Pride made her stand and meet his gaze with a stubborn scowl. “You needn’t worry that I will jeopardize anything. After all, half the money is mine and I would be a fool to let it slip away.”
His smile sliced her heart with its coldness.
“Ah, yes, the money.
Perhaps that is what you dream of as you lie in your cold, lonely bed.” His mouth curled unpleasantly. “If you are desperate, there are other ways to secure the fortune. The executors have made it clear that they will immediately award the funds if I get you with child. The thought is very tempting.” His gaze slid over her possessively.
“Very tempting indeed.”
A child?
She hadn’t even considered that. Wouldn’t it be lovely to have a little boy with Alec’s gray eyes
…
What was she thinking? Her husband was telling her he had decided to bed her, not for love, but to meet the approval of a group of men he freely castigated as doddering old fools! Well, he could just find another wife. “I will not bring a child into this world without love.”
“What do you know of love?”
Before she could stop herself, she answered, “I’ve known it these past four years.”
A blaze of fury raged across his face.
“
Who
?”
Afraid he’d read the answer on her face, Julia spun on her heel and walked to the door. “Our guests are waiting.”
His hand closed about her arm and he yanked her against him. “
Who is it?"
Julia pulled free and met him stare for stare. “Does it matter?”
For a long second he glowered,
then
he dropped his hold and turned away as if the sight of her disgusted him. Without a word, he crossed to the window and stood with one arm against the frame, his back to her, his head lowered.
Julia struggled to hold back the tears of anger that threatened to spill. Why did she let him affect her so? He was proud, arrogant, and selfish beyond thought. She no longer worshipped Alec from afar. She knew his weaknesses and faults, yet despite them all, she loved him even more than she’d ever thought possible. For his sake as well as her own, she could not allow him to get any closer to her heart than he was now.
Stiffening her resolve, Julia swept from the room. Come heaven or hell, she would see to it that everything went perfectly this evening. The entire house gleamed— the woodwork polished to a new luster, the china ornaments well dusted, and the carpets beaten until they looked new. Already the mouth-watering smell of dinner wafted through the house, evidence of Mrs. Winston’s culinary mastery. Buoyed by the scent, Julia gathered her scattered emotions and went to greet their guests.
Everything rested on Desiree’s small rounded shoulders. Somehow the thought did not bring Julia any comfort.
At Lady Birlington’s instigation, Julia had invited as many couples as she could squeeze into the small dining room at Hunterston House. The dinner began well enough, with the guests thoroughly impressed with each other, and satisfied to have been included in such a select gathering. Mrs. Winston conjured up a meal of unsurpassing quality which Burroughs served with an implacable dignity that added an air of formality rarely found outside Buckingham Palace.
While Burroughs served the soup, Desiree lightly tripped in and deposited the first course on the sideboard. Julia watched as the maid left to assist Mrs. Winston in the kitchen. Alec would eat his words before the night was through; Julia was becoming more convinced of it by the minute.
The first course
proceeded
well, the conversation flowing freely, Desiree performing her duties with flawless grace.
Baron Hewlett put down his spoon and sighed. “Best turtle soup I’ve ever had.”
“I must get the recipe,” Lady Chambers said.
“Of course.”
Julia had always liked the quiet woman, though she thought Lord Chambers something of a simpleton.
Burroughs collected the soup bowls as the aging Duke of Devonshire nodded.
“Excellent fare, my lady.
Reminds of a dish I was served at the Pavilion, and…” He trailed into silence as Desiree reentered the room holding a steaming china bowl.
Julia frowned. “You were saying,
Your
Grace?”
He did not answer, merely stared at Desiree as she set down the dish and slipped from the room.
It was quite rude of the man, but Julia supposed she didn’t blame him. Desiree’s beauty was phenomenal.
The duchess leaned toward Julia. “You’ll have to forgive Devonshire. He was up past ten last night.
Devastating to a man his age.”
She cast a cold glare at her husband.
The duke caught her minatory gaze and started, tugging on his collar.
“Ah, no.
Yes, I mean, yes.
Very tired today.
Hardly hold my eyes open.” He leaned toward his wife and said urgently, “Perhaps we should leave.”
She lifted thin brows.
“But we.
just
arrived. You can sleep in the carriage on the way home.” As if that settled everything, the duchess returned to her meal. Left with a very red face, the duke began casting wild glances toward the door where Desiree had disappeared.
Julia watched him for a moment before sneaking a glance at Alec. He was staring at Devonshire with drawn brows, as if trying to figure out an especially confusing puzzle.
Desiree entered holding a large platter with a steaming goose. The fragrance wafted through the room, making Julia’s mouth water.
Lady Birlington’s fork clanked against her plate. “Good God! It looks like he’s having an apoplexy.”
Edmund turned to look at the duke, who was forking food into his mouth as fast as he could, his eyed fixed on his plate as if fearful someone would steal it.
“No, he don’t,” Edmund said. “Hungry, is all.”
“Not him, ninny.”
Maddie gestured with her spoon.
“Chambers over there.”
All eyes turned to Lord Chambers. Mouth open, fork suspended in midair, he stared at Desiree. His face shone a pasty white, his thin moustache standing out in dark relief against his pallor.
“Are you well, your lordship?” asked Julia, feeling her first real hint of alarm.
Lady Chambers leaned over and placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “Chambers, what on earth is the matter?”
He blinked, color flooding his pale face.
“Nothing.
Never better. Just… thinking, you know. Yes, thinking about the crimped cod.” He took a rapid mouthful and gulped. “Best I’ve ever had. What is this sauce, Lady Hunterston?”
“Rhenish Cream,” Julia replied, watching him uneasily. What was happening? Though she had known Desiree’s beauty would affect her guests, she had never expected anything like this.
Lady Birlington set down her wineglass. “Well, you may like it, but I think it is much too salty.”
A huge clatter arose from the sideboard as a large serving fork clanged to the floor. Desiree’s face turned beet red and she hurriedly bobbed a curtsey, casting an anguished glance at Julia.
“Pardon, Your Gr—ladyship.
It just slipped off the tray.”
“Oh… my…
God.”
Everyone turned to Edmund. His face flushed, his eyes bulged, his mouth opened and closed. “You… she… good God, it can’t be… I mean, how could it be?”
The maid clapped her hands together. “Lord Valmont!” She held up her wrist and fingered a silver bangle. “Look, I still have the bracelet you gave me.”
Edmund’s gaze widened.
“By Jove!”
Desiree looked at the bracelet and a slight frown marred her white brow. “It isn’t one of my favorites. I have to wear it over my sleeve so it won’t turn my arm green.” Her mouth pursed into an enchanting pout. “I was not happy you were trying to cheat me.”
If possible, Edmund’s face reddened even more.
“Nonsense!
Don’t know what you’re talking about! Never saw you before in my life.”
Lucien raised his quizzing glass to regard his friend. “Nip farthing to the end, eh, Edmund?”
“Demme, Luce!” Edmund whispered loudly. “I was cheated! I paid a guinea for that trinket.”
“What were you doing buying the gel a bracelet?” Lady Birlington’s brows arched in astonishment. “I’ve never heard of buying gifts for other people’s servants.”
Edmund gulped, casting a wild glance around the table. “
Ahm,
didn’t. Mean to say, wasn’t me.
Just someone who looked like me.”
“With the same name?
Impossible!” Lady Birlington scoffed.
Julia gave a breathless laugh.
“Amazing, the people who look similar.
I met a woman the other day
who
looked exactly like Princess Caroline.”
“Perhaps it
was
Princess Caroline,” Lucien suggested. He polished his quizzing glass with his napkin before turning it on Desiree. “She has the most annoying habit of showing up where she is least wanted.”
Lady Birlington frowned. “I don’t know about you, Edmund, but I would be very uncomfortable to think there was a person who looked like me.
Especially if they were using my name and giving away shabby bracelets to people’s servants.
There ought to be a law against such chicanery.”
“Oh, but your ladyship,” interjected Desiree, oblivious to Julia’s frantic signals, “I’m certain it was Lord Valmont.” She turned to Edmund. “I still have the poem you wrote, too.”
Lucien dropped his quizzing glass, letting it dangle on a ribbon from his waistcoat.
“Edmund!
Such unexpected depths.”
“Stop it, Luce,” hissed Edmund.
Julia wanted to crawl under the table. Nick’s evil intentions in placing Desiree in her path were suddenly painfully clear. Tossing caution to the winds, Julia cast an uncertain glance at Alec.
He met her gaze, his face dark and inscrutable. For one instant, she thought she saw a glint of triumph in his smoke gray eyes. The thought infuriated her.
Turning to Burroughs, she said with as much hauteur as she dared, “We are ready for the next course.”
The butler bowed. “Yes, my lady.” Without giving the maid time to do more than murmur a protest, he firmly led her from the room, leaving the guests in an uncomfortable silence.
Lady Chambers took a sip of wine. “I do so love a well-cooked goose.” She regarded her husband over the rim of her glass, a dangerous gleam in her eye. “Don’t you, Alfred?”
Color bloomed in his cheeks. “Ah, yes, m’dear,” he replied, setting his wineglass down so hard Julia was surprised it didn’t shatter.
Lady Birlington nodded. “You are to be commended on the meal, Julia. It’s a wonder Mrs. Winston can even cook in the tiny kitchen you have here.” She leaned toward Lady Hewlett. “1
have
tried to convince them to get a larger house, but they will not listen.”
“We are quite comfortable where we are,” Alec said, though he did not remove his gaze from Julia.
Julia fixed her attention on her plate and refused to look up. How
was she to have known every man in the
ton
had such an appreciation for the theatre?
“It might be a comfortable house, but the rooms are not appropriately situated,” Lady Birlington said loudly, as if to cow Alec into submission by sheer zeal. “Lord Bentham wanted to paint Julia’s portrait here, but there’s no room. I finally told him to come to my house and do it there.”
Lady Chambers raised her brows. “Bentham is painting your portrait?
How lovely.”
“He’s offered to donate it to the dowager’s charity ball next month,” Julia said brightly, hoping everyone had forgotten Desiree.
Alec offered no comment. Sitting at the end of the table, he appeared at his ease and relaxed.
Too
relaxed, as if he were already anticipating his victory.
She remembered his words during their argument and heat flooded her cheeks. That he should make such demands was unconscionable. Worse, she had the distinct impression he expected her to fulfill them without protest.
Julia’s relief was beyond measure when the evening finally ended. Painfully sensible of Alec’s threat, she tarried in the vestibule until the last guest left, very aware of her husband’s presence. Lucien must have realized something was untoward, for he lingered, casting concerned glances at Julia. When Alec finally escorted his friend to the door, Julia tried to make her escape.
“Julia.”
She paused, one foot on the bottom step, and took a deep breath. Pasting a bright smile on her face, she turned. ‘That went well, didn’t it? But so tiring! Goodnight
.“
Julia placed her foot back on the step. To her surprise, he did not argue.
“Yes, it has been a long day.”
Julia breathed a sigh of relief and continued up the stairs. She hadn’t taken more than a few steps when she realized her error. He was following her—and much too closely.
With every step she took, his footfall echoed. She even fancied she could feel his knee brushing the back of her skirt. As she neared the top of the stairs, her bedroom door loomed in front of her. Julia felt like Joan of Arc facing her executioners, each second bringing her closer to her ultimate end.
Finally, she placed her foot on the top of the landing and distinctly felt Alec’s hand brush hers on the railing. She snatched it away, the touch burning up her arm. She had dreamed that one day Alec and she might share the intimacies of marriage, but not this way. Not as the result of an argument.
Stopping outside her bedroom door, she whirled and faced him, disconcerted to find him not even half a pace behind her. He was so
close,
she was forced to retreat until the doorknob pressed into the small of her back. “There’s no need to go any further. If you wish to yell at me, we might as well do it here.”
Alec lifted a hand and placed it on the door frame, his sleeve just brushing her hair. “I am not going to yell.”
“The veins in your forehead are bulging.”
He placed his other hand on the opposite side of the door frame until he had caged her within his muscular arms. “You can
either open the door and
enter of your own free accord, or I will pick you up and carry you.” His mouth lifted in a rakish grin that sent her heart tumbling. “But it will be one or the other, love.”