Scandal of the Year (16 page)

“No,” he agreed, easily keeping pace with her hurried steps. “You introduced us. Your aunt did the shoving, at your instigation. But Eileen aside, you can’t deny that you were the one who practically threw Phoebe Marlowe into my arms in the library yesterday.”

“What?” She stopped again, causing him to stop as well. “I did not—”

“Another woman you know I have no interest in,” he added, interrupting her outraged protest, “and who is not the least bit interested in me. That’s why you felt safe in using her to keep me at bay.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Being that you are a gentleman, you should have offered to escort Phoebe into the hall, and you didn’t.” She paused, then added in a lofty tone, “I covered your lapse of good manners.”

“My lapse?” He laughed. “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard. Really, Julia, your clever brain can’t come up with something better than that?”

“I don’t see what’s so amusing. And I don’t understand why you are attributing me with all these secret motives. I’m your social secretary, aren’t I? You want to marry, don’t you? You wanted a wider social circle, didn’t you? Well, I’m helping you along. That’s just the plain truth.”

“The truth?” He smiled, more convinced his theory was correct with each defensive, indignant word she uttered. “You’re right to say the truth is plain. At least, it is to me. I’m wondering, however, if it’s equally plain to you. I don’t think it is.”

“I wish you’d stop speaking in riddles!” she burst out. “If you have something to say, then say it.”

“All right. I think you’re shoving all these other women at me because you’re afraid.”

“Afraid of what, in heaven’s name?”

He leaned closer. His gaze lowered to her lips, watched them part, watched her tongue dart out to lick them in nervous agitation. “You’re afraid of being attracted to me yourself.”

“What? Of all the conceited, asinine . . .” She spluttered, her voice trailing away, as if she just didn’t have words to articulate how absurd his conclusion was. From Julia, who was always ready with a clever quip, spluttering was a sure sign he was on the right track.

“Strange, isn’t it,” he went on. “You’re so damned perceptive about everyone else, but you don’t understand the first thing about your own feelings. No wonder I didn’t see it sooner—you’re superb at hiding how you truly feel, even from yourself.”

“How I feel? I don’t feel anything, not for you.”

He leaned even closer, so close he could smell the scent of lilacs on her skin, so close his lips almost brushed her ear, and when he spoke, his breath stirred the dark tendril of hair at her cheek. “I don’t believe you.”

She jerked, stepping back and folding her arms as if to erect another barrier between them. “I was never attracted to you,” she said in a hard voice. “You said it yourself the night of the May Day Ball. I used you, it’s done, and though I seduced you, I didn’t care two straws for you. I never did.”

He already knew that, but after yesterday in the library, he also knew it might not be true anymore. “I like the forbidden fruit,” he murmured. “What can I say?”

She made a sound of exasperation. “For heaven’s sake, if I wanted you myself, why would I ever agree to introduce you to other women? Hmm?” She nodded, as if she’d scored a point or something.

“A child could see why. You’re using those women to keep me at a distance because you’re afraid of having me—or any other man, for that matter—get close to you.”

Her chin quivered, showing that under the surface bravado, he was the one scoring points. He kept going. “That’s why you have Spike. That’s why you lost no time shoving other women at me. Yet at the same time, you can’t bear the thought of introducing me to a woman I might actually desire. Hence, Eileen. And Phoebe, too. We’ve known each other for years, and if I wanted her, I’d have made a move in that direction long before now. You know that, so it’s safe to throw her at me. Face it, Julia.” His smile widened with a complacence he was far from feeling. “You want me.”

“This is nonsense, complete and utter nonsense! And . . . and . . . I can prove it!”

“Really? How?”

“By doing what you hired me for! During the next two weeks, I’ll introduce you to women so beautiful, it’ll make your head spin; women so charming, you’ll be enchanted; women so desirable, it’ll drive you mad. Before this house party is over, you’ll be lusting after one of those women like a randy sailor on shore leave!”

She turned on her heel, jerked Spike’s leash, and marched away with the bulldog in tow.

“Too late, Julie,” he murmured under his breath. “I met that woman thirteen years ago.”

Chapter Thirteen

D
uring the years of her marriage, Julia had developed a talent for evasion and avoidance, and during the days that followed her conversation with Aidan in the gardens, she made good use of that talent, but though she managed to keep well away from him, his words to her proved harder to avoid. They had the irritating tendency to come back to her again and again.

Face it, Julia. You want me.

“Of all the conceit,” she muttered, not for the first time, and rolled her eyes.

“Pardon, madame?” Giselle paused in the act of placing a spray of lilacs in her hair, and met her gaze in the mirror of the dressing table.

“Nothing, Giselle,” Julia said hastily, waving a hand in the air. “Carry on.”

The maid resumed dressing her hair, and Julia’s thoughts returned to Aidan’s contentions, contentions that she knew were absurd. Of course he was a terribly attractive man, she’d always known that. And of course any normal, healthy woman with an ounce of sensual feeling would find him desirable. Those facts weren’t in dispute. But Julia didn’t fall into that category. Any sensual feeling she had within her was long gone.

And even if what he said was the truth, even if she did feel a certain attraction to him herself, what difference could it make? He wanted to marry, and that was the last thing in the world she wanted.

No, best all around if she diverted his attention to some other woman, a woman who had some chance of making him happy.

She knew his type well enough, and over the past few days, she had determined that there were several young ladies here who might suit him, right down to their brown eyes, sweet dispositions, and perfect pedigrees. Tonight, she intended to steer them in his direction. One of them was bound to catch his eye and make him forget any silly ideas he might have about her.

Two hours later, however, Julia was forced to admit her confident prediction might have been a bit premature.

After dinner when everyone was milling about the drawing room and its connecting music room, she ascertained the locations of her first two choices, and then sidled up alongside Aidan at the table of fruits, cheeses, and cordials.

“Are you ready to take the plunge back into courtship?” she asked him, nibbling a grape as he poured himself a glass of port.

“Plunge into courtship?” he echoed, frowning in bewilderment.

“What,” she countered, opening her eyes ingenuously wide, giving him her most mischievous smile, “did you think I’d forgotten my vow from the other day?”

Julia would not have been human if she didn’t find his expression of dismay a bit gratifying. But it took him only one or two seconds to recover.

“I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” he said and shrugged. “I mean, if you don’t want me, what other choice do I have?”

His voice was suspiciously bland, but she chose to take those words at face value.

“See the girl in pink standing by Sir George and Lady Debenham? Dark brown hair? Pearls around her neck? That’s Lady Frances Mowbray. She’s—”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “I’ve already met Lady Frances. She won’t do.”

“Oh.” She felt a bit disconcerted by this immediate and unequivocal refusal to consider Lady Frances. “Didn’t you like her?”

“I thought she was charming. I didn’t like her father.”

“What’s wrong with her father? Lord Mowbray is a viscount, with substantial lands.”

“He’s a lout. Far too fond of music hall dancers, if the gossip is to be believed. He’s a heavy drinker, and an even heavier gambler, and he’s deeply in debt from these dissolute habits.”

“That has nothing to do with her,” Julia pointed out reasonably. “She can’t be blamed for her father’s dissolute habits.”

“Agreed, but it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want to be paying my wife’s father’s gambling debts. That’s a bottomless well if ever there was one. Not to mention the possibilities of scandal associated with a skirt-chasing gambler. No.”

“All right then,” Julia said, rallying with another glance around. “There’s a slender, willowy blond standing by the piano with Vivian Marlowe. See her? White lace dress, with pink rosebuds in her hair? That’s Jane Heyer.”

Aidan gave Miss Heyer a considering glance. “She’s lovely,” he was forced to concede.

“Jane is the daughter of Sir Alfred Heyer, the famous botanist, and she’s the granddaughter of Earl Cavanaugh. As you see, she’s an exceptional beauty. She even has brown eyes, your favorite.”

“This notion of yours that I have a preference for brown-eyed women is nonsense,” he objected.

“If you say so. Jane’s mother, Lady Margaret, was the daughter of Henry Albemarle, Second Baronet Oxmoor, but she died when her daughter was a baby. Miss Heyer assisted her father extensively with his work in Africa, but came home four years ago to pursue a university education. She attended Girton College, graduating with honors.”

“No.” He shook his head again. “I couldn’t possibly consider marrying her.”

Julia was beginning to feel a bit frustrated. “How can you say that? You haven’t even met her.”

“I don’t have to. She attended Girton College, you said?”

“Yes. Why should that matter?” She frowned. “Oh, I see. You want a woman of keen intelligence, but heaven forbid she should actually put her keen mind to good use by obtaining a university education. Is that it?”

“Not at all. I take no issue with a woman attending university. I find it laudable, in fact.” He took a sip of port. “You’re missing the point.”

She lifted her hands in a gesture of futility as he paused again. “What is the point?”

“She went to
Girton
.” When she still continued to stare at him blankly, he added, “Girton is a Cambridge school.”

Julia made a sound of disbelief at such an absurd excuse. “You would refuse to consider marrying a woman because she went to a Cambridge school?”

He pointed a finger to his chest. “Oxford,” he said, then nodded at the girl. “Cambridge. It would never work. Who’s next?”

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but closed it again. She knew Aidan well enough to know that if he’d made up his mind, there was no changing it, not about things like school ties. She might as well argue with him about the merits of bohemians and divorce. Not Jane Heyer.

Julia took a glance around, searching for the third candidate on her list, and when she spied Peggy Bourne-West, she breathed a little sigh of relief. “There’s a girl in blue silk standing by Paul at the fireplace. Light brown hair.”

“Very pretty,” he said, and Julia couldn’t help noting his lack of enthusiasm.

She persevered. “Her name is Miss Margaret Bourne-West,” she said. “Her family—” She stopped, eyeing him doubtfully. “I don’t think I’ll provide any more information about her background. If I do, you’ll find a reason to be prejudiced against her.”

“Too late,” he said, smiling. “I know her mother. Loathsome woman. I can’t tolerate Mrs. Bourne-West, and if she were my mother-in-law, I’d have to shoot myself. Do you have any other candidates for me to consider?”

He made short shrift of the remaining three young ladies on her list as quickly as he had the first three, and she gave a sigh, thoroughly exasperated. Despite that, she was also just a little, tiny bit relieved. Knowing that was absurd, she tried to shut down.

“You’ve now dismissed half a dozen perfectly acceptable young ladies without even talking to them,” she pointed out. “Don’t you think you’re being just a little too picky?”

He shrugged, unperturbed. “I’m a duke. I’m allowed to be picky.”

“For all you know, one of those six young ladies could be the perfect duchess for you. Don’t you want to at least become better acquainted with them before you dismiss them?”

“Not particularly.”

“You might regret it later,” she said. “Other men will sweep them up, and you’ll meet one of them years later and regret that you didn’t take the chance when you had it.”

He looked steadily at her. “Yes,” he agreed with emphasis. “That’s quite possible.”

Julia’s heart slammed against her ribs. “Meeting them takes just a few minutes of your time,” she murmured as she looked away. He couldn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean he felt regret over not pursuing her that day on the footbridge. That was a lifetime ago. She swallowed hard, striving to gather her scattered wits. “A few minutes seems a small price to pay,” she said, sliding a sidelong look at him, “for the chance to fall in love.”

“Perhaps, but as we’ve discussed before, Julia, love is not my most important concern at present.” He paused, looking steadily at her. “Lovemaking, on the other hand, is always important.”

“Ah, but you have a mistress for that,” she said, striving for blasé sophistication, chagrined when her voice came out in a breathless rush.

Her words caused him to laugh under his breath. “Ah, yes, my mistress,” he murmured. “I’d forgotten all about her.”

“Forgotten her?” Julia sniffed, trying to recover her poise. “A fine thing indeed. Poor woman. She must be plain, then, or not very accomplished at her profession, if you forget her so easily.” She paused, but her curiosity was too much to bear. “Who is she? Do I know her?”

“I doubt it. And,” he added giving her a reproving look, “I hardly think my mistress is an appropriate topic while you are telling me about women I might wish to marry.”

“No need to worry about that,” she said with a sigh. “You’ve eliminated all the viable candidates in the room.”

He smiled at her. “What a shame.”

“There will be others at the ball on Friday. Would you like me to tell you about them now?” she added wryly. “That way, you’ll have five full days to come up with your excuses not to meet them.”

His smile widened into a grin. “I’ll wait.”

She gave a huff of exasperation and turned away, studying the young women in the crowd that milled about the room, although she knew it was a waste of time, and she wondered if perhaps she should bow out of working for him altogether. “I know love isn’t your primary concern, but given these excuses you keep offering, I’m wondering if I’m wasting my time. I am beginning to suspect that I could line up a thousand suitable women, and you’d find something wrong with every single one of them. Why?”

“You know why.” He glanced around, then leaned closer to her. “These days I’m far too preoccupied with one particular woman to work up an interest in any others.”

Her lips parted, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think of anything to say. “I—” She stopped, cleared her throat, and it was a full five seconds before she tried again. “Really?” she finally managed. “Do tell. Which woman do you mean?”

He laughed, and she knew her pose of dry sophistication wasn’t fooling him for a second. “I think you know,” he said, his gaze sliding down to her mouth. “I think you’ve always known.”

“Oh no,” she denied, shaking her head, laughing in disbelief, even though panic flooded through her, though she couldn’t say what, precisely, was causing it. All she knew was that her heart was racing and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. “Oh no, no. You can’t possibly mean me.”

His gaze met hers, steady, purposeful, utterly sincere. “I do mean you, Julia. Why do you think I hired you?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice was so low, she barely heard it herself.

“I wanted to be near you,” he said simply. “Is it so astonishing?” he added, watching her face. “Given what happened between us last summer?”

She licked her dry lips, took a frantic glance around. “But that was different!” she whispered, although no one was within earshot. “That was . . .” She stared at him helplessly. “That was an anomaly, a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember most of it.” He looked at her mouth again. “But I’d like to.”

Her lips started to tingle, and she forced them into a blasé smile. “Why, Aidan, you’re still carrying a torch for me? I’m flattered. You want to pick up where we left off, I daresay, but really, it’s a bit late for that, isn’t it? We had our fling, darling,” she added with a laugh that she suspected didn’t fool him for a second. “And now it’s over.”

“Not for me.”

“But it is for me, despite all your arrogant assumptions to the contrary.”

“I don’t believe you. Being the arrogant fellow that I am,” he added, assuming an air of mock apology, “I think you’ll have to prove it.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, you impossible man, but you are being singularly uncooperative with my efforts!”

He grinned. “Really, Julia, what would introducing me to other women, beautiful or otherwise, prove at this point? That you’re a hypocrite?”

She made a sound of outrage, but he ignored it. “Still, there is a way to prove you don’t want me.”

She turned toward the refreshment table, reaching for a crystal flute and the bottle reposing in a bucket of ice, feeling in need of a drink. “What way?”

“Meet me in the maze at midnight.”

“And what?” she scoffed, taking a gulp of champagne. But though the wine was ice-cold, it did nothing to cool her blood. “Allow you to make love to me in the moonlight while I valiantly attempt to resist your considerable charms?”

“Something like that.” He was still smiling, but in his eyes was unmistakable challenge. “If you
can
resist.”