Season for Temptation

by Theresa Romain

A knock sounded on the door of the library, and Simone peeped her head in to announce the arrival of “the young viscount fiancé gentleman.”

  Louisa smiled bracingly at Julia. “There we are, perfect timing. Ready to eat?”

  “Absolutely,” Julia replied promptly, rising. “Always.”

  It was a lie; her stomach still roiled with nervousness, but it wouldn’t do to tell Louisa about that. If she wasn’t in the mood for a meal, Louisa would instantly suspect something was wrong.

  “And are you ready to place your order for a husband?”

  Julia shook her head. “That I feel less ready for.”

  “Come on,” Louisa pleaded. “Please let us help you. I want you to have all the fun I wanted for myself last year and didn’t have. I want lovely men to flock to you.”

  “All I want is one,” Julia replied.

  At the familiar twinge of guilt and longing, she paused in her walk, thinking. She felt as if she were on the edge of something important.

  If she agreed with Louisa’s scheme, she would start something new. She would open her eyes to a new world, full of potentially exciting people. But she would also close off the possibility of something else, something deep and comforting and real. Her ideal; her chosen love.

  But that had never been a possibility anyway. It was time to let that go.

  Even though Louisa had admitted she didn’t love him.

  Julia nodded desperately to clear that thought from her mind. “Very well, I’ll do it.”

  “You mean it?” Louisa clapped her hands together in excitement.

  “Yes,” Julia said, covering her uncertainty with a shaky laugh. “Let’s order a husband for me, and let’s find him.”

  Chapter 16

  In Which the Viscount Is Unhelpfully Helpful

  James, ever appreciative of the absurd, showed what he thought was a very reasonable amount of delight when Julia and Louisa informed him, on the way to the masquerade, of the “husband order” they had determined to place for Julia. He promised, dutifully, but with a rebellious twinkle in his eye, to help root out someone first-rate for her.

  This casual attitude offended Lady Irving.

  “I think it’s a very sensible idea,” she barked. “Julia’s got her eyes open. A young miss ought to have her eyes open when she’s sorting through a lot of riffraff, which today’s young men are.” After a long pause, she grudgingly added, “Present company excluded, I suppose.”

  “How charming you always are, my lady,” James said with a grin. “Such great age brings great wisdom as well.”

  And thus, with the score tied one to one between the countess and the viscount, the party entered Xavier House.

  Lady Irving ran on ahead, crowing about finding Lord Xavier and getting together a “spirited” and “fun” game of whist for “real stakes,” which her relatives now knew was likely to involve some shockingly deep play. For James, the fun began not with cards, but when his old acquaintance Freddie Pellington darted up to the remaining three members of the party and pumped the viscount’s hand energetically.

  “Dash it, old boy, it’s dashed good to see you. Damme, I didn’t know you were back in town. Thought you’d run off to the country for good. Back in London already, though, ain’t you?”

  “Yes, here I am, as you see,” James replied patiently, accepting Pellington’s energetic clap on the back. Freddie Pellington was a kind enough young man, but definitely not the brightest fellow of his acquaintance.

  And that’s when his brilliant idea struck.

  He couldn’t say he had relished the idea of helping Julia find a man. The idea of systematically searching for a husband had seemed amusing enough when she and Louisa had first revealed their scheme, but it hadn’t sat all that well with him once he had a chance to mull it over. He was just supposed to help sell her off? Never mind that it was to be to someone who was kind, funny, handsome, wealthy, warm-hearted, et cetera, et cetera. If such a paragon existed—which was doubtful—why on earth would James ever want to spend any time around him? He would feel positively inferior, and honestly, he would probably want to slug the fellow in the teeth for making eyes at Julia.

  He couldn’t just refuse to cooperate with his fiancée’s request, though. However . . . he realized now that he could honor the letter of the request, if not the spirit. He would find Julia exactly the type of man she had requested in a husband. No less, but certainly no more.

  He felt better already.

  “My dear Louisa—Julia—please allow me to introduce the Honorable Frederic Pellington,” he said triumphantly, then introduced the ladies to the young man in return. With a speaking look to both women, James added, “He’s a very kind man. Aren’t you, Freddie?”

  “Charmed, charmed,” burbled Pellington as he made his bow to the ladies. “Any friend of Matheson’s, you know. Friend of mine. Happy to meet you.” James’s words seemed to sink in just then, and he continued, “Dash it, Matheson, no need to go on about me. Always try to be kind and whatnot, but you know, definitely a man of the world.”

  James nudged Julia significantly and nodded to drive the point home unmistakably. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she darted a quick look at him, as if to say, Really?

  He supposed he couldn’t blame her for being suspicious. Perhaps he’d stretched the limits of her credulity too much by presenting her with Pellington right off. The man was usually a positive pink of the ton, but tonight he had gone all out for the masquerade in what appeared to be the makeshift costume of a pasha. He was wearing a gold waistcoat with an untucked shirt under it for modesty’s sake, extremely baggy purple trousers, and—most unfortunate of all—a scarlet turban exactly like the one Julia was wearing.

  Oh well, it was worth a try to throw the two together. If Julia gave him the slightest opening, Pellington would talk her ear off all evening and she’d never have the opportunity even to look at another man. And then she’d be safe from suitors for the night, because, honestly, there wasn’t a chance in the world she’d take that rather dim fellow seriously as a possible husband.

  Finally, Julia replied to Pellington, and James knew she had taken the bait. “How . . . how nice to meet you,” she faltered, making her curtsy. “I think your costume is very interesting.”

  Pellington’s eyes blinked wide open, and a bright smile spread across his face. “Do you really? Dashed kind of you, I must say. I wasn’t sure about it myself, but Xavier insisted on fancy dress. Never fond of a costume in the common way, but decided I’d get a bit creative this time. All among friends here, you know; just a very small gathering.”

  “Pellington’s wealthy, too,” James added ruthlessly. “And he’s fond of children.”

  “Are you really?” Julia replied weakly, shooting another are-you-sure-about-this look at James, which he met with his brightest, most open smile. All right, maybe it was more of a grin.

  “Oh, well, dash it, Matheson,” Pellington replied, blushing. “Haven’t got any children myself, of course; not that type of a fellow. But someday, you know, and all that. Always liked them. Seem like nice little creatures. Have quite a knack with them, actually.”

  A memory struck him. “Did you know you can soothe a baby with brandy? I mean, it always works to settle me, but I wouldn’t have thought a baby would have a taste for it. But I tried it on my brother’s baby when he was fussing—the baby, I mean—and the little fellow took to it dashed fondly.”

  “You . . . gave brandy to a baby?” Julia said weakly, unable to entirely suppress an expression of horror from her face. She looked even paler than usual under her shocking red turban, the heavy weight of which was already beginning to shift to one side. Blinking in agitation, she shoved it back into place absently, wreaking unwitting havoc on Simone’s careful hairpinning.

  Louisa, meanwhile, used the cover of the long, gauzy folds of her Classical dress to grind one delicately slippered foot onto James’s boot. His boot was thick enough that he could hardly feel it, but he still go
t the idea. All right, time to salvage the situation.

  “Pellington was just joking, weren’t you?” He shot a significant look at the costume-clad gentleman.

  “What? Joking? No indeed,” that young man replied, completely missing the sub rosa meaning of James’s glance. “Mind you, didn’t give the baby very much. Only a few drops. Although,” he confessed, “his mother caught me at it, and she was dashed angry. Made me swear not to do it again. Can’t see why, because it worked like a charm. But promised her anyway.”

  He smiled ingenuously. “Always want to keep a female happy, you know.

  “I say,” he continued, another thought seizing him, “have you met our host yet? I’d be dashed glad to introduce you, if you’d permit me the honor.”

  He seemed to come back to an awareness of his surroundings then, and added, “Dash it, Matheson, would you mind if I took Miss Herington off your hands? I’d consider it quite an honor. Love to show her around and take her to Xavier and whatnot.”

  Without daring to look at Julia for fear his face would crack into a laugh, James nodded and waved the pair away. “I leave her in your capable hands, Pellington. It’s very kind of you.”

  Julia looked back at them once, desperately, as Freddie Pellington bore her off. James could overhear him saying, as they walked, “Went to school with Matheson, you know. Dashed good fellow. Bit of a stick, though. Didn’t even come in costume. So you really do like mine?”

  That had worked better even than he had hoped; James reflected that he must have more of a talent for machinations than he’d known. There was absolutely no way Julia would be meeting any potential husbands tonight. He supposed the thought ought to make him ashamed, since it went against the express wishes of the two gently bred ladies who had asked for his help.

  But it didn’t. He felt positively triumphant. And maybe a bit jealous, too; after all, Pellington still got to bear Julia away and keep her company for the evening.

  James’s reverie was interrupted by another surprisingly hearty stomp on his foot by his fiancée.

  Oh—his fiancée. He realized he’d been impolite to Louisa, more even than she knew, and his sense of satisfaction melted into chagrin.

  “Really.” Louisa looked at him reproachfully as soon as she was sure Pellington and Julia were out of earshot. “That was unkind of you, James.”

  “Unkind?” he repeated, unable to resist. “All right, maybe he’s not exactly the type of man she’s looking for. But he really is everything she asked for in a husband.”

  Louisa continued to stare at him as if he were an idiot.

  He folded his arms and looked back at his fiancée defensively. “He is. That’s what she gets for not specifying intelligence.” He knew it was a childish response, but he was feeling a bit childish right now.

  Louisa rolled her eyes. “Fine. Please add ‘intelligence’ to the list of qualities Julia is looking for in a husband.”

  James sighed. She had him cornered there. If Julia had ever managed to escape Pellington’s verbal cage, he’d had a string of vapid young time-wasters in mind to keep her occupied throughout the evening. Now he might have to think of someone she might actually like, or Louisa would see through him in a second.

  In fact, she already seemed to be seeing through him with uncomfortable clarity. “What are you doing, James? You know perfectly well Pellington isn’t the sort of man who’d make her a good husband. Why even encourage her to spend any time with him, beyond a courteous introduction?”

  “He’s not a bad fellow,” he replied, somewhat lamely. “And she seemed interested in him.”

  “She was being polite,” Louisa replied, smiling sweetly for the sake of appearances in case anyone might be watching them, but with gritted teeth. “Which, by the way, is the only quality that is keeping me from kicking you behind the knee and making your legs buckle, right here in the drawing room of Xavier House.”

  At James’s startled look, she explained logically, “Well, I can hardly kick you in the shin. My slippers are far too soft; I’d hurt my foot more than I’d hurt you.”

  “Your point is taken,” James said calmly. “I promise to introduce her only to the finest men in England from this point forward.”

  Inside, however, he was seething just a little. Why should Louisa assume that he’d be willing to go along with this harebrained scheme of theirs? Who ever heard of ordering a husband like a Christmas dinner, anyway? He felt like he was the poor goose in question, pursued, caught, and roasted. These women were using him.

  To be fair, Julia was to be family, so he supposed they thought his close relationship to her would make him willing to help with any favor they deemed necessary. And it should; it really should.

  Except this one was difficult for him. Unexpectedly difficult. He knew it shouldn’t be. After all, he wasn’t permitting himself to think of Julia in anything but the most friendly, casual way. Usually.

  He decided to drop that line of thought and just try to enjoy the rest of the evening. He tossed the end of his cape over one arm—despite Pellington’s assertion, he had come in a costume, albeit a cursory one of a domino over his usual evening clothes—and offered Louisa his arm. He might be a goose, but he need not act like a pig as well.

  “Come along, my dear. Let’s see who else is here.”

  Louisa came with him willingly enough, and over the next few hours they spoke at least a little with nearly everyone at the gathering. Lord Xavier was the first person they sought out, of course, to pay their respects.

  This young gentleman, dressed as a Georgian of their grandparents’ generation in powdered wig and knee breeches, with a black mask over his eyes, was regaling a group of bachelor friends with a decidedly improper story involving an opera dancer, a bottle of champagne, and a pineapple. James was interested in hearing the ending of it, but the young man stopped the tale as soon as he saw Louisa.

  “Ah, you must be the Honorable Miss Oliver,” he transitioned smoothly, making his bow and kissing her hand. He lifted his mask to his forehead to remove any obstruction to his vision. “How enchanting to meet you at last. Or should I call you”—he cast his eyes up and down her form, taking in the details of her costume—“the goddess Diana, perhaps?”

  “Lord Xavier.” She curtsied. “The honor is all on my side. And Helen of Troy was the intention, though I suppose that’s a bit presumptuous for any woman. Diana is equally flattering and will certainly do very well.”

  She smiled knowingly, skeptical of his flattering tones, and James felt proud to be escorting her. She could hold her own socially, he knew it. See how the young men who had been speaking with Xavier were now looking at her? They gaped at her, dazzled by her Classical beauty, as if she truly were the goddess he had called her.

  “Xavier,” James acknowledged his friend. “Thank you for the invitation tonight. Are you portraying our ailing, lamented king in his youth?”

  “The Sun King, rather, I think,” Xavier drawled. “Our George never enjoyed wine, women, and song nearly so much as did Louis the Fourteenth. You could hardly expect me to portray a dull creature, now could you?”

  He smiled, slow and dangerous and lewd, and Louisa drew in her breath sharply. Was she indignant? James, mindful of his duty to safeguard her from impropriety, nodded to his friend and thanked him again, drawing her away from the group of men.

  “I don’t suppose he would do for Julia,” Louisa whispered in his ear, casting a dubious glance back over her shoulder as they walked away. “That look he gave me—I felt positively undressed. It was very uncomfortable.”

  “No,” James said shortly. “He wouldn’t do.” Behind him, he heard the Sun King resume the tale about the pineapple. He looked back to see his old acquaintance’s eyes still on Louisa, thoughtful and dark, even as he held his friends spellbound with his bawdy story. “He definitely would not do at all.”

  “He’s a friend of yours, though?” she asked doubtfully, a worried crease between her brows.

 
; “Yes, he is,” James replied. “We grew up together, as Pellington and I did. I don’t know that I’ve got all that much in common with either of them anymore. Xavier’s a bit younger than I, and still very wild. He came into an enormous fortune at an early age and seems to be doing his best to run through it in any number of creative ways.”

  “He’s quite handsome, though,” Louisa mused. “And obviously very intelligent.”

  Handsome, James would grant, though it seemed odd to think that about another man. But he knew the lean, dark looks of Alexander Edgware, Lord Xavier, appealed to many women—as did his air of barely curbed wildness. And he was intelligent, too; he could read people with uncanny swiftness, he always rose the winner from a game of cards or chance, and he could be very quickwitted, even uncomfortably so.

  However . . .

  “He’s not kind enough,” James informed her. “Not for Julia. Of the two, she’d be much better off with Pellington.”

  Louisa shuddered. “Then we obviously need to find a third possibility for her.”

  As it turned out, Julia found that third possibility herself. Pellington had steered her around the room and into a smaller side salon, introducing her in his fractured, enthusiastic style to several of his acquaintances. At the moment James and Louisa reencountered them, they were speaking in the smaller room with Sir Stephen Saville, a baronet in his mid thirties.

  “Damnation,” James said when he saw them, ignoring Louisa’s gasp at his unguarded language.

  Pellington was hovering around Julia and the baronet as they sat on a sofa, interjecting frequent comments that were mostly ignored by the other two. Sir Stephen, wearing a simple black domino with its accompanying mask flipped up atop his head rather than over his face, was staring spellbound at Julia, holding onto her every word as if it were a gem, plying her with questions whenever her conversation wound down. Julia, for her part, was chattering away merrily to the older gentleman, darting occasional replies to Pellington and frequently shoving her slipping turban back into place atop her now-untidy hair.