The Romantic (25 page)

“I will do my best, madame.”

He smiled as he donned his professional tone. However, that smile gave his eyes a warmth that had her thinking about things she had never thought about with Mr. Hampton.

“Then, tell me, Mr. Hampton: What do you think is my best course of action?”

“I first must know what resolution you seek.”

She had to look in her soul, past the confusion of the last weeks, to find the answer.

“I want to stop living like this, being free but not free. I want to never think of him again, nor have to. And I want to be done with this fear that I have now, that he will harm me or those I care about if he cannot get his way.”

“You will have none of that if you go to America.”

No, she would not. Even with Julian there shielding her, she would not.

“How do I get what I want, Mr. Hampton?”

“You discovered the answer yourself, before I became Julian to you again.”

“You mean that I force his hand, and give him easy cause to divorce me.”

“He will then have what he wants, which is the ability to remarry and sire a son. You will have what you want. As always, of course, the greater cost will be to you as the woman. However, it does offer a solution to him that has few risks.”

“Few risks for him, not for me. What if he is not amenable to this solution?”

“You are safer in London than anywhere. You have friends and family and a household to protect you. You need never be alone. If the world knows you are involved with another man, suspicion will fall on Glasbury if you are harmed. He would have to be very stupid to hurt you instead of taking the easy way out, and he is not a stupid man.”

She listened while Mr. Hampton laid out the logic of his thoughts. Something in his eyes left her wondering if Julian would have given the same advice.

“However, madame, I must add that if you do this, it must be immediately, and very publicly. I also need to say that there is no path that guarantees what you want. None that absolutely secures your safety. If there were, I would demand you take it instead of leaving the decision to you. Of the two facing you now, however, I think this is more likely to achieve what you seek.”

“And my good friend Julian. What does he advise?”

He did not answer at once. His silence held a moody turbulence, as if his soul fought a battle over the answer.

“Julian hopes that for once in your life you will choose what is best for you, and not for him or anyone else.”

That did not tell her much. His eyes hinted at words not spoken, and even appeared a little sad.

Nor could she make this choice as selfishly as he requested. Either path affected him. Both would cost him dearly.

She looked down at the letter of transfer. Both would cost him dearly, but one would cost him everything.

Suddenly the danger of staying in England did not frighten her so much. She knew what she had to do.

She would follow Mr. Hampton’s advice. She would take this battle to Glasbury and fight it on ground she knew.

Then she would hand the earl an easy victory.

She rose and walked around the bench to him. “Mr. Hampton, it appears that I am in need of a lover for an affair of convenience.”

“I think that is a wise decision.” He paused. “Alas, there really is not sufficient time for you to conduct due testing on all the likely prospects.”

His reference to her silly list made her laugh. That made him become Julian again. He took her hand in his and regarded her warmly.

“May I offer myself, Pen? It does not have to be an affair in reality, if you prefer not.”

It would take a stronger person than she to resist indulging in the crime, especially since she was going to reap the scandal anyway. Despite his words, his gaze and aura were already shamelessly seducing her. His touch might appear discreet, but he managed to make her heart flutter with anticipation.

No, passion and undying love were not the same things. But temporary passion with warm affection could be very nice.

“Are you certain that you have assessed the cost, Julian? Are you very sure that you want the role?”

He raised her hand to his lips. His breath and kiss sent glorious shivers of excitement up her arm. “I would be honored.”

chapter
18

P
en and Julian instructed St. John’s coachman to make a leisurely pace to London.

They did not hide their identities. They stayed in large towns at the best accommodations. Julian always took two rooms, but the servants would not miss that the lady had no woman servant, and that her gentleman companion was too familiar with her. On two occasions Julian did not use his bed at all, a point the maids would notice.

Two days out of London, they saw the first indication that their behavior had become known. Julian procured a copy of the
Times.
On the back page, amidst the news of the counties, they found a short notice from “an occasional correspondent.”

A certain lady of high station was seen in Warwick, staying at the King’s Royal Arms. Her only companion was a gentleman highly esteemed at Chancery whose reputation has been unexceptionable. On last hearing the lady’s husband, a peer, was residing
at his home in London, long anticipating his wife’s rejoining him there.

“Rejoining him.
That last sentence points a fairly direct finger,” Pen said.

“The
Times
correspondents pride themselves in choosing their words carefully and economically.” Julian set aside the paper.

“Do you think we will be met at the city’s edge by the bishop and barred from entering?”

“I doubt it will be so dramatic.”

“Once we are in the city, how bold must we be?”

“Bold enough that your servants know more than a discreet woman would want. Are you ready for the scandal, Pen?”

“I confess that if we could put off facing it for another week or so, I would not object.”

He took her hand in his. “Nor would I. Not because I will mind the scandal itself, but because these last days have been precious and I would not mind having more of them.”

They
had
been precious. Cheerful and carefree and full of a lovely peace. He had treasured them all the more because he knew what was coming.

Soon things would change. The affair would continue, but under the glare of thousands of eyes. The notices in the papers would be less circumspect.

He allowed his mind to dwell on this interlude instead. It might be a sophisticated affair of convenience to Pen, but it was much more to him. He would treasure the memories forever. The friendship and the pleasure. The
days filled with conversation or exquisite silence. The nights filled with ecstasy.

They were not met by the bishop, but they were met all the same. Several miles outside London, the coach unexpectedly began slowing. It stopped right on the road. A few moments later the coachman’s head appeared at the window. “Best you see this, sir. Ahead, on the left.”

Julian opened the door and angled his body out.

“What is it?” Pen asked.

“Carriages. Three of them.” He sat and closed the door. “One is Glasbury’s. I can see the coat of arms from here.”

“What do we do?”

“We continue on. He cannot stop six horses.”

“If he brought enough men to fill three carriages, maybe he can.”

He called for the coach to continue. As it moved forward he took one of the pistols from its holder on the back wall.

“What are you doing?”

“I am making sure the powder is dry.”

“You don’t think to use that, do you?”

“I want to be prepared, that is all.”

The coach slowed and stopped again.

“The earl’s coach has moved onto the road in front of us,” their coachman called down. “It is blocking the way.”

The color drained from Pen’s face.

“He will not remove you from this carriage,” Julian said. “I promise you that will not happen.”

Horses whinnied outside. Their coachman called for the earl’s carriage to pull aside. The response he received was inaudible. Sounds of an argument poured in the window.

Pen’s eyes widened. “That sounds like Laclere.”

“So it does.”

Even while the argument continued up ahead, the viscount in question appeared at the coach window. “Welcome home, Pen.”

Laclere s expression was all warmth as he addressed his sister. “You had best come out, Pen. Glasbury will not move his coach until he sees you.”

Laclere handed Pen down. As he did so, he gave Julian a quizzical and critical look. Julian read its message.
Is this how you protect my sister, old friend? By subjecting her to scandal and her husband’s wrath?

Julian stepped out of the coach.

Dante walked up to join his brother and sister.

“What are you doing here?” Pen asked her brothers after reunion embraces were exchanged.

“Your progress to London has been well documented. We thought that Glasbury might try to meet you on the road. We decided to make sure he had our company,” Dante said.

“All of this drama because of a letter to the
Times?”

“The
Times
was the least of it. Similar letters have been appearing in less discreet papers all week,” Laclere said.

Julian looked ahead on the road. The earl stood behind his coach, as straight as if someone had welded an iron rod to his spine. He was not alone. Several strapping footmen flanked him.

Laclere and Dante were not alone, either. Standing aside, near their own carriages, were Daniel St. John and Adrian Burchard.

“Burchard had a man watching Glasbury’s house for any departure so we could follow,” Laclere explained. “I
think St. John came to make sure his coach was not damaged. He will be grateful that you did not try to run the blockade.”

“It appears we may still have to,” Pen said.

A shout caught their attention. Another carriage approached behind theirs. The coachman waved his arm to tell them to move forward or pull aside.

“We will eventually have carriages lined all of the way through Middlesex,” Dante said.

“Glasbury will have to move eventually, so he may as well do so at once. I will go explain that to him,” Julian said. He took a step to do just that.

Laclere caught his arm. “If you address him, it will only throw oil on the fire. You should stay right here. And you should return that pistol that you have under your coat to the carriage.”

Julian ignored the last suggestion.

Up ahead, Adrian Burchard walked over and spoke with the earl. He then headed toward them.

Adrian’s black eyes and Mediterranean features had branded him a bastard long before his nominal father, the Earl of Dincaster, had unofficially repudiated him. Beneath his urbane charm there lived a deep streak of danger. Astute persons sensed that, even if they did not know the events when that streak had done its worst. Julian wondered if Glasbury had shown enough sense not to insult Burchard.

It did not surprise Julian that the Duchess of Everdon’s consort had been the one to have Glasbury’s house watched. In his less domesticated days, Burchard had performed missions for the government that engendered expertise in watching and following people.

Adrian greeted Penelope, then glanced back at Glasbury. “He says he wants his wife, and added a few words about Julian that do not need to be repeated.”

“She does not go with him,” Julian said.

“I told him that, and pointed out that at best he has a stalemate here, and at worst a defeat. He then threatened to call Julian out here and now, but I dissuaded him from that.”

“If he wants to meet, that is fine with me.”

For a few moments no one spoke or moved. Pen looked at him with astonishment.

“It is not fine with
me”
she said.

“He thought better of it,” Adrian said. “He insists, however, that he will not move his carriage until he speaks with his wife.”

His wife.
That alone had Julian almost reaching for the pistol. “She does not have to speak to him. He can stand there until hell swallows him but he
will not
require anything of her that she does not want.”

The men donned expressions of careful blandness in reaction to his vehemence.

Penelope kept looking down the road at Glasbury.

“I will speak with him,” she said.

“He cannot demand it. You should—”

“I will speak with him, Julian. Mr. Burchard, will you escort me, please. Tell him that we will talk over there, in that little field, away from his coach and footmen.”

Adrian offered his arm. Pen took it and walked down the road. St. John came forward to meet them halfway.

That left Julian alone with Dante and Vergil. They all watched Pen’s progress toward Glasbury, and Glasbury’s building agitation.

“He is understandably angry,” Laclere said. “The whole town awaits the arrival of the two lovers. I assume this notoriety was planned.”

“Yes, it was planned. It is good to know we succeeded.”

“You definitely did that. This was published yesterday, and has sold quite well.” Laclere pulled a document out of his coat, fanned it open, and handed it over.