Therefore, he and Arthur stood at the sideboard, surveying the roomful of guests. Lilliana and Claudia were laughing gaily with the Duchess of Sutherland, Lauren. There was Arthur’s brother Alex, the Duke of Sutherland, seated on a settee with Louis Renault and Lord Boxworth, engaged in heated conversation about the latest spate of parliamentary reforms. Ladies Boxworth and Renault were in attendance, and naturally, Julian Dane, who stood to one side quietly sipping from a glass of port and watching his wife like a hawk.
Adrian slid his gaze from Julian to Arthur with a smirk. “I’d say the old chap has it rather bad.”
“Right awful,” Arthur replied immediately, “although I’d venture to guess he doesn’t yet know it. He was never very astute in matters of the heart.”
“What, you would judge the man by the number of broken hearts left in his wake over the years?” Adrian asked laughingly.
“Did you see him at supper? Gazing like a lovesick lad when she spoke of organizing women’s labor. He’s gone round the bend, if you ask me—smitten with a woman born to trouble,” Arthur observed, clearly amused.
“I’ll say,” Adrian muttered as he slipped his gaze to Claudia. “Do you know she actually had Lilliana convinced that the daughters of my tenants would do well with a summer in London at our considerable expense? Lilliana had drafted a rather complicated schedule for it, and was about to go and explain it all at a tenants’ meeting before I caught her.”
“A summer in London? What on earth for?” Arthur asked, clearly confused.
Adrian frowned. “Culture and education.”
Arthur looked at Adrian; the two men simultaneously broke into laughter.
If Julian had heard the exchange, he might have laughed, too. But he hadn’t heard a bloody thing all night—Claudia had consumed him. If he wasn’t simply gazing at her, he was thinking about that ride in the coach. And if he wasn’t thinking about that, he was feeling rather proud of her eloquent argument to organize women’s labor.
Now, in the red drawing room, he was impatiently biding his time until he could make a proper escape, take his wife home, and continue the discussion begun in the coach. Having had the intervening hours to reflect, he was more than happy to let Claudia convince him that she adored him. He had even gone so far as to allow himself the fantasy that they might put the awful past behind them and begin fresh—starting with his making love to her. Over and over again, if he was so fortunate.
But then Max, Adrian’s butler, caught his eye. The diminutive little man appeared in the door, hopping nervously from one foot to the other as Adrian sauntered forward. Julian knew Max, knew he tended toward the dramatic, but he nonetheless had a terrible sense of foreboding when Max motioned wildly in the direction of the vestibule and a frown creased Adrian’s brow.
The sudden commotion in the corridor startled Julian; he moved to the center of the room as Adrian stepped across the threshold. “Ho there!” he called gruffly “What do you think you are doing?”
Before anyone could react, Stanwood suddenly appeared at the threshold, looking wildly furious. Julian’s stomach dropped; he quickly stepped around the settee as Stanwood barreled past Adrian and into the room. “Halt there, Stanwood!” he bellowed, ignoring the cry of alarm that came from one of the women. “I will thank you to leave Lord Albright’s home at once—”
“Not before you tell me where she is! What have you done with my wife?!”
“Oh, dear God! What has happened to Sophie?” Eugenie shrieked.
Julian lurched forward as Stanwood, practically foaming at the mouth, whirled toward Eugenie. “She’s gone! You have taken her from me, but it won’t do you any good! That slut belongs to me now!”
Julian did not realize that the roar of indignation was his own. It hardly registered on him that Sophie was missing—his rage made him too deaf, too blind to anything but Stanwood and his own firm intent to kill him this time. He lunged, shoving Stanwood into the wall with a hard blow to the bastard’s eye. Quickly regaining his balance, Julian raised his arm again, but someone restrained him as three footmen rushed to subdue Stanwood. Furious, Julian struggled against the restraint; Adrian said heatedly, “Don’t, Kettering! He’s not worth it!”
“Did you think you could hide her from me forever?” Stanwood gasped, struggling against the hold of the three men. “You can’t, Kettering. She belongs to me now, every inch of her and her bloody fortune! I will do with that whore what I like—”
“Stop it!” Claudia shrieked. “I took her!”
A stunned hush fell across the room; Julian felt as if the floor had shifted beneath his feet. She had taken Sophie? His mind could not absorb that, or the implications of it. He shrugged out of Arthur and Louis’s grasp, mindlessly straightened his waistcoat before he turned to look at her. “What do you mean, Claudia?” he asked evenly, despite the rage boiling in him just beneath the surface.
“You bitch,” Stanwood breathed rabidly. “You came into my home and took my wife from me? That’s a bloody crime, you stupid—”
Julian jerked around, pinning Stanwood to the wall with a murderous gaze as the footmen yanked him out of Julian’s reach. “One more word, and I will kill you, so help me God!”
“Call me what you will, sir,” Claudia said, her voice trembling. “But you won’t lay a hand on her again!”
“Dear God! Where is she?” Eugenie cried hysterically. “What on earth have you done with her?”
Claudia looked wildly around her, her gaze skimming blindly across them all before settling on Stanwood again. “Sh-she is quite safe. But I won’t tell you where, not until I am certain she is safe from him!” Her hands gripped her gown, balling the fabric.
Julian could sense the hysteria rising in her just as acutely as he felt the fury rising in himself. He could scarcely believe what he was hearing, unable to fathom how she might have done this, how she might have defied the law and him and stolen his sister. How she had neglected to tell him what she had done.
“You will pay for this, Lady Kettering! With your life, if I’ve anything to do with it!” Stanwood shouted.
“Take him!” Adrian roared. “Throw him out near the river. Shoot him if he causes a scene!”
“I’ll go and make sure he doesn’t,” Arthur said, striding forward, and followed the servants out as they dragged Stanwood away.
“What of my wife!” he screamed as they forced him into the corridor. “I demand to know where she is!”
Julian jerked around to stare at his wife. Claudia gasped audibly for her breath; the expression on her face was one of terror. And he was struck with the notion that he had never felt more impotent than he did at this moment, incapable of controlling one goddam thing. Trying desperately to control his temper, he walked to her side. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Julian, wait!” Ann cried. “We must know what she has done with Sophie!”
“I will speak with her, Ann!” he said gruffly, and glanced at Adrian, who seemed to sense how ridiculously sorry he was—he waved him on. Julian did not hesitate. Clamping an iron hold on Claudia, he pushed her into the corridor, propelling her forward when she stumbled on her hem. He said not a word other than to demand their coach, then stoically accepted their cloaks from a nervous footman, tossing Claudia’s around her shoulders.
“Julian—” she started, but he was unable to speak, barely able to breathe, and stopped her from saying more by grabbing her arm and pushing her outside and into the coach as rage clawed at his throat.
Once inside, she tried again. “Julian, please, I—”
“No,” he said simply, dangerously. She seemed to almost disappear into the squabs then, eyeing him warily as the coach pitched through the snow-covered streets of London.
The ride home was unbearable; silence stretched between them like an ocean. With each jolt the coach took over the icy roads, he despised her more. She had gelded him, publicly emasculated him. Jesus Christ, the whirlwind of emotion and confusion she had caused in
him for two years now had exhausted him beyond reason or caring. There was simply nothing left in him, nothing else she could use up.
He wanted only to know where Sophie was.
When they reached Kettering House, Julian cut a scathing glance across her as he climbed out of the coach. When he extended his hand to help her down, Claudia grabbed his wrist and would not let go. His anger spiraled out of control; he jerked his arm up, yanking free of her and flinging her hand away from him. Ignoring the looks of astonishment on the faces of the driver and the two footmen, he stormed inside and up the grand staircase. The Demon’s Spawn followed him.
Stalking into his rooms, he whirled around to face her, dragging ragged breaths of air as he clawed at his neckcloth and tossed it carelessly aside. “Where is she?” he managed to choke out.
“Please, listen to me—”
“Where is she?” he roared to the ceiling.
Claudia jumped several steps backward. “On my life, she is safe, Julian, I swear it—”
“How dare you swear anything to me! Do you even realize that you have committed a crime? Where is she?”
One arm curled protectively around her abdomen. “I—I won’t tell you, not like this.”
Rage blinded him; he pivoted sharply away from her, his hands on either side of his head, pressed against the ungodly throbbing in his temples. “Do not toy with me, Claudia!” he breathed. “What in God’s name have you done with her?”
“He was beating her, Julian!” she cried. “I saw the bruises, and I … I feared for her life!”
All that was left of his composure shattered. The world stopped spinning; he had to fight the drag of inertia to turn and look at her. The color had bled from her face, the wetness in her eyes glistened in the candlelight. Bloody hell, it was true—his worst nightmare had become a reality. “Bruises,” he muttered hoarsely.
She nodded furiously, wiped her hands across her cheeks. “Lots of them. Up and down her body. She said … she said he hit her where it wouldn’t show.”
Why, God, did the earth not open and bury him now? Why must he endure this unspeakable anguish? “Why didn’t you tell me?” he rasped, and when she did not answer immediately, his fury erupted anew. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me!”
“B-because I was afraid!” she wailed. “I wanted to tell you, but I wasn’t sure what you would do, and I could not bear it if you made her go back to him! And we had only a small window of opportunity—”
“How you must despise me, Claudia,” he croaked. “You think me so heartless that I would leave my sister to a monster?”
“I only wanted to help Sophie—”
“You only wanted to geld me!” he spat. “If you’d had any sense at all you would have told me. I would have helped her! She is my sister, for God’s sake! But no, you would prefer to announce to the world my impotence in this matter!”
Claudia gaped at him, dumbfounded. “Do I understand you correctly? You are angry because your male pride is injured?” she asked, incredulous.
“Thanks to you, madam, I have no pride. You have deprived me of even that. You win, Claudia. You have worn me down, physically and emotionally, and I scarcely know which end is up anymore.”
“I have worn you down? Need I remind you, sir, that you seduced me? Your lust wore me down! It is the only reason we are standing here at all!”
“You seemed willing enough, lady,” he retorted hotly, blatantly ignoring the truth of her statement.
She gasped with indignation. “Yes, yes, I was willing! I had drunk far too much champagne, and you—Oh, please God, don’t remind me how poor my judgment has been all my life when it comes to you!”
His anger was now pounding like a drum in his chest and his throat and his temples, and Julian took a menacing step toward her. “Don’t speak to me of poor judgment! I should have followed my instincts and left you to fend for your high and mighty self! I should never have allowed your father to talk me into protecting your honor! Had I known it would destroy my sister in the end, I would have let you rot in your scandal!”
“Had you at least listened to Sophie instead of thinking yourself so holy and infallible, this might never have happened!”
And now this was all his doing? “And had I listened to my head instead of my cock, this never would have happened, either, I assure you,” he shot back.
That stung her. Claudia recoiled as if she had been slapped. “It’s always the same with you, isn’t it?” she muttered. “It’s just lust—you don’t really care where you relieve yourself of it, as long as it is warm and moving.” A hysterical laugh bubbled up from her throat; her hand flew to her cheek. “Dear God, I believed you when you said you loved me! I truly believed you! But it was just another lie, wasn’t it? Another lie to lure me to your bed! You disgust me!”
“It was a lie no worse than yours, Claudia. I wanted to believe you, too, but it seems we were ill-fated from the beginning. Well, you need not worry any longer—I would rather see myself strung up at Newgate before I have you in my bed again. The only thing I want from you is the whereabouts of my sister.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “No.”
“Do you think this some sort of game?” he snapped irritably. “Another one of your little fantasies where women rule the world?”
“I told you, she is quite safe. But I won’t tell you where, not until you have calmed yourself. You can’t go after her, not like this.”
He suddenly lunged at her, but Claudia quickly stepped beyond his reach. “There is nothing you can do to make me tell you!” she cried, and whirled, fleeing the rooms.
You can’t make me stay in my rooms! The sudden image of the defiant little girl shattered him; Julian fell to one knee, covering his eyes with one hand as he tried to steady himself with the other. The discomfort of his skin was overpowering, tightening around his bones and his skull. She had done it at last, destroyed him completely. Funny, wasn’t it, that all this time he’d been worried that he would destroy her.
There was nothing left for them, except finding a way to end this farce of a marriage once and for all.
Twenty-Four
CLAUDIA WAS NOT invited to the family caucus that occurred the next afternoon, which was made exceedingly clear to her. Dejected, confused, and rather unsure of herself, she dismissed Brenda and spent the day in lonely solitude, moving woodenly to pack her things, knowing full well that it was over. The whole ugly mess was almost too complicated for her to fathom, and as hard as she tried, she could not put her finger on exactly what had ultimately destroyed his love for her.
There was so much distrust between them; doubts spanning years, too many untruths she could not seem to ferret her way through. Only one thing did she know with complete certainty.
She loved Julian.
Completely, with all her heart, as fiercely and futilely and fatally as she had when she was a young girl, if not more so. She loved him, but she loved Sophie, too, and she could not be entirely sorry for what she had done.
Nonetheless, Claudia intuitively understood that even if Sophie had never been, she would still be packing her things today. She and Julian were doomed from the moment they encountered one another in Dieppe, and if it hadn’t been this, something else would eventually have caused her to stand on the outside looking in. She was too independent for this world, too involved in social causes, too irreverent of society’s mores to have endured a marriage among the ton. Eventually, her school, or the town house on Upper Moreland Street—something—would have come between them.
Unfortunately, as much as she wanted to at this moment, she could not change who she was.
It was late afternoon when someone finally rapped on her door. Opening it, she found Tinley leaning against the doorjamb. He motioned her aside and shuffled into her room, easing himself down onto the couch at the hearth. “Forgive me, milady, but I must catch my breath.”
Claudia closed the door. “Tinley? Is something wrong?”
Tinley s
tuck his bony hand into a breast pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, extending it toward her with his crooked arm. It was from Julian—he had taken to writing things down rather than trust Tinley’s memory. Claudia did not want to read that note and watched it taunt her from Tinley’s wavering arm. “My lady,” he groaned when she made no move to take it.
She forced herself to take the note. Turning slightly so that Tinley could not see her face, she opened it.
I will have your presence in the blue drawing room at precisely four o’clock. K.
That was all—nothing more than a simple command. Claudia glanced at the clock. A quarter of an hour. She shifted her gaze to Tinley. “What does one usually wear to a hanging, do you suppose?” she asked grimly.
“Black, I’d wager,” Tinley responded affably.
At precisely four o’clock, Claudia was standing at the door of the blue drawing room, drawing deep breaths into her lungs in a futile attempt to calm her racing heart. When that didn’t work, she pressed her hands flat against her abdomen, swallowing hard between breaths so that her anxiety would not make her sick. She should knock, go into that room and face the consequences of it all, but apparently there was no force in the universe that could make her raise her arm.
No force was necessary; the door suddenly swung open and Julian glared down at her. “What are you waiting for?” he snapped as he stepped aside to give her entry.
Willing her legs to move, Claudia walked into the room. Julian shut the door with a resounding thud, clasped his hands behind his back, and began to pace in front of her. Back and forth he went, the hem of his coat flying out behind him with every violent turn. Too cowardly to speak or move, Claudia watched him, watched the muscles in his jaw bulge with the force of his bite, watched him glance at her, then to the floor again, as if her face burned him like the sun. It went on for what seemed like an eternity, but finally, he stopped and forced himself to look at her. “Where is she?”
Claudia released the breath she had been holding. “What will you do with her?”
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