Dawn was just breaking when Alec let himself into Hunterston House. Without waiting to divest himself of his gloves and hat, he took the stairs two at a time and threw open the door to Julia’s bedchamber.

Julia sat upright as the door banged against the wall. Hair mussed and cheeks flushed, she clutched the sheet to her and blinked sleepily. “Alec?”

Irritation flared. “Who else would be coming to your room at this time of the morning?”

She frowned and pushed the thick, honey-colored braid over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

He made an impatient noise and strode to the bed and threw the card onto the counterpane. “What is this, madam?”

Julia picked it up and squinted. “Looks like a card. I can’t quite make it out, but it looks like 8–4–4 something.”

“It says ‘S.W.W.’ to be correct.”

She opened her eyes absurdly wide. “Is that a haberdasher?”

“No, it is not.”

“What a pity. Edmund was just telling me the other day that he needed a good—”

“You know very well whose card that is.”

Julia sighed, the innocent expression disappearing. “Of course I know whose it is.” She held the card at arm’s length. “We should have gotten the cream ones, but Aunt Maddie wouldn’t have it.”

“Lady Birlington was with you when you ordered those?”

“Oh, yes. She argued about the color, the size, and what to write on them. A very helpful woman, Lady Birlington.”

Alec raked a hand through his hair. “Good God.”

“What’s the matter?”

“How can you ask that?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Julia threw back the counterpane and slipped her legs over the edge of the bed. “You are the most absurd man, coming in here ranting and raving about a simple card. You have become more of a prude than Vicar Ashton.”

Alec barely heard the words. Julia’s nightrail gleamed in the early morning light, the rosy pink satin as luscious as the flesh it covered. Low cut, the scanty bodice hinted at the gentle swell of her breasts while the skirt hugged her body like a second skin, molding to her narrow waist, the delightful curve of her hip, and the long line of her leg.

Alec’s heart lodged against his third rib. It was the most disreputable nightrail he had ever seen. “Where in hell did you get that?”

She smoothed her hands over the silk, the thin material tightening across her breasts until the peaks of her nipples were plainly visible. “This? I bought it yesterday.” She regarded him through her lashes, a faint smile curving her mouth. “Do you like it?”

He hated it. He hated it for casting such intriguing shadows between her breasts, for caressing the line of her thigh, for making his body ache with frustration and desire.

God help him, but he wanted to rip that pink silk away and…he ground his teeth and forced his attention back to the card now covered by the counterpane. “I came to speak to you about that card, not your shameless attire.”

A flush rose along her shoulders and neck until they exactly matched her gown. “I don’t think it’s shameless. Quite comfortable, really. Except when I turn over, then it slips up and gets all tangled around my waist and between my—”

“For God’s sake!” he burst out. If it had been anyone else but Julia, he would have thought she deliberately taunted him.

“You look angry.”

Alec raked an impatient hand through his hair. “I suppose I should not be shocked by your choice of nightwear. Any woman who would hand out cards like a common tradesman would think nothing of going naked.”

Julia’s wide mouth flattened into a frown. “I don’t know why you’d care. According to you, we’re ruined already.”

“There is still a chance, however slim.”

“Not with you carousing all over town, drinking and gambling and God knows what.”

Alec said stiffly, “Unlike you, my behavior is not outside the realm of acceptable society.”

She sniffed and put her slim nose in the air. “That is only because men are not held to such standards as women. If I were to behave in such a manner, I would be cut forthwith.”

“How many of those damned cards have you handed out?”

Julia turned a cool, unimpressed stare on him. “As many as I could.”

“Good God!”

She ignored his outburst and rose from the bed. Without sparing him so much as a glance, she crossed to the washstand and raised her hands to the fastenings on her gown. The silk pulled across her breasts and outlined every curve and shadow with mouth-watering detail.

Alec tried to swallow, his cravat suddenly much too tight. “What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed. Thanks to you I’m wide awake now, so I might as well get up.” As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she began to unlace her nightrail.

Eerily fascinated, Alec watched her slim hands loosen first one and then another ice-pink tie. The ties slithered through the silk with a breathy sigh and dropped to the floor.

For one mad instant, he thought of throwing his pride to the wind, taking her in his arms, and bearing her back to the bed they had once shared. As passionate as she was, he knew he could win her over.

But winning her body wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. But that was all she had to give. Her heart belonged to Nick.

Furious and hurt, Alec stuffed his hands in his pockets and wished he had the strength to look away from the enticing display before him.

The nightrail slithered to the floor, a puddle of rose pink exposing a body that made the beauty of the gown pale in comparison. He closed his eyes against that creamy expanse of flesh, those long, lush legs and impudent breasts. His breeches inevitably tightened. “One day, madam,” he managed to grit out through clenched teeth, “you will be the death of me.”

With a decidedly shaky hand, he slammed the door behind him and went to lock himself in the solitary splendor of his study.

 

“Lord Edmund Valmont,” intoned Burroughs from the door of the breakfast room.

Julia looked up from her pile of correspondence and raised her brows as Edmund rushed past the butler, a rolled newspaper clutched in his hands.

Not only was it unfashionably early, but the young man appeared to have dressed in the dark. His fair curls tangled beneath a hat that looked as if it belonged to one of his servants, and his cravat was but half tied, one long end dangling over his shoulder like a scarf. The buttons of his coat had been thrust through the incorrect holes, and his shoes did not match.

“Heavens, Edmund. What has happened?”

He slid to a stop in the center of the room and cast a wild glance around. “Where’s Alec?”

She sniffed and returned to the pile of invitations. “In his study.”

Edmund turned to the door. “I have to see him immediately.”

“It won’t do you any good,” she said calmly just as he reached the door. She pushed the salver of invitations and notes aside to put a slice of toast on her plate. “He has locked the door to his study and won’t come out. Burroughs said he’s in no mood to be bothered.”

Julia couldn’t help but feel a small amount of satisfaction at that. Maddie had been right. To attract a rake, one had to appeal to him on his own level. It really had been quite exhilarating. For the first time in days, hope buoyed her spirits.

Edmund heaved a defeated sigh and removed his hat, tossing it onto the table. “I’d better wait until he’s in a better frame of mind. I should have known it would be bellows to mend after Nick accosted him last night.”

Julia stabbed her spoon into the marmalade jar. So that was how Alec had discovered the cards. She had no doubt that the despicable Nick had put the whole incident in the worst light possible.

She slathered marmalade on her toast and decided she was beginning to develop a healthy dislike for that man.

Edmund threw himself in a chair, twisting the paper in his hands.

“Come and have some breakfast, Edmund. Whatever it is, there’s no sense in getting in a dither.”

“I can’t. I have to see Alec. Perhaps after he’s eaten he’ll feel more the thing.”

Julia doubted it, but didn’t reply. As far as she could tell, Alec had been in a bad mood since he’d married her.

Burroughs entered the room with a tray, the steam curling from the silver salvers.

Edmund leapt from his chair. “Bacon! Just the thing. Burroughs, could you take some to Alec? It would make him feel immensely better. Whenever I’m a bit out to let, I find that bacon will set me to rights in a trice.”

“Oh?” replied the butler, eyeing Edmund with much the same expression he would have bestowed on a plate of bad meat.

Impervious to slights, Edmund nodded. “I just hold my nose and eat as much of it as I can stand. The next thing you know, I’m out kicking up a lark again. Works like a charm every time.”

“How marvelous. Unfortunately, his lordship has decided against breakfast this morning.” The butler cast a repressive glance at Julia. “Again.”

Julia piled bacon on her plate and added two eggs. Just for good measure, she poured a thick cream sauce over the whole. She always ate when something bothered her. If she and Alec kept going as they were, she’d weigh fifty stone by the end of the year.

Just as she lifted a fork to her mouth, a roar reverberated through the house.

Julia started. “Heavens! What’s that?”

Burroughs tilted his head to one side as another roar echoed through the hallway. “I believe, madam, that is his lordship.”

As if in answer, the door to the breakfast room slammed open. A potted plant toppled to the floor as Alec stormed in, a newspaper clutched in his hand. Edmund took one look at his grim countenance and retired to the window, trying desperately to secret his own newspaper away in his waistcoat.

Alec advanced on the butler like an avenging angel come to battle evil. “What do you call this?” He tossed the Morning Post onto the breakfast table.

Lifting a gloved hand, the butler carefully examined the paper. “I believe it is a newspaper, my lord. I could be mistaken, as someone has ripped the heading from the—”

“It is yesterday’s paper.”

The butler lifted his brows. “Oh, you wished for today’s?”

“Of course I wanted today’s paper!” Alec snapped, hands clenched into fists. “Why would I want to see yesterday’s?”

Julia noted he had not changed from last night’s attire, his cravat loosened, his jaw shadowed. Rumpled and bloodshot, he still managed to make her knees quaver.

Burroughs sighed. “I’m afraid Miss Desiree is still engaged in ironing today’s paper. It was a bit sticky when it arrived this morning.”

“Surely it has not taken her all morning to iron a paper. Go and—” Alec broke off as he caught sight of Edmund standing still as a statue beside the curtain. “What are you doing here at this time of the morning?”

“Me? Oh, nothing. Just out for my morning constitutional. Deucedly healthy thing, walking.” Edmund patted his rounded stomach with false geniality. “Don’t know if you know it or not, but I walk everyday. Walk for miles sometimes. Once I walked all the way to—”

“At this time of the morning?”

“Uhm, yes. Of course. Better for your knees if you do it before nine. I’ve decided—”

“Is that today’s paper?” Alec interrupted.

Edmund looked down at the newspaper crammed half in and half out of his waistcoat. “What? This? Oh, no. This is yesterday’s paper. Must have left it in there and not noticed.”

Alec’s gaze narrowed. “Give it to me.”

For a second Julia thought the young man would refuse, but after a heartfelt sigh, he pulled the crinkled mass from his coat and crossed the room toward Alec. Edmund shot an apologetic glance at Burroughs as he passed. “He was bound to find out, sooner or later.”

The butler bowed, and sending an enigmatic glance at Julia, left the room.

Julia frowned. There’d been an unmistakable warning in Burroughs’ gaze. She watched with growing trepidation as Alec scanned the front page, his face frozen into a mask. Whatever it was, it was not good.

After an agonizing moment, Edmund burst out, “Good God, Alec. Don’t just stand there! What are we to do now? I vow, when I read that article this morning and saw Lady H.’s name, I almost—”

“My name?” Dropping her knife, Julia reached over and yanked the paper from Alec.

He made an effort to grab it, but she eluded him and sprang from her chair, crossing to the window to read it in the morning light. Emblazoned across the front page ran the words WELL-KNOWN CHARITY HIDES BROTHEL.

The words danced and swayed before her eyes, and all she could do was catch jumbled phrases. Well-known sponsor…Lady Hunterston…providing servants-for-hire to many well known…hides an exclusive brothel…patronized by dukes and members of parliament alike….

The words spun round and round. She barely noticed when Alec retrieved the paper from her nerveless hand.

“Good God,” she said faintly.

The door opened. “The Duke of Wexford,” Burroughs announced.

Lucien strolled into the room. He checked his stride when he saw the paper in Alec’s hand. “Bloody hell, you’ve seen it already.”

Alec gave a curt nod.

Julia fought her way through a flood of thoughts, each more horrifying than the last. For the first time, she truly feared for Alec’s promise to his grandfather.

So far, they had battled innuendoes and whispers. She feared neither. But this, a newspaper article replete with names and sounding so official…a lump formed in her throat.

She looked up and found Alec regarding her with an inscrutable expression, the paper clamped between his hands. She wouldn’t blame him if he threw it at her.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “The executors will read this.”

Alec gave a brief nod, condemning her more thoroughly with that gesture than any words could. A band of misery clamped around her chest, weighting her down. She sank into a chair and tried to think what could be done.

“Don’t be so grim, Alec,” Edmund urged. “I’ll fetch Aunt Maddie. She’ll know what to do.”

Alec shook his head, his face a frozen mask of condemnation. “The damage is done.”

Edmund strode to the door, crushing his hat onto his mussed curls. “We can’t just stand here and do nothing. Aunt Maddie is up to every rig and row in town. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve seen her.”

Julia listened as Edmund’s footsteps faded. The tightness in her chest eased a bit at his words. So far Aunt Maddie had known what to do in every other instance. “Perhaps Lady Birlington can—”

“Not this time.” Alec tossed the paper onto the table, his bleak expression fixed on her with damning regard. “The executors will have already read every despicable word by now. You—” He stopped as if unable to go on, his face shuttered against some strong emotion.

She knew what was behind his bleak gaze. Every prediction he’d ever made about her charity work had come true. Because of her stubbornness, her refusal to compromise, they had lost it all.

She tried to swallow and failed. “Alec, maybe if I—”

“No. You have done enough.” The harsh words echoed.

“Alec,” Lucien said, stepping forward to place a hand on his friend’s arm. “Julia did not mean any harm.”

Burroughs entered carrying a small silver salver on which sat a note. “My lord, this just came from Mr. Pratt. He requests an immediate reply.”

Julia watched Alec ripped open the envelope. His face darkened as he read. Finally, he looked at Burroughs. “Tell Mr. Pratt I would be glad to attend a meeting at the executors’ convenience.”

The butler bowed and left.

Alec cursed and crumpled the note in his hand, the thick paper crackling.

Lucien sighed. “I assume they have seen the article and demand an accounting.”

Alec tossed the note into the fire. “They cannot wait to dig their hooks into me.”

Julia rubbed her forehead to still the ache growing behind her eyes. It was all so unfair. But she refused to believe that something could not be done. “Alec, perhaps there are some people who can help. Lady Birlington will do what she can, and the board members of the Society might—”

He rounded on her, his anger so intense she drew back. “Forget your damn Society and the inheritance! Don’t you understand what this means?”

“Of course I do. It means the fortune is at risk—”

“Damn the money, Julia! It means that you are ruined. Completely and utterly ruined.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“You will. People will turn their backs on you so quickly you will wonder if you ever had their regard to begin with. All those who supported you and nurtured you will treat you as if you were a leper.”

She looked down at the newspaper, the hurtful words standing out in bold relief. “I am sure some will believe this, but not all.”

“One or two may continue to acknowledge you. But it will not be enough.”

“I—”

He cut her off with an anguished gesture. “God, Lucien, explain it to her.” Alec turned to the mantel as if the sight of her pained him.

Julia clasped her hands in her lap. It wasn’t so much the thought of being shunned, or even of the Society losing its funding that sank her stomach to the floor. It was Alec’s dark expression.

Lucien sighed and regarded the tip of his boot. “I believe what Alec is trying to say is that every scandal has a victim, one person who must pay. That is especially true in a situation like this, when so many are caught in the ugly net.”

“You think it will be me.”

Lucien nodded. “Thanks to the tone of that article.”

“But it is untrue. The Society would never…I would never….” She sighed, her shoulder slumping. “The fortune—”

“Is gone,” Alec said in a clipped voice. “The executors will never allow us to have the money now. We dare not even hope.”

She stood and took a step toward him. “Perhaps if I explain how all this happened, they will understand that you, at least, are not to blame.”

“Damn it, Julia!” he snarled, turning to her. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Her temper leapt to meet his. “You can’t give up without even trying!”

He glowered, his eyes dark with emotion. “One of us must face reality.”

Julia squared her chin. “I face reality every day, Alec.”

“You?” he scoffed with a bitter laugh. “You, who squander your love on a man who will never return your affections? If that is your reality, you can keep it.”

The words hit her with the force of a cannon shot, stealing her breath and crushing her heart. He knew. He knew she loved him and he despised her.

Her hand dropped to her side. She was unable to speak, unable to breathe.

Lucien’s quiet curse broke the silence. “For the love of God, Alec.”

Alec ignored him and stalked from the room. Julia heard him calling for the carriage as the door slammed.

Tears rushed in as the shock slipped away, a raw pain in the region of her heart. She leaned against the window and closed her eyes.

Lucien spoke, his voice soft over her shoulder. “Julia, don’t. He doesn’t mean anything he says right now.”

She nodded, unable to do more. Seconds later she heard the door close, and then Lucien, too, was gone.