Alec had feared the same thing, and had gone to the meeting prepared to defend the circumstances of his marriage. Yet the executors had done no more than glance through the documents proving Julia’s claim before subjecting him to a humiliating examination designed to highlight his every fault.
One of the executors, a pompous ass who’d provoked him at every turn, had even gone so far to suggest that if Julia were to become “in the family way,” the issue of the inheritance could be settled immediately. Alec had felt as if someone had slipped a noose around his neck and slowly tightened it, inch by bloody inch.
As the executors had taken great delight in pointing out, Julia was in his care. Anything that befell his wife rested directly on his shoulders. He thought of their encounter in the foyer this morning and winced. Before he could protect Julia from Nick, he’d have to find a way to protect her from himself and his own damnable desires. Yet just a hint of her distinctive lemon and cinnamon scent caused his manhood to lift and swell.
He glanced down at his wife and the pressure around his throat increased. Though she would never possess Therese’s outstanding beauty, Julia was an undeniably attractive woman. The additional presence of a sensual elegance and a sharp wit that could startle a reluctant laugh from him under the worst of circumstances allowed her to easily outshine her less fascinating cousin.
Julia caught his gaze, a faint blush touching her cheeks. Dressed in a simple creation of white gauze over a mint green slip, her hair piled on her head in a series of tumbled ringlets, a pretty fan hanging from her wrist, Julia appeared as innocent as springtime—and just as luscious. No, she didn’t appear innocent. She was innocent.
Her delicate brows pulled low. “Perhaps I should meet the executors. Maybe if I—”
“No,” he interrupted, shuddering at what those staid and repressed gentlemen would make of Julia’s forthright manner. “There is no need.”
“Well,” she said in a doubtful voice, “if you don’t think it’s necessary. I just hate for you to face them alone.”
Try as he might, Alec could picture no other female of his acquaintance offering to accompany him into such a den of lions. “Julia, you are—”
“Hunterston!” Lady Birlington’s strident voice reached them. “Come over here. I wish to see your wife.” Outlandishly attired in a bilious green silk gown and a bright yellow shawl, she beckoned imperiously.
Fighting a sigh, Alec guided Julia to where Maddie sat. A long-suffering Edmund stood behind her chair and cast yearning glances in the direction of the game room.
Maddie pointed her cane at Muck. “So this is the boy from the library, eh?”
“Tare and hounds, Aunt Maddie,” exclaimed Edmund. “Who else could it be? Can’t have two urchins with the same face. Least, not ’less they were twins, and even then I’d lay you a monkey they wouldn’t look exactly alike. Though I did see a set of twins at a fair once who—”
“Demme, Edmund! Cease your prattling.” Maddie placed her hands on her cane and leaned forward until her nose was even with Muck’s. The urchin jutted his chin and scowled. Apparently satisfied, Maddie drew back and nodded. “Good thing he doesn’t have dark hair, Hunterston. Wouldn’t want anyone to think he was one of your by-blows.”
“Aunt Maddie!” Edmund’s anguished gaze fell on Julia. “Sorry. She don’t always think about what she’s saying.”
Julia examined first Muck, then Alec. “I can’t imagine anyone thinking such a thing. There’s almost no resemblance.”
Alec looked at the homely child. Muck obligingly stared back. “What do you mean, ‘almost’?”
Julia tilted her head to one side. “Same nose.”
Had he not seen her mouth quiver with suppressed laughter, he might have been taken in. “If that child’s nose looks like mine, then he has your hair.” He chuckled and reached out to tug on one of her locks, the back of his hand resting against her cheek. A sharp prickle of awareness ran the length of his arm.
Julia stepped away from him so swiftly she bumped into a chair, her color fluctuating alarmingly. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
Alec’s hand dropped back to his side, irritation curling his hands into fists. Did she truly hold him in such aversion? Were her kisses the result of uncontrollable passion and nothing else?
He looked at his wife’s profile, noting the delicate sweep of her brow, the long splay of her lashes, the gentle slope of her mouth. She deserved a courtly suitor, one who wrote poetry to her beauty, appreciated her spirit, and dedicated himself to her charity efforts. Not a man who was so selfish he couldn’t even stand beside her without wondering how the smooth, perfumed skin of her thighs would feel against his mouth.
Disgusted at his lascivious thoughts, he turned away. “You look lovely this evening, Lady Birlington.”
Maddie patted her red hair, set with a haphazard arrangement of sapphire and emerald pins. “Thank you, Hunterston. Good of you to notice.” She turned to Edmund. “Don’t you have something to ask Julia?”
“What? Oh, yes. Care to dance, Lady H.? Been anxiously awaiting the opportunity.”
Julia sighed regretfully. “I’d rather not. Two left feet, you know.”
“Nonsense,” Lady Birlington said testily. “You’ve seen that French dance master no less than four times this past week alone. Should be able to dance like Princess Charlotte by now.”
“It didn’t help. Monsieur Armonde said I was as graceful as a cow in slippers.”
“No!” Maddie declared. “What a rude thing to say!”
“Perhaps Monsieur Armonde did not realize Julia speaks excellent French,” said Alec shortly. He missed his chef’s way with crepes.
Julia’s brow knit. “Very useful thing to know, French. One can learn all manner of things.”
A plump blonde went dancing by, wiggling her fingers over her partner’s shoulder at Edmund.
Edmund grasped Julia’s hand and said urgently, “The quadrille. My favorite dance. Come, Julia.”
She grimaced. “Oh, very well. I suppose it would look odd if I didn’t dance at least once.”
Alec noticed she didn’t even look toward him. The omission bothered him more than he cared to admit.
Julia laid her reticule on a chair then bent to look Muck right in the eye. “Will you guard this for me?”
His face puckered.
She patted his hand. “I’ll only be gone a moment. Master Alec will be here, if you need anything.”
The boy cast a suspicious glance at Alec before establishing himself by the chair, rigidly at attention. “I’ll keep me blinkers peeled fer ye, missus, in case there be any knobby ones about.”
Alec tried to suppress his irritation as his wife blithely left with Edmund. After a few false starts, the pair made their way through the quadrille with more enthusiasm than grace.
Leaning against a pillar, Alec watched Julia. Who would have ever imagined such a gamine creature existed beneath the dull exterior of the Frant Dragon? He tried to remember what she’d looked like before her amazing transformation, but couldn’t. She was simply Julia—elegant, attractive, and irritating, all in the same breath.
It was comical to watch Edmund as he attempted to place himself by the plump Lady Chowerton. He eventually succeeded, making obvious gestures to her over Julia’s shoulder. Julia glanced behind her and frowned.
After a few passes through the dance, her frown changed to a scowl. By the time the music came to a close, Edmund and Julia appeared to be involved in a lively argument. As they neared, Alec heard Julia say in her distinctive accent, “Bonehead.”
Edmund, coldly furious, favored her with a stiff bow, “I won’t deign to reply to that.” He then proceeded to ruin the effect with a decided pout.
“Who is a bonehead?” asked Maddie, her blue eyes bright with interest.
“No one.” Edmund glared at Julia as if daring her to defy him.
Her chin firmed. “Edmund is a bonehead.”
“La, child,” Maddie said, disa
ppointed. “Everyone knows that.”
Julia turned to Alec. “Edmund has been flirting in the most outrageous manner with a married woman.”
Maddie tsked. “Serve you right if Lord Chowerton called you out, Edmund. If I were a man, I wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet right through your heart.”
Edmund’s face reddened. “Surely you wouldn’t.”
“Would, too. That or spatter your brains ’gainst a wall,” Maddie said thoughtfully. “Depends on how angry you made me.”
He sputtered, but before he could say a word, Julia poked him in the chest with her fan. “You should find some nice unattached girl. There are so many of them—and without dance partners, too.” She looked about the room as if she expected to pluck some unfortunate girl from her chair and place her in Edmund’s waiting arms.
Knowing her penchant for organizing other people’s lives, Alec would not have been surprised to see her do just that.
Edmund turned to him, his gaze wild. “Tell Julia it’s deuced improper to discuss such things.”
“Not in my day, it wasn’t,” said Maddie, adjusting her shawl. “Used to talk about worse things than that. Spent hours trying to figure out who was slipping off with whom. Kept us amused for days.”
Julia nodded. “My father said that a truth not spoken can cause as much damage as the vilest lie.” She glared at Edmund. “You should always tell the truth, no matter the cost.”
Edmund dropped into a chair and tugged at his cravat. “May we please speak of something else?”
Alec took pity on him. “Lady Birlington, I meant to thank you for assisting Julia with her transformation.”
Maddie examined his wife from head to foot and said grudgingly, “She’ll do, but she’d have made more of a stir with the bronze gown.”
Julia caught Alec’s questioning stare and blushed. “It was very indecorous and was cut down to here.” She gestured with her fan.
Alec stared where she had indicated, right where the modest lace of her gown covered the provocative swell of her breasts. He cleared his throat. “Surely Lady Birlington did not mean for you to wear anything so revealing.”
Maddie snorted. “Of course I did. I suggested she dampen her skirts, too, but she wouldn’t have any of that, either. Pity. Would have been more fun to launch a dashing matron instead of such a sedate one. But then, life is never perfect.”
“You told her to what?” Alec wondered if he was hearing amiss.
“You should follow fashion more closely, Hunsterston. Everyone is dampening their skirts. I’d do it myself,” Maddie said with unimpaired calm, “if I weren’t afraid of catching my death. May look like a hag, but I still have the figure of a girl. Least, that’s what I’ve been told.” Something amazingly like a simper crossed her face.
“Who has been saying such improper things to you?” demanded Edmund.
“Oh, hush. We were talking about Julia, not me.”
The conversation between Edmund and Maddie quickly degenerated into an argument, and Alec turned to Julia.
He took her hand. “Let’s dance.”
“But that’s a waltz.”
“All the better.” Without giving her time to remonstrate, he swept her into the dance.
Within moments he began to understand Monsieur Armonde’s frustration. Besides having no sense of timing, Julia showed a disconcerting tendency to lead. By holding her tightly and dancing slower than the music demanded, Alec managed to settle into a reasonable facsimile of the waltz.
Yet there were compensations for her inability. For one thing, he had to hold her considerably closer than the prescribed twelve inches. Each time they turned, her breasts brushed against his coat, causing her to flush an adorable pink.
He found himself holding his breath in anticipation, his gaze inexorably caught by the sight of her silk gown sliding against his lapels. Alec could almost picture her breasts reacting, the rosy nipples tightening as they circled the dance floor, sending vibrations of sensation throughout her body.
Damn the will, damn the executors, and damn the entire ordeal. God help him, he was surely destined for Bedlam.
After what seemed an interminable time, Alec ventured a comment. “Shocking crush, isn’t it?” He winced at the triteness of it.
“Hmm.”
“I don’t suppose it will rain any time soon, do you?”
She didn’t even pretend to answer this time.
“It has been an incredibly chilly spring.” He tightened his hold the tiniest bit more. “The roses are sure to die horrible, painful deaths. Their little petals will shrivel, their leaves twisting in agony as they—”
Her startled gaze flew to his. “What?”
“I was merely commenting on the weather.”
Julia’s mouth quivered with amusement. “Dancing like a bumpkin, aren’t I?”
“I wouldn’t say that. I’m just not used to being ignored by my partner.”
“I can’t help it. I have to mind my steps, you know. I’d hate to break your toe.”
Alec chuckled and pulled her even closer. “Let me count the steps for you, love. I am generally held to be a creditable dancer.”
“Oh, yes. I know that.”
He frowned. It bothered him to think that he might once have danced with her and couldn’t remember it. “Have we danced before?”
Her dimple appeared, resting on one cheek with all the audacity of a caper merchant at a funeral. “You’d have bruises if we had. Therese said it was one of the things she liked about you. That and the way you kiss. Of course, I know how you ki—” Julia broke off, a deep blush staining her cheeks.
Entranced, he wondered what she would do if he traced the line of her blush with his lips. “Why shouldn’t you know how I kiss? We are married, love.”
Her gaze dropped back to the floor. “Edmund is right. I need to watch what I say.”
Had Alec been a true gentleman, he would have allowed the matter to rest. Instead he brought her body flush with his, ignoring the outraged gasps of the other dancers. “Do you think I kiss well?”
“That’s not a fair question,” she said gruffly. Her color flared brighter, but she made no move to disengage herself.
“Why not?” She had the loveliest skin, like the spill of cream, smooth and translucent.
“I can’t really compare it. I’ve never kissed anyone else.”
“And I suppose you need a comparison?”
“Oh, yes.” Julia tilted her head to one side. “Perhaps Edmund would do. He seems to have a penchant for married women.” She met his astonished gaze and chuckled.
Her laughter trailed through him like fire and he immediately loosened his hold. Alec managed a perfunctory smile, but no more. One touch, however innocent, and he would have lost all control and yanked her to him right there.
Julia noted his withdrawal and her liveliness fled. But other than casting an abashed glance at him, she did not offer any comment. Alec had never been so thankful when a dance ended. He escorted Julia to Lady Birlington as the last note died.
Maddie was deep in discussion with the Dowager Duchess of Roth, an imposing, gaunt woman with a prominent nose who was well known for her charity efforts. The two welcomed Julia and immediately drew her into conversation, exclaiming over Muck, who stood stoically by her chair, guarding the abandoned reticule.
Alec decided it would be far less worrisome to watch Julia from afar. If he saw Nick approaching, he would simply rejoin Lady Birlington’s party. He stationed himself in a strategic location that afforded him a good view of his wife and consigned himself to an evening of unalleviated frustration. Oblivious to his presence, Julia talked and danced with an endless line of callow youths.
He decided it was a good thing his wife was such a wretched dancer. No man could wax poetic while the lady in his arms trod upon his feet every chance she got.
Only when waltzes struck up did Alec return. Yet each dance was more torturous than the previous one. By evening’s end, Alec’s
mood fell just short of foul. Returning home, he placed a chaste kiss on Julia’s hand and consigned himself to the library with a bottle of his best brandy.
He poured himself a hefty drink and tossed it back in one gulp. There wasn’t enough liquor in the whole damn house to cool his blood, but it was all he had. Pouring another, he turned to sit in his favorite chair but pulled up short at the empty spot. It was still being repaired. Consigning all reformers and their troublesome charges to the devil, he dropped onto the settee and positioned the meager cushions to attain some semblance of comfort.
Glancing at the ceiling, he wondered if Julia were already asleep above, comfortably ensconced in her virginal bed, the covers pulled to her chin. But as his thoughts had a disturbing tendency to peer beneath her chaste covers, he quickly dismissed the image and forced himself to concentrate on his brandy.
He sighed heavily and glanced at the mantel to check the time, but no clock rested in the center of the ornately carved shelf. Yet another of Muck’s casualties. Alec cursed and rose to cross to the sideboard. Abandoning all pretenses, he opened another bottle of brandy and carried it to his lumpy settee.
It was going to be one hell of a night.
Chapter 17
Two weeks after the rout, the Dowager Duchess of Roth appeared at Almack’s with a page even homelier than Muck. She further astounded her friends and family by graciously announcing that the child was a former pickpocket, plucked from the gutter and trained by her own tender care. The gossips clamored. No one seemed to notice that the dowager was also a distant, but fond, relative of Lady Birlington’s.
Within a fortnight, bewildered footmen from all across London were sent into the streets and alleyways to rescue homely children for the employment of their mistresses.
Julia’s success was assured. Therese, startled by this unexpected coup, immediately sent for Nick.
It took him three days to reply, but when he did, she had the coveted pleasure of riding out with him in his high-perch phaeton, an honor he afforded very few. After assisting Therese into the carriage, he climbed up beside her and set the horses to a smart trot down the tree-lined street.
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