes, her lips moist and slightly parted, ready. She could be his, right there
on the settee at Oak Park. All she
offered, his for the taking. And yet, he didn't want just anyone.
    Realization hit him so hard he
thought he may double over. Julianna's kiss, her leaving, the sight of another
woman in her house. He wanted Julianna. The old bird had been right. Had she
been right all along?
    Constance
opened her eyes, her disappointment had her face falling her and lower jaw
trembling. "You aren't going to kiss me?"
    "No, Constance. There is only
one woman I wish to kiss."
    Her mouth twitched with her
irritation. "Julianna?"
    He smiled and gently pushed her
away, clearing his path toward the door. "Yes, Julianna. Now you simply
must tell me where she is. I need to see her."
    "Oh my God! You are in love with
her, aren't you?"
    He stared at her dumbly for a long
moment. The question was pointed and direct. He sank down onto the seat of Lady
Chesterfield's chair and stared out the window into the back gardens. Did he
love her?
    He missed seeing her face that was
certain. Missed the warm scent of her cinnamon perfume. Longed to hear the
sound of her laughter. The thought of never sitting on that settee by her side
had his stomach tied in knots.
    The memory of Julianna in his arms
as he swept her on the dance floor filled his mind. How soft her body curved
against his. A body that he realized fit next to his with a perfection that
only God could have planned. And the kiss. A kiss meant to educate her had
taught him the most valuable of lessons. By God, she was meant to be his. How
had he not seen it before?
    He swallowed past the lump of
realization that settled in his throat. By God, he did love her. Loved her with
all of his heart.
    A small chuckle popped from his
lips and he sprang to his feet. "Yes."
    Constance's
mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wide with disbelief. "You do?
But…"
    "But nothing." He leaned
over her, kissing her cheek. "And thank you helping me to see that."
    Her eyes grew wide with disbelief.
"You can't love her."
    He straightened. "And why
not?"
    "B-Because you're supposed to
marry me!" she exclaimed, the shrillness of her tone set his teeth on
edge.
    Still he laughed, the sound so loud
that it sobered him. "Supposed to marry you? Where did you get that
notion? Certainly not from my neglect of our short lived courtship."
    "Well why else would I be
here?"
    "I don't know. For the natural
beauty of the country? For the fresh air? Because if you're here with the
absurd idea that I would ever propose, you're wasting your time."
    She raised her chin imperiously.
"How badly do you wish to know where she is?" Constance
asked, her brow lifted, her mouth pinched into a condescending line.
"Because if you think I'll ever tell you, you sir are wasting your
time."
    ***
    Julianna held tight to her needle
and tried to focus on the intricate embroidery pattern. But her head ached and
she had no ambition to finish.
    Grandmother sat at the far side of
the parlor, her head lowered as she read the mornings correspondence, her small
frail body resting atop the lavender cushion of the window seat.
    "Anything interesting?"
Julianna asked, securing the needle to the fabric.
    Grandmother looked up from her
letters. "No, not really. Just news from Stuart about the goings on at Oak
Park."
    "Oh, Stuart, how is he faring
with Lady Whitcomb as his mistress?" she asked,