The Abduction of Julia (20 page)

Their eyes met and color flooded Julia’s face. Then she whirled and disappeared down the hallway.

London’s bawdiest slum rang day and night with the sounds of gin, sin and filth, yet the Society for Wayward Women remained a haven of safety. No untoward attacks or robberies occurred within its hallowed walls. Ruffians and robbers alike gave the locale a respectable berth, mainly out of a reluctant respect for the kindly Vicar Ashton.

Julia climbed the narrow steps leading to the front door. She loved this building. Once a brothel spattered with filth, it now gleamed, sparkling under a new coat of paint in startling contrast against its grime and soot-covered neighbors.

Stepping into the gleaming entryway, she smoothed her dress. A simple round gown, it had been divested of bows and trimwork and seemed startlingly plain when compared with the costly garments that now filled her wardrobe. Here she was once again plain, simple Julia Frant. The transformation did not lighten her spirits.

It was time she faced the truth: she was a total failure as a reformer. Not only was the Society still without a project to help the women, but Alec was just as sinful, just as seductive, just as prideful as he had been the day they had wed. Oh, she had managed to win a few compromises, but he’d undergone no real transformation of character.

Unfortunately, she could not say the same for herself.

Julia brushed a hand over her mouth and shivered. She never knew when Alec would appear to demand his forfeit, and she spent each day and the better part of each night wondering when the next kiss would come and how wantonly she would react. To her dismay, there was no predicting either.

She was
both fascinated
and terrified, dreading and yearning for his touch, and all the while sinking ever more under his spell. Of course, a spell of Alec’s weaving was hardly the stuff of nightmares; it was more that of dreams—hot, sensual dreams that left one lying awake in the middle of the night, yearning and trembling with raw lust.

Julia fanned herself with a limp hand. She was weakening. Every day brought her a step closer to begging for more than a mere kiss. And Alec had let her know by look and touch that he would be more than willing to comply.

If she didn’t come up with another way to reach her stubborn, lustful husband soon, she would be just as lost to sin as he. Refusing to dwell on such unhappy thoughts, she gathered herself together and entered the office.

The vicar rose from his chair at the head of the table, his thin, patrician face creased in a welcoming smile. “There you are, my dear. We were just about to begin.”

“About time you arrived,” growled Lord Kennybrook, shooting her a sharp glance from under gray, bushy brows. “Late. Just like a dratted female. And after making
us
move our meetings to this ungodly hour of the morning.”

Julia smiled. “Are you trying to raise my hackles, Lord Kennybrook? I should warn you it won’t work.”

His brown eyes twinkled from beneath fierce brows.
“Why not?”

“I don’t have the energy. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Or the night before.
Or the night before that.
Actually, she hadn’t had one good night’s rest since her wedding night.

“Trouble sleeping, eh?” asked Lord Burton, full of bluff sympathy. “You’re just in time, then. Tumbolton here was just about to explain one of his queer philosophical notions.”

Kennybrook snorted. “That’s enough to put any soul into a trance, listening to such drivel before the sun’s fully up.”

Julia regarded the small group about the table with a fond smile. The disparate assemblage that made up the Society’s Board of Directors had come together under the gentle persuasion of Vicar Ashton. Men of position and wealth, they freely gave of their time and expertise for the simple reward of helping others. Julia loved them dearly and considered them the closest thing she’d had to a family since leaving Boston.

Vicar Ashton picked up a sheet of paper and peered at it through his spectacles. “I am pleased to announce that the Society for Wayward Women currently has enough money to establish any number of businesses.”

Mr. Tumbolton leaned over to read the sum at the bottom. “I vow, but that is a lot of money.” He coughed, the shallow, racking sound plunging the meeting into momentary silence.

Dr. Crullen shook his head. “You should not be in London, Augustus. It is poisonous to someone with your lungs.”

Julia caught the faint scent of peppermint. The doctor kept a store of candy in his pockets for his younger patients, though Julia believed he ate more than he ever gave away.

Tumbolton pressed a handkerchief to his colorless lips before taking a shuddering breath. “I can’t leave yet, Marcus. I’m in the middle of developing my new theory. It’s due at the publisher next month.”

“You won’t be around to do anything if you don’t take heed,” warned Lord Burton, his heavy jowls quivering with each word. “But I must admit we need your help if we’re to decide how to fix this sum from the new sponsor, whoever he is.”

Kennybrook narrowed his gaze on Julia. “This new sponsor bothers me. Something smoky about him, damn if there isn’t.”

Lord Burton nodded. “Shame we lost our last sponsor. He was a great man. I always thought John was the—”

“He was, indeed,” interrupted Lord Kennybrook with a meaningful glare.

“Oh, yes,” replied Burton hastily. He cast a guilty glance at Julia. “No more to be said about that.”

Vicar Ashton favored the assembly with a sad smile. “We still haven’t found a solution to our problem. I begin to fear we may never find one.”

“Humph. I still think a sausage factory is the thing,” Lord Kennybrook said. “There’s a huge demand and not enough suppliers. My own chef told me so.
Perfect time to go into the business.”

Julia shook her head. “It is much too unsanitary.”

“Nonsense,” he scoffed.
“All that fresh meat.
What could be better?”

She wrinkled her nose.
“Just about anything.”

Kennybrook’s face folded into a scowl and Dr. Crullen interposed, “I cannot think of a large scale project for the women, but I do need a housekeeper. Mrs. Jenner has decided to return to the country to be with her daughter. Perhaps I could hire one of the women to take her place.”

“It’s hard to find good help,” Mr. Tumbolton commiserated. “I need someone to do my laundry.”

Julia wished Hunterston House were larger. At the most she could employ two or three women, and then she would have to deal with the fact that they were untrained. Of course, she and Mrs. Winston could instruct them, just as they had Muck.

“Heavens!”
Julia cried. “That’s it! Mrs. Winston has been looking for a cook for weeks, and Lady Birlington is short a maid, and the Duchess of Roth said she’d give her left eye for a maid that could braid hair!”

Lord Kennybrook snorted. “What good is all that? Even with Tumbolton’s laundress, that places only four women and we have hundreds to see to.”

“Exactly!
We will set up a company to train the women of the Society to become the best servants London has ever seen. We’ll run a servant referral service!” Julia drummed her fingers on the table, excitement buoying her spirits. “I know of a dozen matrons, the best of the
ton
, who are looking to hire maids, cooks, housekeepers—oh, all sorts of servants.”

The vicar stroked his chin. “Julia, I believe you have something there.”

“It is a healthy, respectable occupation,” Tumbolton said, giving a thoughtful nod. “And it certainly would not take much effort to begin.” He beamed with growing enthusiasm. “We should start immediately.”

“There’s only one flaw,” Dr. Crullen said. “In order for this effort to succeed, we will need a spokesperson
who
will vouch for us.
Preferably someone within the
ton
itself.”

Kennybrook waved a hand. “We’ll get Lord Burton’s new ball and chain to do it. Have her blow it about town a bit.
Won’t take long once the females start chattering.”

Julia looked hopefully at Lord Burton.

He folded his hands over his stomach, his fleshy mouth pursed into a frown. “I doubt Marie would be able to do much. She hasn’t quite ‘taken’ as she’d hoped.” He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I suppose I should escort her about more. But all that gadding about makes me bilious
.“

Frustrated, Julia turned toward Lord Kennybrook. “Surely
you
know someone.”

“I know lots of people, my dear. But most are well past the age of changing servants. Unless, of course, one of theirs
die
.” He brightened. “Perhaps there will be a shocking influenza season this year.”

“I hope not,” interjected Julia hastily. “Surely someone—” She stopped. Could she? Dared she?

“What is it?” asked the vicar.

Perhaps if she were discreet, all would be well. She simply could not allow her wonderful idea to fall by the wayside. “I know just the person to help. Leave it all to me.”

“Wonderful!” Vicar Ashton exclaimed
,
his gentle face wreathed in smiles. “1 knew we could count on your ingenuity.”

The rest of the assemblage agreed heartily, beaming at Julia with pride. Perhaps that was why Muck had been placed in her path—to show her the way for the Society. Everything made perfect sense.

At the thought of Muck, Julia glanced at the clock. The tailor was due at Hunterston House within the half-hour for the final fitting of Muck’s page uniform. She had taken great delight in ordering the child’s clothing for his grand debut this evening—more than she had in her own.

Her stomach tightened. How she dreaded this evening. Swallowing her nervousness, she stood. “I hate to leave, but I’ve pressing duties.”

The gentlemen
rose
, Mr. Tumbolton reaching the door first. “Allow me to escort you.”

“That is quite kind, but there’s no need. 1
have
a carriage waiting.”

Kennybrook and Burton converged on her with all the pompous assurance of old age.

“Let the boy escort you,” Kennybrook said.

Burton nodded. “Can’t forget you’re—”

“Too young to be traveling without an escort,” Kennybrook finished with a stern glare at his companion.

Color tinged the end of Lord Burton’s bulbous nose. “Yes, yes, of course.
Too young.”

“Sapskull,” Kennybrook muttered under his breath. He limped forward to take Julia’s hand and pat it fondly. “We’re just concerned for your welfare, my dear. Allow us to walk with you.”

Julia was forced to allow the gentlemen to see her out, hoping against hope they would not notice anything untoward. Luckily, the open door of the carriage hid the Hunterston crest, and after Mr. Tumbolton assisted her inside, the men turned back toward the building, arguing over something. In relief, Julia motioned to Johnston to be off.

As the carriage rumbled over the cobbles, away from the sights and smells of Whitechapel, Julia settled into her seat and began making plans. Perhaps she wasn’t such a failure as a reformer, after all.

An ear-splitting scream emanated from the upstairs window of Hunterston House and echoed against the stately homes of Mayfair.

Johnston jerked around just as Julia stepped down from the coach. “What in thunder was that?”

Julia regained her balance by clinging to the open door. She bounded to the ground with a very unladylike hop, her bonnet tilting haphazardly to one side. “It couldn’t be the French cook. He left last week.”

“I never did like that Antoine.
Too high in the instep, even fer a Frog.”
The shrill yell sounded again and Johnston glared at the house. “Sounds like yer hellion has gone and murdered the whole household.”

Julia straightened her bonnet. “Muck has done no such thing, Johnston. I would appreciate it if you didn’t speak such nonsense.” But even she winced when another blood-curdling scream resonated, this time followed by a masculine shout that sounded very much like Alec.

“Now ye’re in the suds,” Johnston said with grim satisfaction. “The little rat has gone and woken the master. I wouldn’t be in yer shoes fer twenty quid.”

“My shoes are perfectly fine, thank you,” Julia said tartly. She gathered her skirts and marched up the front walk. The noise
increased,
screams and thundering footsteps preternaturally loud in the crisp morning air. Julia rushed through the doorway and halted.

Muck scrambled down the main stairway, his pale body in sharp relief against the dark wood. Naked, he took the steps two at a time. His skinny white arms and legs bore a shocking number of bruises, none debilitating, as evidenced by his rapid descent. With each thudding step, he screamed anew, the sound echoing throughout the entryway.

Julia approached the stairs, her arms outstretched, and Muck launched himself toward her with all the grace of a cat seeking sanctuary from a pack of wild dogs. Garbling unintelligible phrases, he tangled himself in her skirts and tried to disappear into the folds.

Hard on his heels
came
Burroughs. The butler’s cravat was wildly
mussed,
the center mashed together as if someone had tried to swing from it. Soapy water trailed from one elbow onto the floor.

He skidded to an undignified halt, his stocking feet sliding on the waxed floor. “
Your
… ladyship,” he said between pants, managing a very credible bow though his hair splayed about his head like a rack of feathers. “Pardon me.”

Alec was not far behind. He came to a halt a few steps from the bottom stair, regarding her with a silver-edged glare.

Julia’s mouth dropped open and she was suddenly bereft of speech. Alec was completely drenched. His white linen shirt was unbuttoned, the sodden material almost transparent across his muscular frame. It outlined his broad shoulders and clung to the ripples of his stomach. Even more disconcerting was the state of his soaked trousers. Molded across his powerful thighs, they left very little to the imagination.

Heat pooled in her belly, igniting a steady burn through her limbs as a flood of wildly improbable thoughts jumbled together in her muddled brain. God help her, but he was a magnificent specimen of male virility.
Magnificent—and
all hers
.

Her hands splayed across the surface of her reticule as she imagined touching him, running her fingertips over the planes and angles of his shoulders, his chest… his thighs. Julia’s knees weakened to the consistency of bread pudding.

She wondered for a dazed minute if perhaps she’d taken ill. She certainly felt as if she had a fever.

Unaware of her turmoil, Burroughs caught his breath. “Forgive my appearance, my lady. An unfortunate mishap with a bag of flour made it necessary to bathe the young person. His lordship and I were assisting Mrs. Winston when he escaped.”

Julia nodded absently. No amount of persuasion could have pulled her attention from Alec. Bubbles slid with caressing slowness down one side of his face and threaded across his unshaven chin. She lifted a hand to her own chin and wondered how his shadowed jaw would feel beneath her fingertips. The tiny whiskers would scrape and tease. She closed her hand over the imagined feeling.

Alec swiped at the wet trail, brushing aside the bubbles, his shirt stretched across the muscles of his arms. Julia swallowed convulsively. He dropped his arm, the half-buttoned shirt opening further to reveal the most fascinating trail of dark, crisp curls across the wide expanse of his chest. The path directed her eyes down to his waistband.

There her gaze halted, though her mind churned busily on.

Alec crossed his arms. “We must discuss your brat, Julia.”

Julia’s heated mind cooled at the sight of the brush he held in his hand. “What were you going to do? Hit the child?”

His gaze followed hers.
“Good God, no!
I had this in my hand when the screams from that”—he gestured to the hump on the side of her skirt where Muck lurked— “boy drew me to your room. When he escaped the bath, I attempted to help Burroughs catch him.”

The butler nodded. “You were of immense assistance, my lord. A pity you were unable to keep the small person contained. I trust you did not hurt yourself when you fell in the—”

“I’m fine,” Alec returned curtly. He pinned Julia with a steady stare. “Don’t ask.”

She bit her lip, struggling to contain an undignified giggle. “Fell in the tub, did you?”

His scowl grew until it encompassed both her and the butler. “Burroughs didn’t come off any better than I. The brat attempted to climb him like a tree.”

The butler put a hand to his ruined neckcloth. “Yes, it has been quite an invigorating morning. The house is topsy-turvy.”

“It is unacceptable.” Alec’s glare fastened on Julia, leaving no doubt where he placed the blame.

Burroughs interjected smoothly, “If I may suggest a change of clothing, my lord. Shall I call for Chilton?”

Alec did not move his hard gaze. “Have him lay out fresh clothing in my room and inform him I will need a towel.”

The butler bowed and strode from the hall.

Alec leaned an arm on the newl post and said sourly, “It was fortunate you came when you did, madam. I was well on my way to chasing your hellchild all the way to St. James, if need be.”

The idea of a naked Muck leading a thundering Alec and a mussed Burroughs through town was more than she could bear, and Julia gave in to laughter.

Alec’s scowl softened. “What are you laughing at, wretch?”

She caught her breath, a chuckle still escaping. “I wonder what Edmund would say if he saw you dash by like that
.“

“Nothing worth repeating.”
His gaze dropped to where Muck’s wet head soaked her skirt. “You should rethink your plans, Julia. There is no way you can take such a poorly behaved urchin to tonight’s rout.”

His words sobered her immediately. Here was her chance to show Alec how well the Society’s servant referral effort would work. She patted Muck’s shoulder and smiled with far more confidence than she felt. “You are wrong. He will be perfectly behaved; you’ll see.”

Alec muttered something under his breath.

Julia frowned.
“Pardon?”

He regarded her glumly. “I don’t see why this is necessary.”

“Despite Aunt Maddie’s best efforts, there is still talk about the confrontation with the sweep.” Embarrassed heat climbed her neck and face. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper, but I did.”

He appeared slightly mollified at her confession. “I hold Edmund at fault as much as you. I will never understand how he came to be cajoled into calling that scoundrel out.”

“Maddie says everyone will be overcome with sympathy once they see Muck, and it will turn the tide in our favor.”

“I certainly hope so.” He eyed her with a ruminative gaze. “Just how do you propose to pull this off?"

Julia smiled and leaned over. “Muck, the tailor will be here soon. Remember what I told you?”

There was a second of silence before a freckled, buck-toothed face appeared. “Thet I’ll haf me own uniform, like a soldier?”

“Just like a soldier.”

Muck’s face creased into a fierce scowl. “Ole Boney’d be afeared to see me in a uniform, wouldn’t ‘e?”

“Bonaparte would turn tail and run.” Julia affected a loud sigh. A pity you won’t be dried oil when the tailor arrives. I so wanted you to serve as my guard at the party this evening
.“

The child’s thin nose quivered with interest. “I’m to be yer guard?”

“Oh, yes. You’ll stand at attention, fetch supplies, and all manner of things. Just like a real soldier.” She shrugged. “I suppose I’ll have to get someone else to do it.”

The boy shot a glance at Alec, eyeing the brush with a dubious stare. “I’d go if’n this ‘ere bloody stiff’ll keep ’is ‘ands off me arse.”

Alec’s knuckles whitened about the brush while Julia tried to contain a chuckle. He shot her a fulminating glare before setting the brush on the step. “There, you ungrateful little romp. I promise not to give you the whipping you so deserve, providing you behave yourself from now on.”

Muck scampered past him, stopping just long enough to peep up at Alec through a sweep of sandy lashes. “Ye run fast… fer an old bloke.” The boy didn’t wait for a response, but clambered merrily up the rest of the stairs.

Alec eyed Julia without remorse. “I suppose you think I should be flattered by that.”

“Oh, no.
It must be unpleasant to be considered old.” She blinked at him with her most innocent expression.

His mouth curved into a smile, made all the more devastating by his drenched attire. Seeing such perfection of both face and form sent her thoughts galloping into places no sane, virtuous woman would dare go. Julia shifted, uncomfortably aware of the growing warmth in her lower limbs. It was as if the heat of summer had slipped between the folds of her muslin dress and caressed her bare flesh.

“You’re very wet,” she blurted.

Alec quirked a brow.
“You possess the most irritating habit of stating the obvious.”

“So my father used to say.”

“I suspect I would have liked your father.”

Her father would have liked Alec, too. “He was a very sensible man. I always try to do what he would have wanted.”

“Like taking in street urchins who thrust themselves upon you in the street?”

And handsome rakes who hide their kindnesses beneath a blanket of sin
. “Something
like
that.”

His eyes softened to a smoky gray. “I must admit, Muck’s presence has certainly enlivened the household. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was a weapon planted by Napoleon to dismantle London brick by brick.”

“He’s just a boy.”

“He’s a very naughty boy.”

She brushed at the wet spots on her skirt, realizing how mussed she must look. “Mrs. Winston said you used to run naked through the house all the time, riding a broom and waving a wooden spoon like a—”

“Besides an annoying tendency to state the obvious, you also possess a lamentable memory.”

“Lamentable?” She blinked at him. “I remember everything.”

“Exactly my point.”

His smile seemed to go awry and Julia noted how shadowed his eyes appeared. She wondered if his weariness sprang from something other than dissipation. Perhaps he was worried about the conditions of the will, too. “Having trouble sleeping?” she asked with sympathy.

His eyes rested on her, hooded and intent. To her increased discomfort, they traveled slowly over her, resting for a brief minute on her breasts and hips. “I cannot sleep at all.”

Julia rubbed her throat where a heated blush had left a trail of prickles. “You might want to try Burroughs’ warmed milk.”

He moved closer. “
I'm
not that desperate, Julia. Not
yet.”

Oh, God. He was going to kiss her. Alec might not be desperate, but Julia was rapidly coming to the conclusion that she was just that—and not for sleep, either. She didn’t know if she could handle another kiss. Not now, not with his clothing clinging to his powerful frame, emphasizing every delectable inch. She stepped back, her knees quivering as if someone had boiled her bones into jelly. “Warmed milk sounds very healthy. Perhaps I should try it myself.”

That stopped him. He frowned and stared at her carefully, as if just seeing her. “Haven’t you been sleeping well, Julia?”

How could she, when the man of her dreams lay across a narrow hallway, all sensual flesh and dangerously heated blood? She colored even
more,
almost afraid she’d blurted the thought aloud. Relieved her unruly tongue had been silent for once, she replied, “The rout is tonight. I never sleep the night before a big event.”

His brow creased and he took another step closer. “There is no need for concern. I’m sure everything will go well. Lady Birlington won’t allow it otherwise.”

If she reached out her hand, her fingers would rest on the strong plane of his chest, now beckoning through his gaping shirt.

He clearly took her silence for doubt, for he repeated his assurance, “Truly, Julia—everything will be fine.”

“Of course.”
Even to her own ears, her voice rang hollow and thin.

Alec rubbed his jaw, his hand rasping across his unshaven skin. Julia watched his hand, long-fingered and well formed, as it stroked his chin. The air thickened with a languorous heat. Unable to stay still, Julia worried the braids of her reticule until they were hopelessly twisted into knots. The very fact Alec would assist his
servants in bathing Muck, even going so far as to chase
the recalcitrant child, spoke volumes for her husband’s capacity for kindness. Despite Alec’s protestations otherwise, he possessed a generous nature.

It made her want to throw her arms around him and…

Forcibly stopping her runaway thoughts, she plastered what she hoped was a cool, friendly smile on her face. The last thing Alec wanted was any show of affection, however well intentioned. But propriety urged her to at least thank him for his endeavors. Giving up her efforts at untangling her fingers from the reticule, she raised her gaze to his. “You were a great help with Muck. Thank you.”