Three Nights with a Scoundrel: A Novel (5 page)

“Don’t misunderstand. We will never
forget
Leo. That would be impossible. But he would want us to move forward with our lives. We are both of us healthy and reasonably young, and we reside in one of the largest, grandest cities in Christendom. Let’s go out, see our friends. Have fun.”

“Fun?” His expression was incredulous. “The two of us?”

“Yes, fun. Amusement. Good cheer. I know it’s been awhile, but surely you remember the concept? You were always the life of a party before.”

“Yes,
before
. This is after.”

She gentled her demeanor. “It won’t come naturally. Not at first. But we simply cannot go on as we are. We must push ourselves to seek amusement and company. If we pretend to be happy convincingly enough, perhaps we will succeed in convincing ourselves.”

In truth, going to parties was the last thing in the world Lily felt like doing. But she could think of no other way to divert Julian from his reckless, pointless search. She had to do
something
.

He pushed a hand through his unruly black hair. “You just said you don’t want to marry.”

“I don’t. But since you insist … I’m willing to give a few gentlemen the opportunity to change my mind.”

“A
few
gentlemen? You’ll be besieged. Attend one party, and they’ll be milling three-deep on your doorstep the next morning.”

“Then I should think you’d be pleased.”

Oddly enough, Julian did not look especially pleased. He gave no answer, except to feint at a cluster of nearby pigeons, setting the creatures aflutter.

“Settle your feathers,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “If you want me to attract suitors, I need the company of a trusted friend. I need
you
. In social settings, Leo helped me manage in a hundred small ways. It will be difficult without him.”

“Difficult” did not begin to describe the prospect of facing society without her brother. Over the years, they’d developed a system for large gatherings. He helped her follow the conversation, let her know if she was speaking too softly or too loudly. Without him, Lily wasn’t sure how she’d manage at all. But she would find a way, if it meant saving Julian. He insisted it would only take a few events to have suitors thronging her doorstep. Well, perhaps it would take just a few events to remind him of his zest for life, pull him out of this deep well of sorrow. She could only pray.

“Lily, I cannot be your escort. It’s not appropriate. You’re aware of my reputation.”

“Yes. I’m aware of it.”

“I seduce women. It’s what I do. I enter into illicit
affaires
with what’s become quite tedious regularity. At one of my clubs, there’s a garland stretching the length of the billiard room, fashioned solely from the garters of my paramours.”

“I
said
, I’m aware of your reputation.” Lily’s mouth twisted. “But thank you so much for that vivid illustration.”

“It’s revolting, I know. It wasn’t my idea. They aren’t even truly the garters of my paramours,” he explained, scratching the back of his neck. “The fellows just string a new one up whenever I’ve—”

“Really
. No further explanation is necessary.” She fought the blush creeping up her face. Men, and their tasteless displays of virility. “At any rate, you needn’t worry. I promise not to hamper your amatory pursuits.”

“No, that’s not it.” He made an impatient gesture. “You’ll be ruined. That’s the problem. If you’re seen with me too often, you’ll be tainted by association.”

“Ah, but only an impoverished lady must guard her reputation. People overlook those things where rank and fortune are involved.” She smiled. “Everyone will understand we are only friends. And even if they don’t … I must admit, it might give me a little thrill to be assumed one of your many conquests. Better than being thought an invalid. I may send one of my garters to your club.”

“Don’t even joke like that.” His face clouded, and he shifted his long limbs with restless vigor. She feared for the pigeons again.

He went on, “There are other reasons.”

“Such as …?”

“I simply haven’t the time. I’m busy. There are still places I haven’t searched, men I haven’t interviewed. I don’t have time for parties. For God’s sake, I haven’t even been round to the club in months.”

Precisely my point
.

“Julian, it’s a few evenings of your time. I’m not asking for forever.” When he set his jaw and looked away, she sighed. “Leo was killed. His murderers may never be found. It was a devastating tragedy. We have grieved and mourned and suffered. But now I have accepted the reality and decided to move forward. Don’t I deserve a chance to enjoy life again?”

“Of course you do, but I—” He bit off his reply.

“But
you
don’t. That’s what you were going to say.”

He made no attempt to deny it.

“That’s the source of your hesitance,” she said, scanning his face. “You don’t think you deserve to be happy. You’re still blaming yourself for Leo’s death. Risking your health, seeking out danger, starving yourself …” She grabbed for his hand and held it tight. “Julian, it wasn’t your fault. No one blames you, least of all me. Leo would hate to see you like this. You have to—”

“No.” He stood, shaking off her grip. “I can’t do as you ask.” He spoke down at her as he straightened his coat sleeves. “If you want a social chaperone, find someone else.”

Lily stared up at him. His cold refusal hurt beyond expression. “This morning,” she said carefully, “you said you would do anything for me.”

He flinched, almost imperceptibly, and pretended not to hear. A cruel trick, that. He knew she couldn’t always be sure of her voice’s volume. By ignoring her, he hoped she’d conclude that he’d missed her words entirely.

She thrust her hand into her pocket and pulled out a small tablet and pencil. She always carried these items, in case she needed to make certain she was understood. The tablet came in handy with shopkeepers and such. The fact that she had to resort to this with Julian was a sad comment on the state of their friendship.

Anything for me?

After underscoring the first word, she shoved the scrawled phrase into his hand.

“I was drugged and exhausted, Lily. Not myself, as you said. Now I’m sorry, but I really must be going.” The paper crumpled in his fist. “Come, I’ll see you back home.”

“Thank you, no.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I believe I’ll stay here and enjoy the fine afternoon.” It was the tiniest act of rebellion, and hardly a satisfying setdown. But she had to assert herself somehow.

“Lily …”

She averted her eyes and stared at the fountain, effectively ending the conversation. If he would pretend not to hear her, she would pretend not to see him. After a moment, she caught the sight of him leaving out of the corner of her eye.

Lily remained on that bench for some minutes. Frustration surged through her veins, hot and angry. What an impossible situation. How could Julian be so protective of her, to the point of bullying men into proposing marriage—yet completely negligent when it came to his own well-being? Couldn’t he see that taking care of himself was the surest way to safeguard her happiness? As for his guilt … she was at a loss for new reassurances. There was nothing to say that she hadn’t repeated time and again, over the past several months. He always dismissed her words.

For the first time, she began to see this obsessive investigation as selfish, and worthy of some resentment. Which made her angrier with him still, because she didn’t want to resent Julian. She just wanted her friend back.

And then, suddenly, she got her wish. Her friend
was
back.

He towered over her. “Three,” he said, holding up the same number of fingers. “If you agree to consider marriage, I’ll escort you to three events. No more.”

A wave of relief lifted her to her feet. “Thank you, Julian. This is wonderful. We can start with dinner tonight, at Amelia and Morland’s.”

“What?”

“They’re back in London, since Friday last. Hadn’t you heard the good news?”

“Morland in London.” He scowled. “How can that be good news?”

“I know you and the duke don’t get on. But Amelia is my friend, and I’m glad to have her near.”

To say Julian and the Duke of Morland didn’t get on was rather like calling the Thames an insignificant trickle. The two men had nothing in common, save that ridiculous club Leo had started. Membership in the Stud Club was represented by ten brass tokens, and anyone holding a token was afforded breeding rights to Osiris, a valuable racehorse now retired to stud. In the wake of Leo’s murder, Julian had first insisted that Lily should marry Morland. When the duke married Amelia instead, Julian interrupted the wedding to accuse the duke of murdering Leo just to gain ownership of the horse. That too had proved a groundless accusation, but even once the duke was exonerated of any involvement, the enmity between the two men continued to grow.

They resented one another, actively. Sometimes violently.

And absurdly, in Lily’s opinion, for two men who had nothing to fight about, save shares in a horse.

“Amelia has already invited me to dinner tonight,” she said. “I’ll see that she invites you, too. A small party amongst friends will be the ideal way to ease my reintroduction to society. From there, we can go anywhere. Everywhere. Balls, the theater, the opera, assemblies.”

He shook his head. “From there, Amelia and Morland can be your social guides. If they’re in Town, you don’t need me.”

“Oh, no. Not so fast. You’ve promised me three nights, and I mean to hold you to your word.”

“Don’t you know? I’m an inveterate scoundrel. My word is worthless. Always has been.”

She smiled. “Not with me.”

He paused. Their gazes locked, and the moment stretched. Stretched into something of uncertain shape; a pocket of time that held more awkwardness than it logically should. Lily felt the uneasiness swirling around them, pooling in her belly. She didn’t understand its source and wasn’t sure she wished to.

“I really must go,” he finally said. “I’m late for an appointment with my tailors.”

Her uneasiness dissipated as he made a dashing bow in retreat. His spirits must be improved, if he was meeting with his tailors.

Julian was known for having the smartest clothes, setting the current fashion. The young men of his set had their tailors and valets working day and night to copy the cut of his coats, the jet-black color of his hair. But no matter how faithfully they reproduced his look, they remained pale imitations of the original. It wasn’t Julian’s clothes they coveted; it was his devilish appeal, his incisive wit. His shoulders filled out a topcoat quite nicely, but his presence filled rooms.

He would know that feeling again soon—the admiration of a crowd. And if her gamble worked, it just might be his saving grace.

Lily hurried across the square, then the street, and up the steps of Harcliffe House. She stopped in the entry to address the butler. “I’d like the carriage readied, Swift. Quickly, please. I intend to pay a call.”

Swift masked his surprise quite well. Normally, she never paid calls, not on her own. But this was life after Leo—a series of tiny, halting steps toward independence.

While she waited for the carriage, she went back to Leo’s study. Just thinking of her conversation with Julian, not to mention the urgent pleas she must make to Amelia … her mind was awhirl. She sat down at the desk and flipped open the ledger she’d abandoned, hoping to gather some composure from the orderly columns and rows. Leo had never possessed any head for sums or figures, and he couldn’t be bothered to keep watch over the various estate accounts. Rather than trust it all to the stewards, Lily had gladly assumed the responsibility. She adored ledgers. Loved the precise, elegant pen strokes they required, the neat rows of columns and tables, the satisfaction of balancing a month’s expenses and income to the last penny.

Just as she and Leo had balanced each other. From childhood, it had always been this way. Where one of them was weak, the other was strong. His personality was affable and outgoing, while hers was reserved, reflective. After her fever and resulting deafness, they’d settled even further into those roles. Leo handled the social obligations of the marquessate, while she kept the accounts and papers in line. Lily had always been proud of how well they worked as a team. Two halves of a whole; the sum greater than its parts.

But now Leo had died. And she was left with only half a life. She hadn’t cultivated her social side for many years, having apportioned that duty to her brother. His acquaintances were hers; his social circle defined her own. Lily’s own friendships—such as the one she’d shared with Amelia—had withered from neglect.

As for Leo … who could imagine what regrets he might have had? Their lives might have unfolded very differently, had they not depended on each other so much.

From the corner of her eye, she caught the gleam of curving brass. The handle of the topmost desk drawer taunted her.

With impulsive speed, she rose from her chair and closed the door. Retaking her seat, she fished a small, flat key from her chatelaine and unlocked the drawer. She tugged it open, stared into it for a moment. After a pause to draw breath and gather her courage, she removed the packet of letters.

Even though she’d just shut the door not a minute ago, she cast another glance at it now to assure herself of her privacy. It had been a close call, earlier, when Julian had interrupted her. Fortunately, she’d been able to cache the letters and her emotions away without drawing his comment or concern.

She made no attempt to hide those emotions now. With trembling fingers and a hammering pulse, she opened the time-faded paper and read.

Salutations are forbidden me. Closing words are a thing I refuse to contemplate, let alone pen. This is therefore a letter without beginning, without end. A fitting reflection of my love
.

My love, my love
.

Come soon. I am in torment
.