Chapter 22
The next morning, Aragon appeared in Julian’s bedroom with a collection of newspapers under his arm.
“It’s bad,” Aragon said, dumping the papers on Julian’s bed. “Lady Carenza’s name is all over the papers and not just in the social sections. Her family history has been exhumed and minutely examined, and she has been found deficient in every way.”
“God …” Julian pressed his fingers to his eyes. He hadn’t slept well. The image of Carenza’s face as he’d lost his temper had never left his mind. “I hope her father doesn’t see them.”
“I’m fairly certain he will,” Aragon said as he paced around Julian’s room.
“Did you see that obnoxious Lady Smythe-Harding at the ball last night? She was wallowing in all the attention as she told that ridiculous story about Lady Carenza stealing her family jewels. If you hadn’t ordered me to be nice to everyone, I would’ve had a few choice words with her myself. ”
“The last thing we need is to make everything worse,” Julian said.
“How could we possibly do that?” Aragon stared at him. “Lady Carenza’s reputation has been destroyed while yours—”
“Has been validated. I am aware of that.”
“Then what are you going to do about it?” Aragon demanded. “And please don’t tell me that you plan to do nothing. That poor girl sacrificed herself for you.”
“I didn’t ask her to do so.”
“That’s your defense? Good Lord, Julian. I thought you were better than this.”
“Aragon, I’ve just woken up. Please give me at least a moment to gather my thoughts and decide on a plan of action.”
“That’s better.” Aragon scowled at him. “I like the Musgroves. They don’t deserve this.”
He departed as abruptly as he’d come, leaving Julian with a sick feeling in his stomach and a pile of newspapers that barely mentioned his name but painted Carenza in such awful terms that he sometimes struggled to read them.
The consensus was that she would no longer be welcome in polite society, as she was as immoral as her infamous mother.
He got out of bed, dressed as quickly as possible, and went down to breakfast. Simon was already at the table eating. He stood up as Julian came in. “Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning.” Julian piled his plate with food that he wasn’t sure he could eat and sat down.
Simon cleared his throat. “Is there anything in particular you wish me to deal with this morning?”
Julian just looked at him.
“I heard there was a slight contretemps at the ball last night.”
“Slight?”
“I understand from your brother that your reputation was questioned but that you came through it unscathed.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Julian drank some coffee. “Did he also mention the only reason that happened is because Lady Carenza sacrificed her own reputation for mine?”
“Yes, sir.” Simon hesitated. “I must admit that despite what you told me, I thought Mrs. Sheraton was the instigator of the advertisement and that Lady Carenza was covering up for her.”
“Mrs. Sheraton certainly has a lot to answer for.” Julian ate a small amount of ham and nibbled on some toast.
“I suppose Lady Carenza will be returning to the country,” Simon said. “I doubt she’ll be received in society.”
Julian winced. Not seeing her again, watching her fade away in disgrace—it was an insult to everything she was.
The butler came in. “Lady Landon is here, sir. I’ve put her in the front parlor and ordered some tea.”
Good God, that was all he needed … Julian’s headache returned with a vengeance and he set down his cup. “I suppose I’d better go and get it over with. If I’m not out in fifteen minutes, please interrupt our meeting and insist that I am urgently required elsewhere.”
His mother was standing by the fireplace, her critical gaze trained on the painting he’d recently acquired and hung above the mantelpiece.
“My dear Mama, how may I assist you?”
She studied him, her expression tight. “I want your assurances that you will do everything in your power to keep any hint of scandal away from your brother.”
“Naturally.” He bowed. “Although the only scandal I am aware of concerns Lady Carenza Musgrove.”
“She is a … connection of both of yours.” She sniffed. “At least I don’t have to worry about Aragon wanting to marry her anymore. All decent members of society will treat her as the pariah she is, and hopefully she’ll never show her face in London again.”
Julian took a moment to control his temper before he addressed her again. “Is there anything else I can help you with today, ma’am?”
“No.”
“No concerns for my current well-being?”
She raised an eyebrow. “You have never sought my concern.”
“It was never offered to me, even as a child.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Julian, you weren’t a likable child.” She pulled on her gloves with jerky movements. “Considering the circumstances, I did my very best with you, and I do not appreciate being judged.”
“What circumstances could make a mother decide that her own child was unlikable? Am I evil incarnate?”
“Now you are being melodramatic and ridiculous.”
“Perhaps I’m a bastard?” Julian asked. “I’d almost believe my father foisted his illegitimate child on you except that I am your mirror image.”
“My reasons are my own. You are fully grown. You should put your silly grievances behind you and treat me with the respect I deserve.” She half turned toward the door.
“Or were you the one who had an affair and I’m the result of it?” Julian asked.
She went very still.
“Now, that makes far more sense. You conceived a child out of wedlock and had to beg the earl to accept me as his son. And then you took it out on me because I had the audacity to grow up not looking like a Laurent.”
His mother turned her back on him and marched toward the door. “I refuse to have this conversation. You will never dare to mention this subject or I will never speak to you again.”
He bowed. “I fully expect you not to be speaking to me for many reasons in the near future, so perhaps we’d better agree to part company now. Good morning, ma’am. I’ll ask my butler to see you out.” He walked past her and left the room, a curious feeling of lightness in his belly.
He knew the worst now, and somehow it made complete sense of everything she’d put him through. At some point he might even dredge up some sympathy for her but not quite yet. She had no control over his current existence, and he was done with pandering to her by acting like a rake.
He went into his study and wrote a note to Carenza, asking her if he might call, and sent it out immediately. Less than an hour later, it was returned unopened with the words, Not at home, scrawled on the front.
His butler cleared his throat. “I understand from the boy who took the note that Musgrove House is currently besieged by onlookers and members of the press, and that they are receiving no one.”
“Thank you,” Julian said.
He knew how to get into Musgrove House through the mews and back garden, but he had to assume those entrances would be guarded as well.
It didn’t sit well with him, but it looked as if he’d have to wait until Carenza decided to contact him herself.
He needed to apologize for the loss of his temper and then what?
He rubbed his hands over his face. There was so much he needed to say, and for the first time in his life he had no idea how to even begin.
The sound of raised voices in the hall made Carenza put down her book. Had the crowd outside somehow gained entrance into the house? Was she about to be dragged outside by her hair and made to pay for her crimes? She rose to her feet, her gaze fixed on the door.
Allegra stood up, too. “There’s no need to look so noble, Carenza. You’re not about to be carted off to the guillotine.”
Sometimes Allegra understood her far too well. The door opened, and her father and brother came in looking particularly displeased.
“What in the devil have you been up to?” her father roared. “We were relying on you to keep Allegra’s reputation intact!”
Carenza faced him down. “I defended the reputation of my friend.”
“So I hear,” her father said unhappily. “One might think that the reputation of your own family would be more important to you.”
“Carenza did what she thought was right.” Allegra came to stand beside her sister. “I am very proud of her.”
“You won’t feel the same when no decent gentleman will marry you,” Dorian said, his body stiff with outrage. “How many times have I told you girls that you must behave with propriety and decorum?”
Carenza turned to her brother. “You make it sound as if we have something to be ashamed of. I’m not ashamed of having parents who loved each other enough to defy the stupid conventions of society.”
“But you don’t have to repeat their behavior!” Dorian said. “You have embarrassed our entire family—again—and made it far harder for Allegra and me to find spouses.”
“I am truly sorry if I have done so, but I felt I had no choice.” Carenza looked at her father, who had taken a seat beside the fire. “Surely you of all men should understand that?”
“I loved your mother. I didn’t risk everything for a family friend, and I didn’t advertise in the newspapers for a bloody rake to pleasure me!”
Carenza sat opposite her father. “Now that, I will apologize for unreservedly. It was a joke that for various reasons got out of hand.”
“The main reason being that Mrs. Sheraton published an indiscreet version of the advertisement before we knew what she was doing,” Allegra chimed in. “Once that was published, there was little we could do.”
“You could’ve threatened to sue the newspaper that printed it,” Dorian countered. “Or asked me or Father to deal with the matter for you.”
“We had no idea it would cause such a stir,” Allegra said.
“You knew about this?” Dorian looked at Allegra.
“Yes.”
“And you did nothing to stop Carenza ruining your future matrimonial prospects?”