Alec shrugged, running a hand across his own mouth, wondering at how quickly he’d responded to her. He’d just about devoured her where she stood, inheritance be damned. There was just a hint of the wild Frant blood hidden beneath her prim exterior and it was, frankly, exciting as hell.
She glowered, her earlier trust gone. “That proved nothing, except that you are a beast.”
He adjusted his cravat with a deft touch, hating the glimmer of hurt in her eyes, hating these circumstances, hating himself. But he owed this to Grandfather, to keep the fortune from falling into Nick’s vile pocket. Alec had almost ruined everything by allowing his pride to get in the way. He couldn’t let this chance to redeem himself escape.
He met Julia’s brittle gaze with a self-derisive laugh. “I’ve never claimed to be a gentleman, love. You know my reputation. You knew it when you agreed to stay alone with me in this room.”
“You are a cad and a reprobate and a bounder,” she said furiously.
He approached the fire, careful to keep a distance between them. “Whatever I am does not change matters. Think, Julia, of what you stand to gain.”
Alec understood greed as he understood all the vices. They had been his closest companions for more years than he could count. “Think of how your life will change for the better.”
“What do you know of my life?” Her voice held a hint of a child’s wail that pierced him as thoroughly as any dagger.
He ignored it. While he didn’t know her exact circumstances, it took no imagination to guess. “Your life is one of unappreciated servitude. Your cousin and aunt expect you to wait on their every whim, to give up what you have left of your youth. They spare no thought of you or your comfort.
And for what?
An attic room with no fire and a few cast-off gowns?”
“I don’t have an attic room,” she said stiffly, though her hand made a telltale motion toward her worn dress. “Aunt Lydia has been nothing but kind to me since I—”
“Kind?
Being asked to sit among the chaperones, as if you were a little countrified nobody?
A spinster on the shelf?
How old are you, Julia?”
“Seven-and-twenty,” Julia replied reluctantly, wishing he would stop. Her life was no fairy tale, but it was productive and useful. And with her new position in the Society, she could make even more of a difference.
He advanced on her, a heady combination of masculine beauty and bold determination. “You are young yet, Julia. Only think what it could be like.
Gowns and jewels.
Your own coach.
Servants to wait on your every whim.”
His voice dropped to a seductive murmur.
“Think of all the projects you could fund if you had the money.”
The man had a dangerous knack for finding one’s weaknesses and exploiting them to the fullest. After a stilted moment, she asked, “How much will I get?”
A faint smile curved his mouth. “Ten thousand a year, to do with as you wish.”
“No,” she heard herself answer calmly. “I want half.”
Alec’s smile slipped. “What?”
“You heard me.
Half.”
And she would spend every last penny on the Society. Her own pain lessened as she thought of all the good she could accomplish with such a sum.
Alec looked stunned. “But we will have a household to maintain, and a—”
“We can do nicely on fifteen thousand a year.
More than nicely—lavishly, in fact.”
“That leaves me only twenty thousand pounds!”
“And what do you need with that much?”
His face hardened, the lines about his mouth deepening. “You greedy little witch,” he said softly. “You are not so different from Therese, after all.”
The words flicked across her like live coals, but Julia held her ground. “Therese attempted to trick you from getting the fortune. I am helping you.”
His mouth went white with rage. “Helping me? By taking half? This is ludicrous! I have expenses you know nothing about.”
“I know enough.” She regarded him through her lashes, suddenly struck by the enormous opportunity that dangled within reach. There were more lost souls in the world than those assisted by the Society. Julia had thought for many months now that perhaps, just perhaps, Alec needed rescuing as well. But just like many of the women from the Society, he didn’t realize it.
Julia lifted her chin and prepared to do battle. “According to what you’ve told me of this will, you have to join the strict confines of the
ton
and live without scandal.” Her heart pounded like a drum against her chest.
“For an entire year.”
His stare hardened. “So?”
“So you won’t need money for gambling or any other disreputable activities.”
“What disreputable activities?” he demanded.
“Opera dancers,” she answered succinctly.
He looked as if his cravat had suddenly become too tight. “I cannot believe you listen to such vile gossip.”
“Or actresses,” she continued undaunted, “or mistresses of any kind.”
“Who told you—what—” he sputtered, anger sparkling in his eyes.
“It doesn’t matter. I heard it.”
He leveled a glare that should have singed the edges of her pelisse. “For your information, I happen to be between mistresses at the moment.”
“How convenient.
In a year, you may have as many as you please.” It was harder to say that one sentence than she would have thought possible, but somehow she managed to make it sound natural.
“Damn you,” he swore, his eyes a stormy gray, as bottomless as the roiling ocean.
She could see he wanted to argue, but couldn’t. And Julia realized that for once in her life, she was in control.
Completely and utterly in control.
It was a heady experience.
Still, she mustn’t forget the real reason why she was agreeing to this wild scheme—to help the women of the Society and to save Alec. She would be in the perfect position to show him the error of his wicked ways. He was a man who eschewed honorable endeavors, a rake ruled by his base passions, while
she
… Heat flooded her cheeks anew at the sudden memory of her reaction to his kiss.
Perhaps she wasn’t much better. She fervently hoped he blamed her wanton behavior on the rum punch. She certainly intended to.
But the memory served as a forcible reminder that she had to protect herself from his practiced blandishments.
Catching his cold gaze, she forced herself to say in an even tone, “I have one more term for this arrangement: it is to be a marriage of convenience only.”
The viscount stood before her, dark and smoldering, angry enough, she was sure, to have happily shot her. “If I come to your bed, it will be at your invitation,” he said icily.
“And maybe not even then.”
Hurt suffused her, but she managed to nod.
“Of course.
Do we have an agreement?”
“I don’t know,” he replied acidly. “Should I forgo whist? Perhaps confine myself only to country dances in case the waltz proves too lively for your tastes?”
“No, I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ve spelled out my conditions.”
“And what about
my
conditions?”
That gave her pause, but she managed to say in a credibly calm voice, “I can’t imagine you’d have any. I’m not likely to cause a scandal, after all.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” he snapped.
Julia glanced at the clock. “We’d better go, or we’ll be too late. There’s less than an hour left.”
After a glowering moment, he swore and stalked across the room to gather his coat. Fury lent his graceful movements a lethal quality. He opened the door and bowed.
“After you, my lady.”
‘
Clasping her shaking hands and wondering what imp of madness had possessed her, Julia marched out the door.
The sofa was damned uncomfortable. Alec sat up and rubbed his neck, glad to see the sun streaming across the familiar carpet of his own room. Tired beyond belief, he eyed his bed with a ruminative gaze. The sight of Julia asleep, curled on her side with one hand tucked under her cheek, caused his anger to return in full force.
He wondered for the hundredth time what quixotic notion had made him hesitate to sleep in his own bed. The staff hadn’t known to prepare the extra chamber, so his room had been the only one fit to inhabit.
At first, the thought of forcing his wife to sleep in the cold, empty bedchamber had held some measure of charm. But Julia had the benefit of being soundly
asleep,
not even waking when he’d lifted her from the carriage and carried her into the house. Holding her in his arms, he’d pushed open the door to a guest room and faced the black cold. Then he’d had the misfortune to glance down. Honey-colored hair wisped about her small, white face, her mouth parted in deep slumber. She slept as innocently as a babe, her wide, smooth brow untroubled. Only the deep shadows beneath her eyes belied her tranquil sleep for the exhaustion it plainly was. Without another thought, Alec had gathered her close and turned to his own chamber.
So here he
sat,
the devil of a crick in his neck from trying to fit his six-foot frame on a small sofa, while his wife slept in chaste luxury under his goosedown counterpane.
His wife
.
He said the words silently, as if tasting them. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, his life had changed drastically. Or at least, he amended, for the space of one year. Of course, with Julia’s intolerable demands, that year would seem like a lifetime. Irritation tightened his jaw. Chaste and innocent Julia might be, but she bargained like a fishwife. Alec stood abruptly and jammed his hands into his pockets, disliking the feeling that he had somehow been tricked.
Of course, Julia’s perfidy did not stretch to the length of Therese’s. Therese had purposefully set out to ruin him, while Julia’s only fault had been in taking advantage of a plum opportunity that was too good to resist.
Considering Julia’s unfortunate situation, Alec wondered if he could fault her for wishing to better her circumstances, even if it was at his own expense. And despite his ire, Julia had been right in one thing: without her assistance, he would have been left with nothing.
She stirred and turned onto her back, nestling into the pillow. The edge of her skirt slipped from beneath the covers to drape to the floor. The threadbare muslin was a stark contrast to the elaborate material of the counterpane. A twist of disgust rose in him, dispelling his anger further. She was dressed like a commonplace chambermaid. Damn Therese and her selfishness.
Of course, he realized with a sardonic grimace, the same could be said for him. He, too, was using Julia for his own purposes. Though he had blithely promised her an annulment, he knew such a move would be disastrous; her reputation would be in tatters. Society would snicker behind feathered fans and enjoy her discomfort.
He crossed to the bed and looked at her sleeping face. Sighing in her sleep, she
smiled,
the shadow of a dimple racing across one cheek. Her hair rippled like golden brown satin across the pillows. Against his will, he touched a strand and marveled at the softness.
Her lashes rested on the cream of her cheeks, and her nose, clearly visible without her infernal spectacles, was narrow and patrician. Except for the undeniable sensuality of her mouth, Julia looked as fresh and unspoiled as a country maid.
But there was fire behind that prim exterior.
Fire and passion, if her unexpected response to his kiss proved anything.
He rubbed his bottom lip thoughtfully. It was a good thing they were married in name only. A man could get burned by heat like that.
As if she heard his thoughts, she opened her eyes, blinking sleepily.
She had beautiful eyes, he thought idly.
Startlingly so.
“Where am I?” she asked in a husky voice.
A smile almost slipped from him. Trust Julia to get straight to the matter of things.
“My townhouse.
You fell asleep as soon as we left the vicar’s. 1 decided not to wake you.”
She struggled to rise, only getting as far as one elbow before pressing a hand to her head, her delicate brows lowering.
“Oww.”
“I warned you about that punch.” Her only answer was to cover her eyes and ease back onto the pillow as if her head was made of the finest crystal.
Alec crossed to the bellpull. He had barely tugged the embroidered rope when the door opened and his valet entered. Alec scowled. He hated it when the servants hovered, and Chilton was the worst of the lot.
The valet was aquiver with curiosity. “Good morning, milord. I took the liberty to request breakfast be served within the half hour.” Though he addressed Alec, his bright gaze rested on Julia’s prostrate form.
Alec moved in front of Julia. “Bring a bottle of rum.”
Chilton hesitated. “I beg your pardon, milord, but… did you request
rum
?”
“A bottle of rum and two glasses.”
The valet gaped.
“Before breakfast?
But the mistress…
I mean, it is quite early and… you were just wed… surely you don’t mean to—”
“Rum,” Alec repeated. He opened the door. “And be quick about it.”
Chilton’s thin mouth pinched with disapproval. “Very well, milord.” Outrage evident in every bone in his thin body, the valet marched out.
Alec sighed. What had he been thinking, to offer a place to Grandfather’s old retainers?
Julia noted the crease between Alec’s eyes, and an overwhelming urge to lay her head on her pillow and cry tightened her throat. It was silly and she knew it. But she was totally, utterly miserable. Her stomach roiled, her mouth was as dry as cotton, and it felt as if shards of glass had imbedded themselves behind her eyelids. She feared if she even moved, she would lose what little control she had. Still, circumstances demanded that she say something.
Anything
.
“
The sun’s
too bright,” she managed to croak, sounding so much like a frog that she wished the earth would rise up and swallow her whole, before she made more of a fool of herself than she already had.