“Come away from the window,” Maddie ordered. “It is rude to scowl at people you don’t even know.”

Sighing heavily, Julia turned to plop onto Lady Birlington’s settee with an unladylike bounce. This last week had stretched her nerves until she felt like one of the ragged pieces of twine Muck always seemed to have tucked in his pockets.

True to his word, Alec had returned to his old ways with a vengeance. Julia was weary from lying awake, listening for the sound of the front door, though she might have spared herself the trouble. He came home with the dawn, singing at the top of his lungs to make sure she knew he was belligerently and faithfully breaking every one of her rules.

Her hands itched to box his ears until they were red and stinging.

More disturbing was his attitude toward her. He still escorted her to every function as if nothing were amiss. And though he hadn’t made one move to visit her room, he had begun a steady assault on her defenses, using every excuse possible to touch her.

If they rode in the carriage, his thigh pressed against hers in a most disturbing manner. If they danced, he held her far too close, taking delight in her attempts to put some space between them. Every day, his hands lingered, and his warm breath sent spirals of heat against her neck, her shoulder.

But then, like the fairy tale of old, he would disappear as soon as he’d escorted her home. Her real agony began as she lay awake and imagined him laughing and nuzzling some beautiful courtesan who could contort in all manner of lurid positions and was only too happy to do so for such a heart-wrenchingly handsome man.

“You look red, gel. Perhaps we shouldn’t go this evening.”

“Oh, no. I’m fine.”

“Nonsense. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to stay home one night; we’ve been gadding about like a pair of geese for a month now,” Maddie said with evident satisfaction.

It was true. They had been inundated with invitations. Julia had been astounded at the number that had come her way. As she’d predicted, the episode with Desiree had had remarkably few repercussions—not one of their dinner guests had wished to admit he was conversant with a common actress. When Julia had pointed out that fact to Alec, and that he had perhaps been a bit hasty in his recriminations, he had merely regarded her with a shuttered gaze and shrugged.

Julia picked up a novel from the stack on the table and leafed through it, stopping to read all the heroic passages. Why couldn’t Alec be more like the men in these books, men who valiantly pursued the women they loved and pledged eternal devotion? She would wager that “Sir Randolph” would never attempt to explain away lovemaking as a mere “physical attraction.”

She sniffed. Thank goodness she was at least spared the embarrassment of rejecting Alec’s unwanted advances! Julia had rehearsed the whole episode in her mind, getting as far as when he got down on his knees and begged her forgiveness. At that point, she somehow forgot her pride and threw herself in his arms. But then, he looked so very forlorn on his knees.

Julia tossed the book back on the table. Her imagination was far too active. Alec was no hero. Somewhere, something had gone horribly wrong with his upbringing. If his grandfather were alive today, she would have some very choice words to say to the man.

“For heaven’s sake, Julia,” Maddie said with a stern frown. “What ails you? You’re as blue as megrim. If you are just going to sit there and stare into the distance and scowl, I may as well send for Edmund. He may not be the brightest thing, but at least he has some conversation in him.”

For a moment, Julia considered taking Maddie into her confidence, but one look at the shrewd blue eyes, and she balked. “Sorry, Aunt Maddie. I’m just tired.”

“Aren’t going into a decline, are you? I should call my doctor and have him give you a good purge. Clean you out and let you sleep like a babe. I have one every week. Does me a world of good.”

Oh, yes. That would finish off the week in a satisfying blaze of wretchedness. Julia slumped against the settee and stared at the ceiling.

Maddie let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you want a purge or not?”

“No, I don’t think it would help.” In fact, nothing would help, except a magical genie who could transform her into a raving beauty who was content to sit at home with her hands folded primly in her lap while the whole world marched by.

Alec would like that, Julia thought with disgust. Well, he could just forget it. If a fairy godmother were to suddenly appear and offer her a wish, she would be much more likely to ask for something sensible, like an end to hunger or poverty or—

“For God’s sake!” Maddie scowled. “You look like you swallowed a bee. Speak up! What’s Hunsterston done to put you in such a taking?”

The urge to confide was overwhelming. Julia took a deep breath and sat up straighter. “Alec and I have had a disagreement.”

“Oh,” Maddie said with evident disappointment. “Is that all? Not a day went by that Birlington and I didn’t rip up at each other for something or another.”

“Really? Who gave in?”

Maddie chuckled, her bright, painted lips parting to reveal patently false teeth. “He never could stand it when I refused to talk to him. Worked every time.”

Julia smiled tiredly. She had heard that Lord Birlington had been deeply in love with his wife. Now that she knew Maddie, she could see why. “I’m afraid it’s not that way for us.”

“Why not?”

“Alec and I did not marry for love.”

“Well, you certainly act like lovers. Here you are, moping about like your heart is broken while he’s out drinking and carousing like there’s no tomorrow.”

Julia raised her brows in what she hoped was an innocent gesture. “Oh? I suppose Edmund has been keeping you apprised of Alec’s every move.”

Maddie did not appear deceived. “Edmund is an empty-headed gabster. But yes, he’s mentioned a few things.”

Throwing subtlety to the wind, Julia asked in a blunt voice, “Like what?”

“Your husband doesn’t seem to be in the muslin line, if that’s what you’re asking. But he’s drinking more than he should. Losing quite a bit at cards, too. If you ask me, he sounds like a man in love.”

“Sounds like a fool, to me.”

“Not much difference.” Maddie regarded her with a shrewd gaze. “Bit of a tangle, eh? You love him but don’t want him to know.”

“I never said I loved him,” Julia said hotly.

“Lud, child, don’t flame up at me. I’m only telling you what I see.”

A defeated sigh escaped her. “Am I that transparent?”

“Good God, no,” Maddie said. “Besides, it wouldn’t matter if you were. The last thing men are capable of is looking at a woman and telling what she feels. Don’t know why that is, because it ain’t as if we don’t give them enough hints.”

“True. I practically threw myself at him and he…didn’t reciprocate.”

Maddie regarded her with a narrow gaze. “He didn’t, did he?”

“No,” Julia said miserably. Her limbs felt leaden, her heart hollow. Unbidden, her mouth trembled.

“Now don’t go turning all missish on me,” Maddie said hastily. She watched as Julia struggled to compose herself, then sighed. “I suppose I should help you. I’m something of a hand with matchmaking. After all, I was the one who introduced Lady Chambers to her husband.” A frown crossed Maddie’s wrinkled face. “Of course, I always thought he was a dolt. But if she doesn’t mind, who am I to say? They seem happy enough.”

Julia recalled Lord Chambers’ face on seeing Desiree and wondered just how happy he was.

“First things first.” Maddie used her cane to rub Ephram’s belly. The dog opened one eye and wiggled his tail. “You need to gain Huntertson’s attention.”

“Oh, I have it. Everything I do makes him angry.”

“Well, that’s a start. Next, you have to meet him on his level. Make him think you are one of the most exciting, unpredictable women he has ever known. He’ll not even look at another woman.”

The vision of herself as a mysterious, seductive enchantress held immense appeal. “How do I do that?”

Maddie regarded her with a critical stare. “For one thing, we’ve got to get you some different clothes.”

Julia looked down at her morning dress of pale yellow muslin over a bodice of blue satin. “What’s wrong with this? I thought it was charming.”

“That’s the problem. You don’t want to look charming. You want him to nuzzle your neck and try to slip his hand up your—”

“Aunt Maddie! I could never wear anything like that in public.”

“Who’s talking about in public? And don’t try to tell me you don’t want his attentions in private. You’d have to be blind or dead not to know your husband has more than his fair share of looks.”

Julia was perfectly aware of her husband’s physical charms. “What do you think Alec would do if I just admitted I was…fond of him?”

“Run like his coattails were afire. Never saw a man more determined to remain uncommitted.” Maddie shook her head, the artificial flowers scattered in her wig flopping dramatically. “That’s his grandfather’s fault. John felt as if he’d ruined things for Alec’s mother by coddling her. He was determined not to make the same mistake with his grandson.”

“Mrs. Winston told me he was forever ripping up at Alec over the littlest things.”

“Barked at him all the time. So much that I don’t think the boy knows his own worth.” Maddie frowned. “Probably feels worse around a philanthropist like you. Hell, sometimes you make me feel like a sham.”

“How could Alec think such a thing? Why he’s…he’s so…Alec.”

“Handsome as Hercules, isn’t he?”

It was more than that. It was the fact that he’d brought Muck a toy ship when he thought no one would see; that he allowed Mrs. Winston to call him “Master Alec” without a wince; and that night after night he pretended to drink Burroughs’ warmed milk. “Alec can be very kind when he wants to be.”

“For your sake, I hope so.” Maddie tapped a gnarled finger on the arm of her chair. “I suppose you have shared his bed by now.”

Julia blinked.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Maddie said, though a spot of color touched the parchment of her cheeks. “You’ve been married almost four months. Ought to have some idea what I’m talking about. And if you don’t, then Hunterston is not near the man I took him for.”

“We…we have…if what you mean is—”

“Good gracious, don’t enact a Cheltenham tragedy just because I asked a question! I don’t know what has made today’s generation so missish. In my time, we would have just said it aloud.” Maddie cocked a discontented brow. “Well? Have you?”

“Yes. Once.”

“Once? Only once? A fine, handsome man like that in your home, and you’ve only slept with him once? Good God, you don’t have ice water in your veins, do you? If I had a man who looked like—” She broke off at Julia’s anguished expression. “Well, that’s between the two of you. Daresay it’s a good thing I don’t have such a randy stallion at my disposal. My heart’s not as strong as it used to be.”

“Neither is mine.” Julia blushed when Maddie’s mouth quirked in a devilish grin.

“We’ll have to start at the beginning. You need some admirers. I noticed the other day Alec don’t like it by half when one of those lap dogs you’ve had trailing after you starts yapping for attention. He stands and stares as if he’d like to march across the room, toss you over his shoulder, and storm out.” Maddie regarded the gold knob of her cane with a thoughtful gaze. “Maybe Bridgeton would do. He seems intent on catching your attention.”

Julia remembered Alec’s bleak reaction at her mention of Nick. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. They hate one another.”

“Hmm. Well, we don’t want a duel or anything like that. They say Bridgeton has killed more than his fair share.” Maddie sighed. “A pity, for he would have been perfect.”

Julia didn’t respond. Ever since Nick had pointed her in Desiree’s direction, she’d expected him to avoid her. Instead, he had an annoying tendency to show up when Alec was not about and play the charming cousin until she longed to slap him.

Ephram growled in his sleep and kicked with his back paws. “There, there,” cooed Maddie. She patted him on the head before fixing her gaze back on Julia. “Perhaps Wexford would do, though he does gad about, disappearing for weeks on end and doing God knows what.”

“I doubt he would agree. He is Alec’s best friend, you know.”

“All the more reason for him to flirt with you. But I suppose you are right. What about young Bentham? Still painting your portrait, isn’t he?”

Julia nodded. “For the charity auction. I thought it would take hours and hours, but all he did was make a few sketches. It’ll be interesting to see if it even looks like me when he’s done.”

“If Bentham paints it, you can be assured it will be recognizable. He’s a talented artist. Handsome, too.”

“And infatuated with Therese. He speaks of her all the time.” Shortly after the Bastions’ rout, Julia had feared he had developed a partiality for her, but he had quickly reverted back to her cousin’s circle of admirers. It was rather curious that he wanted to paint her at all.

Maddie waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter who he is in love with. All we need is for Alec to think he might be interested in you.” She nodded with satisfaction. “Now we have a plan of action. First clothes, and then Bentham.”

Julia wondered if such silliness would really make a difference. It sounded like a lot of fustian, but in a way it was not much different from Alec’s steady attack on her senses with his suggestive touches and simmering glances. She sighed. Silly it might be, but right now it was all she had.

 

Lucien quirked a brow. “Well, halfling? Are you or aren’t you?”

Edmund fingered first one card and then another. After staring at his hand for what seemed to Alec like an eternity, he drew a card and laid it on the table. “There.”

Alec drew a card and tossed it beside Edmund’s. Usually, he found the more lively company at the gaming hells of the East End far preferable to the stuffy, conventional atmosphere at White’s. But tonight, the stultifying club perfectly suited his mood.

Lord Blackmore, a pompous ass who practically lived at White’s, scratched his bulbous nose. “Hm. Playing deep, are you?” He squinted at his cards before selecting a discard.

Lucien placed his own hand on the table. “Ah, the fruits of patience. I believe that puts me over the top.”

“Damn you, Luce,” Alec said without rancor. He tossed his cards aside and refilled his glass. He’d rather lose money to Lucien than to anyone. At least he knew it would go to better use than with some of the ivory turners he’d been playing against this week. He suspected some of them had been cheating—not that he really cared. It had been a relief, losing money. As far as he could see, his grandfather’s fortune was little more than a curse.

Alec took a deep swallow of his brandy and grimaced. He was tired of brandy, tired of carousing, tired of everything this evening. The glass curved into his hand and he regarded it gloomily. He wasn’t sure why he even bothered to drink. It did little to dull either his anger or his lust.

And oh, how he lusted. Him. The renowned Devil Hunterston—in lust with his own wife. It was laughable.

But worse was the galling knowledge that Julia preferred another man. No, he corrected himself, not just another man, but Nick.

The idea of Julia with Nick ate at him, stalked his waking thoughts, and preyed upon his sleep. The last week had been his own private hell. Yet his desire for Julia grew stronger with each passing day. He reached for the bottle of brandy.

“My, my, my. What have we here?” Nick’s smooth voice cut into Alec’s thoughts.

“What in the hell do you want?” Alec slammed the glass onto the table, heedless of the brandy that sloshed onto the cards.

Blackmore glanced uneasily from one to the other as he dealt the cards for another game. “Easy, Hunterston. It’s only Bridgeton.”

“There is no ‘only Bridgeton,’” Alec replied ungraciously. Not even to Julia. Especially not to Julia.

Nick regarded him with a faint smile. “Such affection. You unman me.”

The mocking tone lifted the bile in Alec’s throat. “Go to hell.”

For one delicious instant, an answering flare of anger sparked in the blue eyes. Though it was quickly extinguished, an immediate sense of satisfaction warmed Alec.

Edmund’s uneasy laughter broke the silence. “Don’t mind him. Alec always trifles when he’s jug-bitten.”

Nick’s smile became a sneer. “I never mind Alec—jug-bitten or not.”

Alec put down his cards and made to stand, but Lucien grasped his arm.

“Don’t,” Lucien said quietly.

Jerking his arm free, Alec subsided into his chair. Though he yearned to do otherwise, Lucien was right. “Say whatever it is you came to say, Nick. I’m busy.”

“Such rudeness,” he sighed. “And here I came to congratulate you on Julia’s recent triumph in reforming London.”

Alec sloshed more brandy into his glass. “What are you talking about now?”

Nick raised his brows. “Tsk, tsk. What’s the matter, Alec? Doesn’t Julia confide in you?”

“My wife confides in me,” Alec said succinctly, “each and every night.”

Nick’s jaw tightened, his eyes blazing to life before he caught himself and pasted a thin smile on his lips. “Perhaps Edmund is familiar with Julia’s latest reform efforts.”

Edmund lifted a befuddled gaze from his cards. “What?”

“Desiree,” said Nick succinctly.

“Oh, my God! Don’t remind me! I thought I would die.” He turned to Blackmore. “There I was, sitting at Lady H.’s dinner party, when I look up and see this bit of muslin I’d been chasing. Bold as brass she was, carrying in a plate of crimped cod as if she owned the place.”

Lord Blackmore appeared properly scandalized. “You don’t say? Same thing happened to me once. Sitting there at supper and caught a glimpse of a ragged fellow out in the hall. Coal scuttler or some such thing. Just traipsed in, pretty as you please, asking if he could work. Shocking. Had my butler give him the go.”

“This woman didn’t wander in. Lady H. hired her as a maid. Forever helping out the plebeians, you know.”

“Servants are a deuced nuisance. We’ve been without a proper footman for a week now. Caught the last one nipping my private stock.” Blackmore frowned. “Now that I think on it, my wife mentioned something about Lady Hunterston and servants just the other day. What was it? Oh, yes—I remember.” He fished in his pocket and produced a card, handing it to Edmund.

Edmund slowly read the bold lettering. He started, then blanched and sent a harried glance at Alec before cramming the card into his waistcoat.

Alec stared, a horrible thought rising. “What is it?”

“Oh, I think you know,” said Nick.

Alec ignored him. “Damn it, Edmund. What is it?”

Edmund shook his head. “Just a card. Nothing special.”

“Read it.”

A slow flush lifted in Edmund’s cheeks. “I already did. No need to read it again. I remember exactly what it says.”

Alec glared. “Edmund.”

The harassed young man cast a wild glance at Lucien.

Lucien shrugged. “Read it. He’ll pummel it out of you if you don’t.”

Edmund wiped a hand across his damp face and slowly pulled the card free. He cleared his throat and read aloud. “S.W.W. Servant Referral Service. All experienced and highly trained. References provided.”

At first, Alec hoped it was a joke, but Nick’s satisfied smile told him otherwise.

“Cousin Julia is always a delightful surprise, isn’t she?” purred Nick.

Alec glared, relieved to find an object for his anger. “Just what do you mean by that?”

“Merely that I find your wife fascinating.”

Lord Blackmore blew out his cheeks. “Easy, Bridgeton. Careful what you say about someone else’s wife.”

Nick’s gaze narrowed on the chubby man. “Oh, but Julia is so much more to me than my cousin’s wife.”

“Good God, man!” Blackmore shot a startled look at Alec.

But Nick was not finished. His smile heavy with meaning, he leaned across the table. “Tell me, Alec. Is there fire beneath that prim exterior? I have been dying to discover for myself.”

Seeing nothing but a haze of red, Alec leapt across the table. Cards, coins, and markers scattered across the floor. The room erupted into a cacophony of shouts and yells as men began placing bets on the outcome of the fight.

Though Nick was ready for the attack, Alec’s fury was unstoppable. His charge carried Nick backward, across a table, and toppled them both to the floor. When Lucien and Edmund finally managed to pull Alec away, Nick lay on the floor, blood dripping from his mouth and nose.

Shaking off Lucien’s grasp, Alec looked down at him. “Never, never speak my wife’s name again.”

He turned sharply on his heel and left. Inwardly seething, Nick wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand and slowly got to his feet.

Blackmore huffed. “Demmed shame who they let in the club nowadays.” He shot a dark look at Nick from under heavy, black brows. “Demmed shame.”

One by one, the spectators returned to their game as servants scurried about, resetting tables and bringing out fresh cards and drinks. Nick placed a handkerchief to his nose and winced. He should never have goaded Alec, but the idea of causing dissention in the Hunterston household was too sweet a thought to be ignored. He’d known Julia would not mention her business venture to her strict husband and he’d been right. Alec had been shocked.

Unfortunately, Nick had been caught off guard by the strength of Alec’s reaction. It was beginning to appear that Therese was right. Alec did indeed have feelings for his wife. Nick scowled and tucked his handkerchief into his pocket.

Once again, it seemed as if his cousin would win everything. The thought infuriated Nick. He was through wanting just the money. Now, he wanted it all.

He replaced his hat and bowed to the room, but no one acknowledged him. Nick set his teeth in a smile at the snub, inwardly seething like a bed of embers. It was one more indignity he could lay at Alec’s door.

Fortunately for Nick, there were more subtle and infinitely more gratifying ways of reckoning vengeance than fisticuffs. Alec would pay dearly for this little incident—and it would take more than money, now. It might even take the attentions of the fascinating Julia.

The thought calmed him. Alec’s wife was unlike any woman he’d ever known, and Nick had known hundreds. They loved his face and craved his affection, but none had ever touched his heart, if he indeed possessed one. Yet there was something about Julia that made him wonder if she could wake his hardened soul back to life.

Chuckling a little at his own folly, Nick waved down a hackney and climbed in. It was nonsense, of course. His soul was as dead as his heart.

Within a remarkably short time, the hackney deposited him at No. 10 Laura Street. Nick hated this part of the city. Full of cits and lawyers, it reminded him too much of the ease with which he himself could fall into obscurity. He climbed a set of rickety stairs and knocked on a faded door.

Thirty minutes later he emerged, a smile once again on his face, his steps jaunty. He located another hackney and ordered it to drive past Hunterston House. As the conveyance creaked up the road, he lifted a corner of the ragged curtain and watched as it came into view.

It wasn’t as impressive as Bridgeton Manor, yet Hunterston House held its own charm. For now, it was dark with the exception of one solitary upstairs window. Nick wondered if the irrepressible Julia awaited her husband’s return.

He smiled and dropped the curtain. Soon, it would all belong to him. Satisfied with his work, he thumped his cane on the roof and ordered the hackney toward Mayfair, where his palatial residence awaited him in solitary splendor.