Seduction by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online

Amelia said.
    They stood on the threshold of the guest bedchamber, looking into the room. It was a starry night outside, and Julianne had lit the fire, illuminating the chamber. Charles remained asleep and his supper tray was on the table, untouched.
    She was never going to forget the fear that had stabbed through her when she had found him lying on the floor; for one moment, she had been afraid that he had died! But he hadn’t been dead, he had fallen. When he had slowly stood up—absolutely, magnificently, shockingly naked—she had pretended not to look, but she had been incapable of looking away. “It has been over twenty-four hours since he last awoke,” she said.
    “He is recovering from a terrible wound,” Amelia pointed out, her tone hushed. “You are beginning to remind me of a mother hen.”
    Julianne flinched. Amelia was right, she was worried—she wanted him to wake up, so she could be reassured. But then what? “That is nonsense. I am merely concerned, as anyone would be.”
    Amelia stared, hands on her small hips. “Julianne, I may not have spoken with him as you have, but I am hardly blind. Even asleep, he is a very attractive man.”
    She fought to remain impassive. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
    Amelia laughed, a rather rare sound for her. “Oh, please. I have noticed that when you are with him, you cannot keep your eyes to yourself. It is a good thing he has been sleeping, or he would have caught you ogling him! But I am glad. I had begun to wonder if you are immune to men.”
    Amelia might not sound so cheerful if she knew what Julianne knew about their guest—and Julianne would soon have to tell her, as they were all under one small roof. Amelia was apolitical. Still, she was a patriot, and the most rational person Julianne knew. She would be horrified to learn that they were harboring an enemy of the state.
    “My, that sounds like the pot calling the kettle black,” Julianne said quickly, changing the subject.
    Amelia said softly, “I wasn’t always immune to handsome men, Julianne.”
    Julianne immediately regretted having taken such a tack. She had been only twelve years old the summer Amelia had fallen in love with the earl of St. Just’s younger son, but she recalled their brief, passionate courtship. She remembered standing at the window downstairs, watching the two of them gallop away from the house, Simon Grenville in pursuit of her sister. He had been so dashing, he had seemed to be a veritable black prince, and she had thought her sister terribly fortunate. She also recalled Amelia’s shock when they had learned of his brother’s death. He had been summoned to London, and Julianne remembered thinking that her sister shouldn’t cry, for Simon loved her and he would be back. But she had been naive and foolish. He hadn’t returned. Amelia had cried herself to sleep for weeks on end, her heart broken.
    Apparently Simon had quickly forgotten Amelia. Julianne did not think he had ever written, not a single missive, and two years later he had married the daughter of a viscount. In the past nine years, he had not been to the seat of his earldom, just to the north of St. Just, even once.
    Julianne knew that Amelia had never forgotten him. The year after St. Just left, Amelia had turned down two very good offers, from a young, well-off barrister and a handsome officer in the royal navy. And then there were no more offers....
    “I am twenty five years old, and no beauty,” she said, matter-of-fact now. “My dowry is sparse and I am committed to taking care of Momma. If I am immune to men, it is by choice.”
    “You are very attractive, but you seem to want to vanish in plain sight!” Julianne hesitated. “Maybe one day you will meet someone who makes your heart race.” She blushed as she thought about Charles Maurice.
    “I hope not!”
    Julianne knew she must drop the sore subject. “Very well. I am not blind, so yes, Monsieur Maurice is rather handsome. And he was so