Page 47 of His Scandalous Viscountess
Johnson closed the door behind Julia as she stepped onto the sidewalk. A young man, Jeremy, held the reins of her sleek little phaeton, and the handsome, matched pair she’d purchased after her return to England. Her vehicle was stylish and on the smaller side, nothing too flashy or over the top. At the time, she’d thought she would be moving home and fading into the hustle and bustle of London. Instead, she’d found herself caught up in one tangle after another.
First was Wallthorpe, a knot she’d yet to fully unravel. The man was dogged in his pursuit of her, and she simply couldn’t fathom the why of it. She was starting to worry that if she didn’t get to the bottom of that question, she’d never manage to convince him to leave her alone.
Then, in an attempt to solve her first problem, she’d managed to ensnare herself in a second, far more pleasurable—yet equally confounding—knot. Wolf was a man who was proving to be very different from the one she remembered. The gregarious young man she’d spent summers traipsing around with had been replaced by a thoughtful, calculating man who showed a tendency to brood. He also seemed to be very comfortable with their arrangement, yet there was something about it all that didn’t quite fit.
Another puzzle to solve, though certainly far less sinister than the first.
And then Tariq had appeared on the scene, muddling an already complicated problem. The enigmatic man was unaccustomed to hearing the wordno, which was obviously proving to be an issue. Though it had been nearly two years, he obviously had not accepted her refusal to become his wife—or her decision to return to England.
Who followed a woman halfway around the world and dragged his two wives along with him? And how on earth had she managed to attract three such different men?
Or conceivably, at their core, all three were more alike than appearances suggested?
Without question, Wolf and Tariq were closer in nature. Both were men of privilege, with their birthrights teaching them that anything could be acquired if they desired it. And Wallthorpe could certainly be lumped in that group, but somehow, he struck her as different. There was a core of principle in both Wolf and Tariq that she did not sense in Wallthorpe, which would make sense, considering who his father had been.
She settled behind the reins and set the vehicle in motion once Jeremy hopped on the rear bench. She had an appointment with Madame LaFleur, who she’d been waiting a month to see in order to sort out a few wardrobe changes. She’d kept up with the latest fashions, but since she’d been spending more time in Society than planned, she needed to add a few more gowns to her arsenal.
Having arrived a few minutes early so she could browse for any fabrics that caught her eye, she was considering a lovely clover green silk when she was rudely interrupted. A hand latched onto her arm and spun her about, until she faced an all-too-familiar woman.
Fatima stood there, small of stature, but fierce and angry. Julia had learned very quickly not to let the woman’s diminutive height fool her into seeing her as harmless. She was a tigress, willing to fight as dirty and viciously as required to hold her place in the world.
“You pasty whore infidel! I knew he sought you once more.”
Julia sought a calm she simply did not possess at the moment, but she did not wish for more of a scene than the outraged woman had already caused. The two other women in the shop were furiously staring at whatever fabric they held, as opposed to staring at her and the stranger in foreign robes.
“He came to see me, but I told him the same as I did before I left. No.”
“You lie! He sent you away because he was angry. His ire has been forgotten, and now he has come to bring you back.”
The other woman’s dark eyes snapped with her fury—and fear, if Julia was not mistaken.
Taking a deep breath, Julia pushed a loose strand of hair off her forehead. “I do not lie. I left when he asked me to marry him, and I told him I would never be accepted by his people. I could not be a good wife to him, as you would be.”
Fatima’s grip on her arm loosened, though it did not fall completely away. “Why do you not want him? No other man can compare.”
Julia resisted the urge to snort. It was not hard to fathom how Tariq’s ego had become disproportionately large, between his natural handsomeness and his birthright. With the women who surrounded him and fawned over him, it was unlikely he would remain unaffected by such excessive adoration.
“Maybe for you. But for me, there has always been another who held that special place in my heart.”
The other woman’s kohl-lined eyes widened in surprise. “You never loved him?”
She shook her head. There was really no need to elaborate further.
Fatima sighed. “I do not understand you, but it seems I understand Tariq even less.”
With the fear drained from her, she released Julia’s arm entirely as her shoulders sagged.
“Whether he knows it or not, he has always cared for you a great deal.”
Jules could remember sitting with him at meals as he watched the beautiful, doe-eyed woman dance.
“I am, how do you say? Common to him?”
“Ah, you mean too familiar.” Julia nodded. “Possibly even too eager to please him. I believe that was one of the things that made me so alluring. I was elusive for him.”
“Elusive?”
The foreign word did not roll nicely off Fatima’s tongue.
