The insult of using her Christian name was not lost on Julia.
“Lady Venerton.” Julia nodded. “You look well.”
And she did, dripping with gems in obscene proportions and practically glowing in a blush silk gown. It was ostentatious for daytime games at a house party, but clearly Lady Venerton had no qualms with being blatant in flashing her wealth.
“Is His Grace in attendance as well?” Lady Venerton peered around Julia, as though seeking out William.
Julia closed her door. “He is detained in the country at present and will join us if his obligations allow.”
“His obligations,” Lady Venerton repeated slowly. “In the country.” Her lips folded in on themselves, the way one does when they have something to say, but do not wish to say it.
“Correct.” Julia lifted her head and began to walk down the hall, forcing Lady Venerton to do so as well. “Is there something amiss?”
“Well, you know I don’t like to gossip.” Lady Venerton lowered her eyes. Most likely to hide the excited gleam there in those ice-crystal depths. For Lady Venerton loved nothing more than to gossip. Certainly, she had delighted in sharing everything she could about Julia’s father.
Julia said nothing. The space of silence was all Lady Venerton needed. She clasped Julia’s arm in her hot, bejeweled fingers and leaned her blonde head toward Julia’s dark one. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, my darling Julia, but I have heard it on good authority that your husband has a mistress at his country estate.”
Julia’s stomach turned to lead and slid lower into her belly. “Oh?”
Lady Venerton pouted. “I know, and you’re just newly married. But I thought you might want to know.”
“Of course.” It was all Julia could manage to say, especially when it wasn’t anything she did not already know. And that was the worst of it, really. That the malicious words leaving those pretty lips were true.
“I’ve suspected for a while, to be honest,” Lady Venerton continued on in the way she did, always digging the blade deeper and finding the most painful spot to twist. “After all, he often flirted with me when he was courting you. I found it inappropriate and told him I’d have nothing to do with him because he was with my closest friend, and I was quite happily married.”
And by “happily married,” she most likely meant “happily shopping.” Still, she found her mark and twisted at that most painful spot. Heavens, the woman was skilled with wielding her wicked words.
“I see,” Julia said through numb lips.
They’d made their way to the bottom of the stairs, and Lady Venerton’s eyes lit up. “Oh, look! They’re setting up a game of charades.” And with that, she left Julia’s side with the exuberance of a child, bouncing about on the energy wrought by destroying another’s heart.
If Julia’s mind had not been made up previously, it most certainly was now. When William arrived, Julia would tell him she wished to retire to country once she’d produced his heir. It was the only way to ease her regret at marrying him. As a woman, she had no other options.
Despite her steeled determination, she did not get the opportunity to declare her decision. Not on the first day, nor on the second. However, on the third, after a brisk walk about the frozen lake, Julia made her way into her chamber and saw the very man she wanted nothing more to do with: her husband, William Sinclair, the seventh Duke of Stedton.
And he was only partially dressed.
“OH.”
It was a simple little word, and yet it conveyed so very much to William Sinclair when it came from the wife he had spent the better part of two weeks thinking of. He’d been in the middle of dressing when the door opened, and in she had walked, stunning in her beauty.
Light spilling in from the windows turned her skin to the finest cream and shone on her glossy black hair. She’d been outside recently, as her lips and cheeks were red with the cold and her deep blue eyes sparkled like sapphires.
“Julia.” He smiled at her.
She did not return the gesture. Her stare fixed on his naked chest, seeing it for the first time. He ought to put on a shirt, perhaps, but she was his wife. He wanted her to see him, to love him, to make a family with him.
A family. He wanted one of those again. The sharing, the laughter, the love. All of it. The very idea had seemed impossible for far too long.
He approached her, and she went stiff.
Confound it. He knew the wedding night had not been up to snuff, but he hadn’t realized it was all that bad. But then she was so very petite, and he was so very large. He’d been terribly worried he might hurt her. Had he?
He didn’t take another step in her direction. “I’m sorry I had to leave to leave so abruptly.”
“You had obligations.” Her response was cool.
“I left you a note.”
“I received it. Thank you.”
William glanced back at his valet and found Hodges awkwardly studying a corner of the ceiling, clearly wishing to be anywhere but there at the moment.
“You may go, Hodges.” William wanted the privacy as much as Hodges no doubt wanted to be free of this whole bloody conversation.
The older man said not a word. He slipped out faster than William had ever seen him move in his life, but not before shoving a shirt into William’s hands as he went. The message was clear: Put on your shirt. The little push in which the garment was delivered added an insistent: Now.
William pulled on the thing before striding toward Julia. This time, she put up one small hand. “Stop.”
He did as she commanded. This was most certainly not the welcome he had hoped for from his new wife. He’d anticipated nights of making up for the lost time, mending what he had botched.
“You left me on the first day of our marriage.” Hurt flashed in her eyes. “And I know exactly why you left.”
“There were matters of the country estate—”
“I’m well aware.”
He nodded. Most likely the servants had provided his new wife with details of Maribel. They knew what her sudden illness meant to him. The horse was very dear to him, being one of the few reminders left of his father. He had been grateful to the veterinarian who had made his way to the country to see to her. His prognosis, however, was dire. And while William had missed his wife fiercely, he could not bring himself to leave Maribel’s side. Not until she’d recovered.
Julia took a full inhale and drew herself fully upright, which might well bring the top of her head to the center of his chest were he standing close enough to measure. “This marriage will not work.”
William’s brows lifted. Surely, he had not heard correctly. “I beg your pardon?”
“Once I am in a delicate way, I wish to retire to the country.” She lifted her chin and her cheeks stained with a flush. “You may live your life without the censure of a wife who will not stand by and allow you to do as you please.”
What the deuce?
“I am not my mother,” Julia said with finality. “I will not allow you to make a fool of me.”
God, but this was uncomfortable. He was glad to not have made it in dressing yet to his cravat, lest the bloody thing feel as though it were strangling him. “Julia, the wedding night was less than ideal.”
She huffed.
“You see, you are quite petite, and I am nearly twice your weight, maybe three times.” He shook his head. “You were innocent, of course. I didn’t——I was unsure how best to approach you.” This was going so terribly awful. He ran a hand through his hair and then quickly smoothed it down. “It had been quite a while since I had,” he paused under the weight of the discomfort of his admission. “You know.”
“I’m afraid I do not.” Julia’s eyes sparked with an emotion he had never seen before. Anger?
Bloody hell.
“I do, however, know you are lying to me.” She folded her arms over her chest. “It hasn’t been a length of time since you’ve…” she went a deep red and shimmied her shoulders in a show of angry discomfort “…done that with a woman.”