The Secret Life of Lady Julia Read Online Free

bath.
    Julia picked up her skirts and hurried along the terrace to the French doors that led into the library. She slipped inside and leaned on the cool glass for a moment. The room was dark and empty. Light from the street spilled through the windows, painting long golden rectangles on the floor.
    Her heart slowed. The library was a place of sobriety and decorum. Somewhere beyond the double oak doors the party continued. She could hear laughter, voices, and music. She crossed to the mirror but could not see anything in the darkness. Was she different now? Disheveled? Did she look wanton? She smoothed a careful hand over her hair, checked for loose curls, touched her swollen lips, felt the tingle on her cheeks where his rougher skin had grazed her.
    Of course she was different. She’d been different the moment she met Thomas Merritt, and now—
    She perched on the edge of one of the armchairs that smelled of cigars and her father’s hair oil. With nervous fingers, she tucked back a strand of hair. In a moment she would have to walk back into the ballroom, and act as if nothing had happened, but her heart was beating against her ribs like a caged bird.
    She jumped to her feet when the door opened.
    The light from the hall raced across the room, blinded her for a moment. Was it her mother, looking for her, or David, perhaps? Would they be able to tell what she’d been doing in the dark garden with the handsome stranger? Guilt tightened her gut even as resolve stiffened her spine. She had received many lectures in this particular room, standing on the carpet before her father’s desk. She clasped her hands behind her back, as she always did, ready to face the consequences, whatever they might be.
    T homas Merritt stepped into the silence of Lord Carrindale’s library and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark. He had come to the lavish betrothal ball for one reason, and it wasn’t to wish the couple happy.
    He had no idea when he met Julia Leighton in the park that she was Carrindale’s daughter. She’d been a lovely, distraught lady in need. He should have walked away, but he couldn’t. Not when he saw the tears in her eyes. When Fiona Barry had said Julia’s name, mentioned the betrothal ball, the very ball he had every intention of attending anonymously, he should have taken it as a warning.
    From that moment, things had gone awry. For one thing, the countess was not wearing the magnificent tiara he’d come to steal, which meant it was most likely still in the safe. And for another thing . . . He glanced up at the shadowed portrait of the grim-faced Earl of Carrindale and grinned.
    I’ve been kissing your daughter.
    That was the other problem—the luscious lips of Lady Julia, the bride-to-be, Carrindale’s unexpectedly lovely daughter. He’d noticed the stunning necklace she wore, of course, and the matching earrings, and then he saw the woman behind them, and the jewels had paled by comparison. She was even more beautiful than he remembered from their brief encounter.
    Fool! He wasn’t a natural thief, didn’t find it easy, and the distraction didn’t help.
    Thomas wasn’t the kind of man who lost himself in a simple kiss. He wondered how far he would have let it go if sanity hadn’t saved him. And what if he’d been caught with Julia in his arms? Would Carrindale have called the watch, or simply had him spirited away to a watery grave in the stinking Thames? The earl would certainly not insist that she marry a rogue like him when she had a duke in hand.
    His pedigree was good enough, though not as high as the Duke of Temberlay’s, or would have been had his brother not disowned him for his sins. He was plain Mr. Merritt now, a man who made his own way in the world without family ties to help or hinder him. This adventure would gain him only a memorable kiss, perhaps a stolen tiara—and one of Julia’s diamond earrings, a souvenir of the encounter. It rested in his breast pocket now.
    He licked