Chapter Three
White’s Gentlemen’s Club
London, England
Julian nursed his port, listening half-heartedly as Lord Alvanley expounded on the issues Parliament would address.
Alvanley, the son of a wealthy baron, was, as usual, good-humored and witty.
At most times, Julian found the man’s pronouncements and assessments to be entertaining and worth consideration; however, on this occasion, his thoughts wandered.
“I tell you, gentlemen, if we do not address the deteriorating conditions in the rookeries, we will see a rise in crime that will affect us all. A growing welfare state spells disaster.” Alvanley took a pinch of snuff from the box on the table and sniffed, his nose reddening with his inhalation.
“But what can we do?” asked Robert Stewart, Marquess of Londonderry. Robert had always struck Julian as a man afraid of his own shadow. He would never dare to disagree with the erudite Alvanley.
Julian often found Society frustrating, if not dull. Each Season offered the same old games of matchmaking mamas scheming to find husbands for their unmarried daughters. It truly tested a man’s patience.
“We must overcome any protestations from anyone who would deny the truth,” Alvanley continued.
“I’ve tried to apprise Prinny of this growing threat, but it hasn’t been easy to get his attention.
The prince is more focused on the economic downturn following the Napoleonic Wars and is determined to expand the railroad system to counter the lagging economy.
The war was costly in more ways than one, and we will be paying for it for years to come. ”
Without really seeing, Julian stared out the window, his gaze fixed on St. James’s Street.
His mind was a million miles away, rehashing his confrontation with his father and the old man’s embarrassing behavior.
He pulled his gaze back to his friends and did his best to add something to the conversation.
“Prinny is right that industrialization is key, but I do agree that social reform must be prioritized. I apologize if I seem distracted. My thoughts seem to be elsewhere.” Besides, these were matters to be discussed in Parliament, where affairs of state were dealt with.
Julian had recently stood before his peers and delivered a well-received speech on the shameful conditions that pervaded the rookeries.
He was very sympathetic to the less fortunate and wanted to remedy what he considered a problem that could incite anarchy.
The disparity in wealth and living conditions between the classes was untenable, and the issue appeared insurmountable.
“I can well imagine,” said Alvanley. “What was all that folderol about at the queen’s ball? And who was the enchanting young woman you danced with? She was quite unforgettable.”
“Lady Cecelia Beaufort is her name,” Julian said in a sharp tone.
Damn. He hadn’t meant to react so strongly.
What is this sensation I’m feeling at the thought of other men ogling her?
He cleared his throat, ignoring the sly smiles his friends gave him.
“You wouldn’t know of her, as neither she nor her parents spent any time in London.
She’s been in mourning for her mother, who passed away last year. ”
“I heard through the mill that she’s a duke’s daughter and certainly acceptable. Although your father seemed to have a strong reaction to her?” said Robert before taking a sip of brandy.
Well, so much for Julian hoping his argument with his father had gone unnoticed. Apparently, the gossipmongers were as busy as ever wagging their tongues. “My father seems to have forgotten that I am no longer a youth home from Eton,” Julian muttered.
“Ah, well, you know how those old men are. He who holds the purse strings wields the power.” Alvanley chuckled. “My own penny-pinching father gets more crotchety and stubborn with each passing year.”
“A man’s strength is not always based on his purse,” Julian said, then gulped the last of his port. “Forgive me, my friends. I must take my leave. This is a conversation for another time.” He rose and nodded to his friends. “Will I see you at Ascot?”
“I will be there,” said Robert.
“Most assuredly. Good Lord,” said Alvanley, “I would never miss the Gold Cup. Prinny would never forgive me. Sleep well, my friend, and good evening.”
Julian walked through Berkeley Square Gardens to his townhouse.
Moonlight filtered through the leaves of the London plane trees, casting shadows.
He could not forget his argument with his father, nor could he forget Lacy or the flirtatious conversation between them.
His father’s insistence on disparaging Lacy was unwarranted and merely stirred Julian’s desire to know her better.
What in bloody hell had she done to elicit such a volatile reaction?
His father had never interfered in his choice of companions before. Why now?
As for the girl, she was utterly charming, radiant, and he’d found her without artifice.
He was determined to seek her out and apologize for his father’s rude behavior.
Apologies notwithstanding, he was also eager to see her again.
The Gold Cup at Ascot was the highlight of the London Season, and she would certainly attend.
He was prepared to counter any anger she might have toward him and determined to overcome it.
He hadn’t felt himself drawn to anyone that so completely captured his thoughts and stirred his imagination in a long time.
There was a strength of character and confidence in her that disarmed him, and a naturalness that made him want to move mountains to win her approval.
His feelings for her were a mix of admiration, intrigue, and a budding affection that he was not yet ready to acknowledge.
The heat that had passed between them was a fire, searing, and though he’d tried to explain it away to himself, he could not extinguish it.
His father had not offered any explanation for his displeasure with Lacy, which only added to Julian’s irritation.
Father was hiding something. For the earl to cause a scene at the queen’s ball was inexplicable, and his volatile reaction in public was more than a lapse in judgment—it spoke to something more profound, and damn if it wasn’t confounding.
If Julian’s father thought of dissuading him from his interest in Lady Beaufort, he would find himself up against a will of iron.
Julian was his own man, and he would get to the bottom of this.
He was determined to uncover his father’s motives, even if it meant challenging the earl’s authority.
Because the earldom’s lands had been put into entailment by his great-grandfather, the present earl could never disinherit him as the eldest and only son or sell off any part of the estate.
Whatever his father’s reasons for admonishing him, he could not disown him.
The lands would pass to Julian, as would the title.
Such was the law of the land, and Julian knew assuredly that his father’s threats were meaningless.
However, Father could make life miserable not only for him but for the enchanting, unforgettable woman who’d captivated him.
Julian also knew his heart and mind would not be controlled by anyone. His determination would not waver. If Lacy proved to be his desired love interest, he would fight to win her, and the devil himself could not stop him.