Chapter 10
Julian drank his third brandy and stared into the fire at his club.
He had eaten at White’s with a group of friends and politely declined their invitation to join them at a discreet brothel, which had caused some good-natured ribaldry.
He had enough trouble managing one woman’s needs without adding any other’s.
He’d always imagined Carenza was the perfect wife for Hector.
She appeared calm and in control. Hector’s constant dalliances and appalling lack of judgment had never seemed to ruffle her composure in the slightest. Julian had thought, God help him, that bedding her would be easy.
That she understood the game and would engage in a pleasant affair that meant nothing to either of them.
Except she wasn’t willing to play by the rules and, as he’d foolishly allowed her to set them, he was heading rapidly toward hell alongside her.
He’d been stupid to underestimate her. As a child, she’d shown great courage and a fierce determination to outdo all the boys on the estate next door.
They’d often tried to dissuade her from tagging along with them, but she’d been dogged in her pursuit.
He remembered her brother, Dorian, tying her hair ribbons to a tree once to stop her from following them.
He smiled as he remembered her indignation when she’d finally caught up with them, sans hair ribbons and her hair down her back.
“What ho, brother.”
Julian looked up as Aragon patted his shoulder and took the chair opposite him. A waiter paused by his side, and Aragon ordered two more brandies.
“You’re looking very thoughtful, Julian.”
“Just contemplating how the best-laid plans are certain to fail.”
“Very true.” Aragon nodded vigorously. “That’s why I avoid ’em like the plague. Mother is far better at organizing my life than I’ll ever be.”
Julian fixed his brother with a patient stare. “And that is why you’ll never find a lady willing to marry you.”
Aragon studied him for a long moment, his brow creased in obvious thought. “Ah, you think I allow Mother too much control over my life.”
“Yes.”
“And if I take a wife, she won’t like that, because she’ll want to tell me what to do instead.”
“Well done.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic,” Aragon said. “What if I made it clear they can both tell me what to do?” He looked hopefully at Julian.
“What if they ask you to do totally opposite things?”
Aragon frowned. “I didn’t think of that.”
“Can you imagine living in a house where our esteemed mother was at constant war with your wife?”
“Well, that’s easy to solve. I just won’t go home.” Aragon sat back with a satisfied air. “Leave ’em to it.”
Julian considered ending the conversation there, but some perverse desire to hear what Aragon would come up with next made him continue. “If you never go home, how will you sire an heir?”
The waiter returned with the brandies, and Aragon took a moment to light a cigar and drain his glass before turning back to Julian. “That’s easy.” He paused to blow a smoke ring far too close to Julian’s face. “I’ll pack Mother off to the dower house.”
Julian contemplated that scenario as he sipped his own brandy. “If you ever do that, will you invite me to watch?”
Aragon slapped his thigh and roared with laughter. “You’re a very funny man.”
“I’m quite serious,” Julian said.
“Has Lady Carenza ever met Mother?”
“I would assume they’ve met in society at some point. Why?”
“I was thinking of inviting Lady Carenza to dine with us at home.”
“With our mother, who has expressly forbidden you from courting her?”
“It’s my house.” Aragon looked mulish. “I can invite who I damned well please.”
“I agree.” Julian nodded.
“With me?” Aragon’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a first.”
“You should invite both the Musgrove sisters,” Julian said. “And me.”
“Naturally. It’s still your home, brother, whatever Mother says.”
Julian met his brother’s gaze. “Thank you.”
“I’ll just inform the housekeeper, and she can tell Cook. Mother won’t need to know anything about it until the guests are arriving,” Aragon said happily.
“An excellent strategy,” Julian said.
“Do you really think so?” Aragon smiled at him. “I’ll send Lady Carenza a note, and as soon as I get her acceptance, I’ll arrange everything.”
“One thing before you go,” Julian said. “I’m thinking of organizing a small house party at my place in the country, and I wondered if you would like to come?”
“Me?” Aragon looked absurdly pleased. “You’ve never considered me worthy enough to grace your country retreat before.”
“Which was very remiss of me.” Julian paused. “Will you come?”
“Yes, please, but don’t tell Mother. She thinks you’re a bad influence on me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Julian assured his brother.
Aragon rose to his feet. “I must be off. I promised Cardew I’d visit a new gaming hell with him.”
“Please be careful,” Julian said.
“It’s not me you have to worry about, brother. I’m only going with Cardew to stop him from wasting his money.” He paused. “He’s an old friend of mine, and I do try to look out for him.”
“You’re a good man.” Julian looked up at his brother.
Aragon shrugged. “Least I can do. I’ve never enjoyed gambling. All those numbers make my head spin.” With a wink he departed, leaving Julian alone again with the realization that without his mother standing between them, he was beginning to like his older brother far more than he had anticipated.
“Good evening, Laurent.” Percival Walcott slid into the chair Aragon had just vacated.
“Walcott.” Julian sat back and waited to see what Percival wanted.
“Was that your brother you were speaking to?”
“Yes.”
“Last I heard, you two were estranged over your unexpected inheritance.” Percival paused. “It must have been as galling for him to be overlooked as it was for me.”
“Fortunately for me, he isn’t the kind of man to hold a grudge.”
“Yes, he’s remarkably easygoing, isn’t he?” Percival said with a sneer. “Not a lot of sense, but that hardly matters when he’s an earl.”
“Is it difficult?” Julian asked.
Percival looked flummoxed. “What?”
“Constantly carrying that chip on your shoulder. Does your tailor have to account for it when he makes your coats? It would certainly explain the lack of fit.” Julian stared at Percival. “Perhaps if you spent less time airing your grievances and more on bettering yourself, you’d be a happier man.”
“I’d be happier if you hadn’t used your charm to extract a fortune from my aunt.”
Julian was in no mood to tolerate Percival’s endless parade of accusations. He rose to his feet. “Was there something in particular you wanted to speak to me about?”
“Yes. Calloway’s been gossiping about you and the mysterious lady who placed the advertisement.”
“I never listen to gossip.”
“But surely you’d like the opportunity to clear the air?” Percival asked.
“With you?” Julian raised an eyebrow. “Hardly.”
“I was trying to give you a friendly warning that your name might be dragged through the press, but, as usual, you are too proud to take the hint.” Percival took a hasty step back as Julian strolled past him, not bothering to answer.
Julian went into the entrance hall and asked for his hat and cloak. He’d rather his name was in the newspapers than Carenza’s, and that was all there was to it. Percival could whine as much as he wanted, as long as Carenza’s reputation remained unsullied.
Still, he didn’t like the association between Calloway and Percival one bit.
They both disliked him and would love to see him fall from society’s graces.
The worst thing was there was very little he could do until they showed their hands more openly.
Why Percival couldn’t let the matter of the inheritance go after two years of whining and losing several court cases, Julian couldn’t fathom.
Money, as his father had often mentioned, was the biggest bone of contention in all families, rich or poor.
He bade the porter good night and decided to walk back to his house.
He’d agreed to take Carenza and her sister to meet the Cartwrights the following morning when he was due to give his speech.
Miss Cartwright hadn’t seemed very enthused by the notion of a visit, but her brother had reminded her that they needed the goodwill of those able to finance their efforts, and she’d reluctantly agreed.
Julian was fairly certain that both sisters would heartily approve of the Cartwrights’ work and would be inclined to offer their assistance.
As the treasurer and keeper of the books, Julian knew exactly how far Miss Cartwright squeezed every penny and admired her for it.
He’d considered adding to his own financial contributions but didn’t want Miss Cartwright to feel any kind of obligation to him that might make her think his genuine admiration for her was tied to his purse.
He rarely met women quite like Miss Cartwright and Anna Mountjoy—ladies by birth who chose to work for the good of others rather than further enriching their families by making the right marriages.
Society women often took up “causes,” but in his experience, they shied away from the reality of the actual work and quickly lost interest when something new came along.
But wasn’t he guilty of the same? He nodded at the night-watchman as he passed by and finally turned into his street off the King’s Road.
He’d rarely interested himself in such matters until Mrs. Mountjoy had introduced him to the Cartwrights and he’d entered a whole new world.
He had no intention of giving up his post on the board now even if he never succeeded in engaging Miss Cartwright’s interest. To be considered useful and to do something to help others was an eye-opening experience.