Chapter 1 #2
“If you are careful, I cannot see any harm to it,” Maude said. “You are a widow, and there is nothing wrong in having a little fun now and again.”
“Allegra?” Carenza turned to her sister, who was looking rather dignified.
“I have already expressed my thoughts on this matter. I request not to be involved in the slightest.”
Carenza looked out of the window and attempted to gather her thoughts. She did miss being bedded. If she could find an unexceptionable man to give her his all, why shouldn’t she?
“All right. I’ll do it.”
Olivia clapped her hands. “Excellent news. I’ll just call for my maid, and we can stop at the Strand on our way home.” She winked at Carenza. “If things go according to plan, you’ll be well bedded in a week!”
The Honorable Julian Laurent made his leisurely way through the entrance hall at White’s, pausing only when his progress was impeded by a crowd gathered around the infamous betting book.
“What on earth is causing such a hubbub?” he murmured to the overexcitable heir to a dukedom who happened to be standing next to him. “Has Prinny died?”
“God forbid.” The hapless youth grinned sunnily at him. “This is far more exciting.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
“There’s a bet been placed about the identity of the so-called ‘lady’ who paid for the advertisement!”
Julian raised an eyebrow. “How thrilling. Please excuse me.”
He eased past the excited throng and made his way into the dining room, where he was due to meet his younger brother. He smiled slightly as Anton rose to greet him.
“You’re early,” Julian said.
“You’re always late,” Anton replied as they shook hands. He was sporting a rather fine and luxuriant mustache in the style of many cavalry officers. “And the military has made me very punctual.”
As Julian joined his brother at the table, he noted that he looked well in his new uniform. Julian would never tell him so, but he was proud of his brother. After their widowed mother had applied to Julian for funds, he’d happily bought Anton his new commission.
The waiter took their order, and Julian set his napkin on his lap. “When are you off?”
“Three days.” Anton grimaced. “I’m not looking forward to the journey.”
“It’s a long way to India,” Julian acknowledged. “But you wanted this advancement, yes?”
“Of course. It’s the only way for a man to get ahead now that the war with France has ended.” Anton frowned. “Don’t you approve?”
“I’d rather you were closer to home,” Julian said easily. “But that’s mainly because, as her second-favorite son, our dear mother worries about you so much.”
“Which means she’ll be directing all her attention at you.” Anton grinned. “You’ll constantly be at her beck and call, which will leave you no time for dalliance.”
“Oh, I suspect I’ll manage somehow, and we both know she far prefers the company of Aragon. As the heir, he is the only son who truly matters.” Julian poured them both some wine. “Just promise me that you will write to her on a regular basis, and all will be well.”
“I’ll do my best. It’s the least I can do.” Anton held up his glass. “Thank you for everything you have done for me.”
“I can hardly take credit for everything.”
“Mother couldn’t afford to buy me a commission, Julian. I know it was you.”
“What else is one to do when one is a veritable Croesus?” Julian shrugged. “I never expected to inherit a fortune from my dearly departed godmother—God bless her eccentric little heart.”
“The Walcott family still hate your guts for that.” Anton topped up his glass. “Percival absolutely radiates with fury every time your name is mentioned.”
“Percival should have spent less time mocking his great-aunt and more time listening to her incredibly outrageous stories about the court fifty years ago. I learned a lot and gained a whole new level of disdain for the aristocracy who rule us.”
“Of which you are now one,” Anton pointed out.
“I have no title,” Julian returned. “Only ‘the honorable’ from our father, as I’m the second son.”
“Poor Aragon might have Father’s title, but he has only a tenth of your wealth.”
“Which is why our mother cordially dislikes me.” Julian smiled at his younger brother. “And Aragon constantly asks to borrow money.”
He would miss Anton’s breezy presence in more ways than one. Not only had Anton provided their mother with someone to dote on, but he’d been a jovial barrier between his two older brothers. With no Anton to joke with, how would he and Aragon negotiate their somewhat delicate relationship?
“Excuse me, sir.”
He sat back to allow the waiter to set his plate in front of him.
Anton picked up his knife. “The beef looks excellent, as always.”
“Indeed.”
Another burst of noise filtered in from the crowded lobby as one of the diners exited.
“What’s this nonsense about a bet?” Julian asked, watching Anton begin to eat his dinner with remarkable speed.
“The mysterious lady?” Anton chuckled. “If I were staying in London, I wouldn’t mind having a pop at that.”
“Pop at what exactly?”
“You haven’t heard? Apparently, a lady put an advertisement in one of the newspapers asking for applications for a lover with a very specific set of requirements.”
“One has to doubt a lady would stoop to such behavior,” Julian remarked. “And wonder why the gentlemen in the hallway care so much.”
“I suspect it has something to do with the frankness of the advertisement.” Anton waved down a waiter. “Can you provide me with a copy of today’s Times?”
“Of course, Captain.”
Within two minutes, the man was back with a well-ironed copy of the newspaper.
“Thank you.” Anton looked over at his brother. “Excuse me for a moment while I locate the specific advertisement.”
Julian continued to eat his dinner as his brother went through the long list of personal columns.
“Ah! Here it is.” Anton cleared his throat.
“‘Titled lady seeks experienced, unmarried rake for afternoon dalliance. Please reply to this advertisement with precise measurements including height, age, length of male member, and current financial statements. Interviews will be conducted before the end of the month.’”
“Good Lord,” Julian said.
Anton refolded the paper and grinned at him. “I know. It must be a joke. Someone wants to see who’ll take the bait and will record the names of all these fools being interviewed by some madam and publish them to much ridicule.”
“That sounds highly likely.”
“I mean, if a lady wants a lover, there are better ways to find one.”
“Through her husband, perhaps?”
“You’ve had your share of married lovers, brother.”
“Only when both parties understand the terms of the … liaison, and hopefully no one gets hurt.”
He tried not to think about his recent experience with Lady Brenton, when his blithe confidence in their arrangement had been sadly mistaken. It had almost put him off fornication for life.
“Well, whoever she is, I wish her luck.” Anton set the newspaper on the tablecloth. “Do we have time for pudding? We’re not due at Musgrove House until three.”
Julian followed Anton into the drawing room of Musgrove House, where they found not only their two hostesses but their friend Mrs. Sheraton.
As his brother was busy charming the Musgrove sisters, he went over to pay his respects to the rather eccentric widow.
She had a classic oval face, dark hair and blue eyes, and a perfect rosebud mouth.
She was brutally honest, happy to send any gentlemen who offended her running for the hills, and had the acid wit of a cynic. He enjoyed her company immensely.
“Mrs. Sheraton.” He kissed her proffered hand. “How lovely to see you.”
“Always a pleasure, sir.” She smiled at him. “Carenza tells me that Anton is on his way overseas.”
“Yes, he sails in three days.”
“Allegra will be devastated.”
Julian turned slightly so that he could see the grouping around the fire. Anton’s face was alight with excitement as he described something vividly with his hands. Lady Carenza was smiling and nodding, but her sister seemed somewhat distraught.
“I never realized she had a tendre for him.” Julian spoke more to himself than to his companion.
“Neither did she, until she heard he was leaving,” Olivia murmured back. “I suppose as you all grew up on neighboring estates, she just assumed he would always be there.”
“A terrible mistake to make.” Julian’s thoughtful gaze fell on Carenza.
“I’m sure she will write to him,” Olivia said.
“I hope she will. Whether he’ll reply is another matter. He is not the most reliable of fellows.”
“You are one of the very few gentlemen of my acquaintance who are capable of being objective about your family.”
Julian bowed. “I am a realist, Mrs. Sheraton. It seems I cannot help myself.”
Carenza came toward him, her hands outstretched. “It is always a pleasure to see you, sir.”
He smiled down into her hazel eyes. Her honey-blond hair was gathered in a high topknot with a single curl resting on her throat.
She wore a modest lace fichu knotted over the bodice of her gown.
She wasn’t an acknowledged beauty, having been dubbed too countrified on her debut by one of the unkinder patronesses at Almack’s, but Julian had always admired her.
“Anton insisted that he had to say his farewells to you and your sister in person.”
“And that is the only reason you came to visit us?”
“You know I enjoy your company, Carenza,” Julian said as she offered him a seat. “We have much in common.”
She went to ring the bell for refreshments. “Including my late husband,” Carenza said lightly as she returned to sit opposite him. “Although even you were unable to contain his excesses in the end.”
“I did my best, but Hector was …”
Mrs. Sheraton spoke over his shoulder as she came to join them. “An inconsiderate and amoral reprobate?”
“He had his demons, as most of us do,” Julian admitted.
“He had more than most, and they killed him in the end,” Mrs. Sheraton said as she sat down and spread out her skirts. “How you two were ever friends is a puzzle to me.”