Chapter Fifteen

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"I cannot believe how charmed our daughter was by that rascal." Julian was in Charity's room. The rest of the house had retired for the night. He was wearing a robe and leaning a shoulder against a post at the foot of the bed.

Charity was sitting up, propped against pillows. Mischievously, she grinned at Julian. "She has always liked pretty things."

Julian waggled his eyebrows, "Oh-ho! Does her ladyship think the gentleman pretty?"

Charity's smile widened, "Not as pretty as you, of course."

Julian scoffed then said, "That goes without saying."

"I can't help but wonder," Charity began after the light mood sobered. "Why did you ask your friends for help, yet they leave as soon as they arrive? All except one." The last was said in a slightly sour tone. She still hadn't completely forgiven Lord Nevill for his previous behavior.

Julian sat at the foot of the bed and leaned his back against the post. "All four of us were on the Peninsula together. Each has their own strengths. Vincent accepted the Middleford invitation because Lord Middleford is a political rival of mine who bears watching."

Charity gasped, "He's set to spy?"

"Gather information," Julian was quick to correct. Then, he switched to Mr. Bladen. "James is trying to find if there are any rumors about town of strangers in the area, or if someone suddenly struck it rich."

"So, he also hunts for information."

"Yes, just so," Julian answered Charity's non-question. His relaxed posture was at odds with his demeanor.

"And why is Lord Nevill left behind, then?" Charity was taking full advantage of Julian's information sharing. Other than a few comments and that one story of his near-assassination, he hadn't spoken much of the war and definitely not about these friends she'd just met.

"Oh, don't underestimate him, my dear." Lowering his lashes, Julian looked at Charity. "He's the most dangerous of us all."

"Truly?" Charity was understandably skeptical. The man she'd met didn't seem able to squash a bug. Added to that, at times it was hard to tell when her husband was teasing.

"Yes, he's very deadly with a weapon. He remains for protection." So, Julian had been serious. Charity was still trying to wrap her head around the Lord Nevill she'd met being a danger to more than an unsuspecting woman's heart when her husband rose and walked to the door. He made certain it was locked, then began his return to the bed. "It occurs to me, wife, that it's a warm night."

Even though Charity loved hearing Julian call her thus as much as he appeared to enjoy saying it, she didn't let it show. Raising a brow, she aimed it in his direction. "This just 'occurred' to you, did it?"

"Oh yes. Far too warm for what you're wearing." Julian blew out the candles on her dressing table; all save one.

The nightgown Charity wore was sheer muslin. It was one of the new purchases from Mrs. Brown. She plucked at the loose material around her waist. "I don't feel overly warm."

"You look a little flushed." Julian blew out more candles, then came to stand next to her. There was a single candle left burning at each bedside table. It was enough to illuminate his features.

"Would you like some help disrobing? I'd be a poor husband if I let you expire from overheating."

"What of you?" Charity's voice grew husky in anticipation. "That robe looks to be a little too heavy for this summer night."

"You'd best be a good wife and help me out of it," Julian said, his tone low, growing rough.

Levering herself up off the pillows, Charity then twisted her torso to face him. Untying the belt, she let the robe slide open. They'd learned one another's bodies these past few nights. Julian's bore a few scars, some from childhood but most from the war. She'd kissed them all as he cataloged them, told her how he'd come to receive them.

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