Chapter 21 #2
Julian waited until Carenza approached. He cupped her elbow and said, “Good evening.”
“Julian.” She looked her usual calm, lovely self. “How nice to see you.”
“I’m hoping you have a space on your dance card for me—preferably the supper dance?”
“Of course.” She smiled at him. “That would be delightful.”
He let her go on ahead of him, his gaze thoughtful. If she imagined he was going to apologize for proposing to her she was quite wrong. In his heart, he knew his impulsive offer was the truest thing he’d ever said in his life, and he was determined to ensure that Carenza realized it, too.
The duchess ascended the small, raised dais at the end of the ballroom and clapped her hands to quieten the guests.
“Good evening, everyone. Thank you for attending this charity ball to aid the inspiring work of Mrs. Mountjoy and the Cartwrights to save the impoverished children of London from the worst of fates.” She gestured for Miss Cartwright, who was holding her speech in her visibly shaking hands, to step forward.
“Miss Cartwright has agreed to speak to you tonight. Please give her a warm welcome.”
The guests obligingly clapped, and Julian sensed Miss Cartwright was ready to bolt. But she was tougher than she looked and spoke up in a clear, precise voice about the work she and her brother did, and that of Mrs. Mountjoy, and how worthy a cause it was.
Julian could only admire her single-mindedness. Any thought he’d had of her being the perfect wife for him had disappeared once he’d realized she had a true vocation in life. He doubted even Aragon could convince her otherwise. And there was the little matter of his feelings for Carenza. …
The applause when she finished was prolonged, and she blushed to the roots of her hair. Mrs. Mountjoy stepped up to offer her thanks, and the duchess was just about to offer some closing remarks when someone else jumped up on the dais. Jeremy Calloway.
“Forgive me for interrupting, Your Grace,” Calloway spoke very loudly. “But you have been grievously deceived by a bunch of charlatans led by Julian Laurent!”
“Good God.” Julian started to push his way toward the dais.
“Ask Mr. Percival Walcott,” Calloway continued. “Ask Lady Brenton! They’ll tell you what a liar Laurent really is, and how he isn’t above using blackmail to get what he wants.”
“He’s right.” Percival joined Calloway on the dais. “All of this is a front for the nefarious dealings of a wicked man.” His gaze found Julian’s in the crowd. “He’s the one using these poor unsuspecting people as pawns in his game to corrupt the innocent!”
An excited murmur ran through the crowd. The duchess, who didn’t appreciate being upstaged in her own house, frowned.
“This is ridiculous,” she said. “If you have genuine grievances against Mr. Laurent, then take them up with the courts and not in my ballroom!”
“Ask him what he does at the Wheatsheaf Inn!” Calloway yelled.
“He’s conspiring with the landlord to make sure his children get sent to their new owners.
Who do you think set up that ridiculous advertisement to lure more of us into his clutches so that he could blackmail us and the women he forces to work for him?
No wonder his fortune is always increasing.
It thrives on extortion and the misery of children! ”
Just as Calloway finished speaking, Aragon jumped up on the dais, drew back his fist, and planted a facer on Calloway. With a scream, Calloway dropped to the floor.
“That’s for speaking ill of my brother!” Aragon said. He bowed to the duchess. “Apologies, Your Grace.”
Julian finally reached the front of the room, mainly because the people around him were drawing back with various expressions of amusement or horror on their faces. Julian saw Walcott, and he sorely wished he could follow his brother’s example and flatten him.
Instead, he bowed to the duchess and turned to address the guests. “I can assure you that these allegations are baseless lies, and that I will be following the duchess’s advice and referring all these matters to my barrister.”
“Not good enough,” Walcott said loudly. “I’m willing to go back to court if your perfidy is finally exposed to the world.”
Julian turned to look at Percival, his gaze icy.
“The Cartwrights and Mrs. Mountjoy do excellent work to help the disadvantaged children of our city. My supposed ‘involvement’ in their organizations amounts to nothing more than being a proud member on their boards. Anything else is a figment of your depraved imagination.”
“And what about your involvement in the advertisement?” Lady Brenton shouted from the front row. “Are you more than a blackmailer? Were you secretly seeing ‘your children’ onto coaches without the knowledge of these fine institutions?”
“I was doing nothing of the sort.”
“If anyone thinks we entrust Mr. Laurent with the future employment of the children in our care, then you are sadly mistaken.” Mrs. Mountjoy spoke clearly from behind him.
“Every child is escorted to their new home by me or the Cartwrights. Mr. Laurent is an honorable and admirable man, and this is simply an attempt to smear him.”
Calloway, clutching a handkerchief to his nose, got up from the floor. “Then why was he at that inn handing out money to all and sundry?” He glared at Julian. “And don’t deny it. I have witnesses.”
“That is an entirely separate matter,” Julian said. “And one I have already discussed with your father. I suggest you speak to him and refrain from commenting in public when your understanding is so limited.”
“You were at the inn more than once,” Calloway persisted. “I can prove it.”
“Did you have something to do with that advertisement from the lady who was looking for a lover, Laurent?” Walcott said loudly. “I think we all deserve an explanation.”
“On the contrary,” Julian snapped. “I think you deserve nothing but contempt for dragging the names of these good people into disrepute when the work they do is so important. Now can we proceed with the ball?”
Lady Brenton stepped forward. “Why were you at that inn? Were you the person who wrote the advertisement to lure more young men into your clutches so that you could blackmail them?”
A murmur ran around the ballroom, which didn’t sound particularly favorable toward Julian.
Lady Brenton smiled. “Do tell. We’re all agog for your answer.”
“He had nothing to do with it.” Carenza stepped forward from where she’d been standing with the rest of the committee. “That was me. I placed the advertisement.”
Noise rose in the ballroom as her words were repeated like an outgoing wave. Julian caught the duchess’s eye, took Carenza’s hand, and practically dragged her through to the anteroom. He shut the door behind them and spun around.
“What in damnation are you doing?”
She met his gaze quite calmly. “Protecting my friend. Admitting to my own mistake.”
“They’ll ruin you!”
“I’m already considered déclassé. Why does it matter if they think I’m even worse?”
“Because I have spent weeks trying to prevent this very thing from happening. And now you just stand up and admit to it?” He clenched his fists to keep from shaking her. “What in God’s name is wrong with you?”
He only realized he was shouting when she winced.
“I’m tired of lying. I’m tired of being used by your enemies to bring you down.”
“I was in no danger of losing my reputation. Everyone out there knows what Walcott is like. No one would believe him.”
“You’re wrong about that.” She paused. “People love to gossip, and there would’ve been a shadow left on your name and reputation. I couldn’t allow that to happen.”
“You couldn’t allow it? What in God’s name does it have to do with you?”
She let out a breath. “Julian, I know that you are angry with Percival and Calloway, but—”
“You’re wrong.” He cut her off again. “I’m angry with you.”
“For caring enough to protect you?”
“But you don’t care, do you, Carenza? You take what you want from me and offer nothing in return.”
She went still. “That’s hardly fair.”
“You considered me too far above you to contemplate marriage,” he said.
“One might think you’d be pleased that my reputation might be as ruined as yours.
Or did you decide to ‘sacrifice’ yourself on my behalf, because you didn’t really want us to be equal?
And that way you could avoid another unwanted proposal? ”
“Julian …” Her voice was unsteady, and there were tears gathering in her eyes. “As to that, l wanted to tell you—”
“As to that, nothing.” He inclined his head an icy inch. “You win, my dear. I’ll keep to our bargain. I’ll be your stud, because quite honestly what else am I worth to you?”
The music started up again in the ballroom behind them, as she studied him. “Perhaps you are angry because I have completely ruined my reputation and you can no longer pretend I would make you a suitable wife.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Julian said.
“Our bargain, such as it was, is null and void, sir.” She curtsied, turned around, and left by the outer door into the lower hall.
She didn’t even slam the door, just shut it carefully behind her.
He took several breaths. Then, his fury dying as quickly as it had risen, he flung open the door. “Carenza!”
“Julian.” Aragon came toward him, his expression concerned. “Are you all right? We got rid of the agitators, and the crowd seems to be on your side. They’re all gossiping about Lady Carenza instead.”
“Damn her,” Julian muttered.
“Actually, I thought it was rather brave,” Aragon said. “You should be grateful. Her announcement saved your reputation.”
“Brave, foolhardy, or entirely unnecessary?” Julian demanded.
Aragon raised his eyebrows. “Brave. If I have to pick one. She didn’t have to do that for you, brother.”
“I am well aware of that.”
“I hope you were sufficiently grateful.”
“I—” Julian paused. “I lost my temper with her.”
“Ah.” Aragon nodded. “That probably explains why she was crying when I saw her leave.”
Julian steeled himself against that image and scowled at his brother. “Then perhaps she shouldn’t have interfered. I had everything under control.”
“No, you didn’t,” Aragon demurred. “Have you any idea how many of your peers would love to see you brought low? They were practically salivating at the thought that you were a bad man. Why do you think I punched Calloway?”
“I have no idea.”
“And why do you think I’ve been pretending to be friends with Walcott for the past week or so?” Aragon prodded him in the chest. “For you.”
“What?”
“The ladies asked me to find out what Percival was up to. I was coming here to tell them he’d definitely planned something for the ball, but Mother held me up with one of her lectures about my moral turpitude, and I arrived too late to warn everybody.”
“Why does everyone around me assume I’m incapable of looking after myself?” Julian asked. “I’ve been self-sufficient since the age of five, when it became evident that my own mother couldn’t abide me.”
“Because we care about you. Is that not reason enough?”
Julian stared at him. He’d just accused Carenza of being incapable of caring and now his own brother was suggesting that he was the one who wouldn’t allow anyone to care for him.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Julian said. He checked his reflection in the mirror. “We should get back to the ball.”
“You’re not serious.”
Julian swung around to look at his brother. “If I don’t go out there now, there will be people who think I have something to hide.”
“I understand that, but what about Lady Carenza? Don’t you think you should go and put things right with her first?”
“I doubt she’ll want to see me right now.”
“She’s very fond of you, Julian,” Aragon said. “Hector knew that.”
“What does bloody Hector have to do with anything? He’s dead!”
“I never told you this because you and Hector were such good friends, but I happened to be seated near him at the end of the night when he became engaged to Lady Carenza. He made a point of telling me why he’d chosen to marry her.
” Aragon looked at Julian, all the usual humor gone from his face.
“Hector said he knew you were in love with her and that it would be amusing to see if he could turn Carenza’s head before she realized it.
He was laughing while he told me, but he was rather drunk. ”
Julian blinked at him.
Aragon grimaced. “I never liked Hector.” He patted Julian’s shoulder. “If you insist on going back to the ball, I’m coming with you. Anyone who dares insult you will have me to deal with as well.”
Carenza reached home, ran up the stairs, and collapsed on the floor of her bedchamber in a storm of weeping.
All she could see, all she could hear, was Julian’s disdain and fury for her.
After a while, she blew her nose and contemplated the roaring fire.
Despite his anger, all was not lost. If his reputation was restored then the rest of it—his wrath, his accusations that she was incapable of loving anyone—meant nothing.
Except she’d never forget him saying those things. Hector had taught her to guard her heart, but had she learned the lesson too well? Was she too damaged to reach out for happiness with the man she’d always liked and had grown to love?
Her door opened, and she turned, hastily wiping her eyes, to see Allegra coming in.
“Well.” Her sister sat on the chair next to the fire. “You certainly put the cat among the pigeons. I have a feeling that my chances of making a good marriage have significantly declined.”
“I’m so sorry, Allegra.”
Allegra shrugged. “There’s always India. Anton’s already there, and I hear the men are desperate for women to marry.”
“Don’t even think about it.” Carenza reached for her sister’s hand. “I can’t bear the thought of you leaving me.”
Allegra gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “You did the right thing, you know.”
“Yes,” Carenza said. “But at what cost?”