The Redemption of Julian Price

by Victoria Vane

  “That’s not how I see it, Julian. I view you as an investment. I wish to give you the money, but I would also expect something in return.”

  “And what is that?” he asked.

  “Your promise to bring your estate back to prosperity.”

  “You deserve better. You deserve a man worthy of your love. You should have wed Thomas Wiggington,” he replied. He jerked out of his chair and began pacing, his expression contorted with emotion. “I can’t tell you how many times I have wished that it was me and not him who fell that day.”

  Henrietta’s chest squeezed at Julian’s look of anguish. “But you are alive, Julian. And now I’m offering a way that we both could make the best of our bad situations. I love Shropshire, but I don’t wish to remain at home and raise my brother’s children, nor do I truly want to live as a spinster with some dour companion as my constant shadow. Neither of us is inclined to wed, but we both could gain something we desire from such an arrangement.”

  “What if I were to fail and lose all your money?” he asked.

  Henrietta debated telling him more, but this was Julian, a man she trusted as much as she would a brother. “It could be inconvenient for a time, but Lady Cheswick intends to leave me the bulk of her estate when she passes. I do not wish it on her, of course, but she is very old.”

  “So you propose a mariage de convenance?” He eyed her speculatively. “Would you desire to reside in separate households?”

  “I think not. It would be exceedingly wasteful, don’t you agree?”

  “So you would make your home at Price Hall?”

  “Why not? Would it really be so terrible? The estate needs your attention.”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry, Hen, but I have been away a very long time. I’m accustomed to diversions that are not available in the country. I could not abide spending all of my time in Shropshire.”

  Alone with me. Her heart sank. Was the notion so very repugnant to him? Was that the source of his reluctance? It was then that she realized she’d neglected to take one major factor into consideration—Julian kept a mistress, and that mistress resided somewhere in town.

  As his wife, she could either turn a blind eye to the arrangement or request that he end the relationship, but that would require becoming his wife in every sense of the word. Did she desire that? More importantly, did he? She refused to ask because she simply couldn’t bear the thought of another rejection.

  She chose her next words with great care. “If the idea is so disagreeable to you, perhaps we could lease a house in town for use during the season?”

  “I suppose that would answer,” he replied.

  “Julian, please know that I do not want to live in your pocket. I desire a certain amount of freedom in this proposed arrangement and would expect us both to live as we choose.” She paused. “As long as the estate is not neglected, and you exercise a certain amount of circumspection, I would expect you to carry on much as you are accustomed to doing.”

  “Circumspection?” His gaze flickered and then held hers. “What are you saying, Hen? That you do not wish to consummate the union?”

  “It’s not necessary that we do,” she replied, intently watching his face. Would he insist on consummation? Or did he prefer to keep his mistress?

  “It is by law,” he stated.

  “Who is to know but us?” she countered.

  “What of children?” he asked.

  “Do you want them?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never thought of it before.”

  “Then I think we should allow ourselves a suitable period of adjustment, don’t you? If the arrangement does not work out between us, we could then seek an annulment.”

  “Non-consummation is not grounds for annulment, Hen,” he said. “Only impotence allows a marriage to be dissolved, and I assure you I do not suffer from that particular affliction.”

  A wave of heat crept up her neck at Julian’s intimation. Her flush deepened further at the recollection of their night at the inn. She was too well aware that he was capable, but did he desire it? He gave no true indication. His arguments thus far were rational rather than passionate, as if they were negotiating a bargain. But weren’t they? What had she expected? That Julian would suddenly take her into his arms and declare he couldn’t live without her? She chided herself for harboring ridiculous romantic fantasies.

  “You are not considering all angles,” Julian continued, unaware of her thoughts. “To wed me would be robbing yourself of any possibility of finding a man you could actually love.”

  But you are the one I love. She bit down on her tongue lest she blurt the truth.

  “I could say the same of you,” she replied softly.

  “No, Hen,” he said with a bitter laugh. “You are capable of that depth of feeling. I am not. I simply do not have it in me . . . not anymore.”

  She studied him, unable to read his emotions. Was it truly lack of feeling, or his worthiness that he questioned? Did he not consider himself deserving of love?

  “I don’t believe you. We are all capable of love, Julian.”

  “I am living proof to the contrary. Now that Thomas is gone, you and Harry are the only people on this earth that I even care about anymore. The rest of the world can go to the devil. ”

  She laid her gloved hand on top of his arm. “I care for you too, Julian,” she said softly. “And I don’t want you to leave. Please consider my offer.”

  “I despise the notion of taking your money, Hen. Doing so would cast me in the same mold as Winston. The very idea makes me cringe.”

  “Hardly!” she retorted. “You would not be taking anything that isn’t freely offered. I wish to give you the money, don’t you understand? I want you to keep the home that is rightfully yours. In return, I hope to live my own life with a measure of independence that I might not have otherwise.”

  “Are you truly certain about this, Hen?” Julian asked. “You would be getting the short end of this bargain, I assure you.”

  Was he right? Was she selling herself short by proposing to a man who didn’t love her? Then again, they at least had a deep friendship. That was more than many wedded couples shared. Perhaps other feelings would grow in time? The prospect of a passionless marriage filled her with a hollow ache, but she would rather live without passion than to be tried and found wanting.

  He paused in front of the banked hearth and stared into the smoldering coals. “I don’t wish to ruin your life.”

  “What life?” she countered. “If we do not do this thing, what have either of us to look forward to?”

  “Point taken,” he replied bitterly.

  “Will you do it?” she asked.

  “If we agree, we must act quickly,” he said. “There will be no time to call the banns or plan a wedding.”

  She laughed. “It’s no matter to me. You know how I despise weddings.”

  Julian rose and went to his desk. Taking up a quill, he quickly scrawled and sanded a note and then rang for his servant. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Julian replied with a tight smile. “Informing my solicitor of the happy news. It seems I am about to wed an heiress.”

  ***

  After Henrietta had departed in the garish yellow carriage, Julian spent the remainder of the day alternating between pacing and drinking while awaiting acknowledgment of the letter he’d sent to his solicitor. He was still stunned by Henrietta’s proposal. He despised himself for taking advantage of her offer, but what choice had he but to accept? His only other option was to embrace his fate as a mercenary, a life that would surely extinguish any flicker of humanity that remained in him.

  For the first time, he assessed her purely as a woman rather than as a friend. Although Henrietta Houghton would be lost in the sea of beauties that habited the London ballrooms, there was some invisible force that drew him to her. That was not to say he found her physically unappealing. Quite the contrary. She had clear gray eyes that shone with good humor, a qui
rky mouth that he found most fascinating, and a softly rounded feminine form that most any man would appreciate. But there was something more. Something he couldn’t define. Perhaps it was her natural warmth? Her playfulness? Her lack of feminine guile. Or maybe it was her strong mind and quick wit? Although he hadn’t intended to take a wife, Henrietta suited him better than any woman he knew. He’d never been in love, but he cared about Hen more than he’d ever cared about anyone else aside from Thomas.

  He just hoped she wasn’t entering into this with blinders on. He’d told her the truth about himself, or as much of it as he dared to tell her. If they indeed wed, he vowed to be a good husband to her, to treat her with all the kindness, consideration, and respect she deserved. He truly enjoyed her company and would do his best to make her happy, but the fly in the proverbial ointment was the non-consummation provision she’d insisted on.

  Why had she put him off? Was it just virginal jitters, or something more? What did she expect of him? Was he supposed to live as a eunuch? He’d be damned if he would. How could he reside in the same household, as her husband, knowing he had full entitlement to all that entailed, and not go mad with the desire to bed her? But this was Henrietta. How could he bed her without ruining everything? Sexual relations with her would surely destroy the relationship he valued above all else. He could not, would not, take that chance.

  He paused his prowling to refill his empty glass. A soft knock sounded on the door, a welcome interruption to his morose ponderings. Gibbs entered bearing a letter on a silver salver.

  Was it news from his solicitor? Julian snatched it up and tore the wax seal. With breath bated, he scanned the brief missive while his alcohol-afflicted brain struggled to interpret the legal jargon. After reading it twice, he deduced that Lady Cheswick’s man of business had agreed to provide the proof of funds the bank required to forestall the foreclosure. There was much yet to be negotiated with the bank, but at least he had his prayed-for reprieve. He tossed the letter down and scrawled a brief reply, followed by a short message to Henrietta.

  My Dearest Henrietta,

  It is with the greatest gratitude and humility that I accept your proposal. I shall obtain a license from Bishop Howley with all dispatch and request that you make ready for our imminent return to Shropshire to perform the nuptials. I shall collect you at eight on the day after tomorrow (provided you have not come to your senses by then).

  I only hope to prove myself worthy of your trust and confidence.

  Your most devoted friend and servant,

  Julian

  Julian sanded, folded, and sealed both missives and then rang for Gibbs with a sigh. If it must be done, let it be done swiftly.

  “You have another visitor,” Gibbs reported. “Are you at home, sir?”

  “Another one? Who the devil is it now?”

  “Sir Henry Houghton calls, sir.”

  “Harry?” Julian repeated in surprise. “Yes, Gibbs, I’ll receive him.” He handed his servant two more missives. “Pray see these delivered posthaste.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  Julian followed his servant to the foyer, where he greeted Henrietta’s brother with an extended hand. “Harry! What are you doing in town? I thought you would still be in Shropshire dancing attendance on your bride-to-be.”

  “I was,” Harry replied. “But a chap needs some breathing room now and again, right?”

  “He does indeed,” Julian laughed. “But how on earth did you manage to extricate yourself?”

  “Urgent business,” Harry said with a wink. “Penelope never questions matters of business. In truth, I urgently require a new hunter.”

  “So you wish to take me up on my invitation to Tatts? Your arrival is ill-timed, my friend, as I have truly pressing matters of my own.”

  “What is more important than a trip to Tattersalls?” Harry asked.

  “I have personal business with the Bishop of London.”

  “The bishop?” Harry screwed up his face. “Why would you be calling on a bishop?”

  “I have need of a marriage license,” Julian replied.

  “A marriage license? You? What the devil?” Harry looked like he’d swallowed his tongue. “Did you impregnate that Mathieson woman? She’s still your mistress, isn’t she?”

  “It’s none of your business if she is or isn’t, and of course not! I take great care to avoid that kind of complication.”

  “Then you’ve debauched a virgin?”

  “I did nothing of the sort!” Julian snapped.

  “Don’t take my head off over it!” Harry replied. “It’s just such a shocker. You said nothing about this the entire time you were in the country. I just can’t imagine you putting your head into that noose without either enticement or extortion. Since it wasn’t one, was it the other? Have you suddenly found yourself an heiress, Jules?”

  Julian had wanted to leave it to Hen to break the news to her brother, but now he saw no choice but to speak up about it. In either case, they needed witnesses to the solemnization. It seemed most appropriate that one of these should be Henrietta’s brother.

  “As a matter of fact . . .” he began slowly, “your sister and I are to be wed.”

  “My sister,” Harry repeated blankly. “But my sisters are already wed.”

  “Not all of them,” Julian said.

  Harry’s jaw dropped. “You can’t mean Henrietta.” His expression blackened with accusation. “You’ve ruined her, haven’t you? You had your wanton way with her when you drove her to London. You bloody cad! I should call you out!”

  “My dear Harry,” Julian spoke with slow articulation, “you should think before you speak. Were you to call me out, your dear Penelope would be attending your funeral rather than her wedding.”

  Harry blanched before his eyes. “You know I didn’t mean it, Jules. Heat of the moment and all that rot.”

  “I did not seduce your sister. Marriage was Henrietta’s idea. She would like to be wed.”

  “To you?” Harry asked, still unable to hide his skepticism.

  “Yes, to me,” Julian replied irritably. “I am very fond of Henrietta, and she is rather fond of me. You know that even as children we always enjoyed a particular conviviality and oneness of mind.”

  “And now you wish to enjoy oneness of body too?” Harry remarked with a scowl. “That’s what a mistress is for, not my sister.”

  “Did you not hear me?” Julian said. “I am speaking of holy matrimony, a state you yourself are about to enter in less than a month’s time.”

  “But you didn’t even ask me for her hand,” Harry remarked petulantly. “As the head of the family, don’t I deserve that show of respect?”

  So that was the real issue. It wasn’t so much that Julian sought Henrietta’s hand; her idiot brother took exception because Julian hadn’t allowed him to play lord of the manor.

  “I had no need to ask you. Henrietta is of an age to decide for herself. Besides, we just came to the decision.”

  “And you are already seeking a license? If you insist on doing this, you could at least do the decent thing by calling the banns after Penny and I marry. I’m no expert on women, but I do have sense enough to know that a bride doesn’t like anyone else stealing the thunder.”

  Julian cursed under his breath. “Damn it, Harry! This. Cannot. Wait.”

  Harry’s gaze narrowed. “Why? If you have not debauched my sister, why such a rush?”

  “Because if I don’t wed your sister, I will lose everything.”

  “You are in need of money? Why the devil didn’t you just say so? I could make you a loan. There’s no need to marry my sister for her dowry.”

  “There’s more to it than that. More than I care to discuss.”

  “It’s that bad, Jules? You’re completely on the rocks?”

  “Yes.” Julian exhaled with an impatient sigh. “I was preparing to return to Portugal when Henrietta arrived with this proposition.”

  “I don’t understand,” Harry sa
id. “Hen hasn’t any money.”

  “It seems her circumstances have changed,” Julian said. “But I am not at liberty to say more. You must discuss it with her.” Julian glanced at the clock. “The hour grows late. I must see the bishop.”

  Harry shook his head. “Marry in haste and regret at leisure, Jules. This cannot end well for either of you.”

  Julian upturned his palms in a helpless gesture. “I know I am not worthy of her, and I never would have pursued her, but she came to me. I will do my best to make her happy, Harry. I mean that. I know you don’t like it, but given my circumstances, I am not in a position to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “Horses! Bloody hell,” Harry groaned. “I came to town for a hunter. Now I see that I must go and talk some sense into my addlepated sister.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “MILADY HAS ASKED FOR YOU, MISS,” Clemmons informed Henrietta as she removed her hat and gloves, placing them on the beeswax-coated half-moon table that graced the foyer.

  “Where is she, Clemmons?” Henrietta asked.

  “She takes her tea in the morning room,” he replied.

  “Thank you. I shall go to her at once.”

  Henrietta’s slippered feet softly slapped the black-and-white marble tiles. She’d returned to Cheswick House strangely deflated. Although she’d achieved her goal, she felt little satisfaction and no joy. Julian had received her proposal with all the enthusiasm one might exhibit at the prospect of having a bad tooth drawn.

  “Well, child?” Lady Cheswick inquired, patting the cushion by her side. “What has transpired?”

  Henrietta perched on the settle with a sigh. “Julian and I are to be wed.”

  “Indeed?” Lady Cheswick replied, brows drawn. “Is this not what you desired? You hardly look the part of the expectant bride.”

  “It is what I wanted,” Henrietta replied. “Julian is the only man I ever desired, but now I perceive that this marriage is only going to make me miserable for the rest of my days.”

  “My dear, why would you say such a thing?” Lady Cheswick asked.

  “It’s not that I thought he would make any declarations of undying affection,” Henrietta continued. “But the whole business felt so very . . . cold.”