The Romantic

by Madeline Hunter

  “I confess that if we could put off facing it for another week or so, I would not object.”

  He took her hand in his. “Nor would I. Not because I will mind the scandal itself, but because these last days have been precious and I would not mind having more of them.”

  They hadbeen precious. Cheerful and carefree and full of a lovely peace. He had treasured them all the more because he knew what was coming.

  Soon things would change. The affair would continue, but under the glare of thousands of eyes. The notices in the papers would be less circumspect.

  He allowed his mind to dwell on this interlude instead. It might be a sophisticated affair of convenience to Pen, but it was much more to him. He would treasure the memories forever. The friendship and the pleasure. The days filled with conversation or exquisite silence. The nights filled with ecstasy.

  They were not met by the bishop, but they were met all the same. Several miles outside London, the coach unexpectedly began slowing. It stopped right on the road. A few moments later the coachman’s head appeared at the window. “Best you see this, sir. Ahead, on the left.”

  Julian opened the door and angled his body out.

  “What is it?” Pen asked.

  “Carriages. Three of them.” He sat and closed the door. “One is Glasbury’s. I can see the coat of arms from here.”

  “What do we do?”

  “We continue on. He cannot stop six horses.”

  “If he brought enough men to fill three carriages, maybe he can.”

  He called for the coach to continue. As it moved forward he took one of the pistols from its holder on the back wall.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I am making sure the powder is dry.”

  “You don’t think to use that, do you?”

  “I want to be prepared, that is all.”

  The coach slowed and stopped again.

  “The earl’s coach has moved onto the road in front of us,” their coachman called down. “It is blocking the way.”

  The color drained from Pen’s face.

  “He will not remove you from this carriage,” Julian said. “I promise you that will not happen.”

  Horses whinnied outside. Their coachman called for the earl’s carriage to pull aside. The response he received was inaudible. Sounds of an argument poured in the window.

  Pen’s eyes widened. “That sounds like Laclere.”

  “So it does.”

  Even while the argument continued up ahead, the viscount in question appeared at the coach window. “Welcome home, Pen.”

  Laclere s expression was all warmth as he addressed his sister. “You had best come out, Pen. Glasbury will not move his coach until he sees you.”

  Laclere handed Pen down. As he did so, he gave Julian a quizzical and critical look. Julian read its message. Is this how you protect my sister, old friend? By subjecting her to scandal and her husband’s wrath?

  Julian stepped out of the coach.

  Dante walked up to join his brother and sister.

  “What are you doing here?” Pen asked her brothers after reunion embraces were exchanged.

  “Your progress to London has been well documented. We thought that Glasbury might try to meet you on the road. We decided to make sure he had our company,” Dante said.

  “All of this drama because of a letter to the Times?”

  “The Timeswas the least of it. Similar letters have been appearing in less discreet papers all week,” Laclere said.

  Julian looked ahead on the road. The earl stood behind his coach, as straight as if someone had welded an iron rod to his spine. He was not alone. Several strapping footmen flanked him.

  Laclere and Dante were not alone, either. Standing aside, near their own carriages, were Daniel St. John and Adrian Burchard.

  “Burchard had a man watching Glasbury’s house for any departure so we could follow,” Laclere explained. “I think St. John came to make sure his coach was not damaged. He will be grateful that you did not try to run the blockade.”

  “It appears we may still have to,” Pen said.

  A shout caught their attention. Another carriage approached behind theirs. The coachman waved his arm to tell them to move forward or pull aside.

  “We will eventually have carriages lined all of the way through Middlesex,” Dante said.

  “Glasbury will have to move eventually, so he may as well do so at once. I will go explain that to him,” Julian said. He took a step to do just that.

  Laclere caught his arm. “If you address him, it will only throw oil on the fire. You should stay right here. And you should return that pistol that you have under your coat to the carriage.”

  Julian ignored the last suggestion.

  Up ahead, Adrian Burchard walked over and spoke with the earl. He then headed toward them.

  Adrian’s black eyes and Mediterranean features had branded him a bastard long before his nominal father, the Earl of Dincaster, had unofficially repudiated him. Beneath his urbane charm there lived a deep streak of danger. Astute persons sensed that, even if they did not know the events when that streak had done its worst. Julian wondered if Glasbury had shown enough sense not to insult Burchard.

  It did not surprise Julian that the Duchess of Everdon’s consort had been the one to have Glasbury’s house watched. In his less domesticated days, Burchard had performed missions for the government that engendered expertise in watching and following people.

  Adrian greeted Penelope, then glanced back at Glasbury. “He says he wants his wife, and added a few words about Julian that do not need to be repeated.”

  “She does not go with him,” Julian said.

  “I told him that, and pointed out that at best he has a stalemate here, and at worst a defeat. He then threatened to call Julian out here and now, but I dissuaded him from that.”

  “If he wants to meet, that is fine with me.”

  For a few moments no one spoke or moved. Pen looked at him with astonishment.

  “It is not fine with me”she said.

  “He thought better of it,” Adrian said. “He insists, however, that he will not move his carriage until he speaks with his wife.”

  His wife.That alone had Julian almost reaching for the pistol. “She does not have to speak to him. He can stand there until hell swallows him but he will notrequire anything of her that she does not want.”

  The men donned expressions of careful blandness in reaction to his vehemence.

  Penelope kept looking down the road at Glasbury.

  “I will speak with him,” she said.

  “He cannot demand it. You should—”

  “I will speak with him, Julian. Mr. Burchard, will you escort me, please. Tell him that we will talk over there, in that little field, away from his coach and footmen.”

  Adrian offered his arm. Pen took it and walked down the road. St. John came forward to meet them halfway.

  That left Julian alone with Dante and Vergil. They all watched Pen’s progress toward Glasbury, and Glasbury’s building agitation.

  “He is understandably angry,” Laclere said. “The whole town awaits the arrival of the two lovers. I assume this notoriety was planned.”

  “Yes, it was planned. It is good to know we succeeded.”

  “You definitely did that. This was published yesterday, and has sold quite well.” Laclere pulled a document out of his coat, fanned it open, and handed it over.

  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 mypaying 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 thatprice 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 myidea. 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

  They 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 y
our 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 notwant 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.”