The Romantic

by Madeline Hunter

  “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.”

  “She had no lovers in Naples. Flirtations, but no affairs.”

  “That will not matter now, will it? And you, well, you are being painted as her dupe, a man who led a life without incident only to now be seduced to madness by the scarlet woman.”

  “I am insulted.”

  “Serves you right for being so inscrutable and discreet over the years.”

  “I can arrange to let past liaisons be known, I suppose. I could probably find at least one woman who will testify that I am perfectly capable of seduction.”

  Laclere laughed, and they continued their slow stroll. “Since Bianca all but announced that you are free to continue the drama while Pen resides here, I have nothing to say to that. Except, of course, to ask that you be discreet where the children are concerned.”

  They walked some more. Julian knew Laclere very well, and could tell that he struggled with something and debated how to broach it.

  “You do realize, of course, that divorce is not the earl’s only option. No one knows how good he is with a pistol. Inquiries have been made on that, to no avail.”

  “If he calls me out, we will find out.”

  “The notion does not appear to bother you at all.”

  Julian listened to the pleasant crunching their boots made on the fallen leaves.

  The pair beside his suddenly stopped. Laclere s gaze pierced into him. “You all but invited it back there on the road. It is what you expect, isn’t it?”

  “From a man like Glasbury, yes.”

  “Does Pen realize that you see this being resolved by a duel?”

  “No.”

  “And if you lose?”

  “Then you will have to use that sword to bar the door, as your wife described. I trust you can do so. However, I do not expect to lose.”

  “I cannot countenance this, Julian.”

  “If it happens, believe me when I say that Glasbury has done things in his life that would get another man hung. And also believe me when I say that only his death will truly protect her. You may not countenance it, Vergil, but I will welcome it.”

  “To punish him, or to free her?”

  There it was, the question that had been shadowing this whole conversation. “Are you asking me if my intentions are honorable?”

  “Damn it, I suppose that I am.”

  “Regarding my motives in a duel, or those with your sister?”

  “Hell, Julian—”

  “Should the opportunity arise, because of divorce or otherwise, I would of course do the right thing in light of my role in the scandal that has engulfed her. However, I think that it is unlikely that she will remarry if she is free. The state of matrimony has not served her well, has it?”

  Laclere sighed deeply. The little furrows between his eyebrows deepened. “No, it has not.” He aimed back to the house. “Let us join the ladies. I think they have had enough time for Bianca to get all the particulars, as Sophia put it.”

  “You don’t suppose that by particulars, she meant ladies are asking whether I am a good lover, do you?”

  Laclere actually blushed. “God only knows.”

  Where the hell were Jones and Henley?

  Glasbury smacked his stack of mail against the table-top in frustration. No letter bearing the tiny square letters that Jones used was among them.

  Even if Penelope had given them the slip, they should have written by now. And if the whole of Britain knew which roads she took and which inns she visited, how could Jones not have known?

  The lowlife had probably taken the pay and disappeared.

  His valet held up his frock coat, and he slipped it on.

  “Will you be needing me when you return, sir?”

  “No. Caesar will see to things tonight.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Glasbury glanced sharply at his valet’s reflection in the mirror. There had been a note … a flicker … Did this man dare to imply disapproval? There had been a time when such audacity would have meant …

  He suppressed his rancor. The valet’s face displayed nothing at all, let alone disapproval. He was letting the meeting with Penelope anger him more than it should.

  He completed his dressing for the dinner party. He hoped the other guests were more agreeable than those at the one he had attended early last week. That Perez had been present at that one, along with his lowborn wife.

  The woman had been so bold as to ask him his thoughts about the new law on slavery. Her mixed blood was obvious, and her presence in good society an abomination. She clearly did not understand that she was merely an exotic curiosity of the moment and that nothing had really changed. Her pointed query had implied she was stupid enough to think that the whole country approved of the outrageous infringement on rights that the recent law represented.

  He had seen the smirks and glances directed at him when she raised the subject. They did not embarrass him at all. However, he had put her in her place anyway. He had privately let her know that he suspected she was not Perez’s wife, but his whore.

  That had made her retreat. He had not missed the delicious fear of exposure in her eyes when she looked at him then. He had been unable to resist pressing his advantage once he saw that expression.

  He went down to his coach. It was early for the party, but he had other matters to attend to first tonight. Jones and Henley had disappeared, but their work was not completed.

  He directed his coachman to take him to the rookery near Newgate. He needed the service of the kind of men who
loitered there.

  The next night, Pen flaunted her affair in front of the world. She attended the Adelphi Theatre in the company of Sophia and Adrian Burchard, and sat in Everdon’s very visible box, where she could not be missed.

  Julian joined them, carrying his hat and a walking stick with an ivory handle. He appeared very handsome and dashing.

  As he moved to take his seat beside her, he bowed and kissed her briefly on the cheek. It was no more than something an old friend might do in greeting, but under the circumstances it gave the gossips grist for their mill.

  It was not Julian the lover who sat beside her, however. The theater saw the Mr. Hampton they knew, cool in his silence and mysterious in his reserve. The only difference was that he did not leave her side. They greeted the world as two halves of a whole, and no one missed the implications.

  “You are very subdued tonight,” she said.

  “If I act drunk with passion, it will only convince them I have gone mad.”

  So, he had heard how the gossip was describing the affair.

  “They are getting an eyeful in any case,” he added. “That is the goal, is it not?”

  That was certainly true. From her spot at the front of the box she could not miss the looks in her direction, nor the comments conveyed behind open fans.

  His tone in pointing that out had been less than pleasant. She sensed a storm brewing in him.

  “It could be worse,” she said to mollify him. “I expected to get the direct cut, and no one has done that. There has been some coolness, but nothing truly insulting.”

  “We are still a novelty. Curiosity is more compelling than righteousness. In your case, I expect the cuts will wait until you are divorced.”

  “And in your case? It has happened already, hasn’t it?”

  “It was nothing of significance.”

  Maybe not, but it had happened. That probably explained his mood. And it would occur again and again. Her heart twisted, that he should be facing that scorn before she did. It really was not fair.

  Friends came to visit with Sophia and to welcome Pen home. None of them said a word about the scandal. The words and expression directed at Pen and Julian were carefully chosen. The curiosity shone through, however, and on occasion a touch of the righteousness. Within the first hour, Pen identified two women from her circle who would most likely never call on her again.

  Not only old friends stopped by. New ones did, too. When the box was crowded already, Señor Perez, an emissary from Venezuela, arrived with his exotic wife on his arm.

  In the low light of the theater, all Pen noticed about Señora Perez’s face were her dark, fiery eyes and wide, sensual mouth. The rest of the package was more visible. Her deep scarlet gown was very fashionable in its cut, and very revealing in its décolleté.

  There was nothing really improper in her attire, and nothing truly bold in her vivacious manner. However, her arrival immediately made all the other woman look like virginal schoolgirls. Pen suddenly felt awkward and pale and bland.

  Several men in the box subtly shifted until they were closer to this exotic flower. It seemed they had no control over their movements, much as iron is drawn to a magnet. Soon she was the center of their attention, even if they spoke with someone else.

  It turned out she knew Julian. When he did not join her admirers, she cast him a smoldering glance that he acknowledged with a slight dip of his head. A smile of amusement broke on her face and she walked toward them.

  Pen barely resisted the impulse to throw herself between Julian and this seductress.

  Señora Perez accepted the introduction to Pen with a long gaze of assessment. She did not appear very impressed by what she saw. Then she turned her magnetism on Julian.

  “What a pleasure to have you back among us, Mr. Hampton. Your absence made life much duller.”

  “I doubt my absence was even noticed.”

  “It certainly was. I missed your quiet, deep waters. Within days, I felt completely parched.” Her throaty voice made the metaphor heavy with innuendo.

  Pen felt her smile thinning. She took some satisfaction in the firm line that had formed on Señor Perez’s mouth, too. The husband had noticed his wife’s conversation.

  Señora Perez’s attention followed Pen’s gaze, and she saw her husband’s glare. She turned back to Julian with a velvety laugh. “It appears that suddenly you are considered dangerous, Mr. Hampton. What a shock for the men to discover what the women have always known.”

  “Perhaps you should reassure him that I present no danger at all to him,” Julian said.

  “I do not think that a wife’s assurance will console any husband where you are concerned now. Nor am I in the habit of lying to Raoul. Besides, a little jealousy is good for a man.”

  With that quiet, blatant invitation, she retreated and insinuated herself into a nearby group.

  “What a bold woman,” Pen said.

  “She was only vexed that one bee did not buzz over.”

  Pen was grateful that her bee had not, but his expression during the exchange had not been entirely indifferent. He may not have rushed to attend on Señora Perez, but she thought he had done some buzzing in the past all the same.

  Her jealousy was unwarranted. She had no right to it, either. Admitting that did not quell the urge to smack that woman’s face.

  “I suppose I should expect such things to happen in the future.” She fought a petulance that tightened her voice. “Every unhappy wife will now consider you a potential paramour.”

  “We knew my reputation would be affected.”

  “It appears there will be compensations.”

  He had not appeared at all dismayed by the recent overture. She suspected that the first notes had been played some time ago, and Señora Perez was only continuing a flirtation begun in the past.

  “Will there be others, Julian?”

  “Others?”

  “Other woman casting their lures into the quiet, deep lake? Women not at all discouraged by our affair of convenience.” Women who have been your lovers and will try to get you back?

  “Recently there was Mrs. Morrison, but since she was fishing for a respectable husband I expect she will pull in her line and cast elsewhere.”

  Good heavens, he was actually telling her the name of his last lover. She now had a name to go with the vague feminine scent in that cottage chamber, and would soon have a face.

  “You appear vexed, Pen.”

  “Señora Perez surprised me, that is all.”

  “I expect we will both find ourselves treated differently now, with more boldness.”

  “I expected to be treated differently, Julian. I knew I would be cut and insulted. I expected insinuations about my morals. I anticipated all of that, and I am prepared. I just had not expected women to openly challenge me over you.I think you should have discouraged her more directly.”

  He took her arm and eased her toward Sophia. “I was very direct with her. A woman like that hears what is said even if words are not used. Now, smile, Pen, or the world will think we are having our first row.”

  chapter 20

  In the crush outside after the performance, Pen entered Julian’s carriage and not Everdon’s. Although she pretended to be quick and subtle, she made sure that at least some ladies noticed.

  The arrival of that carriage at Laclere’s house, and the departure of it without its owner shortly thereafter, no doubt would also be noted.

  Laclere and Bianca had retired early, making it easy for Julian to accompany Pen up to her chamber. The footman who admitted them had not left the reception hall when they began walking up the grand staircase. The maid who waited to attend on Pen accepted her immediate dismissal without blinking an eye.

  “I expect that Glasbury will get a lot of mail in the morning,” Pen said as she removed her plumes.

  Julian set down his walking stick. He strolled around the room, examining the appointments. He checked the bindings on the two books on the table, a
nd ran his fingers along the carved edge of the upholstered chair. His gaze swept over the mahogany bed and its white curtains and coverlet.

  “I am sure that he will get many letters, Pen. The affair of convenience has done its job. The indiscretions of tonight will verify all gossip and suspicions.”

  Something in his tone made her pause with her headdress in her hands.

  “The world will make the assumptions we require, no matter what actually happens between us now.”

  “What are you saying, Julian?”

  “I am saying that accompanying you to this chamber was enough. The plan does not require anything else.”

  He did not speak unkindly, but the cool distance he had shown all night had intensified. His manner raised a dreadful apprehension in her. Her soul sensed something terrible was about to happen.

  “Of course, I would not want you to think you are obligated to play this role longer than necessary, Julian.”

  “I am not speaking of my sense of obligation, but yours.”

  “Is that what you think we have been sharing? I assure you, I am not nearly as obligingas you seem to think.”

  “You misunderstand me.”

  “Then explain, please. You are clearly displeased with something. Was it my little pique over Señora Perez? I am not accustomed to having such gauntlets thrown. I will be more sophisticated in the future.”

  “It has nothing to do with that woman, I assure you.”

  “Then what is the reason for your mood?”

  He did not reply at once. She sensed him framing his thoughts into words. “I sat in the theater, watching the drama on stage, and I realized we played another in the box. I do not mind that, I promise you. However, once this door closed behind us, the curtain fell. The audience has been satisfied, and our actual affair means we need not lie to a judge. There is no reason for this affair of convenience to actually continue.”

  “This did not start as an affair of convenience, Julian.”

  “No, it started as two friends killing the dragon for a night. Glasbury has never been far from any of it, has he?”

  Sorrow churned her stomach. Her heart beat painfully, swollen by the sickening heaviness caused by the anticipation of loss.