“I think we understand your meaning,” interrupted Lucien, flicking him an exasperated glance.
Edmund looked relieved. “Good. Only meant to say I never heard of the Incomparable having any cousins other than the Frant Dragon, and there’s no way Alec could have…” He trailed off, eyes wide, his weak chin moving soundlessly.
“Yes, I did,” said Alec grimly.
“Surely not!
You couldn’t marry the Frant Dragon!”
“I married Miss
Julia
Frant,” Alec said with icy reserve. Though he himself had called her the Frant Dragon on more than one occasion, it was unexpectedly irritating to hear it from someone else.
Edmund’s face pinkened. “I didn’t mean to offend. She’s not really a dragon. Unless, of course, she suspects you have been taking liberties with Therese, and then she can look exactly like a dragon. Once, when I was trying to convince the Incomparable to dance, the Dragon marched right up to me and—”
“Edmund!”
Lucien silenced the younger man. “You have said more than enough, as usual.” The duke turned to Alec. “Perhaps you can explain how this, er, fortuitous happening occurred.”
Alec rose and poured himself a drink from the silver tray. “There is nothing to explain. I married Julia Frant and that is that.”
Lucien regarded him with a heavy-lidded gaze. “And you are convinced her father once held the title?”
Edmund frowned importantly.
“Could be a hum to get you to the altar.
At her age, she’s bound to be desperate.”
Not desperate enough to consent to marrying him without half his fortune, Alec thought grimly, returning to his seat with a glass of brandy. “Julia Frant has never been desperate a day in her life.”
“She has always struck me as a young lady of singular determination,” Lucien said, a quizzical gleam lighting his eyes.
Edmund shuddered.
“One of those, eh?”
He cocked a brow at Alec. “Mayhap she’s fixed on you. You do have the devil of a way with women.”
“God, no.”
Yet for an instant, Alec felt the heat of Julia’s mouth beneath his. He shook his head and frowned at the heavy glass in his hand. His wife’s prim exterior warred with a passionate nature. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought depressed him.
Lucien lifted a brow. “So tell us of this mysterious earl.”
Alec took a deep drink. “He left for America after a disagreement with his father and never returned.”
“Not even when he inherited the title?” Edmund asked, startled.
The brandy left a bitter taste that perfectly fitted Alec’s mood. “He inherited the title two days before his death.”
Lucien pursed his lips in a silent whistle. “Playing it close, aren’t you?”
Edmund absently tugged on his cravat, mussing the intricate folds.
“Seems a havey-cavey sort of way to go about it, marrying a girl whose father was an earl for only a few days.
Shouldn’t think those high sticklers your grandfather put in charge of the funds would stand for that.”
“They must,” Alec said. He refused to think of the outcome if they did not.
The duke regarded the glowing end of his cigarillo. “You know, my friend, this may very well have been an act of providence. I can’t help but wonder if Julia is not the better choice of the two.”
“The Frant Dragon, better than the Incomparable?” exclaimed Edmund. He caught Lucien’s minatory glare and added quickly, “So, ah, Alec, what are your plans now?”
Alec set down his glass. “I have an appointment to see the solicitor. I was headed to Lucien’s this morning to ask what he thought I should tell the damned man. Pratt is a prosy old fool and I didn’t want to shock him with the details.”
Edmund grimaced. “He’s right, Luce. I went with Alec to that fellow’s office last month. Never saw a more Friday-faced individual in my life. When we returned, I was so blue deviled, I couldn’t even look at the yellow sauce my new chef had cooked for my eggs, and I am usually fond of sauces.”
“Alec, tell the man the truth,” Lucien said.
“Even about Therese?”
“Especially about Therese.
Perhaps if you can show her true nature to the executors, they will acknowledge that she is not the wife for you. Then, even if they fail to recognize your marriage to Julia, they might be willing to strike Therese’s name from that damned will.”
Alec leaned his head against the back of his chair and regarded the ornate plaster ceiling. He would never know how his grandfather had located such a parsimonious collection of drudges to serve as executors. Twice he had met with them, and both times he had left feeling as if he had been on trial for high treason. He sighed. “We can only hope.”
Lucien raised his brows. “And if the will stands? What will you do then?”
“I will…” Alec trailed
off,
suddenly aware he hadn’t really thought what his life would be like once the marriage had taken place. What
would
he do?
It was, he decided sourly, the culmination of a horrendous nightmare. His inheritance had instantly changed him from a carefree pariah to the most sought-after bachelor in London. People clamored for his presence. Earls, dukes, ladies, and lords, now eagerly sought him out, as though they had not previously treated him with ill-concealed contempt, mocking his lowly Scottish title and sneering behind their fans. As the richest man in England, he was suddenly worthy of instant approbation.
In the months that followed this disquieting change, Alec had become even more outrageous: bringing a retinue of soiled doves to the theatre, arriving drunk at every event, and even inviting a common prizefighter to dinner at Carlton House. It should have been amusing, but strangely, Alec found it flat. With such a fortune at his disposal, he could do no wrong. If he desired, he could probably walk naked down Pall Mall and no one would offer a single comment.
But that was not the worst of his problems. Thanks to the codicil on Grandfather’s will, he was soon to join the ranks of perfumed pretenders he so despised, nodding and smiling with the best of them.
It was a lowering thought. He scowled into his glass. By God, he would not be the only one discomforted— for every pang and pain he suffered, so would Julia.
He raised his drink to the silent vow and caught Lucien’s curious gaze. Alec managed a grin. “There is nothing simpler. Julia and I will set up house and live a life of social boredom for one year, beginning from today.”
“But she’s the Frant Dra—” Edmund caught himself, a vivid red reaching to his sandy brows. “It won’t be easy.”
Alec shrugged. “Julia knows her way about. She was a chaperone.”
“No, Edmund is right,” Lucien said. “Julia knows how to keep amorous young men from pursuing her cousin. She knows nothing about comportment, conversation, and gentle etiquette. What was acceptable for a slightly eccentric chaperone will not do for the new Viscountess Hunterston.”
Edmund leaned an elbow on one knee and rested his round chin in his hand. “Isn’t she a reformer of some sort? Someone said something to me about that just last week.” He frowned. “Wish I could remember.”
“She works with the Society for Wayward Women,” said Alec shortly. The quicker it was out in the open, the better.
Edmund sat bolt upright and snapped his fingers. “I remember! Dunston’s sister, Lady Nottley, told it to me. Daresay you don’t know Lady Nottley, but she is a sharp-tongued harridan, twice your size, Lucien.
Used to be married to old man Nottley before she drove him insane.
Dunston runs every time he sees her coming. He says she’s got a deadly left hook, but I think he could take her on. He’s not really fat, just big boned and—”
“Is there a point to this?” asked Lucien acidly.
Edmund looked affronted. “Well, yes. Lady Nottley said Therese was complaining that the Frant Dra—” He swallowed and cast an apologetic glance at Alec. “I mean Lady Hunterston—
disappears
for hours on end. Said she comes home dirty, her gown all mucked up, looking like a scullery maid. Apparently she visits the slums and don’t come home ‘til after dark. 1
don’t
care what you say, Alec, people’re bound to talk if she keeps that up.”
Alec scowled.
“Nonsense.”
“She’ll have to stop,” said Edmund, matter-of-factly.
“You can’t have a scandal and you never know what will put people off.”
Alec set his glass on the table. “How could Julia cause a scandal sponsoring a charity? Many members of the
ton
have favorite charities. Lucien’s aunts have half a dozen between the
lot
of them.”
“Yes, but they give money,” Lucien said. “Much as I hate to say it, the stripling is right. Such odd behavior is bound to cause talk. Do you think you could speak with her? Perhaps warn her off about being so public with her ventures.”
“By Jove, that’s the very thing,” said Edmund, beaming. “No need to raise a dust; just tell her to be more discreet.”
From the little Alec knew of Julia Frant, he doubted she would take a hint any better than she took a direct command. He shifted in his chair. “She’s very dedicated.” Far more than he liked, now that he thought about it. Though he had been married to Julia less than twenty-four hours, he had already discovered she was a woman of incredible determination. From causes to kisses, she committed herself passionately or not at all.
Of all the things he knew about
Julia, that
scared him the most. For the first time, he wondered how much of his funds would be going to her charity. Far too much, he supposed, feeling glum. He wouldn’t be surprised to find that she meant to squander half her portion on such things.
“I don’t suppose she’d be willing to find another charity?
One that meets in a better part of town?”
Edmund saw the answer in Alec’s flat stare and
sighed
his sympathy. “I know how it is. Once a female gets a maggoty notion in her head, there’s no reasoning with her.”
“There is also the matter of Therese,” Lucien said. “She’s bound to cause trouble once she realizes what’s happened.” ‘
A pucker appeared on Edmund’s smooth forehead.
“You should have seen her last night, crowing like a rooster and looking so smug it was all I could do to speak with a civil tongue.”
“I’m not worried about Therese,” said Alec impatiently. “Nick is the one to watch. He will stop at nothing to win the fortune.”
Lucien blew a ring of smoke and watched it ascend to the ceiling in a lazy cloud. “What our Julia needs is a champion.”
“A champion?” echoed Edmund. “Like one of those knights who used to run amuck, riding white horses and challenging people to duels and God knows what else?”
A faint smile curved the duke’s mouth.
“Nothing quite that drastic.
Julia needs someone who has her interests at heart.
Someone who will smooth the path for her entry into society.”
Alec scowled. “I can do that.”
The duke’s eyes glinted with amusement. “You, for all your good intentions, have scarcely set yourself up as a model of the
ton
.”
Alec swallowed his irritation. Lucien was right. He was not the one to offer Julia the advice she needed to navigate the perils of polite society. He had spent too many years avoiding that very path.
“Perhaps my mother could assist us,” Edmund suggested.
Lucien shook his head.
“Nay, halfling.
As much as I revere your esteemed mother, she’d be hard pressed not to blab the whole to her friends.”
“M’mother is a talker, all right. Often thought that’s what drove my father to the grave. In his prime, he was as hearty as a horse. Mother was determined to—”
Lucien interrupted. “What we need is someone who knows the importance of being discreet, someone who is already established. Someone who…” He trailed into silence, a frown carving deep lines beside his mouth.
Alec leaned forward. “You’ve thought of someone.”
The duke nodded slowly. “There is one person, though it will take much persuasion to win her to our cause.”
“Who?” asked Edmund
eagerly.
“Lady Birlington.”
Alec frowned.
“Mad Maddie?”
“
What’s my great aunt have
to do with this?” Edmund demanded.
“If Lady Birlington took Julia under her wing, Therese would never dare sneer at her.” Lucien lifted a brow. “No one would.”
Edmund rubbed his ear. “Hate to say it, but it’s true. I never could understand it. The old lady’s rude to everyone and half a slipper shy of a pair, if you ask me. Just last week she called the Duke of York a simpleton.
Right to his face, too.
And when he attempted to remonstrate, she stared down that beak of a nose of hers until he turned purple and started apologizing as if he’d been the one who had—”
“Lucien, I think you may have something.” Alec rose to take a few quick paces about the room. Lady Birlington was something in Julia’s style. If anyone would know how to teach Julia to get along, it would be she. Alec felt a stirring of hope. “It just might serve. I’ll take Julia to call on Lady Birlington first thing tomorrow.”
Lucien rolled his cigarillo between his fingertips. ‘There’s one thing you must do first
.“
“What’s that?” asked Alec, suspicious of the humor that curved the duke’s mouth.
“Buy the chit some clothes. The last time I saw the Frant Dragon, she was wearing a dress made of sackcloth.”
“Surely Lady Birlington can—”
“Lady Birlington won’t sponsor her if she thinks Julia can’t carry herself off. The old crow delights in being eccentric, but only so far as it makes her a presence among the
ton
.”
“And while you’re at it, you really should secure a proper carriage,” added Edmund. “That decrepit box you’ve got will never do if you’re to make a splash.”
“A splash?
Who said anything about making a splash?” protested Alec. He had the feeling his life was beginning to careen wildly out of control. “I just want to get through this next year as quickly as possible and get on with my life.”
Lucien frowned. “You have to do this thing right, Alec, or you will be playing right into Nick’s hands.”