Deceiving the Viscount

Chapter 8B

Julia watched her new friend disappear back into the ballroom, her head full of questions at what she'd just heard and the way Frederica had acted. She didn't think Frederica could be easily flustered. Yet the subject of Lord Healey proposing marriage had unsettled the woman.

She was intrigued. And resolved to uncover the truth of the matter.

But first, she was going to enjoy the night sky.

Tilting her face up, she tried to spot the stars, though she knew that it was quite useless. London was always foggy and smokey, or cloudy and smokey.

She sighed. She longed for the countryside where she would be able to gaze upon the sea of stars, uninterrupted. The memory of her and Shearing standing next to one another seven summers ago as they took turns looking through his telescope flashed in her mind. Her chest throbbed. Though she loathed the man Shearing was now, a part of her still mourned the loss of the friendship she had with the younger him, a friendship that had meant everything to her. And on the heels of the end of that friendship had come the loss of her carefree, innocent self.

"Miss Marlowe. Good evening." A squeak escaped from her lips as she nearly jumped up from her seat in fright at the unexpected sound. "For someone who talked a great deal about marriage, it is puzzling that you are not be found amongst people whom share the same interest as you." At that familiar baritone which came from behind her person, she closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply and exhaled her annoyance at the flutter in her belly that his voice had produced. She would be calm and composed. She would not demonstrate any childish behaviour by being churlish.

Pressing her lips into a semblance of a smile, she turned around. "Good evening, Mr Shearing. Why are you here?"

He didn't react outwardly to the sharpness in her tone, although she'd winced inwardly at it. "What an intriguing question, Miss Marlowe. I was not aware you were interested in the purpose of my life. Quite an achievement, would you not say? Moving away from inconsequential frivolity to something that resembles an intellectual conversation."

His dry and caustic words burnt away the shame she felt at having been surly with him. "You mistake my question for actual interest in what you do with your person. It is but a polite inquiry, for I was brought up well and taught not to say rude words." She stood, her cheeks hot as though she'd stood too close to a fire, though not for the same reason it used to turn warm in his presence. "Good evening." She curtsied perfunctorily, eager to rid herself of him, and step around him so she could head back inside.

The click of his heels against the stone started up a couple of heartbeats later behind her, as if he were following her. She gritted her teeth and threw over her shoulder. "You're following me, Mr Shearing. One might think you're enamoured of me."

"Your high opinion of yourself baffles me." Her fist curled tighter around her fan and an image of her hitting him with it rose in her mind. "I'm merely heading in the same direction as you are."

She stopped abruptly and spun on her heels so she could face him. He nearly plowed into her but managed to stop himself in time. However, he was still but a hair's breath away from her.

Refusing to allow herself to be overwhelmed by his proximity nor the familiar citrus scent of his, she budged not an inch. Because he was more than a head taller than her, she had to tilt her own head up a fair to glare at him. "I do not appreciate being constantly insulted and my words being judged." She pointed her fan at him, menace oozing from her. "And I appreciate it even less if we are seen entering the room together." She used the tip of her fan to push at his chest. When he failed to step back, she barely leashed her ire. "Wait five minutes before going in."