Chapter 8
Julian had debated attending tonight's dinner. But Lord Rowan Blackthorne had always been a friend to him and so infrequently attended social events that Julian couldn’t say no to his invitation.
Asher had promised that he would also be there, which helped.
Julian wondered if Verity would accompany them and whether Evelyn was any closer to deciding if she would tell him who the mysterious woman in purple was.
All things he would never know if he didn’t attend.
“Julian,” Asher greeted him when he stepped into the dark, formidable drawing room and accepted a drink from a footman. “Good to see you.”
“And you,” he said, looking around the room from over the top of his drink.
Blackthorne House was nearly as dark as the lord of the manor.
Julian had been to Lord Blackthorne’s country estate only once, and after the engagement, he had practically fled, vowing never to return. He swore that place was haunted.
As for tonight, the townhouse, at least, didn’t have that entirely creepy feeling. More of a secretive one. Speaking of, Verity was here, practically whispering to Evelyn not far away.
She looked up, meeting his eye, but then quickly dropped her gaze as though she was hiding something from him.
Interesting. Tonight she was dressed in a pale pink gown—much better than her usual greys—that set off the blonde in her hair and the rose in her cheeks, although he had no idea why he was noticing such things when he never had before. Not on her.
“Did you win anything this week?” Asher asked, eyeing him over his own glass. “I heard you were seen among the gambling tables and at Tattersall’s.”
“Ah, yes, I did spend a little time there,” Julian said, cringing. “No, I did not win. But I didn’t lose either.”
“I suppose that is to be celebrated,” Asher said dryly, and Julian rolled his eyes at him.
“Please tell me that you are not also lecturing me.”
“I said nothing,” Asher said, holding up his hands. “But if you’re unhappy—”
“I am perfectly happy,” Julian interrupted. “Perfectly happy, indeed.”
“If you say so.”
“I’m just trying to win back a bit of money.”
“Isn’t that why anyone ever gambles? Why did you even start?”
“I started because I was bored. Now I’m just trying to even the score.” Time to change the subject. “What do we expect here tonight?”
“Dinner and a few card games, I suppose. There are only about twelve of us here.”
Which was probably already pushing the number of people Blackthorne could handle at one time. The war had left him… jumpy. But if there was ever a man Julian would trust to protect him, it would be Blackthorne.
“Even Greymoor’s here,” he murmured, seeing their old school chum across the room. He had become something of a recluse since his accident, so it was surprising to find him here and dressed for the occasion.
“Where are all of the chaperones?”
Asher chuckled. “Actually, Evelyn is to be acting as Verity’s chaperone tonight. And Thalia’s. It seems she’s acceptable now, being a married woman and all. A married duchess, at that.”
“A woman who was married due to a scandal is considered appropriate?”
Asher fixed him with a look. “Are you saying something untoward about my wife?”
“Of course not. Steady on. I’m just wondering how society views what happened.”
“It was all forgiven and forgotten once we were married. No one questions a duchess. That was the entire reason we married, in case you forgot.”
“Oh, I certainly did not,” Julian said with a wry laugh, as that was when everything changed, although he supposed it had all truly started when Asher’s brother had died and Asher had to step into the role of duke, leaving Julian to his life of leisure—alone.
“There’s Eastclere,” Asher practically growled.
“What was your excuse not to show him the diamond at your masquerade?” Julian asked.
“I avoided him,” Asher said. “What is he doing here?”
“I don’t see any reason he wouldn’t be invited,” Julian shrugged. “He’s around the same age as others here. He’s a single man and one of the highest ranking—after you, of course.”
“Your brother wasn’t invited.”
“My brother would never come, and everyone knows it. He only attends the most boring events of the season. Besides, Blackthrone does not appreciate his company.”
“True.”
Asher had never been particularly fond of James, either, even though Julian would argue that the two of them had more in common now than he and Asher did.
“Eastclere has brought his ward, Lady Seraphina,” Asher said, looking at Julian out of the side of his eye. “Most gentlemen I have spoken to call her the most captivating woman they have ever seen. I am surprised Eastclere himself has not considered her.”
“She is beautiful,” Julian agreed. She was standing across the room, speaking to Thalia, her dark, almost black hair pulled away from her face, her unusual green eyes recognizable even from across the room.
But it was not green eyes that he kept seeing in his mind, but rather… purple ones. Purple-blue, nearly lavender in color, if he had to give them a description, although it was difficult when they seemed to change in the light.
Eyes that seemed familiar, although he couldn’t place them.
He was losing it.
They made pleasantries with a few other guests, avoiding Lord Eastclere, until they were called for dinner. Julian was pleased when he found himself with Lady Verity on his arm, although he wasn’t sure why.
“Lady Verity, good to see you again,” he said, strangely enjoying the warmth of her body pressed against his.
“And you,” she said, before looking up at him with an impish grin, “friend.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at that, loudly enough to draw a few looks their way.
“I appreciate the sentiment,” Julian replied, enjoying her wit more than he’d anticipated. “I’m still not entirely convinced you don’t hate me, although I have no idea what I have ever done to deserve it.”
Verity’s lips curled into a smile that transformed her usually serious face. “I’m reserving judgment.”
They entered the dining room, the elegant table set with gleaming silver and crystal, its surfaces catching the warm glow of the candelabras.
Lord Blackthorne’s townhouse might be gloomy, but the man had clearly hired a housekeeper who knew how to set a proper table. Servants moved silently around the perimeter, ready to serve the first course.
Julian held Verity’s chair for her, catching a light floral scent as she sat—something delicate and understated, not the heavy perfumes most ladies preferred.
When he took his own seat beside her, he found Lord Eastclere watching them with an intensity that seemed unwarranted for simple dinner conversation.
“Your cousin seems particularly interested in us this evening,” Julian murmured, nodding subtly toward Eastclere.
Verity’s shoulders tensed slightly. “He’s been… intense since the masquerade.”
“Why? Is it because of the mysterious lady in purple that he was as captivated by as the rest of us?”
A slight flush crept up her neck. “Perhaps. He seems to think that I should know something.”
“Do you?” Julian asked hopefully. Maybe he had been looking in all the wrong places.
“No,” she said swiftly. “I wasn’t even there.”
“That’s right,” Julian murmured. “You were ill.”
Verity nodded, but Julian couldn’t help but suspect that she was hiding something—just as Evelyn had been. These two knew something, and he resolved to get to the bottom of it.
The reminder of a rumor he had heard some time ago, one he had dismissed as he’d had no interest, surfaced in his mind.
“Were you not supposed to marry him yourself?” he asked, noticing the grip on her wine glass tightening at the question.
“I’ve had a few potential husbands,” she said stiffly. “But none ever followed through.”
Before he could ask any further just what she meant by that, the first course arrived—a delicate soup that Julian barely tasted as he found himself oddly engaged in conversation with Verity.
Unlike most ladies, who simpered and flattered, she challenged him with sharp observations and genuine questions about his interests.
“So, you truly have no occupation beyond pleasure-seeking?” she asked after he’d described his typical week.
Julian winced. “When you put it that way, I sound terribly useless.”
“I didn’t say that.” Her voice softened. “Though I wonder if you ever grow bored of it.”
The truth stuck in his throat. Yes, he was bored. Desperately, mind-numbingly bored sometimes. But admitting that felt like admitting defeat.
“Never,” he lied with his most charming smile.
Across the table, Evelyn caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him for a second. Beside her, Asher was engaged in conversation with Lady Seraphina, who seemed to be doing most of the talking while he nodded politely.
Throughout the meal, Julian noticed Lord Eastclere’s gaze returning to them repeatedly. The man seemed particularly focused on Verity, which stirred an unexpected protectiveness in Julian’s chest.
“Your cousin’s staring is becoming rather impolite,” Julian muttered as the dessert course was served.
Verity sighed. “He’s always been… persistent when he wants something.”
“And what does he want from you?”
She hesitated. “He has been asking me about the diamond. He seems to think that I should be able to get it back for him just because I am friends with Evelyn.”
Before Julian could press further, Lord Blackthorne rose to his feet. “Ladies and gentlemen, shall we retire?”
It was usually the hostess’s job to take the ladies into the drawing room, but as Lord Blackthorne had no lady in his family, Evelyn was the one to take his cue and retire with the ladies for a time, while the gentlemen had their after-dinner drinks and cigars.
Julian found himself oddly annoyed by all the chatter, willing the night to continue.
Thankfully, the drink with the men didn’t last long, for Lord Blackthorne soon announced that he had tables prepared for card games, and Julian practically rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
This was where he shone.