His gaze lingered on her wrinkled skirts. “I’ll send Mrs. Winston in to see what she can do.”
Julia smoothed the creased muslin. “Perhaps it can be ironed.”
Alec nodded, his distant expression telling her he had already dismissed her from his mind. “Then I’ll meet you in the front parlor at noon.”
He swung the door wide. As he stepped to the threshold, she blurted, “Alec, where are you going?” She regretted the words as soon as she said them.
His back stiffened. “You may possess half my fortune, my lady, but you do not possess me.”
“No, of course not. I didn’t mean to—”
“I will meet you in the front parlor at noon.” Without another word, he left, closing the door firmly behind him.
Sobs threatened. Julia blindly reached for one of the glasses of rum and gulped. The liquid stung her throat, burning away the nausea and tears. She emptied the glass, then returned it to the tray and picked up the other.
The rum caught the sliver of morning sun that escaped through the drapes. An explosion of sparkles glittered deep in the glass. There was something mesmerizing about the beauty of the amber liquid.
With the greatest of will, Julia set the glass back on the table and rubbed her forehead. “Beautiful as those sparkles are, they make my head ache even worse.”
Rather like Alec. Being with him was the most gratifying, exciting thing that had ever happened to her. But as with the amber sparkles, there was a price to pay. Though she wished it otherwise, she knew she was in danger of succumbing to his dark charm. And nothing would drive him away quicker than such a foolish action on her part.
The handsome viscount was an enigma. Despite his depraved ways, he had proved himself to be an honorable man. Nothing else could explain why he had slept on the sofa last night or allowed his grandfather’s bothersome servants to inhabit his household.
Therein lay the problem, Julia decided. The Devil Hunterston she had secretly sighed over from afar had been safe because he was beyond her reach. But the Alec MacLean who’d surreptitiously poured warmed milk out the window to spare the feelings of an elderly retainer was another matter altogether. “An entirely, altogether more difficult matter, indeed,” she said aloud.
Julia pushed the basin aside and stood. She would just have to keep her heart under tight control. The opportunity to help so many destitute women was not something she could let slip away because of a silly infatuation. She would drink her tea, soak in a hot tub, and gather her wits by the time the clock struck the noon hour.
Not that she had much choice, Julia thought wryly. She had, after all, made a deal with the devil.
Chapter 4
“You don’t look like a man who has just donned wedding shackles,” drawled a deep, familiar voice.
“Lucien,” Alec exclaimed.
Lucien Devereaux, the notorious Duke of Wexford, stood with one broad shoulder against the study door, an unlit cheroot dangling from his lips. His green gaze rested on the coat and hat Burroughs had just handed Alec. “On your way out?”
“Yes, to see you. I’m devilish glad you stopped by.” Alec turned to the butler. “Why didn’t you announce Wexford? It would have been damned inconvenient if I had gone to his lodgings only to discover he was here.”
A pained expression washed over the butler’s thin countenance. “I would never presume to tell you whom you should visit, my lord.”
The duke chuckled. “Very proper, Burroughs. Are you sure I can’t hire you away? I’d pay you twice the salary.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. Though the offer is tempting, I feel his lordship would sorely miss my services.”
Two pair of eyes pinned Alec—one calmly expectant, the other brimming with laughter. Alec tried not to scowl. “Of course I’d miss you, Burroughs. Though I’d not miss you forgetting to tell me when we have visitors.”
The butler allowed a small smile to curve his mouth. “I apologize for any inconvenience, sir. His Grace arrived a half hour ago and let himself into the parlor, demanding brandy. As he was still attired in his evening dress and made no request that I notify anyone of his presence, I could only assume he was in no condition to visit and merely sought refuge from unwanted persons.”
Lucien choked back a laugh. “As I said, very proper.”
The butler’s impassive stare never flickered. He inclined his head to Alec. “Shall I take your coat and hat, my lord?”
Conscious of the desire to pull his own hair, Alec merely nodded.
The butler took the garments and disappeared down the corridor.
“Don’t be too hard on him,” said Lucien. “It was inexcusable of me to appear thus attired.” He held the door to the study wide. “Shall we test the quality of your brandy?”
Alec forced a smile and entered the room. “They are the worst trained servants. Yet every time I think to correct them, I remember all the times they helped me out of scrapes as a child.”
“Noble intentions are a damned inconvenience.” Lucien crossed to the mantel and leaned a broad shoulder against it, flicking Alec an amused glance. “Thank God I don’t suffer from such a malady.”
Alec lifted a brow. “No, you are completely untroubled by the plight of others, aren’t you?”
“Hardly; I have three aunts and a sister who make incessant demands on my time.” The duke flashed a lopsided grin. “That is quite enough, let me assure you.”
Alec regarded Lucien thoughtfully. The duke’s private life was something of a mystery. Within two months of inheriting his title and a heavily encumbered estate, Lucien had married an heiress who was as wild as she was beautiful. It had been painfully obvious from the beginning that the marriage was doomed to failure. Brazenly, and without regard for either her station or her husband’s pride, the new duchess flaunted a succession of disreputable lovers and engaged in reckless escapades that had shocked even the most jaded of the ton.
Her behavior became more and more erratic until Lucien had been forced to take his volatile wife to the country and place her under the care of a physician. Two months later, news of the duchess’s death reached London. Rumors abounded, though the accepted belief was that she had killed herself in a fit of madness.
Of even more interest had been the duke’s unexpected reaction. Despite impassioned pleas from his many female relatives, Lucien never again appeared in any color other than stark, unrelenting black.
Alec caught the vexed glint in his friend’s hard green gaze. “Lady Wexford after you to marry again?”
“My aunt exceeded herself last night. She invited not one, but three eligible chits, all smelling of flowers and sizable dowries, to what was supposed to be a family dinner.”
That had been Alec’s one advantage in possessing an unacceptable title and a lascivious reputation: no one attempted to force a dowdy daughter on him. Of course, all that had changed once it had become known he was to inherit a fortune. An astonishing number of highbrow mamas, who once had thought nothing of giving him the cut direct, now thrust their bony, freckled daughters into his path like the most brazen flesh peddlers.
He caught Lucien’s frowning regard and forced a smile. “Were any of your dinner companions beauties?”
“None would be quiet long enough for me to tell. They all chattered like magpies. I didn’t get to swallow a mouthful during dinner, what with this one asking me if I liked to ride and that one asking if I preferred to live in the country or in town.”
“I’m surprised you stayed.”
A faint smile curled the hard mouth. “I didn’t. I made my escape out a library window when one of the young ladies began caterwauling at the pianoforte.” Lucien scowled at Alec’s chuckle. “Oh yes, you can afford to laugh, now that you are safely wed.”
Alec’s laughter died at the reminder. He was married. That fact had been borne to him all too well this morning when Julia had asked where he was going. He supposed it had been an innocent enough question, originating from genuine curiosit
y rather than a wish to curtail his activities. What had made it so unpalatable was the realization that as his wife, Julia had every right to make just such an inquiry.
Lucien pulled a tinderbox from his pocket and struck a match. With careless grace, he lit a cheroot and tossed the match into the fire. “Tell me, how do the wedding shackles fit?”
“Damned tight, and uncomfortable as hell.”
“I warned you not to pursue that path.” The duke’s gaze darkened. “Marriage is a difficult road, even under the best circumstances.”
Alec wondered if his friend was referring to the consequences of his own failed marriage, but the shuttered look on the duke’s face kept him from asking.
“I had no choice. I promised Grandfather to keep the money from Nick.” A flicker of distaste rose at his cousin’s name. At one time, he and Nick had been inseparable and he’d thought the world of his older cousin. But those times were long gone.
Lucien blew a cloud of smoke. “You are too concerned about your cousin.”
“Don’t underestimate him, Luce. He can be deadly.”
“So you keep telling me.” The duke shot him a hard stare. “You know, Alec, there are other ways to obtain money.”
Alec took a chair near the fire and stretched his legs before him. “I didn’t do it for the money, Luce. You know that. I made a promise to my grandfather.”
“You are too stiff-necked for your own good,” the duke growled, his brows lowered. “I hate to see you sacrifice your happiness for the misguided wishes of a dead man.”
“You did the same thing.”
“And regretted it. I have no desire to see you make the mistakes I’ve made.”
Alec said nothing. How could he explain to Lucien, who possessed family, a respected title and an incontestable position in the ton, that all Alec had was his word? His word and now, thanks to his grandfather and Julia, a fortune. Of course, there had been a price for that fortune, one that he dared not examine too closely.
An expression of concern crossed Lucien’s face. “You look as blue as a megrim. Though I imagined life with the demanding Therese would pall, I scarcely thought it would hit you quite so quickly.”
“Therese is not the problem.”
No, Julia was the problem. Every prim, frustrating, indecipherable inch. Alec slid a hand into his coat pocket and closed his fingers around her spectacles. He’d found them in his overcoat and had meant to leave them with her this morning, but had forgotten in his haste to escape.
Lucien flicked the ashes from his cheroot into the fire. “Your grandfather must have been touched in the head to want you to marry such a simpering flirt as Therese. Good God, the chit has been half a pace from ruin since she stepped out of the schoolroom.”
The cool steel of Julia’s spectacles warmed in Alec’s palm. “Lucien, I did not—”
The door opened and Burroughs’ thin form stood outlined against the light from the hall, his wispy hair forming a halo. He said in a voice of long suffering, “Lord Edmund Valmont.”
A fashionable young man burst into the room, golden hair in disarray about a plump cherubim face. His bottle-green coat sat across ridiculously padded shoulders, the waist tightly nipped in until he resembled a stuffed sausage more than the well-dressed dandy he aspired to be. A florid waistcoat brightened the ensemble, while four rows of huge brass buttons twinkled merrily. Impervious to the stunned expressions of his companions, Edmund rushed forward.
Burroughs favored Edmund’s attire with a pained stare before he pulled the door closed behind him.
“Alec!” Edmund cried. “I have been looking all over for you.”
Lucien sighed. “What is it this time, halfling? Is the watch after you again? Or has yet another angry husband requested you meet him at twenty paces?”
Edmund waved his hand impatiently. “No, no, no. I have just returned from Lady Chowerton’s, and—”
“At this hour of the morning?” Alec lifted his brows. “I take it Lord Chowerton is still repairing in the country.”
The youth’s round cheeks reddened. “That doesn’t matter. Fanny…I mean, Lady Chowerton, saw Therese Frant at the Satterleys’ musicale last night.” He fixed a wide blue gaze on Alec. “She is telling everyone she duped you and left you standing at the altar.”
Alec stifled the urge to curse. The little baggage had lost no time in holding him out for ridicule before the entire ton. Damn her black soul. If he got his hands on her, he’d shake her until the feathers that filled her little head puffed out her ears.
He caught Lucien’s questioning gaze and forced himself to shrug. “That is why I was going to visit you this morning.”
Edmund’s jaw dropped. “You mean to say it is true? That you and Therese didn’t…. But then the fortune…good God! You must be devastated!”
Lucien arched a dark brow. “Alec, before Edmund begins to imagine you are ready to put a bullet between your eyes, pray tell us what’s occurred.”
This wasn’t the way he had thought to tell it, with Lucien looking as though he were ready to horsewhip Therese, and Edmund leaning forward, eyes aglow as if he sat at Ascot with his horse in the lead. Alec rubbed his neck, where an annoying crick lingered. Nothing about this marriage seemed destined to bring comfort. “I was trying to tell you when Edmund arrived. I didn’t marry Therese.”
“Then the fortune—”
“Is still mine.”
Edmund blinked rapidly. “But how? You spoke with every solicitor in town and they all said there was no way to set the codicil aside.”
“Quiet, halfling,” Lucien ordered.
The youth sank onto the edge of the settee, his flamboyant waistcoat straining over his paunch. “Well?”
Alec raked a hand through his hair. “I married the daughter of one of the late Earls of Covington.”
A faint flicker of surprise crossed Lucien’s face. Edmund looked thoroughly confused. He tilted his head to one side, the height of his shirt points making it impossible for him to hold his chin at a normal level. “One of the late Earls?”
“Therese’s father had an older brother who once possessed the title,” Alec said shortly.
He hadn’t thought to go into even that much detail before seeing the solicitor, but if rumors were already flying about town, he had to stop them and quickly. Marrying had been only one of the conditions of the will. He still had a year of hard labor left. Such an unflattering story as Therese was bandying about was sure to create a furor, and that was exactly what he didn’t need.
Edmund scratched the bridge of his nose. “Strange. I wasn’t aware Therese had a cousin. Of course, don’t know all my cousins, m’self. Just the other day I ran into a gentleman at White’s. Couldn’t think where I’d seen him before, but I knew I had. It kept nagging at me. Finally, he demanded to know why the deuce I was staring at him. Rude of the fellow, but there it is. I told him I thought I knew him and he said, “You dashed well should, you imbecile. I’m your cousin Bertram.” I hadn’t seen him in, oh, two years. Not that he’s changed much. He’s thirty, you know, and—”
“I think we understand your meaning,” interrupted Lucien, flicking him an exasperated glance.
Edmund looked relieved. “Good. Only meant to say I never heard of the Incomparable having any cousins other than the Frant Dragon, and there’s no way Alec could have….” He trailed off, eyes wide, his weak chin moving soundlessly.
“Yes, I did,” said Alec grimly.
“Surely not! You couldn’t marry the Frant Dragon!”
“I married Miss Julia Frant,” Alec said with icy reserve. Though he himself had called her the Frant Dragon on more than one occasion, it was unexpectedly irritating to hear it from someone else.
Edmund’s face pinkened. “I didn’t mean to offend. She’s not really a dragon. Unless, of course, she suspects you have been taking liberties with Therese, and then she can look exactly like a dragon. Once, when I was trying to convince the Incomparable to dance, the Dragon marched
right up to me and—”
“Edmund!” Lucien silenced the younger man. “You have said more than enough, as usual.” The duke turned to Alec. “Perhaps you can explain how this, er, fortuitous happening occurred.”
Alec rose and poured himself a drink from the silver tray. “There is nothing to explain. I married Julia Frant and that is that.”
Lucien regarded him with a heavy-lidded gaze. “And you are convinced her father once held the title?”
Edmund frowned importantly. “Could be a hum to get you to the altar. At her age, she’s bound to be desperate.”
Not desperate enough to consent to marrying him without half his fortune, Alec thought grimly, returning to his seat with a glass of brandy. “Julia Frant has never been desperate a day in her life.”
“She has always struck me as a young lady of singular determination,” Lucien said, a quizzical gleam lighting his eyes.
Edmund shuddered. “One of those, eh?” He cocked a brow at Alec. “Mayhap she’s fixed on you. You do have the devil of a way with women.”
“God, no.” Yet for an instant, Alec felt the heat of Julia’s mouth beneath his. He shook his head and frowned at the heavy glass in his hand. His wife’s prim exterior warred with a passionate nature. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought depressed him.
Lucien lifted a brow. “So tell us of this mysterious earl.”
Alec took a deep drink. “He left for America after a disagreement with his father and never returned.”
“Not even when he inherited the title?” Edmund asked, startled.
The brandy left a bitter taste that perfectly fitted Alec’s mood. “He inherited the title two days before his death.”
Lucien pursed his lips in a silent whistle. “Playing it close, aren’t you?”
Edmund absently tugged on his cravat, mussing the intricate folds. “Seems a havey-cavey sort of way to go about it, marrying a girl whose father was an earl for only a few days. Shouldn’t think those high sticklers your grandfather put in charge of the funds would stand for that.”
“They must,” Alec said. He refused to think of the outcome if they did not.