He winced. “That’s rather harsh.”
“I daresay it’s not harsh enough.” She considered him curiously. “Now, do tell me. To what do I owe this visit?”
“I have something of a proposition for you.”
“Oh?”
“Not that kind of proposition, although …”
“Go on,” she said coolly.
“Very well.” His expression sobered. “What I am proposing is a partnership of sorts. I would like to purchase Lady Middlebury’s memoirs and incorporate them into a book of my own.”
She shook her head in confusion. “You want to do what?”
“I want to use excerpts from the memoirs verbatim, then expand on them. Turn them into fiction, as it were.” He leaned toward her in an eager manner. “I want to combine her true exploits—”
“She calls them adventures,” Julia said under her breath.
“Even better. I envision taking her adventures then adding dialogue, setting, and so forth to make them come alive to the reader.” His brow furrowed in thought. “We can call it The True Adventures of a Lady of Pleasure—”
Her brows rose. “A lady of pleasure?”
“It does need a good title,” he said. “Something to grab the reading public’s attention.”
“My great-grandmother entitled it The Perfect Mistress.”
“The Perfect Mistress?” He thought for a moment then nodded. “Yes, I like that. Very well then. We could call it The Perfect Mistress: The True Adventures of Lady Mid-dlebury in Her Own Words and As Told by John Edding-ton Ellsworth.”
“That’s rather long, isn’t it?”
He scoffed. “Not in the least.”
She considered the idea. It was not bad, not bad at all.
“Think of it, Lady Winterset. With your ancestor’s scandalous tales and my literary prowess, this book could be my most successful to date.” He smiled in a less than humble manner. “And I have had some impressive successes.”
“Indeed you have, Mr. Ellsworth. But do answer one question.”
“Anything.”
“If I am to sell you the memoirs and you are to write the book”—she cast him a pleasant smile—“where is the partnership?”
“Oh.” He stared at her. “Perhaps I misspoke.”
“Or perhaps you intended to offer a percentage of the royalties from sales, in addition to the payment to purchase the memoirs, and simply forgot to mention it.”
“Yes.” He nodded slowly. “That must be it.”
“I thought as much.” She beamed at him. “Now then, did you have a figure in mind? For the memoirs themselves?”
He nodded, produced an envelope, and presented it with a flourish. She sighed to herself. This must be how men do business. Once more, she opened an envelope and studied the figure written. It was quite generous and quite familiar, matching the offer from Harrison. Although selling to Harrison meant the memoirs would ultimately be destroyed whereas with Mr. Ellsworth’s proposal they would live on, at least in some form.
“Quite generous, Mr. Ellsworth.” She eyed him thoughtfully, “You must be very certain as to the success of this proposal.”
“Oh, I am, I am indeed.” Confidence rang in the man’s voice.
“Very well then,” She nodded and stood. At once he jumped to his feet. “I shall certainly give your proposal serious consideration.”
He stared in disbelief. “Serious consideration? Is that all?”
She nodded. “Very serious consideration.”
“You do realize that I am considered a most successful author?”
“Of course.”
“One of the most popular writing in England today?”
She stifled a smile. “I realize that as well.”
“And what I am offering is very nearly certain success?”
“I do recall you saying that one never knows how a work will be received.”
“Well, yes, but …” He stared at her for a long moment. “My apologies, Lady Winterset, I believe I have not given you the credit due you.”
“In what way, Mr. Ellsworth?”
“I assumed you would jump at the opportunity I presented you.”
“Did you?” She shook her head. “Oh dear, I do so hate to disappoint.”
His gaze narrowed. “You are not swayed by my celebrity?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Nor impressed with my past success?”
“Even though it is most impressive.” She shrugged. “No.”
“And you seem to be immune to my considerable charm as well.”
“Surely I’m not the first?”
He choked.
“Well, perhaps I am.” She tried and failed to hold back a grin. “Although I do find you most amusing.”
“Well, that’s something, I suppose,” he muttered. “I warn you, Lady Winterset, I do not take rejection well. I intend to pursue this.”
“I did agree to consider your proposal.” She walked to the parlor door and opened it.
“Yes, that too.” He started to leave then turned back. “You are a most unusual woman.”
“And just today I was called remarkable as well.” And hadn’t Harrison called her compelling and irresistible? She’d been too irritated to heed his words at the time. Now, she couldn’t help but wonder what they meant and why he had said them.
“Indeed you are.” A grudging smile spread across his face. “It’s not very often that I meet a woman who is not impressed by my fame.”
“Then this is a new experience for you.”
He laughed. “And not one I wish to repeat. However you …” He drew a deep breath. “Lady Tennwright is having one of her salons two days from now. I am the guest of honor and I would be honored if you would accompany me.”
“That would be most improper. However …” She smiled. “I would be delighted to attend and I shall see you there.”
His expression brightened. “That will do nicely. We can continue to discuss the disposition of the memoirs and why you are not swept away by my charm and wit and celebrity.”
“Oh, that does sound like fun.” She smiled. “Might I bring along a friend?”
He raised a suspicious brow. “A gentleman friend?”
“I was thinking Lady Redwell might enjoy accompanying me. She sat next to you at dinner.”
“Lady Redwell?” Recognition crossed his face and he smiled. “Ah yes, delightful lady. Oh, do bring her.”
“Because she is appropriately impressed with you?”
“Well, yes.” He grinned in a most immodest manner. “I shall need some adoration to renew my flagging spirits.”
“I doubt that your spirits will flag for long.” She cast him a pleasant but dismissive smile. “Good day, Mr. Ellsworth.”
“Good day, Lady Winterset.” He studied her for another moment then nodded and took his leave.
She closed the door behind him then leaned back against it and blew a long breath.
“Well, what do you think of that?” she said aloud and waited. There was no response. “Never a ghost around when you need one.” Again, there was no response save silence.
She pushed away from the door and resumed pacing where she had left off. Now she had three offers for the memoirs. Benjamin’s, which was very much a risk but could provide a source of income for years. Harrison’s and Mr. Ellsworth’s, both of which were equal in initial payment but Mr. Ellsworth’s offered long-term income as well. Fortunately, there was no need to make a rash decision. Very soon, she would no longer have the expenses of her grandmother’s cottage, which would ease her financial strain and allow her more time to decide which offer to accept.
It was an interesting dilemma. Of the three, Benjamin struck her as the most trustworthy. Mr. Ellsworth produced no doubts whatsoever. She was absolutely certain she couldn’t trust him. As for Harrison, as much as she wished to trust him she wasn’t at all sure she could.
Which only made her wonder why she wanted to.
“Yes, thank you.”
He had come to call on Miss Waverly this afternoon as a first step toward making her his wife. As much as she encompassed all his requirements, it still seemed wise to get to know the young woman before declaring his intentions. After all, they would be together for the rest of their days.
It was the appropriate time of day to pay such a call and as was proper, they were not alone. Miss Waverly’s mother sat on the other side of the parlor appearing to be engrossed by her embroidery although Harrison was certain she was listening to every word.
“Lovely weather for this time of year. Don’t you agree, my lord?” Miss Waverly said brightly.
“I do indeed.” He nodded. “Do you like autumn, Miss Waverly?”
“Well.” She paused to consider the question and an annoying voice in the back of his head questioned why she needed to consider something so simple. “I like that the weather is cooler and that soon it will be winter. And I shall be able to wear all sorts of lovely furs. I do like furs. Then of course Christmas will be upon us and there will be any number of balls and entertainments. Do you like to dance, my lord?”
“Yes, I do.” He nodded. “I make an appearance at those events that I am obligated to attend although I admit I do not attend many balls.”
“Oh, but you should.” Her lovely blue eyes widened. “There is nothing I enjoy more than a grand ball. The dresses and the music and the excitement. Why, last spring, my own coming out ball was …”
Miss Waverly continued chatting about parties and gowns and her friends and Harrison smiled and nodded and added an appropriate comment whenever she took a breath. He resisted the urge to drum his fingers impatiently on the arm of the sofa and wondered why he had been nervous about approaching her house today.
Certainly, he had never called on a young lady before. He had never met anyone he wished to call on. Besides, he considered it inappropriate to do so unless his intentions were of a permanent nature.
Not that he had never been with a woman in a carnal sense before. Charles had made sure of that in Harrison’s youth. And indeed, through the years, Harrison had had a fair number of women in his bed. Women who wanted nothing more from him than he had wanted from them. Cordial interludes on both sides but nothing of significance. If Charles was here he would point out that while he may have taken women to his bed, he had never taken one into his heart. Harrison started at the idea. Where on earth had that come from?
But Charles was a romantic whereas Harrison was most practical. In considering Miss Waverly’s qualifications to be his bride, Charles would certainly point out that in spite of her sterling qualities, nothing was as important to a successful marriage as love. Utter nonsense of course. Harrison had never had so much as a twinge of any sort of feeling that might approximate love. Of course, Charles would laugh and say neither did he until he met Veronica and would further add that the men in Harrison’s family did not seem to find love or even the right wife in their youth. His eyes would twinkle and he would add they were far too clever for that.
Perhaps it was because he was now seriously considering marriage that these odd thoughts about love and what his brother would say if he were here came to mind. But it was his duty to marry an appropriate woman. She would, after all, ultimately be the next Marchioness of Kings-bury.
“And then, my lord, my friend Grace, surely you know her family. Her father is …”
Miss Waverly was the perfect candidate. Well bred, well trained, her family background was impeccable, she would no doubt be an excellent hostess and a perfect wife. And she was young enough to be most pliable. There was no sense of independence or extreme intelligence about Miss Waverly. No, indeed. She would never defiantly stare at him and refuse to do as he thought best. She would certainly not court scandal in any way whatsoever. She would do as she was told, without question. This was a woman who knew her place in the world.
“Do you like poetry, Miss Waverly?” he said without thinking.
“Oh, yes, I do,” she said eagerly. “I quite like poems about love and romance and being carried away by grand passion. They are so … so romantic. Although I will confess, I don’t like poems that do not rhyme.” She wrinkled her pretty nose. “I find poems that don’t rhyme most confusing. It isn’t really a poem if it doesn’t rhyme, is it?”
“No, I suppose not.” He smiled weakly. “And literature? What do you like to read?”
“Read? Well …” She paused for a moment. “Books really seem to take a great deal of effort and time but I quite like magazines. Why, I was looking through La Mode Illustré just the other day and this year’s fashions are très, très chic. I was thinking that the current fashion of …”
Harrison kept a pleasant smile plastered on his face and ignored the feeling of horror that rose within him. Surely Miss Waverly’s shallow manner was due to her inexperience and youth, and with time and the proper guidance she would become more, well, substantial. She was very young after all.
“Might I ask you a somewhat personal question, my lord?” she said with her perfectly proper smile.
A faint sound that might have been a groan came from her mother although he might have been mistaken. Miss Waverly’s parents had been most pleased when he had asked to call on their daughter. And why shouldn’t they be? He was wealthy and of excellent lineage and was considered a catch for any ambitious family.
“Yes, of course.”
“I was just wondering how old you are.”
“I have just passed my thirty-third birthday.”
Her eyes widened. “As old as that?”
“I’m afraid so.”
A faint smile curved her lips. “How very nice.” She paused then fluttered her lashes at him. “I have always heard that a lady needs an older man to guide her along the proper path.”
“Quite right.” He nodded in agreement although he really wasn’t sure what to say. Not that he didn’t, in truth, agree with her.
After the requisite amount of time considered proper for this type of call he bid her good day and took his leave, ignoring a faint sense of relief. It was absurd, of course. Miss Waverly was everything he looked for in a bride. She couldn’t be more perfect if someone had taken his list of requirements and checked them off one by one.
Still, in the carriage on his way home, he considered what it would be like to spend the rest of his life with a woman who met all his qualifications. His household would be well run, his meals served on time, his needs attended to. She would spend some of her time in appropriate charitable pursuits. When they entertained it would be correctly done, not too lavish but properly elegant. She would look well on his arm when they attended the opera. She would provide him with children and would attend to their care, hiring well-trained nannies and governesses. Indeed, she would run his life with order and efficiency. She would not cause him an undue care in the world. His world would be exactly as he wished it to be.
Dull, boring, staid and stuffy, Charles would have said. Harrison ignored the thought.
He entered the house and noticed an envelope addressed to him on the silver tray that sat on the table in the entry. No doubt it had been delivered while he was out. He opened it and read the note.
It was a brief report from Mr. Ellsworth. It seemed Lady Winterset had not leapt at his offer. He smiled in spite of himself. Good for her. She was far too clever to accept any offer for the memoirs in a rash manner, without due thought. The author’s note went on to say his meeting with her was but his first move and he hoped to make additional progress two days from now, when they attended a salon at Lady Tennwright’s. Harrison’s brows drew together and once more the idea that Ellsworth would try to seduce an agreement from Julia popped into his head.
He absolutely could not allow that to happe
n. Ellsworth was working for him and seduction was not part of the plan. Damnation, if anyone was going to seduce Julia, it would be him!
Good Lord! Shock coursed through him and he sucked in a hard breath. Where in the name of all that was holy had that idea come from? He certainly had no intention of seducing Julia, not that she would allow him to do so at any rate. It was quite obvious that while she might accept his friendship, his considerable charm was wasted on her.
Absently he strode into the library and slammed the door shut behind him. And as her friend he would certainly not allow that … that … womanizer Ellsworth to seduce her. No, whether she wanted to admit it or not, she did need someone to watch out for her at least in this particular instance. She certainly couldn’t count on Veronica to do so. Veronica would probably encourage her to have an adventure with the man. As for Julia herself, the more she read of her great-grandmother’s memoirs, the more she might be inclined to do just that. Why, hadn’t she just this morning declared that she intended to be like Lady Middlebury in the future? Might not that future be as early as two days hence?
Not if he had anything to say about it. He paced the floor. As much as he abhorred the very idea of literary salons he would make an appearance at this one. He’d be by Julia’s side every minute, even escorting her home if necessary.
There was no way on earth he would allow Ellsworth to make Julia yet another one of his conquests. Especially given Harrison’s role in it. The last thing he wanted was to be the cause of her unhappiness. She could be dreadfully hurt by a man like Ellsworth. Underneath all her strength and independence he suspected there was a fragile heart that could easily be broken. He would confess his role in Ellsworth’s proposal and give up all hope of acquiring the memoirs before he would let that happen. Because she was his friend, he amended quickly. For no other reason.
Still, as he sat down to write a note to Lady Tennwright and a second to Veronica, he couldn’t dismiss the question lingering in the back of his mind.
When had rescuing Julia become more important than acquiring the memoirs?
… and then his lips met mine. Even now, it fairly makes me swoon simply to think of it. Regardless of age or circumstances, Dear Reader, there is nothing that can compare to the first time your lips meet his. There is the moment your eyes meet. Your chin raises, his head lowers, and for the briefest fraction of a second, time itself stops. You hover between one heartbeat and the next, unable to breathe, unable to think. And then his lips touch yours. Of course, that sort of first kiss usually follows considerable flirtation. Gazes meeting across a crowded ballroom. The casual touch of a hand brushing against yours. A clandestine meeting under the stars.
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