“Probably me.
I couldn’t get the nib on my quill quite right.”
Alec didn’t answer, already lost in the sea of numbers. The silence grew as he began adding rows of figures. Julia admired his strong profile. His long lashes fanned across his cheek, at odds with the strength of his jaw.
She really should go and dress. The Duchess of Roth wished to consult her about holding a charity ball, yet spending the remainder of the evening making idle small talk held no appeal. What she really wanted was to stay here, beside Alec, and watch him as he helped her with the accounts. For this one instant, it was as if they were a family.
Julia propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. Perhaps she could use this time to her advantage. She regarded her silent husband through her lashes and waited until he had finished adding a particularly long column of numbers. “I had a very busy day today.”
He turned a page and began a new column. “Oh?”
“Yes.” She slid the inkwell and a silver engraved paperweight in front of her. “I hired a maid to assist Mrs. Winston.”
Alec lifted his gaze from the ledger, a hint of unease in the smoky depths. “She’s not some misfit, is she?”
“Heavens, no.
Whatever makes you think that?”
He didn’t look especially convinced. “Is she from the Society?”
That irked her but she let it pass, spinning the paperweight on the desk. “No. She has never even been in Whitechapel that I know of.”
“Good.” He returned his attention to the ledger. “We don’t need another incident like Muck.”
She thumped the paperweight on the desk. “Muck was not an incident.”
“No, you were,” Alec said implacably, moving the paperweight from her reach and placing it back into the proper position beside the inkwell. “Fortunately, most people seem to have forgotten your scrape with the sweep.”
Julia regained possession of the paperweight and added a box of sand to her collection of objects, arranging them in a triangle. “Muck is an excellent page. He has worked hard.”
Alec pinned her with a stern stare that reminded her of the portrait of his grandfather that hung in the morning room. “I shudder to think of the amount of furniture that child has broken in this house.”
Now would not be a good time to mention the sadly bent silver epergne Mrs. Winston swore was a special favorite of Alec’s. The poor child was really not at fault, having fallen on it when he was trying to reach a spider hanging from the chandelier. “He is improving.”
“That boy is a hellion and deserves to be horsewhipped on a regular basis,” Alec said firmly.
Julia prudently held her tongue and tried to balance a silver-handled letter opener across the inkwell. Despite Alec’s grumbling, she had already seen him sneaking Muck candy on two occasions. Julia suspected her husband was more like his grandfather than he knew, all grumbly and gruff on the outside and soft and warm on the inside.
If she could only convince Alec to open his house to one Miss Desiree L’Amour.
To Julia’s amazement, she’d found Nick’s estimation of the actress entirely correct; Desiree was as innocent as she was simple. Worse, the young girl was not more than seventeen, with a fatal addiction to trinkets that could only be described as vulgar.
To anyone familiar with the ways of the world, it would not be long before Miss L’Amour was importuned into a life of sin and corruption. And Julia would not put it past Nick to be the one to do it. Thus she had no choice but to offer Desiree immediate employment in the Hunterston household.
Convincing the girl to give up an exciting career in the theatre had taken some doing. But once Julia had promised a genuine diamond bracelet for her efforts, Desiree had agreed, arguing only that she could not possibly leave the theatre until the current production ended its run. Julia suspected the girl’s loyalty sprang more from admiration for the silver costume she wore than anything else, but Julia had agreed, knowing she needed time to alert Alec to the arrival of this newest addition to his staff.
She glanced at Alec. “The new maid will be of immense help with the dinner party.”
The quill hovered over an especially blotched page. “What dinner party?”
“Lady Birlington seems to think we should hold a small gathering here.
Nothing large, just five or so couples.
I thought next week would serve.”
“If she says it is important, then I suppose we must. Be sure to invite Lucien, would you? He returned yesterday.”
“Of course.”
Julia turned her efforts to balancing the letter opener between the inkwell and the paperweight and said casually, “It would be very small, just the thing for Desiree.”
Alec frowned. “Desiree?”
“The new maid.”
“Oh, yes.” He turned the page.
“Sounds French.”
Actually, she suspected Desiree was from Cornwall. Julia frowned. Despite her belief that the new maid was a complete innocent, she could not rid herself of the idea that somewhere
lay
a trap. Nick was not the type of man to assist anyone, no matter how beautiful they happened to be. Still, it was gratifying to be able to help the poor girl and soon Julia would be in a position to help others like her.
Her heart swelled at the thought of hiring more servants. If all went well with Desiree, Julia would hire a cook, a kitchen maid, and maybe even a lady’s maid. Of course, she would choose only the worthiest candidates. Tt would be difficult, as they all deserved another chance. Deep in thought, Julia propped her chin back in her hand, her elbow jiggling the table.
The box clattered off the makeshift bridge onto the table and sent a spray of sand across the ledger. “Oops. Sorry.”
Alec regarded the trail of white grains that crossed the page and sprinkled the front of his black coat. “You, madam, are worse than Muck.” His gaze rested on her for a moment, traveling slowly across her face, resting on her mouth.
“Only much, much prettier.”
Despite her determination to remain unmoved by his casual flirtation, Julia’s face flushed. “I meant to say something about that.”
He lifted his brows, a faint smile hovering over his mouth. “About how pretty you are?”
“No.
About the new maid.
Desiree was cruelly persecuted for her appearance at her last place of employment.” Julia scraped the loose sand back into the box, careful not to meet Alec’s gaze. “I just thought you should know.”
Alec sighed, already seeing where she was heading. Before Julia was through, they would be forced to remove all of the mirrors in the house lest they crack in horror. “Everyone suffers from something, Julia.”
“You don’t know how it is to be judged by your appearance.”
Hurt darkened her green eyes. Alec stared at her for a long moment, trying to discern whether she referred to herself. It was difficult to remember that the elegant woman who now sat across from him had once been a poorly turned out, dowdy chaperone. Dressed in
a pretty
pink-striped muslin ornamented with cherry ribbons and a graceful fall of lace, she would appear perfectly at home in the most elegant salon. He wondered if she even realized how attractive she had become.
Julia caught his gaze and offered a tentative smile. “I know you don’t like a lot of servants falling over themselves and getting in the way, but Mrs. Winston needs some assistance.”
“I hope your protegee is thankful you put her in the way of such a respectable position.”
“Oh, she is!” Julia stared at the paperweight, as if mesmerized by the lights playing across the silver surface. “I don’t know if you are aware of it or not, but there is a lamentable shortage of good help in town. Aunt Maddie and I alone know of three households desperate to find trained servants.” Julia folded her hands, met his gaze, and announced, “That is why the Society is opening a servant referral service. It is the perfect solution for the women.”
Alec caught the inkwell just before it, too, tumbled across the ledger. He placed it firmly out of reach.
“Nonsense.
You cannot pass those women off as virtuous housekeepers and maids.”
“Pass?
Heavens, no.
By the time we get through training them, they
will
be virtuous.”
“But how—” He caught sight of her expression. “You are serious.”
Julia’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “We had the most horrible time trying to find the proper employment for the women.” She chuckled, a delicious, throaty sound. “We even thought of opening a sausage plant.”
“Good God!” he said, realizing what a close escape he’d had. The idea of hiring out servants suddenly seemed more reasonable. He noted her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. It was amazing, really. His wife was thrilled at the prospect of teaching a group of soiled doves how to make scones and serve tea. Nothing delighted her more than her charity work.
In a way, it was a very lowering thought.
Julia propped her elbow on the table and leaned her chin into her palm, a glowing smile lifting the corners of her wide, sensual mouth. “We will hire existing servants, excellent ones like Mrs. Winston and Burroughs, and pay them to do the training. Perhaps I should invite a few leaders of the
ton
to see how very well the servants perform and then—”
“Invite them? Invite them
where
?”
She turned a bewildered face to him. “Here, of course.”
Alec shut the ledger. “Julia, you cannot bring your Society work into this house.”
“Someone must sponsor this project, and it may as well be me.”
He pushed away from the table. “We cannot afford a scandal.”
‘There won’t be a scandal. All we have to do is find one or two genteel women and train them to—“
“They are not
genteel women
, Julia. They are prostitutes and whores. You cannot change that.”
She stiffened. “They are
reformed
women, Alec. Forced by circumstances to do what was necessary to survive.”
For a second, a pang of something uncomfortably close to jealousy pinched at him. He wondered what would happen if she ever committed her heart to him with the same fervor she spent on her reform efforts.
Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. “I am not saying these women didn’t have a reason for what they did, nor am I suggesting they don’t deserve your compassion. It’s just that you cannot continually foist your projects onto the
ton
.”
“But the Society—”
“The Society knows you as Julia Frant, not Viscountess Hunterston.” He frowned. “I must have been crazed to have allowed even that. If I’d thought you would carry this so far, I would have put an end to your association with the Society from the first.”
She
stood,
eyes flashing sparks of outrage. “Of all the insufferable…” Her hands balled into fists. “I should remind you that it was my idea to keep my identity concealed. And that was only because you were concerned there would be talk about my visits to Whitechapel.”
Alec’s determination rose to meet hers. The season would be over in less than a month and the majority of their social responsibilities would be at an end. They were too close to success to take chances.
He shoved back his chair and faced her, hands splayed across the desk. “If the Society decides to pursue this path, Julia, it will be without you. The cost is too high. You won’t be able to help anyone if we lose the funds.”
That froze her in her place. He sat down, pulling the ledger to him.
“Get dressed, madam.
Lady Birlington awaits us at Almack’s. The doors close at eleven.”
A frosty silence met his command, but he forced himself to keep his gaze on the ledger before him, holding the quill so tightly that it bent.
Finally, when he’d begun to believe she would flout him, she sniffed. “I will be ready within a half-hour.” With a flip of striped cherry muslin, she disappeared out the door.
As soon as it closed, Alec tossed down the broken quill and raked a hand through his hair. He had little doubt he could have won the argument based on sheer logic, but it was a relief not to have to engage Julia in battle. She would fight to her last breath and confound him with emotional appeals until he forgot his purpose— something he could not afford to do.
Sighing heavily, he pushed the ledger away, the leather cover grating on the sandy surface of his desk.
Life with Julia was filled with unexpected twists and turns—not all of them pleasant, but at least there was never a minute of boredom. Between her disrupting his household with street urchins, firing his chef, and blithely stumbling from one potential scandal to the next, Alec was never sure what each day would bring.
But he had dealt well with her this evening, he thought, suddenly proud he had stood firm. She had presented him with one of her outlandish ideas and he had told her no, just as a husband should. An odd feeling of triumph flittered through him, and yet… he glanced at the door.
He could not reconcile himself with Julia’s sudden acquiescence. Somehow, he knew he hadn’t heard the last of this.
His face pinched with disapproval, Chilton replaced the stack of neatly starched cravats in the wardrobe. “Someone has applied too much starch to the linens.” He shot a telling glance at Alec. “Of course, considering everything Mrs. Winston has had to deal with, it is hardly surprising to see such an error occur.”
Alec continued to tie his cravat. He had enough on his mind without worrying about Chilton’s tendency toward high drama.
Julia had been noticeably cool to him following their argument, not speaking a word the entire way to Almack’s and studiously avoiding his presence in the days that followed. It had been almost a week now, and still his stubborn wife showed no signs of relenting.
He was not surprised; Julia was a strong, independent woman and it must be galling to admit defeat. He placed a
sapphire pin in the folds of his
cravat
and smiled
at his reflection in the mirror. Julia might be able to maintain a frosty silence for an entire week, but she could not control her response to his touch.