Chapter 16
Julian sat on one side of the club, staring at the door across from him.
The door that led up the stairs, through a secret passage, and into the gambling rooms in the back.
The ones well hidden in case they were ever raided, that served all the games the members enjoyed, the very games that were not allowed.
The ones he loved so much and had gotten him into such trouble.
He never should have started.
But he had always been the one to wonder what would a bit of fun hurt.
And now here he was, deep in debt.
He sighed as he tapped his fingers impatiently on the table in front of him.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
He looked up to see James approaching.
“That’s twice now you’ve recently graced the club with your presence, James,” he said. “They’ll be calling you a regular soon enough.”
His brother laughed dryly. “We both know that will never be the case.”
“No. You are too good for all of this. You have most certainly made that clear.”
James stared at him so assessingly that Julian squirmed.
“It is not that I'm too good for it, Julian, it is just that there are other things which preoccupy my time. Which I think you need in your life.”
“So you have made clear,” Julian returned dryly. “If it makes you feel better, James, you should know that I have given up on gambling.”
“You have?” James sat back in surprise. “Since when?”
“Yesterday.”
“I see.”
“I know what you’re thinking—that it won’t last. But it will this time, I promise you.”
“Has something changed?”
“No,” Julian said, but his denial was so swift that even his brother saw through the lie.
“Is there a woman?”
Julian hesitated. “Not in the way you are thinking. But a friend. Someone who has encouraged me to be better, whether she has realized it or not.”
James accepted a drink from a server. “Sometimes friendship can make the best partnership.”
“You may spare yourself the argument, James.”
He shrugged. “A dowry could also pay off some of your debts.”
Julian could barely stomach the idea of marrying Verity for her dowry. She should have nothing to do with paying off his debts. That was his trouble, and his trouble alone.
“Do I hear talk of a dowry?”
“Uncle Charles!” Julian said with surprise, standing to greet his uncle. “How fortunate to have been graced with your presence twice in one week.”
“I am not certain if that makes you lucky, but I shall accept your pleasure regardless.”
“Of course you will,” James murmured, and Charles turned his gaze upon him, his smile cooling somewhat.
“James, always a pleasure.”
“It’s Lord Archer.”
“Right, then, James,” Charles said, sitting back and looking immeasurably pleased within himself. Julian tried to hide his smirk.
“Julian,” James said, flicking his gaze over to his uncle. “Whatever came of the letters?”
“What letters?” Julian said, gritting his teeth, trying to signal his brother to drop it. He would rather that his uncle didn’t know that he had seen them, especially when he suspected there was a chance that Charles could have been the letter writer himself.
“The letters that Lady Verity found, the ones mentioning the Paragon Diamond?”
Julian sighed, although he kept his gaze on his uncle. If James insisted on visiting this, he would keep a close eye on Charles to see if he reacted.
His uncle said nothing, although Julian could have sworn that his fingers tightened around his drink.
“Let’s just say that nothing in the letters gives any indication of the sender or the receiver,” Julian said, choosing his words carefully.
“Very good,” his brother said, relaxing somewhat, and Julian wondered whether bringing them up around his uncle had been calculated or a lack of judgement.
“What letters are these?” Charles said, though he was obviously hiding his true interest in them.
“Letters that a friend of Julian found,” James said, “Nothing of note.”
“What friend?” his uncle’s tone was harsher now, more demanding.
“Lady Verity,” James continued, and Julian didn’t hide the glare he sent his way this time.
“Lady Verity Merrow?”
“Do you know her?” Julian asked icily. He would much rather Verity’s name hadn’t been brought up, that she wasn’t involved in this. While he had always loved Charles, that didn’t mean his uncle was innocent of all wrongdoing. And if he thought that Verity knew more than she should…
“I know of her family,” his uncle said, his jaw tight. He looked at Julian, then James, and back to Julian again. “Listen to me, and listen to me well, boys.”
James opened his mouth, likely to tell his uncle he was a man now, but Julian shook his head at him, and James wisely shut his mouth.
“Do not speak of these letters again. If you get your hands on them, Julian, destroy them. They will serve no purpose for our family, and if they come out to anyone else, we could all be ruined.”
James turned ashen at the thought, and Julian’s heart picked up its pace.
“Why, Uncle?” he said, leaning in, his voice low. “What happened?
“Nothing that anyone should ever remember,” he said. “It’s all in the past now, and a lot was sacrificed to make it so. Do you understand me?”
Julian swallowed hard. That sounded rather ominous.
James nodded as Charles stood suddenly and nearly stomped away from them. Julian and James just stared at each other.
“Why did you say something in front of him?” Julian asked, and James shrugged.
“I didn’t think it was a large issue, and to be honest, I thought he might know something.”
“Well, he obviously does, but he’s never going to tell us,” Julian said, gripping the arms of his chair, needing to leave himself now. “What if he goes after Verity and tries to get the letters?”
“You don’t think he would do such a thing, do you?”
Julian shook his head slowly. “I also didn’t think he would threaten us because of it, and look at what just happened.”
James stared at him. “You have to tell her of this. Protect her.”
Which Julian would. No matter what it took.
* * *
Verity blinked into the darkness, wondering why she had so suddenly come awake.
She had gone to bed as soon as they had returned from Lord Eastclere’s, not wanting to spend any additional time with her parents and possibly find herself in a conversation regarding marriage to the marquess.
She was almost hoping that if she went to sleep, she would wake up the next day and find out that it had all been a bad dream.
There—that noise again. What was it? She heard creaking, and—was that a grunt?
She froze, unsure if she should run to the window and see what it was all about or run out the door and alert someone that there was a potential intruder.
Finally, she decided that she had no wish to give her parents any further proof they needed to manage her and slid out of bed on the side closest to the window, pulling her wrapper around her as she tried to ignore her rapidly beating heart and peer out.
They lived in the corner townhouse of a well-to-do square, and there had never been an issue before.
That didn’t mean there wasn’t tonight.
Verity squinted to better see out the window, starting when she saw it—the shape moving in the tree, climbing up, coming closer.
She tried to slowly slide toward her door, not wanting the shadowy figure to see her, but she failed when he called out, “Verity, wait!”
Her feet had already started moving, but something stopped her.
It was the voice.
She knew that voice.
“Julian?” she said, aghast, as she rushed to the window. He was standing precariously on a branch that Verity did not hold much faith in. “What are you doing?”
“I had to speak to you.”
“Now? Here?”
“Yes.”
He was too focused on his slow walk along the limb to say much more, and Verity bit her lip as she watched him. She didn’t trust the tree branch to support him, and his slow movement forward was excruciating.
“Hurry,” she said in a hushed yet urgent voice.
“I’m trying,” he returned as he inched forward. Just a couple more feet and he’d be there.
Then—crack.
The tree branch started breaking beneath his feet, cracking so slowly Julian didn’t drop immediately, but the threat was imminent.
He looked up, meeting her panicked gaze with one of his own, and she only had time to urge, “Jump!” before he did just that, managing to grasp the windowsill in his tight grip.
Verity leaned out, holding onto his arms as though she alone could prevent him from falling, but between the two of them and a little help from the texture of the brick covering the exterior of the townhouse, he managed to inch his way up until he was finally through the window and landed in a heap on the floor, breathing hard.
“Julian, that was foolhardy,” she admonished as she tried to slow her own heartbeat, racing from a mix of the exertion, his near-fall, and the fact that Julian was now sitting here, in her bedroom. “You could have died!”
“I know,” he said, a hand on his chest as his own breath slowed. “It was a bit more than I had anticipated. But it was necessary I come and speak to you tonight.”
“Why?”
She reached out a hand, and he took it, although he didn’t give her any of his weight as he stood. When he was back on two feet, they were so close to one another that she could have reached out and caressed his face.
“Good evening,” he said as though he had just approached her at a social event.
“Good evening,” she murmured back, having a hard time looking anywhere but at his lips, which were at her eye level.
He had such a masculine presence, one that drew her in, made every part of her stand on end, lean into him, want more from his touch than she had felt before.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” she asked again.
He leaned down and took her hand in his, leading her over to sit on the edge of her bed. Why was she always so willing to follow him without question?
Because she trusted him.
She couldn’t say why, but she did.
“I had to warn you about something,” he said. “I told my uncle Charles about the letters, and he became… agitated.”
He repeated the conversation for her, Verity’s eyes widening as she took it all in.
“You don’t think he would actually hurt me to get the letters, do you?”
“I don’t think he would purposefully hurt you, no, but I do think he might go to rather extravagant means to get the letters himself.”
Verity stared at him, hardly able to fathom that some old love letters she had found under her floorboards could have such consequences.
“If he really wants them, he can have them,” she said, but Julian shook his head.
“No. They are yours, or, at least, belong to someone in your family.”
“He’s obviously hiding something. The question is, whose secret is he protecting?”
“Either his own, or someone in the family, I would guess,” Julian said. “That was the entire point of why they wanted to access the diamond. I truly don’t believe that he wants anything more from them.”
“Do we show the letters to him?”
“He said he would destroy them, which I don’t think is fair to you.”
“We must discover who they were written to,” Verity said with confidence. “I’ll write my aunt tomorrow.”
“Perhaps don’t be too direct,” Julian said cautiously.
“I won’t,” she promised, hesitating for a moment, deciding how much more to share. “There’s something else.”
Julian must have sensed her unease, for he reached out and took one of her hands in his as he waited for her to explain.
“We had dinner tonight at Lord Eastclere’s.”
“Oh?”
“I did a little digging and discovered that he is deeply in debt. I don’t know the particulars of why, but he owes over twenty thousand pounds to various parties.”
“That is unfortunate for him.”
“Yes, it is,” she swallowed hard. “And also for me.”
His grip tightened. “How so?”
“I heard him and my father talking after dinner. They came up with a solution.” She met his eyes.
“Lord Eastclere thinks I have some interest in him again, and my father agreed that my dowry could not only solve all of Lord Eastclere’s problems but also tie our families closer together.
They want me to marry him, Julian. And they want me to marry him soon. ”