"But you were not so chaste yourself, I'll warrant. And I expect you've indulged in a liaison or two since then."
"One or two," she said evenly. "But I know precisely how many lovers I have had. I'm certain you cannot make the same claim, Lord Wolverton."
"Once you called me Dare."
"Once I called you a great many things." That siren's smile flickered on her lips. "I can think of a few choice appellations just now. Reprobate, hedonist, libertine."
Dare affected a grimace. "One thing definitely has changed. Your claws have grown sharper."
"Perhaps. But I will need sharp claws if I hope to defend myself against you."
He frowned slightly. "I suspect I'm the one who will have to defend himself. If memory serves, the last time I encountered you, you were welcoming the caresses of another man. Behind my back, I might add. While leading me to believe that I was your heart's desire." His mouth curled. "Oh, but I was your desire, as long as I was heir to a fortune."
Hearing his bitterness, Julienne stared down into her wineglass. Dare believed she was an accomplished liar. That she could make love to him so passionately one moment and then betray him the next with his rival.
A tightness constricted her throat. She'd had a compelling reason to lie all those years ago. She had thought she had no choice. But she didn't deserve Dare's hatred. She had suffered more than he knew. Perhaps if he understood what she had endured, he wouldn't be so eager for revenge…
She lifted her gaze to Dare's, and their eyes locked, the dark past vibrating between them. Pain lashed through her at the cold expression on his face, and Julienne realized the futility of pleading with him for forgiveness.
Perhaps if he had simply asked her for the truth, if two hours ago he hadn't publicly demonstrated his utter desire to humiliate her, she might have risked reopening those savage wounds.
But there was no point now in trying to justify her long-ago actions. It no longer mattered what Dare thought of her. She couldn't undo the devastation, the loss-for either of them. And the truth could have unwanted consequences. No doubt Dare would feel pity for her. And guilt. He might even feel obliged to make amends.
She couldn't allow herself to become tangled up with Dare again, certainly not on those terms. That kind of pain would destroy her. It had taken her years to get beyond the past, and now she only wanted to forget.
No, Julienne concluded, it would be better if Dare continued to believe she had betrayed him. That she had never loved him. She wouldn't protest her innocence, despite his barbs about her being cruel and mercenary.
Instead she would play his game, assume the role he had assigned her. She would keep her responses light and pretend that he no longer had the power to hurt her.
It was an effort to smile, but Julienne managed it with careless elegance, all the while thinking that she had never appreciated her abilities as an actress so much.
"You may think what you choose," she said, "but I have long since forgotten that unpleasant episode. I have no intention of discussing it."
Dare felt a stab of annoyance at her dismissal, but he decided that harping on the subject would only make him seem a spoiled child. "How did you happen to become an actress?" he asked instead.
"Some of us are required to work for a living, my lord."
"You couldn't persuade Ivers to keep you?"
A fleeting look of desolation entered her eyes, but that momentary fragility faded as quickly as it had come. "He offered," she responded without inflection, "but I chose not to accept."
Dare wondered if Julienne was telling the truth- if she had refused the earl's offer because his pockets weren't overly full-or if Ivers had abandoned her because their scheme for gaining the Wolverton fortune had failed. "He couldn't provide you enough compensation?"
Her faint laugh held little mirth. "Indeed, he couldn't. His gaming debts had severely depleted his purse. And I needed a reliable income to support my mother. Her illness grew worse as summer ended."
"What of your shop? Didn't that produce an adequate enough income?" Dare asked, remembering their familiar arguments that summer.
Julienne had claimed that the millinery was her sole means of income and that until their marriage was settled, she couldn't afford to neglect it. Dare had offered to purchase the shop and turn it over to her clerk so she wouldn't be obliged to earn her living, but Julienne had refused, saying she wouldn't take his charity or become his kept mistress-which was why they had gone to such lengths to keep their trysts private. Later, he'd realized she had simply been holding out until she could secure his entire fortune.
When her reply came, however, it surprised him.
"The business did not fare well after…" Julienne lifted her gaze almost defiantly. "Your grandfather made several unfounded allegations against me. I left Kent to avoid the scandal and turned the shop over to our clerk."
Dare's frown deepened as he thought back to those wretched weeks after Julienne's betrayal. He hadn't known what happened to her. He hadn't wanted to know. He'd left Kent immediately and had never again returned to Whitstable. Nor had he ever set foot in Wolverton Hall until his grandfather was dead and buried.
But he shouldn't be feeling this sharp prick of guilt now. Julienne had brought her troubles on herself with her duplicity and lies.
"And your mother?" he asked at length.