The Redemption of Julian Price (8 page)

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J
ULIAN ARRIVED AT WINSTON’S TOWN HOUSE in St. James, disheveled and disconsolate following a particularly unpleasant meeting with his solicitor that had followed on the heels of an equally distasteful meeting with his banker. There was no hope. Everything he owned was about to go up on the auction block. He was prepared to down himself in a bottle until his valet, Gibbs, met him at the door with a censorious look.

“There is a young woman come to call on you, sir. I told her you were not at home, but she was most insistent.”

“A young woman?”
Muriel?
“Did she give her name, Gibbs?”

“She did not. But she arrived in a rather large bright yellow conveyance.”

“Yellow?” Who did he know with a yellow carriage? Not Muriel, unless she’d found another protector—one with particularly garish taste. No one else sprang to mind. “Where is she, Gibbs?”

“She waits in your study, sir,” he replied with a sniff of disapproval.

“Very well. I shall attend her there.” Pausing at the mirror, Julian raked his fingers through his overlong hair and attempted to straighten his cravat. Both efforts were in vain. His visitor would have to accept him as he presented. Still wondering who it could be, he strode across the marble tiles and flung open the door to his study.

The figure in pale blue muslin jumped to her feet. “Julian! You startled me.”

“Henrietta?” he gaped. “What the devil are you doing here? Your arrival has wreaked total havoc with Gibbs’ sensibilities. Don’t you know that it’s unseemly for a female to call alone upon a bachelor?”

“I’m so sorry. I tried to be discreet.”

“Discreet?” Julian shook his head with a laugh. “Did you truly presume to go unnoticed in a bright yellow carriage?”

Henrietta colored. “My aunt would not let me go out in a private hack.”

“She knows you came here?”

She bit her lip. “Not precisely. She thinks I went shopping. Millie came with me, but I asked her to wait in the carriage. I needed to see you privately.”

“I’m not in a proper frame of mind for entertaining, Henrietta, especially someone who should not be here in the first place.”

“But it’s most urgent that I speak to you,” she continued, ignoring his reprimand, “before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?” Julian strode to the bottle of port sitting on the side table.

“Too late to make a difference.”

“I still don’t know what the deuce you’re talking about.” He poured a glass of port and raised it to his lips.

Henrietta arched a brow. “Aren’t you going to offer me any?”

He frowned. “I wasn’t aware that you imbibed strong spirits. I’d be happy to ring Gibbs for some tea.”

“No, thank you,” she replied with a moue as he downed his drink. “I also came to apologize.”

“Apologize? For what?” he asked.

“For prying into your personal affairs. You were right that your mistress is no concern of mine.”

Julian scowled. “I don’t wish to discuss it, Hen.”

“Neither do I,” she replied primly.

“Then why are you here?” he demanded.

“I came to help you,” she said. “Am I too late, Julian? Is it already done?”

He shook his head with a groan. “Is what done?”

“Has the bank foreclosed on Price Hall?”

Snatching up the bottle of port, Julian flung himself into his favorite chair. “It is not done yet, but the banker assures me that the proceedings are imminent. There is no forestalling it.”

“But what if you gave them money?” she asked.

He drained his glass and set it down with careful deliberation and then poured himself another, welcoming the warmth that spread from his body outward toward his limbs. “This entire discussion is nothing but an exercise in futility.” He sounded a humorless laugh. “There is no money to give them.”

***

H
enrietta glanced down at her folded hands in an attempt to compose herself. Her palms had been sweating since the moment she heard Julian’s voice in the foyer. It had all seemed so simple in theory; she had enough money to pay off at least half of Julian’s creditors and give him a chance to turn his affairs around. It was a straightforward solution to a complex problem. Explaining should have been easy, but it wasn’t. Julian’s pride would only get in the way. Somehow she had to convince him to let her help him.

She rose and crossed the room to face him, chin raised and hands folded in front of her. “Perhaps not,” she began stiffly, reciting the speech she’d rehearsed a dozen times. “I wish to discuss a matter of business with you. It’s an alliance of sorts . . .”

Slumped in his chair, with a half-filled glass dangling from his fingers, Julian stared at her with a perfectly blank expression. “An alliance? I have no patience for guessing games, Hen. Whatever it is you came to say, I wish you would just be done with it. Henrietta?” his low voice prompted when she still didn’t speak.

Henrietta shut her eyes and drew a deep fortifying breath. “I have recently come into some money, Julian. A great deal of money, actually.”

His brown eyes flickered. He set his glass down almost too carefully. “My felicitations on your good fortune, but I fail to see how this involves me.”

“I come bearing a proposition that I think could be mutually beneficial.” 

“Proposition?” he repeated. “I’m not following you, Hen.”

“Some might even call it a proposal . . .” Her pulse raced. She looked up, licked her lips, and blurted, “Of marriage.”

Julian said nothing, just stared at her for a long painful moment.

“You needn’t look at me like I’ve sprouted a second head,” she said.

“Surely I didn’t hear that right,” he replied. “Did you just put forth a proposal of marriage?”

She responded with silent nod.

“Are you mad?” he asked.

“No, Julian,” she replied softly. “I assure you I am quite sound of mind and also of body. I come from a long and robust line, in case that is a concern. My mother bore my father seven healthy children.”

Julian shook his head with an incredulous look. “I can’t begin to comprehend this maggot that’s bored its way into your brain.”

“But you said yourself that you thought we would rub along well together.”

“I wasn’t talking about marriage, Hen! Did you think that I was?”

“No! Of course not! You made your feelings on the subject perfectly clear.”

“Then why this . . . this . . .” He threw his hands up and rolled his eyes.

“Because it would answer for both of us,” she said. “Please, Julian, at least hear me out.” Why was he making this so difficult? Henrietta’s stomach knotted. He’d refused even to kiss her the other night. It had never occurred to her until that moment that he might prefer returning to Portugal over marriage with her.

“All right. Explain.”

“What I propose is more of an alliance, or a treaty of sorts.”

“A treaty?” Julian repeated dubiously.

“Yes,” she said. “In this agreement, you would be as the larger, stronger nation who agrees to protect the smaller, weaker one from invaders. In return, I, as the smaller but richer nation would help to restore the fortunes you lost to those who pillaged you. You see how this benefits both of us?”

“Do you have any idea how much money I owe?” he asked.

“Yes. You told me, remember? Twenty thousand pounds.”

“Are you saying that
you
have twenty thousand?” he asked.

“Well, no,” she replied. “I have only ten thousand, but surely that is enough to hold off your creditors and halt the foreclosure.”

“How, Hen? How have you come by this money?” he asked, gaze narrowed.

“After our . . . disagreement the other day, Lady Cheswick informed me that she intended to bequeath me with a large sum of money upon her passing. But after meeting you, she offered to augment my dowry in order to bring you up to scratch. She said it was enough to entice a minor nobleman.”

“It is indeed,” Julian replied with a scowl. “There are any number of high-ranking gentleman who would jump at the chance to wed you.”

“Do you honestly think I would wish
that
kind of marriage?” Henrietta scoffed. “If I did, and he turned out to be a fortune hunter, I could very well lose both my wealth and my freedom. If I wed you, however—”

“If you wed me, you would lose your fortune for a certainty,” he answered with a harsh laugh.

“That’s not how I see it, Julian. I view you as an investment. I wish to give you the money, but I would also expect something in return.”

“And what is that?” he asked.

“Your promise to bring your estate back to prosperity.”

“You deserve better. You deserve a man worthy of your love. You should have wed Thomas Wiggington,” he replied. He jerked out of his chair and began pacing, his expression contorted with emotion. “I can’t tell you how many times I have wished that it was me and not him who fell that day.”

Henrietta’s chest squeezed at Julian’s look of anguish. “But you are alive, Julian. And now I’m offering a way that we both could make the best of our bad situations. I love Shropshire, but I don’t wish to remain at home and raise my brother’s children, nor do I truly want to live as a spinster with some dour companion as my constant shadow. Neither of us is inclined to wed, but we both could gain something we desire from such an arrangement.”

“What if I were to fail and lose all your money?” he asked.

Henrietta debated telling him more, but this was Julian, a man she trusted as much as she would a brother. “It could be inconvenient for a time, but Lady Cheswick intends to leave me the bulk of her estate when she passes. I do not wish it on her, of course, but she is very old.”

“So you propose a
mariage de convenance
?” He eyed her speculatively. “Would you desire to reside in separate households?”

“I think not. It would be exceedingly wasteful, don’t you agree?”

“So you would make your home at Price Hall?”

“Why not? Would it really be so terrible? The estate needs your attention.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry, Hen, but I have been away a very long time. I’m accustomed to diversions that are not available in the country. I could not abide spending all of my time in Shropshire.”

Alone with me.
Her heart sank. Was the notion so very repugnant to him? Was that the source of his reluctance? It was then that she realized she’d neglected to take one major factor into consideration—Julian kept a mistress, and that mistress resided somewhere in town.

As his wife, she could either turn a blind eye to the arrangement or request that he end the relationship, but that would require becoming his wife in every sense of the word. Did she desire that? More importantly, did he? She refused to ask because she simply couldn’t bear the thought of another rejection.

She chose her next words with great care. “If the idea is so disagreeable to you, perhaps we could lease a house in town for use during the season?”

“I suppose that would answer,” he replied.

“Julian, please know that I do not want to live in your pocket. I desire a certain amount of freedom in this proposed arrangement and would expect us both to live as we choose.” She paused. “As long as the estate is not neglected, and you exercise a certain amount of circumspection, I would expect you to carry on much as you are accustomed to doing.”

“Circumspection?” His gaze flickered and then held hers. “What are you saying, Hen? That you do not wish to consummate the union?”

“It’s not necessary that we do,” she replied, intently watching his face. Would he insist on consummation? Or did he prefer to keep his mistress?

“It is by law,” he stated.

“Who is to know but us?” she countered.

“What of children?” he asked.

“Do you want them?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought of it before.”

“Then I think we should allow ourselves a suitable period of adjustment, don’t you? If the arrangement does not work out between us, we could then seek an annulment.”

“Non-consummation is
not
grounds for annulment, Hen,” he said. “Only impotence allows a marriage to be dissolved, and I assure you I do
not
suffer from that particular affliction.”

A wave of heat crept up her neck at Julian’s intimation. Her flush deepened further at the recollection of their night at the inn. She was too well aware that he was capable, but did he desire it? He gave no true indication. His arguments thus far were rational rather than passionate, as if they were negotiating a bargain. But weren’t they? What had she expected? That Julian would suddenly take her into his arms and declare he couldn’t live without her? She chided herself for harboring ridiculous romantic fantasies.

“You are not considering all angles,” Julian continued, unaware of her thoughts. “To wed me would be robbing yourself of any possibility of finding a man you could actually love.”

But you are the one I love
. She bit down on her tongue lest she blurt the truth.  

“I could say the same of you,” she replied softly.

“No, Hen,” he said with a bitter laugh. “You are capable of that depth of feeling. I am not. I simply do not have it in me . . . not anymore.”

She studied him, unable to read his emotions. Was it truly lack of feeling, or his worthiness that he questioned? Did he not consider himself deserving of love?

“I don’t believe you. We are all capable of love, Julian.”

“I am living proof to the contrary. Now that Thomas is gone, you and Harry are the only people on this earth that I even care about anymore. The rest of the world can go to the devil. ”

She laid her gloved hand on top of his arm. “I care for you too, Julian,” she said softly. “And I don’t want you to leave. Please consider my offer.”

“I despise the notion of taking your money, Hen. Doing so would cast me in the same mold as Winston. The very idea makes me cringe.”

“Hardly!” she retorted. “You would not be taking anything that isn’t freely offered. I wish to give you the money, don’t you understand? I want you to keep the home that is rightfully yours. In return, I hope to live my own life with a measure of independence that I might not have otherwise.”