The Romantic (26 page)

It was an engraving such as publishing houses made to exploit scandals and political controversies. It showed a caricature of the earl with big horns protruding from his head. He listened while another figure, this time a drawing of Julian, read from a long scroll full of legal writing.

Beside Julian was a pretty image of the countess. Julian’s arm was behind the countess and, despite his professional pose, his hand was resting on her bare bottom, which was exposed by the way she hiked her skirt in back.

“The artist captured your sister’s likeness quite well.”

“Her face, yes. I wouldn’t know about the rest,” Laclere said dryly.

“I thought she was running away,” Dante said.

“She changed her mind about that.”

“So now she is goading him into divorcing her?”

“That is her hope.”

The two brothers shifted their weight. Julian could practically hear them assessing how to interpret this new development.

Laclere would never ask, but—

“So, is it a ruse, this affair? Or are you really Pen’s lover?”

Laclere sighed.
“Dante.”

“Hell, if the two of them are going to hang, it seems to me they might as well—”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure it seems that way to
you,”
Laclere said. “Julian, your willingness to accompany and protect her on her flight was chivalrous enough, but pretending to be her lover, and sacrificing your reputation to procure a divorce for her, is foolhardy. The scandal that waits in the city is insurmountable.”

Julian was still watching Pen. She and Burchard had stopped on the road, and St. John now spoke with Glasbury. Glasbury began walking toward the field on the left.

Pen stepped away from Burchard and followed Glasbury. Burchard and St. John took up positions along the road’s edge, blocking the footmen from reaching the field.

Pen approached her husband.

Her husband.
Julian’s head almost split from holding in his resentment at that old bond. He hated everything it implied. Glasbury had rights he had abused, and claims he did not deserve. Julian Hampton had none under the law. None at all.

But he now had rights besides those given by the law. Rights of possession.

“I am not pretending to be her lover, Vergil, so I must decline the praise for my great sacrifice.”

Dante gave his arm a roguish little punch of approval.

Vergil coughed as if his breath had caught in his throat.

Pen could not lie to herself. The earl frightened her.

Their last meeting at the cottage had sharpened her sense of danger. The recent revelations about Cleo only made it worse. She could not hide her hatred of him anymore,
either, now that she comprehended the true depths of his depravity.

He tried to smile, but his mouth could not manage it. His eyes revealed his rage.

“I will crush him.”

“I have known for years that you are cruel, Anthony. I never realized that you are stupid, too. You demanded to speak to me, and here I am. If you only want to issue threats, our conversation will be a very short one.”

“This outrage is not to be borne. How dare you so publicly flaunt your immorality and adultery.”

“It is laughable for you to speak of immorality. Besides, if this outrage is not to be borne, then do as other men do and free yourself of the burden.”

His expression relaxed but his eyes still burned. “So that is your game—to have me divorce you.”

“I am merely aware that under the circumstances you will have no trouble doing so.”

“You speak as if there is no price to be paid if I do.”

“I cannot see where there is.”

“You are a countess now. If we divorce you will be nothing. Less than nothing.”

“Oh, you are talking about
my
paying a price. I have already paid most of it. The fall that waits is a very small one compared to what happened when I first left. With the passing years, such matters have grown insignificant to me anyway. So do not worry for me, my dear. Divorce me with a free conscience. I am sure there are many women who will gladly pay whatever it costs to be the Countess of Glasbury, but I decided
that
price was too high a long time ago.”

His flaccid mouth found some firmness. His frown deepened until his eyebrows met. He looked past her to where her brothers stood with Julian.

“This was his idea. He seduced you with this nonsense, and cajoled you—”

“Believe me when I tell you this was
my
idea. Also believe me when I say that I am not returning to you. A wise man would avail himself of the simple remedy.”

His gaze sharpened on Julian. “I can think of several simple remedies.”

The threat toward Julian was unmistakable. A flurry of panic tried to overwhelm her, but she beat it back. “Do not let your pride lead you to folly. Do not think for a minute that defeating him means victory. He is only my distraction of the moment. There will be others.”

“Not if you are back with me.”

“Even if I am.”

His attention swung back to her. He appeared surprised. Then his anger melted and a leer brightened his eyes. “But of course. I should have realized that your experiences playing the whore would make a difference. Have you learned how to like it, my dear? Does the notion of fidelity to one bed bore you, now that you have enjoyed such variety? No doubt if the man is handsome enough you will even welcome with him what you resisted with me.”

She felt her face warming.

He tipped his head toward her. “Return and give me my heir. After that you can have as many others as you desire, any way you want. You can retain your title and live in luxury as you liberally distribute your favors.”

She felt soiled by his presence. She turned on her heel and aimed toward her brothers. “Arrange to have another woman give you an heir. If you force me to return, I will make sure that you never know for certain if any child I bear is yours.”

chapter
19

T
hey entered London as if in parade. Glasbury led a long procession of coaches and carriages extended by the jam that had built behind their blockade.

The earl’s coach pulled out of line near Grosvenor Square, but the Dueling Society’s carriages rolled on to Laclere’s house. There they joined another collection of equipages that indicated the viscountess was not alone.

Julian recognized every vehicle and horse. The women who had thought to find him a wife had congregated.

Pen walked beside him to the door.

“I expect they all will be wanting some explanation,” she said. “This turn of events, and such an indiscreet one at that, must have surprised them. I daresay the fact that it is you has left them quite astonished.”

“No more astonished than it has left Laclere.”

“Do you think so? Well, he can hardly disapprove. After all, he—” she caught herself and snuck a glance back at her brother. “I am very sure he will accommodate himself to the development.”

They found the women in the library. Diane St. John sat beside Dante’s wife, Fleur. The viscountess and Sophia, the Duchess of Everdon, were chatting with Pen’s sister, Charlotte.

“Well, Julian, if I have to fight scandal’s battle, I could do worse than having such formidable troops on my side,” Pen whispered.

“And such experienced ones.” Of the women assembled, only Charlotte had been spared society’s cruel glare.

The most formidable presence was that of Adrian’s wife, Sophia. A duchess in her own right, she had tried to repudiate the role. Having finally accepted her position, however, she was not above using it.

She had forced society to accept Adrian as her husband, and wielded the power of her station to protect her friends. There were some very select circles that did not entirely accept her, but even they dared not leave her out completely.

And yet, Julian knew that when Sophia left certain drawing rooms, the tattle turned to how she was not entirely appropriate to her position, and too lax in her choice of friends, and careless to her duty and bloodline in her choice of husband.

All eyes had turned to the door after the footman opened it. Julian stood beside Penelope, with their entourage close behind. Laclere broke the awkward silence that ensued by telling the footman to send down orders for refreshments.

The ladies continued giving Julian a very curious inspection.

Diane St. John came over to embrace Pen. “My dearest friend, it is such a joy to see you again. I am relieved that
you have returned to us, and thankful that Mr. Hampton has seen to your safety.”

The others found their wits. The ladies descended upon Pen and absorbed her in their welcomes and kisses.

Laclere offered brandy to the men, and they circled and chatted, too.

Julian could see the viscountess eyeing him from across the library while the ladies continued their talk.

My dear Lady Laclere,

I apologize for the surprise. I hope you are not too disappointed that your efforts on my behalf have suddenly been made irrelevant, since good society will never again consider me a suitable marriage prospect. If you wonder why I court such ruin, perhaps you should consult with Mrs. St. John. I have reason to think she is the only person in this chamber who has suspected the whole of it. Or you might ask your own husband, who I have cause to believe risked as much or worse at one time, and for a similar reason.

Your devoted servant,

Julian—

“It seems to me that we have some decisions to make,” Laclere said, interrupting both Julian’s thoughts and Dante’s description of some horse race.

His voice carried enough that the ladies heard. The chamber hushed. All attention turned to the matter at hand.

“We? Do you expect the decisions to be collective ones?” Julian said.

A murmur of “of course nots” and “we would never intrudes” hummed through the library.

“It would help us, however, to know what the decisions will be,” Sophia said. “Should we try to blunt the
scandal? Deny the allegations? Explain away the gossip? I have received more cards from callers in the last two days than in the last two weeks, often from ladies who normally do not court my company. I am sure they only call in the hopes of hearing the particulars, since they know I am Penelope’s friend.”

“According to Laclere, everything has been published. One paper even included the meals we ate as we journeyed to London,” Julian said. “What further particulars could these ladies want to know?”

“Trust me, sir, you do
not
want an answer to your question,” Charlotte said.

“The point is that we are all relying on the two of you to direct us,” Sophia said. “If we all put our efforts to it, I think this could still be managed.”

“It is not my intention to be discreet,” Pen said. “I do not want any of you managing anything. We will let the winds blow as they must.”

“It is as we thought, then. You and Mr. Hampton have devised this strategy to invite Glasbury to divorce you,” Charlotte said. “I expect it will be a relief to finally end this for good.”

“If the rest of you want to have a purpose, let it be protecting Penelope,” Julian said. “Glasbury must not have the opportunity to meet with her alone, or find her without friends or family by her side.”

“She cannot live in her house if she requires such protection,” St. John said. “Her servants could never stand against Glasbury.”

“She will reside here,” Laclere replied. “I will brook no argument from anyone on that point.” He gave Julian a severe glance that said whom he meant by “anyone.”

“I think I would prefer to return to my own house,” Pen said, proving that her brother had misjudged the source of resistance.

Bianca reached over and patted her hand. “You will stay with us so Laclere can bar the door with his sword. As for your scandal and its intended conclusion, have no fear. If so ordered, our servants can be as indiscreet as yours.”

The other guests left, but Julian stayed. When Bianca invited Pen to go up and choose her bedroom, he was left alone with Laclere.

“Let us go out to the garden,” Laclere said.

They strolled between boxwood-framed rose beds and ivy-covered tree trunks.

Laclere appeared very thoughtful, but eventually a wry smile broke on his face. “Since Penelope is a woman well past thirty, I realize that there is absolutely nothing I can say to you without being ridiculous.”

“Perhaps you should say it anyway.”

They walked a bit more.

“This is not the first time one of my best friends took up with her, of course.”

“I am not Witherby, Vergil.”

“No. He was all talk and wit and charm. One assumed one knew what one had, but in fact saw nothing of the soul. You are the opposite. He was a long, rambling, self-indulgent novel with no moral theme. You are a slim book of poetry.”

On the one hand Julian was flattered by the comparison. On the other he knew that novels were more popular, and easier to comprehend.

“Pen is getting the worst of it,” Laclere said. “The talk paints her as some Jezebel who had a string of lovers before you. Gossip came back from Naples that is now being freely circulated.”