Three Nights with a Scoundrel: A Novel (33 page)

Or he would have, if he felt certain he could trust the man.

“Morland,” he said low, “I need you to keep a watchful eye on Faraday.”

“You want me to take the man under my protection?”

“I want you to take the man under your roof.”

“Now hold just a minute—” the duke began to object.

“You just said you have plenty of rooms. Your wife loves hosting guests.” When Morland’s face didn’t soften, Julian lowered his voice to a whisper and added, “Not to mention, you’re already hiding one invalid.”

Morland’s eyes flared. “How did you learn that? Did Amelia tell—”

“No, no. Your wife is the soul of discretion. It’s your ward who can’t keep herself concealed.” He clapped a hand on Morland’s shoulder. “Listen. Do me—do Leo—this last favor, and you can have the horse. I’ll relinquish all interest in him. You and Ashworth can work it out from there.”

Morland stepped back. “Really. You’d surrender your share in Osiris?” Julian nodded.

“In exchange for me housing Faraday for the next week?”

“Yes. Just until this is all settled. But you’ll be guarding him, not just giving him a bed.” He cut a glance over his shoulder to make sure the man himself wasn’t listening. “I can’t shake the feeling there’s still something he’s not telling us. Maybe he’s afraid, and that’s why he’s resistant. We can’t risk him running off again, to Cornwall or God-knows-where. Ashworth can’t host him, and I certainly can’t bring him home to Lily. She knows nothing about this.”

“How long do you think that will last?” Ashworth asked. “I mean, here we are making plans for our wives to get acquainted. Do you honestly think they won’t talk amongst themselves?”

“So don’t tell your wives, either.”

Morland gave a bark of laughter. “If Faraday’s staying in my house, Amelia’s going to know.”

“And my own wife just traveled all the way from Devonshire with the man,” Ashworth put in. “She knows all about the attack and Faraday’s role in it.”

“Besides,” the duke said, “I don’t lie to Amelia. We tell each other everything.”

“As husbands and wives should,” Ashworth concurred. “Merry and I, we’re the same.”

Julian cursed under his breath. This was becoming far too complicated.

“Here, then. You each tell your wives the truth.” To Morland, he said, “You tell Amelia that Faraday is a former Stud Club member, stricken by illness and fallen on hard times. You’re hosting him as a favor, but she’s to keep it very discreet because Mr. Faraday wouldn’t want his difficulties widely known. There, all of that’s true. Isn’t it?”

The duke shrugged. “I suppose.”

Julian turned to Ashworth. “And you ask Meredith to keep what she knows to herself, for Lily’s sake. We don’t want to raise Lily’s hopes or anxieties. For all we know, this will come to nothing.”

“Fair enough,” Ashworth said. “So what are you planning to tell Lily?”

“Nothing,” Julian answered. A marriage without secrets sounded lovely for others, but it wasn’t in the cards for a man like him. “Nothing just yet.”

“Oh, how lovely!”

At Lily’s exclamation, Amelia and Meredith perked up. The two ladies wandered over from across the gallery, eager to investigate the object that had inspired such delight.

“It’s just a desk.” Lily opened the top of the vast mahogany piece. The hardwood panel swung easily on its hinges, flattening to a sturdy writing surface. Inside, she found neat drawers for paper, ink, and quills, two locked compartments, and an entire regiment of pigeonholes for the sorting and filing of bills and receipts. The sight filled her with an absurd sort of joy.

The gallery owner, a meticulous man in a pale pink waistcoat, appeared beside them. “An antique,” he said. “Belonged to …”

Lily missed the name completely. No matter. Whichever magistrate or dignitary had owned the thing in the first place, it didn’t belong to him anymore.

“Are you thinking of this for Mr. Bellamy?” Meredith asked, running her fingers over the smooth veneer.

Lily had to confess no, shaking her head. “For myself. We’re making adjoining studies in the new house. One for him, and one for me.”

It was high time she had her own space for recordkeeping, rather than always using Leo’s study. She’d already agreed with Julian that she would take responsibility for the household accounts, as well as the investment of whatever funds she brought to the marriage. For all her teasing, it seemed
she
was the stuffy, boring clerk in their relationship.

“I’ll take it,” she told the gallery owner.

He bowed with obsequious gratitude. “Very good, my lady. An excellent choice.”

Yes, she rather thought it was. With a grand new house to furnish, Lily was discovering a new appreciation for shopping. The company of friends increased her enjoyment. Over the past week, the three of them had spent part of every afternoon wandering the shops. Obviously Lily had known Amelia all her life, and even though they’d only been introduced to the new Lady Ashworth a week ago now, the three of them got on well indeed. Meredith was a sensible, plainspoken woman, with a heart for hospitality and head for business, which gave her something in common with Amelia and Lily both.

“Adjoining studies,” Meredith said, examining the hinges of the desk as Lily closed the top. “I like that idea. I’ll talk to Rhys about such an arrangement for the new Nethermoor Hall. He plans to meet with some architects while we’re in Town.”

When Meredith walked away, Amelia caught Lily’s attention. “I’ve been meaning to ask, are you and Mr. Bellamy attending the Carstairs’ party Wednesday next? Spencer is reluctant, as ever. But if the two of you attend, I might be able to convince him. Or at least I’d be assured of having someone to talk to after he disappears to the card room.”

Lily hesitated. “The Carstairs’ party?”

Amelia nodded.

“I … I’m not certain. We hadn’t yet sent our reply.”

In actuality, they had not received an invitation. Lily told herself she shouldn’t be surprised. She’d expected this might happen when her hasty wedding to Julian became known. Obviously Mrs. Carstairs wished to communicate her disapproval of Lily’s marriage, or perhaps her envy of it. Lily was almost ashamed to realize how it annoyed her, being cut by a woman who last year would have counted it a coup to host any Chatwick in her home. Even Tartuffe.

She shook off the irritation. No matter. Slights like these would serve to teach her who their true friends were. And Lily had two very good ones right here in this gallery.

She followed the gallery owner to the back counter, to sign off on the expense and arrange for delivery of her new desk. While he prepared the bill, her eye wandered to the soaring expanse of paintings behind him. They were mostly the standard decorative scenes: pastoral landscapes of ruined castles, still-lifes with vases of flowers and bowls of fruit. Nothing particularly caught her interest. Disappointing. She and Julian needed
something
to hang on the walls, after all. She noted a curtained doorway leading to another room.

Once the bill of sale had been signed and settled, and the address of the new house given, Lily asked, “Have you another gallery?”

“There is another room, my lady.”

“May we see it?”

The man’s cheeks flushed pink to match his waistcoat. “My lady … I’m afraid that gallery is for gentlemen only.”

Lily thought she must have misunderstood him, but then Meredith appeared at her side. “What do you mean, for gentlemen only?”

“The paintings there are of a … shall we say, earthy nature. Not suitable for ladies.”

“What’s all this?” Amelia joined them.

“He means to protect our delicate female natures from scandalous paintings,” Meredith informed her. To the shopkeeper, she said, “We are all married women, sir.”

“Nevertheless.” The man tugged at his cravat. “Your husbands are not present. Without their express permission, I am sure I cannot—”

Meredith laughed. “Must we send for notes with their signatures?”

“Ridiculous,” Amelia said, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. “My husband, His Grace, the Duke of Morland, would be displeased indeed to be troubled on such a trifling matter. Do your worst, sir. We shall ready our vinaigrettes.”

Lily laughed. She thought they stood a decent chance of deviling him into capitulation. But in the end, it wasn’t necessary. Amelia and Meredith suddenly wheeled to face the door, clapping with excitement. Lily followed their gaze.

Ah. Julian had finally arrived. He’d promised to meet her here after his day’s business was done.

All three ladies rushed to greet him at the door. Lily, however, was the only one to claim the pleasure of a kiss on the cheek.

“What’s this? I haven’t known such a rousing female welcome since—”

“Since the last time you entered a room full of women,” Lily said. She cut a playful glance at her friends. “Your timing couldn’t be better. There’s another gallery—a naughty gallery, apparently—and the owner won’t let us view it without our husbands present.”

“Hm.” Julian surveyed the hopeful trio. “I don’t suppose I can pose as a sheik with my harem of wives, can I?”

“Why not?” Amelia asked slyly. “You do have a certain reputation.”

Meredith linked her hand through Julian’s free arm. “Let’s have a go.”

“Why, Lady
Ashworth,”
he said, pretending shock.

Or perhaps not pretending. On closer inspection, Lily thought he might actually be blushing. How very sweet.

With good-natured charm, he extricated himself from Meredith’s grasp. “I’m a confirmed monogamist now, I’m afraid. And even if I weren’t, both your husbands are confirmed barbarians, whom I know better than to cross. I’ve just come from meeting with them. We made plans to go out early tomorrow for a ride in open country. Shouldn’t like to make it a daybreak duel.”

“You’re going riding?” Lily asked. It had been ages since she’d been out riding. “Where to? May I join you?”

“No, you may not. It’s a gentlemen’s excursion.” He paused. “And I’m not precisely sure where to. Down the Thames a bit, I think.”

“Down the Thames? Whyever—”

“Morland’s looking at property down that way.”

“He is?” Amelia asked. “First I’ve heard of it.”

“Yes, well.” Julian’s smile was strained. “Perhaps I misunderstood.”

Lily could tell he was uncomfortable. Uncomfortable with the entire outing, most likely. Julian’s horsemanship was nowhere near the level of Morland’s and Ashworth’s, and he was probably a bit worried about being shown up by them. But he was going to ride out with them anyway, and that pleased Lily no end. She was so gratified to see the three of them becoming close friends. Leo would have been happy, too.

Meredith spoke. “Well, if you’ve just come from meeting with Rhys and the duke, where are they? We can all view the naughty paintings together.”

“I’m afraid they stayed at Morland House.”

Amelia rested one hand atop her pregnant belly and rubbed her lower back with the other. “Then I should go home, too.” She looked to Meredith. “Care to join me in the carriage? You and Lord Ashworth are welcome to stay for dinner.”

Out of habit, she extended the invitation to Julian and Lily as well, and they politely declined.

Once they’d left, Lily and Julian were the only remaining customers in the gallery.

“I bought a desk,” Lily said.

“Did you?” But he didn’t ask about it. He simply offered her his arm and walked her straight back to the gallery owner, whose buttoned pink waistcoat scalloped like the edge of a seashell as he bent to arrange some books.

When he noticed Julian, the man stood and bowed. “Good afternoon, sir. How may I be of service?”

“My wife would like to see the nudes.” Her impossible husband grinned down at her, daring her to contradict.

Scoundrel
. Lily introduced the sharp point of her elbow to his ribs.

Although she was certain her cheeks were twin banners of crimson, she faced the owner and hoisted them high. She wasn’t about to demur. She wanted to be able to crow about this to Amelia and Meredith tomorrow.

And atop that, she
did
want to see the nudes.

The gallery owner tugged on his waistcoat. “As you wish, sir.”

With all the élan of a carnival barker, he swept aside the heavy velvet drape. Feeling a tingle of excitement, Lily nestled closer to her husband.

Together, they entered the forbidden room.

The “secret” gallery was rather a disappointment, as forbidden things all too often turned out to be. Julian was well-acquainted with the phenomenon.

But it did serve as a welcome diversion.

He carefully watched Lily’s expression as they entered the narrow room. She seemed to have no care for anything but the pictures on the walls, which put him somewhat at ease, after their conversation about tomorrow’s ride. He hated lying to her. Despised it with a dark, unwavering passion. After today, never again.

Tomorrow morning, he, Morland, and Ashworth would ride some ways out of Town, down to Woolwich, where Stone and Macleod were due to be released. The brutes would never even be freed of their chains. Once the men were hauled back to Newgate, Julian and Morland would bring Faraday to identify them. Charges would be pressed. The courts would carry the matter from there.

It would all be over tomorrow.

Calming at the thought, Julian began to take some notice of the art. On either side, the walls were lined with framed paintings. High clerestory windows lit the space, sending down trapezoids of watery light to frame the works at odd angles, making them look askew. There were a few of the expected boudoir portraits, naked women lolling about on unmade beds, their nipples blazing unrealistic shades of cherry and plum. But the quality works outnumbered these.

The owner followed them down the row, rattling off information about each work. Artist, provenance, and such. The way he nattered on so industriously, Julian deduced the man had no idea of Lily’s deafness. Lily paid him no attention, of course, but shopkeepers were accustomed to being ignored.

She wandered thoughtfully from one picture to the next, then paused before a nude study of a man. Her foot slid back, as she retreated a pace to better take it in. Julian briefly considered teasing her, but decided against it. He loved the seriousness with which she approached the art. No missish giggles or blushing.