Julian gaped. “No, he couldn’t have.”
“I tell you, it was the most enjoyment I’ve had since school when he tripped over his own feet and fell headlong into that mucky pond they have.”
Julian stared at Sullivan with a sinking feeling. “You saw it? Saw it given back. In public.”
Sullivan nodded. “Windermere was in his element. The whole table was in an uproar. I’ve never laughed so much since my Clare died.”
Julian swore under his breath and looked again in Portia’s direction. She stood alone now and was staring at him, a question in her eyes. Did she know? Had she heard about the incident involving Montrose? He shook his head, trying to convey a thousand apologies at once.
Aunt Hesper laughed softly. “What a lovely evening this is turning out to be. We should speak to her now before dinner is announced.”
Auntie latched on to Julian’s arm and practically dragged him across the room to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Hayes. Sullivan came, too, and was enthused over as he was presented to the younger girl. Lavinia wore a pretty blue gown and a welcoming smile, but Julian only had eyes for Portia.
Tonight, she wore a white gown, one he’d seen and admired many times before. In that dress she had laughed and danced, pretending she’d not a care in the world, and later she’d clung to him, worried about him fainting at the sight of someone else’s blood. It was a gown he was very fond of because, from a certain angle and with the right amount of light behind her, it revealed the long, lean form hidden beneath.
He stuck his finger under his cravat as she moved between him and the distant fireplace, allowing him a brief glimpse of his fantasy. “Lord Wade, so good to see you again,” she murmured.
“Likewise, Miss Hayes. I see you’ve brought your betrothed with you tonight.”
“It was Mother’s idea to have the duke bring us here,” she whispered, casting a troubled glance over her shoulder. “I didn’t know about that when I saw you last.”
Well, at least he wasn’t alone in being surprised. “I see your mother worried for nothing about her missing invitation.”
“I know you fixed it for us,” she murmured. “But I don’t understand why you would.”
“You did want to be here, didn’t you?”
“Yes but—”
“That’s all the incentive required to make things right.”
A fleeting smile crossed her lips as Auntie butted in. “Ah, there you are, gel.”
“Mrs. Lenthall. So good to see you again.”
Auntie smiled and cupped Portia’s cheek. “It’s been too long, my dear. You look lovely as ever in that gown.”
“Thank you,” she murmured before being called to her mother’s side.
Lavinia Hayes remained and dipped Julian a curtsy. “It is good to see you again, my lord.”
“It’s good to see you again, Lavinia,” he murmured. “How have you been?”
“Very well, thank you. I wonder if we might have the opportunity to continue our recent conversations tonight.”
“I’d like that,” Julian murmured noncommittally, looking around the room. He did not want to become stuck conversing with Portia’s little sister all night long if he could help it.
Lavinia suddenly slipped her arm through his. “Are you acquainted with the Plumptons?”
“Indeed I am. We sat down to dinner together not so long ago.”
“I have not been so fortunate. Would you be willing to introduce us?”
There could hardly be any harm in it. The Plumptons were sufficiently well thought of, and they did have a son about the right age to consider matrimony.
Julian drew her there and held out his hand to Mr. Plumpton. “Sir. Madam. How have you both been?”
“Very well. Very well indeed.” Mr. Plumpton grinned. The older man was close in age to his host, Mr. King, but he had long since lost any scrap of hair upon his very bald head. Loss of hair notwithstanding, he was a fine fellow and obviously very sharp. “I must thank you for the information you gave me at our last meeting.”
“Helpful?” Julian asked, although he already knew the answer.
“I am indebted to you for your timely intervention. You saved me a great deal of trouble.”
Julian nodded. “Think nothing of it, sir. It was providence that brought the matter to my attention and damn fine timing on meeting you at dinner the very next night.”
Plumpton laughed. “If all my encounters with titled gentleman were so well timed, I’d be a richer man than I already am.”
They both laughed, and Julian offered to introduce Lavinia Hayes to them both. Mrs. Plumpton was a kind woman, and both soon became engaged in conversation with the girl. He stepped back slightly and looked around as Mrs. Plumpton sang his praises, too.
Portia moved to join him, standing close to his side and listened in. “What has Lord Wade done now?”
Mr. Plumpton laughed. “Do you remember we had a little farm between here and Nottingham?”
“I think so,” Portia agreed.
“The one nobody seemed to want to purchase,” Mrs. Plumpton added. “It was in the middle of nowhere.”
“Oh, yes, I remember it now.”
“Well, someone has purchased it…and not just anyone, too.”
“Daventry bought it,” Julian told her before Mrs. Plumpton could drag the revelation on all night.
“He is the strangest fellow. Purchased it for his wife, of all things, and more than I asked for, too.” Plumpton shook his head as if baffled. “More money than sense. It’s nowhere near his other holdings. Excuse me. I must speak to Lord Montrose while he is free.”
Julian was left standing alone with Portia for a moment as Lavinia continued to talk Mrs. Plumpton’s ear off. He inhaled her perfume and smiled. “Daventry’s purchase made perfect sense when you know the particulars.”
“Oh?”
“The property was exactly halfway between his country estate and London. They break their journey there so his wife will be spared the rougher accommodations found at an inn.”
“That is very sensible of him,” Portia murmured. “The journey is a long one, and Lady Daventry is said to find travel difficult. I wonder how she will manage the trip to Exeter’s estate? It’s twice the distance.”
“We will see,” he murmured, looking at her at last.
“You will have to let me know after Christmas,” she murmured, looking away quickly.
She seemed troubled. She must know what transpired had not been intentional on his part. Windermere, though, was another matter.
It was on the tip of his tongue to offer to speak to Exeter on Portia’s behalf, too, but then Montrose arrived at her side, and one glimpse of his toplofty expression stilled Julian’s tongue. He would do anything for Portia, but only if Montrose wasn’t involved with her.
Julian suddenly noticed a pair of sizeable footmen in livery standing in the background. Their hulking presence was unusual, even for a duke. Many a guest cast uneasy glances in their direction.
“My men,” Montrose announced.
“You would bring your own servants to sit down to dinner in a friend’s home?” Sullivan exclaimed. “My word, you’ve some nerve.”
“It seemed prudent.”
Montrose suddenly noticed Julian standing beside Portia, and he frowned severely. “I was not aware you had an acquaintance with our hosts or my betrothed.”
He must be blind as well as a fool, then. “We have been acquainted for some time now,” Julian admitted, noting Montrose did not look pleased to hear it. That was just too damn bad.
“Excuse me,” the duke murmured. “Miss Hayes, you will come with me.”
Portia left with the duke but she did not look happy to go with him. That was small comfort for Julian, who would never have spoken to her that way.
The duke marched over to their hosts and began talking to them in low tones. Julian discreetly followed…and caught his own name mentioned, and Sullivan’s, too. Mrs. King cast Julian a lo
ok that spoke of extreme discomfort then.
Julian smiled and nodded to reassure her that everything would be all right.
Sullivan leaned close. “I don’t think he likes us still.”
“You more than I,” Julian suggested, looking around the room with a frown. “It wasn’t me who pressed sheep dung into the pages of his books at school.”
“That was only after he’d stolen all the new boy’s clothes and carried him outside while he slept. Well-deserved retribution for such an act,” Sullivan said with a soft laugh. “I wonder if there is anything we can do to compel him to leave early tonight.”
“Don’t,” Julian murmured, noting Mrs. King was starting to look very distressed indeed. Montrose had upset her, and Julian scowled at his broad and expensively clad back. “Schoolyard pranks should be far behind us.”
Sullivan heaved a heavy sigh, and then one last couple arrived, tardily, and Mrs. King visibly relaxed. Once introductions were performed it was time to go into dinner.
Julian escorted Mrs. Plumpton into the dining room, which had been stripped of all but the bare necessities to extend the table to accommodate all the guests. Julian took his place at one end, noting he’d been placed far from Sullivan, Aunt Hesper, and Portia, too.
He allowed a servant to settle a napkin on his lap, noting Montrose gestured for his own man to do it instead of one from the King household.
As the first course was placed in front of him, Julian strained to hear Portia’s voice. She was unusually quiet tonight, but her betrothed was talking enough to fill any silence. Julian turned to Mrs. Plumpton and smiled. “Did you have any luck with training your dogs, Mrs. Plumpton?”
“Indeed I did. Patience was all that was needed. A few months and the little beast ceased snarling at poor Plumpton and now follows him about—utterly devoted to his new master.” She leaned closer. “It did help tremendously that he kept dropping chopped liver slices everywhere he went.”
“Animals learn who will look after them best.” Julian smiled, even as noted that Portia appeared fascinated by her dinner. She usually talked more. “It’s the same with people sometimes.”
Mrs. Plumpton agreed. They talked of the weather, travel and events in her neighborhood for the rest of the dinner. Their street was a lively place to live, apparently. There had been warring neighbors, marital spats, and misbehaving children to hear about. Julian kept quiet about his own life and had little gossip to share from Hanover Square.
At the end of the table, though, Aunt Hesper’s voice rose above all others. She raised her empty glass to her lips, and then frowned to find it empty. Julian sighed as a footman rushed to refill it. Once reinforced, she started talking again. Loudly. Even more excitedly than before.
Dear God, he hoped she would not drink so much. His back had hardly recovered from the last time he’d had to put her to bed because she couldn’t climb the stairs on her own.
She caught Montrose’s attention. “This reminds me of another dinner. Dear Oliver Quigley, may he rest in peace, hosted the most amusing get-togethers, and your father, dear old Montrose, was there—standing on the table in just his undergarments,” she said with a loud laugh, glancing along the table and nodding.
Montrose turned a withering glance on Aunt Hesper. “You must be mistaken.”
“No indeed. It’s not a memory a lady is likely to forget. He was even… Well, you know.” Although she laughed, Aunt Hesper seemed to realize she’d said something very wrong and coughed a number of times. Julian was simply too far away to offer any assistance in deflecting the conversation. He winced.
Tomorrow, she would be full of regret and most likely fall into another sad spell. She missed the days of her youth, when she’d been firsthand witness to her friends and their scandals. Most of them were gone now, though.
Sullivan smoothly redirected conversation to horseflesh and the latest offering at Tattersalls. He talked of a particular horse he had his eye on and hinted he would purchase it soon.
Montrose’s gaze swung in Julian’s direction suddenly. “And what of you, Wade? Do you still play billiards?”
Julian held his gaze and tried to keep his expression neutral. Someone had talked. Montrose did not live in Hanover Square. “Not lately.”
“Oh, that’s right. I heard you sold it. Caused quite the commotion in Hanover Square. Everyone has been talking about it, too.”
Not friends of mine, as far as I know. Julian shrugged away the discomfort. “It was only collecting dust.”
Montrose’s smile grew. “That’s why a proper gentleman employs enough servants to take care of those tedious matters beneath his notice,” he sneered. “You do still have the odd servant lying about the place, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“But no horseflesh, carriage, or billiard table now.”
“He’s awaiting a new one and a matched pair,” Sullivan remarked, quite incorrectly.
Julian groaned under his breath at the gross exaggeration. How the devil was he supposed to pay for something like that, or pretend he’d changed his mind? He paid attention to his dinner which was quite to his liking and plentiful.
Mrs. King came to her feet immediately after he’d finished the last mouthful on his plate, her expression one of disapproval for the duke.
Portia joined Aunt Hesper and the pair strolled off toward the drawing room arm in arm.
With the ladies gone, and the doors closing, Montrose’s smirk grew worse. The bastard knew Julian’s finances were in bad shape and was not above rubbing his nose in it. There was nothing he could really do to retaliate besides mentioning the return of his phallus. Doing so would end up embarrassing Portia so he had no choice but to bite his tongue.
Sullivan sauntered around the table, cigar in hand, passing close behind the duke’s back.
Montrose flinched, swatting at his neck with an oath. Sullivan just kept walking by, a small smile playing on his lips. Sullivan had never been impressed by Montrose, nor his lofty title, not in school and not now either, apparently.
Montrose shot to his feet and looked at his footmen harshly. “Did you see what he did?”
Both shook their heads, shamefaced.
Sullivan took the chair next to Julian, held his cigar between his teeth and folded his arms across his chest. The pair glared at each other—and it was Montrose who backed down first. He went to speak to Mr. King.
Julian sighed. “I asked you not to provoke him.”
“He started it. Since when do you care that Montrose is unhappy?”
“My aunt started it by mentioning his father dancing on tables,” Julian whispered. “It may be true but stories only get more lurid the more she drinks.”
Sullivan scoffed. “I’ve found myself in that condition a time or two. Don’t be cross with her for having a bit of fun.”
“I’m not. I just worry about her.”
“Very well,” he promised. “I’ll not dare her to drink me under the table tonight then.” Sullivan clapped a hand on his shoulder then drew on his cigar. He inhaled and blew a perfect ring across the dining table. “These are excellent.”
“From Friburg and Treyer, I should imagine. King always goes there.”
“We should visit sometime,” Sullivan suggested. “Make a few purchases of our own.”
“You can visit. I don’t care for cigars anymore.”
Sullivan met his gaze, his expression full of curiosity. “Is that another indulgence you had to give up recently?”
“No. It’s been a few years now.”
“My Clare could blow one ring, and then another to float through the first.” Although Sullivan made several attempts, he could not do it himself. “She had talent.”
“Indeed she did.”
Mr. King returned and started moving about the room, inviting them to make their way to the drawing room. In passing, he mentioned Montrose regretfully had been called away.
Sullivan started chuckling evilly, but then schooled his fea
tures once he saw Julian’s scowl. “It looks like the evening can be salvaged after all. Let’s go and enjoy the ladies.”
“Yes,” Julian agreed, following behind his friend.
Sullivan had actually changed a bit since his marriage to Clare. He seemed a great deal more comfortable about everything that had once terrified him. However, missteps and scandals were long remembered by the ton. Montrose would remember tonight, and one day no doubt try to cause trouble for Sullivan, and Julian, too, most likely.
Julian breathed deeply, pushing aside those worries for another day. He had another few hours in Portia’s company, which would do him no great harm. He could even try to forget she was betrothed to another for one more night.
But as he entered the drawing room and looked around, he discovered the Hayes family were already gone. He had forgotten they had traveled here with Montrose and of course would leave with him too.
Chapter 14
“No thank you,” Portia said again. “I am not at all tired or in need of a chair.”
What she was tired of was Montrose hovering at her elbow and spoiling her fun tonight. She was no wilting wallflower who needed constant rest. What drained her energy were his attempts to coddle, and his scowl that was driving her good friends away. She hardly had a name on her dance card tonight, thanks to his behavior, and she was very disappointed in him.
“Would you like a glass of punch?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.” She smiled at him, grateful for the suggestion, which would take him away. She needed a reprieve from his attentions. Not that there had been anything much since he’d kissed her on Tuesday. A few bows over her hand, a brief touch upon her back, a softer smile than he bestowed on anyone else. He was not a demonstrative man by any stretch of the imagination.
And that would not do at all.
For the moment, though, she was glad to watch him walk away. She whispered to her mother that she would be right back.
Lord of Sin Page 14
