“I say, Aunt Maddie,” sputtered Edmund, his face deep red. “It’s cursed unfair of you to remind a fellow of the things he did years ago.”
“Hmph.
You’ll be as wet behind the ears when you are forty as you are today.”
Julia climbed out of the carriage. With a reassuring smile at Edmund, she relieved him of some of his burdens, taking a book and shawl that seemed in imminent danger of toppling to the ground.
“Thank you, Julia,” he muttered. “I vow
,
some days I want to throttle my aunt. She can—”
“Edmund?”
Maddie called over her shoulder. “I’m too old to stand out here in the sun all day. Might wither and look worse than I do now.”
Julia chuckled as Edmund spared her a smiling shake of his head before he hurried after his aunt. Though Julia had been apprehensive at meeting Lady Birlington, she had warmed to the cantankerous woman from the beginning. Julia suspected Maddie’s crusty exterior hid a soft heart.
The old lady settled her shawl around her shoulders and led the hapless Edmund toward the subscription library. “Come, Julia. I wish to find that new book Lady Castlewaite was telling me about at the modiste’s.”
Julia grimaced. For the last two weeks, she and Lady Birlington had spent a good portion of every morning shopping. Julia had been pinned, primped, and pressed until she felt like a paper doll. Yet even she had to admit the transformation was amazing. Now, when she looked in a mirror, an astonishingly fashionable woman stared back.
Her hair, artfully cut and arranged, emphasized her eyes and made her appear younger than her twenty-seven years. Her face, framed by soft tendrils of hair, seemed less angular, and her eyes appeared even larger. But the most astonishing change of all had been in her figure. She’d always considered herself sadly flat chested and much too short ever to command attention. But now she was beginning to see she was perfectly suited for the current fashion.
Not, she thought peevishly, that Alec noticed. Since the night he had met her at Therese’s, he had studiously avoided her. Although he appeared each morning for breakfast, looking shadow-eyed with fatigue, he offered nothing in the way of polite conversation. He seemed totally uninterested in her progress and had scarcely noted her changed appearance. Yet she treasured those morning visits, silent as they were, for they were among the few times she saw him.
She knew the servants whispered. Mrs. Winston had taken to the annoying habit of patting her hand with an expression of tearful concern, while Burroughs had begun to bring her an obligatory glass of milk every night.
Julia accepted it with stoic silence. Though she was very fond of them both, they were Alec’s retainers, not hers.
Night after night, Julia lay awake hour after hour until she heard the sound of his measured tread in the hallway, followed by the soft thud of his door. In her own way, she was every bit as assiduous as Burroughs.
It was a silly thing to do and she knew it, but no amount of stern lecturing seemed to make her able to sleep until she heard him return. She wondered where he spent his evenings. Though she knew he would never break his word, she could not help but picture him in the arms of some painted Cyprian, his arms about her slender waist, his face buried in her neck.
Julia usually stopped the image right there, before she dissolved into tears.
Distracted by her thoughts, she stumbled as her new half-boot caught the bottom step. Books slipped from her arms as she tried to regain her balance.
Strong hands clasped about her waist. “Easy, love,” murmured a deep voice.
Julia clutched at the broad chest and looked up, her heart in her throat.
It wasn’t Alec. Instead, she found herself staring into the faintly smiling face of the Earl of Bridgeton. She flushed and pulled away, aware she had leaned against him much longer than was proper. “Pardon me. I thought you were someone else.”
The amused glint in Nick’s blue eyes deepened. “Did you?” He released her and bent to retrieve her scattered books, glancing at the bindings as he straightened. “Novels, Lady Hunterston? I am surprised.”
“You shouldn’t be. I’ve been able to read since I was a child, you know.”
His finely carved mouth quirked into a smile.
“That’s not quite what I meant.” He tilted his head and favored her with a considering gaze. I d never have thought you, of all people, a romantic
.“
“Nonsense.”
She took the last book from him and tucked it under her arm. Truthfully, Julia had never indulged in novels before her acquaintance with Lady Birlington, but she had to admit there was enjoyment to be had in reading a story one felt reasonably certain would have a happy ending. “All people are romantics, one way or another.”
“No person would ever condemn me as a romantic.
Lascivious, yes.
But romantic?” He replaced his curly brimmed beaver with easy grace, the sun glinting off his golden hair, his slow, deliberate movements as sensual as a snake’s.
There was something compelling about the aura of forbidden maleness of this man. It was almost as if the perfection of his face and form was at constant war with the scarred blackness of his soul. A flash of pity softened her irritation. “Maybe you should try a novel. Love is good for the soul.”
Disbelief and humor mingled in his gaze. “Love is an illusion.” He glanced around the crowded street. “Speaking of which, where is my worthless cousin?”
Any pity she may have felt evaporated in an instant. “Alec is not worthless.”
Nick’s smile hardened. “Ah, yes. Thanks to your timely intervention, he is now worth a great deal.”
“He’s rich as Croesus,” Julia said bluntly.
His blue gaze narrowed.
“As are you.
Tell me, Cousin, did you plan to place yourself so conveniently in Alec’s way, or was it a mere twist of fate?”
Julia recognized the spite behind the polished tones, but she supposed Nick was due. “Upset to have been cut out, are you? I don’t blame you. It’s a lot of money.”
A faint crease appeared between Nick’s eyes, though his smile never ceased.
“Touche my dear.
May I ask what plans Alec has for his wealth?”
Julia wished Nick would move from her path. She was to meet with the solicitor today to sign for the final transfer into the Society’s account. Her days with Lady Birlington were so full of morning visits, fittings, dancing lessons, and other nonsensical things that she’d had to move the Society’s weekly meeting to an unseemly hour of the morning. Everyone had grumped, but there had been no help for it.
All they needed now was an idea as to what business to establish. Lord Kennybrook had suggested a sausage factory, but Julia couldn’t see the women undertaking such a hideous job. Unfortunately, no one else had any other suggestions and, for now, they were at a standstill.
Julia caught Nick’s interested gaze and flushed. “Alec does whatever he wishes with his money.” Just as she did what she wished with
hers.
“Does he? I wonder.”
Her hand tightened about her book. She’d like to slap it across Nick’s too-handsome face, leaving a lasting imprint of the title,
The Evil Knight of Thebes
, on his cheek. It was frustrating, but she had to be content with lifting her chin into the air and saying stiffly, “Alec’s affairs are none of your concern, Lord Bridgeton.”
He chuckled. “No need to breathe fire, my dear. You took me by surprise with your little maneuver, stealing Alec away. You are to be congratulated on what was the neatest trick it has been my privilege to witness.” He shrugged at her surprised expression. “Why hide it? You knew well enough what your lovely but empty-headed cousin and I had planned, didn’t you?”
“Perhaps.”
Nick lifted his quizzing glass. “You continue to surprise me even now. Who would have thought such a stunning creature existed behind the colorless rags of the Frant Dragon?”
Julia supposed he could be forgiven for saying that. After all, she
was
dressed in her favorite new pelisse.
Of pearl gray merino, the heavy cloth was accented with rich ruby velvet trim. Her bonnet was one of the many Alec had chosen for her, wide brimmed and adorned with ostrich feathers dyed to match the edging of her pelisse. Despite her determination not to be affected by such fripperies, she had to admit it was thrilling to suddenly find oneself
all the
crack.
She brushed a hand over the cloth. “To tell you the truth, I almost don’t recognize myself. It is shocking what clothes can do for a woman.”
He regarded her with astonishment before breaking into a genuine laugh, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “You are an unusual woman, Cousin Julia. I can see Alec won more than a mere fortune.” He pulled one of her hands into his and bowed. “Allow me to beg your forgiveness. Alec and I have been competing since we were born. It was a favorite pastime of our grandfather’s, and we seem determined to—”
From somewhere down the street a blood-curdling yell sounded as a boy, covered with filthy rags, ran heedlessly into the path of a cart full of cabbage. Cursing loudly, the driver tried to avoid the small figure, pulling to one side at the last minute. The horses lunged, overturning the cart into the street.
Mayhem ensued. Cabbages rolled across the narrow road, followed quickly by a horde of urchins who grabbed as many cabbages as they could before disappearing into a startling number of alleyways. The driver yelled and tried to chase down his missing produce, enlisting the help of every bystander he could.
Forgotten, the barefoot urchin who had started the whole mess slipped through the crowd and swiftly maneuvered his way up the street. A bullish looking man gave a startled shout and charged after the urchin. Desperate, the boy dodged between two carts and ran right into Julia’s outstretched arms.
“Lemme go! Damn ye to ‘ell, lemme go! Pribble’ll kill me, ’e will!”
“Easy, child,” Julia soothed. “I won’t let anyone harm you.” She wrapped both of her arms about the thin, wiry body and held on with all her might.
Dank and odiferous, the child squirmed.
“Ye ‘as to lemme off! ’
E’ll strap me if ‘e catches me!”
Ash, dirt and grime mired her new pelisse, but Julia only held tighter. Stench wafted from the trembling body and closed her throat. She loosened her hold enough to grasp the boy’s head between her hands and tilt the woefully dirty face to hers. His face was a mask of bloody bruises that made Julia’s heart burst into righteous fury.
“No one will hurt you,” she said firmly. “Not without dealing with me, first.”
Some amount of reassurance must have reached the child for he stopped struggling, though he regarded her with a suspicious scowl. “
An‘ what
would ye do?
Ye ain’t nofin’ but a girl.”
“I would call the constable,” Julia replied promptly. ‘That or hit him with my reticule
.“
The child eyed her wispy-looking purse with a skeptical eye. But before he could reply, the bullish looking man stormed up.
“There ye be, ye
lil‘ weasel
.” Small ferret eyes set in a round, flat face shifted from the boy to Julia. The man’s gaze lingered on her fine dress before he reluctantly removed the greasy cap from his matted hair.
“ ’Ere
, now, missus. Thank ye fer
catchin‘ me
boy. I’ll take care he don’t bother ye no more.” He reached for the child.
The boy shrank from the grimy hand. “No! I won’t go wif ye, ye
soddin‘ prig
!”
Nick noticed the Frant Dragon didn’t even flinch at the obscenities. Instead, she soothed a hand across the filthy head and said bracingly, “There’s no need for that. Wars are not won with vile words, but with strong deeds
.“
The boy looked at her and blinked, utterly confused. “Eh?”
Julia chuckled and cast a laughing glance up at Nick.
For a second, he held his breath. Gone was the prim, sedate woman who exuded virtue and honor with every breath. In her place was a woman of passion and humor, alive with warmth. Her piquant face lit with shared amusement as her generous mouth curled in a beguiling smile. Most entrancing were the green eyes that brimmed with laughter behind the concealing spectacles. Nick could not have been more surprised if she’d dropped to her knees right then and there and serviced him.
His gaze narrowed. There was more to the new Viscountess Hunterston than he’d expected.
Much more.
Julia straightened the boy’s torn shirt. “What’s your name?”
The urchin regarded her with a suspicious stare.
“Answer her la’ship,” said the sweep, scowling. “Or I’ll pummel it out
o‘ ye
.”
“There’s no need for such violence. He’s only a child.” Julia shot a hard glance at the man,
then
turned back to the boy, her face softening. “Won’t tell, eh? Very well, I’ll just make one up.
How about Tommy?”
The boy regarded her somberly and then shrugged. “Good as any, I’s‘ppose. I don’t haf
no
real name. Lest, not one I can ’member.”
“Surely you were called something,” Julia said. When the child gave no reply, she turned to look at the sweep. “What is his name?”
The sweep scratched his ear with a soot blackened hand. “His ma never
tol‘ me
nofin’ but that he was a wisty worker.” A scowl lowered the man’s brow. “Course, that was jus’ her way
o‘ gettin’
rid o‘ him.”
“Most of the time, Pribble jus’ calls me ‘Muck,’ ” offered the boy with a black-toothed grin. “That, or fu—”
“ ‘Ere
now,” exclaimed the sweep with a hasty glance at Julia. “Her la’ship is none too interested in what I calls ye, ye little bugger.”
Nick watched the scene with growing amusement. Beside Julia’s radiance, the child resembled a thin, wasted gutter rat. Sandy lashes framed small, close-set eyes in a sharply featured face that boasted huge ears and a squat upturned nose. The child’s mouth sported a number of crooked black teeth and Nick had no doubt the little vermin’s breath was as foul as the rest of him.