Lord of Sin

by Boyd, Heather

“How?” Julian stared at Windermere. “Wait. Who owns that thing?”

  But he knew, even before Windermere confirmed it, that Montrose had immortalized himself in wood.

  He felt ill. He’d touched that thing. Portia had…would.

  “Come now. Do not pretend you don’t like the idea of embarrassing the man.” Windermere grinned. “It is remarkable that she would give this up so easily. I take it she has no idea?”

  “None.” What had he done? “Portia’d had no idea it was even there. She’ll never forgive me. I didn’t know who owned it, or I would not have asked.”

  “It’s better this way.” Windermere wrapped the piece again and tucked it away in the desk drawer.

  “Give it back,” Julian demanded as he darted round the table to retrieve it. He did not care to think of the trouble this would cause Portia. Montrose might lash out at her.

  Windermere pushed him back, but not before Julian discovered the drawer was already locked.

  “Please.”

  Windermere studied him, and then dug in his pocket. “Your fee for services rendered.”

  Julian stared at the money held out to him then slapped it away. “If he flies into a temper and hurts her, I’ll hold you accountable.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Julian heard Lady Windermere clearly but he didn’t acknowledge her. “Give it back to me.”

  “No.”

  Lady Windermere rushed to her husband’s side and grabbed his arm. “Richard, what is going on? Why is Wade so angry?”

  Julian looked at the woman he’d called friend for a number of years. She was a good person, if a little calculating at times. Surely Lady Windermere liked Portia too much to put her in any jeopardy? But she might need an incentive to see things his way. Julian had the perfect lure up his sleeve, too.

  “I gave your husband an item that will embarrass someone dear to me. I did not know it would at the time, and I need it returned. Now.”

  “It’s about Montrose,” Windermere murmured. “I told you my plans for him.”

  “Yes,” Lady Windermere murmured back, frowning. “And I also told you I disapproved. What has that to do with Wade?”

  “Portia Hayes is involved now, though she does not know it. But your husband certainly did.” Julian turned to the countess. He liked her—but he would not allow Portia to be embarrassed for the sake of a wealthy man’s amusement. “How old were you when you posed for Monsieur Pliat?”

  The countess blinked. “Pliat? I haven’t heard his name in years.”

  “No doubt a lot of people will hear the name again soon.” He smiled grimly. “It’s a very pretty portrait of you. Easily recognizable.”

  The countess paled. “What do you want for it?”

  “Make him stop.” Julian shook his head. “Once I have the object back, you’ll have your painting.”

  The countess turned to her husband and started whispering quickly. Julian waited patiently. It did not take long before Windermere turned for the window, his arms crossed over his chest. There was a click…and he looked up in time to see the countess opening the drawer and removing Montrose’s property.

  She handed it to him, without unwrapping. “You must love her very much.”

  Julian nodded. He strode to the nearby hearth and tossed the phallus directly into the flames. It began to smoke almost immediately as it was consumed. He stood silently until it had burned enough not to be recognizable, should Windermere try to fish it out again.

  Assured that the earl could not use it against Montrose, he strode to the door.

  Windermere was waiting. “Have no doubt, I will remember this day in the future,” he warned.

  Julian nodded. “Just stay away from her, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

  “Wade,” Lady Windermere called. “You will return my portrait, won’t you? In person.”

  He nodded quickly. “In person and without showing anyone, I swear. I’ve no desire to embarrass you.”

  “Thank you,” she said, as she moved to her husband’s side and removed him from the doorway by force.

  Julian walked out, but the encounter left a sour taste in his mouth.

  He headed out to the street and hailed a hack immediately, sitting on the edge of his seat until he saw the Hayes family dwelling ahead. He rushed up the stairs of her home and asked to see Portia, if it was convenient.

  The Miss Hayes’ were in the morning room with their mother and welcomed him with a happy smile. He felt his stomach twist with shame over his near miss. The ladies were surrounded by fabrics and ribbons, a familiar sight to him on his visits, and this was how he always hoped to see them. Happy together.

  However, it was imperative he speak to Portia privately. When he’d decided to come here, he’d not realized getting Portia alone might be difficult. He bowed to them. “Ladies.”

  “My lord, how good that you have come to visit us,” Mrs. Hayes exclaimed, curtsying, before exchanging a long glance toward Portia. “Isn’t it, Portia?”

  “Indeed.” Portia frowned a little. “But we were just about to go out.”

  “Perhaps you would care to escort us for a stroll, Lord Wade,” the mother asked.

  Julian considered the request carefully. It might just be the only way to steal a few minutes. He had accompanied the Hayes family on their outings before but not since the engagement was announced. “I’d be happy to join you.”

  Portia flashed him a wary smile, and he wondered if she hadn’t wanted him to come. Yet out on the street, Portia claimed a place at his side very quickly.

  The sister and mother walked ahead a few paces. He began with pleasantries. “I trust your day has been pleasant, Miss Hayes.”

  “Yes, indeed it has been.”

  “It looked like you were in the midst of planning an amusement.”

  “Yes. Something for Lavinia. Mother wants to make use of my wedding to show my sister off.” Portia suddenly took his arm. “I must warn you, mother might rope you into her plans to launch Lavinia too.”

  Julian nodded. “I’m not worried, and I have done similar before without being asked. For you.”

  “This is different,” Portia warned.

  He liked that she was concerned for him, but there was no reason for it. He could look after himself. His affection for Portia extended to her family, including the little sister more spoiled than Portia was. He sighed. “It will be a little different. I will help with invitations as much as I can, but if the hostess does not care to invite a connection of Montrose’s, I will be able do nothing about that.” He looked around and calculated the chance of Portia’s mother hearing his words. “I have to tell you something, and you are not going to like it very much.”

  “Go ahead,” she whispered.

  “That item you allowed me to take.” She nodded quickly. “I know who the owner is, and I want you to know that once I found out, I burned it.”

  “Why? What about the wager?”

  “Under the circumstances, it was not right, because it might involve you in unpleasantness. It is very important that you say nothing about the item or that I took it from the house with your permission. Promise you will never tell anyone, least of all Montrose.”

  “Very well,” Portia agreed. “I promise.”

  “Thank you.” He winced then. “However, in denying the wager a successful conclusion, I had to pledge to return that painting you found in your uncle’s home.”

  “The naked lady,” Portia whispered. “You did know her?”

  “I recognized a similarity and some conversation confirmed it. The subject desires its return, and I have promised her my discretion in doing so.”

  Portia nodded. “If you think we should, then yes, by all means make good on your promise.”

  Julian noticed Portia was still on his arm. He liked the feeling too much to remind her to let him go. “Before I discovered whom the first item belonged to, it was mentioned that many a gentleman hoped to visit your late uncle’s h
ouse.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “At a guess, I think your uncle Oliver may have made other bargains, or he was holding items for other people. His sudden death may have inconvenienced important people. Your father refused to help them, but you could win favor by doing so. But I want you to think carefully before you agree. You must be sure anything returned is not used to cause anyone embarrassment.”

  “The house is to be emptied before it’s leased. There’s little I can do to halt my father’s plans, not when Lord Montrose supports them.”

  “Then we’ve no time to waste.”

  Portia grinned. “I’ll be at the house the day after tomorrow, in the morning. We can explore the contents again together.”

  He shook his head. “I need that portrait sooner than that. Today, if possible.”

  “Very well,” she agreed. “I trust you will let me know when it’s returned to her, though.”

  “Of course.”

  Portia stopped. “What about the other items? The people you said may have been turned away before. How do we find them?”

  “I’ll drop by the club and check the betting book again, and start discreetly spreading the word about potential recovery of any lost property. Otherwise, they’ll have to be disappointed.”

  She shook her head. “That’s a shame.”

  “There’s nothing more we can do.”

  Portia sighed and held his arm a little tighter. “You are a good friend.”

  Julian covered her hand with his. After Portia was married to Montrose, she’d be just another conquest for the man. She deserved to be so much more than that. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Promise me you will never let on to Montrose that we met at your uncle’s house. Not even when you were hiding from Lady Scott.”

  “I wasn’t planning to, but why shouldn’t I?”

  Julian sighed, imagining how upset she might be to learn her future husband had owned that phallus and kept score of his women. Thank God it was ashes by now. “Just trust me on this. He will not be pleased to know we were meeting.”

  At least there was still time left where they might talk to each other. After she married, he would never be able to call on her again. He might not even see her for a very long time too. The thought was almost unbearable.

  “Are you attending the King dinner tomorrow night?” she asked suddenly.

  “Indeed I am.”

  “We did not receive an invitation,” Portia said in a rushed whisper. “Mother is miserable about the snub. She keeps hoping for a late invite anyway, and has taken to haunting the front hallway in the hope of being happily surprised.”

  Julian extracted himself from her grip. It had begun, the subtle decline in Portia’s popularity because of her pending marriage to Montrose. He was helpless to stop it. Mrs. King was a great friend of his aunt’s, and his aunt was not happy that Portia was marrying Montrose. Clearly some of that had rubbed off. He might be able to appeal to Mrs. King for a last-minute change of heart.

  But did he really want to vouch for Portia when she would become a Montrose soon? He could end up having to eat his dinner across the table from a man he despised. He did not think he could stomach seeing more of Montrose’s self-satisfied countenance.

  They walked on a few yards more, side by side and silent, before Mrs. Hayes announced she was too tired to continue.

  Julian offered his arm to the older lady. However, Mrs. Hayes tried to have him walk beside Lavinia instead. She claimed to have stubbed her toe and assured him that Portia’s help was all she required.

  That left Julian no choice but to walk beside Lavinia for almost a mile. He liked the girl because she was Portia’s little sister, but that was as far as it went. Lavinia was young and enthusiastic and very spoiled. She peppered him with harmless questions about members of the ton, the events he attended, and Julian answered most when he could. When it came to anything at all to do with his opinion of Portia, or dragging him into an attempt to tease her, he clamped his lips shut.

  At the bottom of the stairs to the Hayes family residence, Julian waited patiently to one side of the path as the ladies bid him goodbye to return inside. Mrs. Hayes grabbed her younger daughter by the hand and drew her away. He didn’t look to Portia at first but when he finally did, she was watching him.

  “Goodbye, Miss Hayes,” he murmured, wishing he could stay by her side and never leave.

  She stretched out her hand to take his and shook it. “Good afternoon, Lord Wade. Thank you again for your company today, and happy hunting later.”

  He smiled quickly when released then hurried off to Uncle Oliver’s house for the painting he must return to Lady Windermere, to make good on their bargain. However, he thought perhaps it might be prudent to wait a few days before he saw either of the Windermeres again, so tempers could cool.

  Chapter 12

  An empty drawing room was a disquieting thing during the early hours, when callers were expected but never appeared. Portia exchanged a worried glance with her mother. The swift retreat of tonnish gentlemen from her company seemed to directly relate to how widely the news of her betrothal had spread. Portia had always enjoyed a vigorous morning exchanging quips and a good gossip with the gentlemen she’d danced with the previous night. Not so anymore. She’d been utterly abandoned in favor of other available ladies, she suspected.

  Mother had so hoped that Portia’s engagement to the Duke of Montrose would make her more popular than she’d already been, bringing new faces to meet her sister.

  “More tea?” Portia offered her mother.

  “No,” Mother said as she stood quickly and crossed the room to where Lavinia sat at the pianoforte, fingers resting on the keys in preparation for a knock at the door or a sign of someone coming to call. It was a shame. Portia’s sister looked utterly perfect today, her hair dressed to make her appear very elegant. Her gown was new, too, the latest fashion from France, and without a crease or blemish. “Lavinia dear, perhaps you should return upstairs. I’ll call if anyone should come.”

  “Yes, Mother,” the girl murmured meekly enough, but her eyes flashed with disappointment when she caught Portia’s gaze.

  Once Lavinia was gone, Mother turned on her. “What have you done to spoil your sister’s chances of making a match?”

  “I?” Portia reeled back. “Nothing!”

  “Then explain why my drawing room is empty today,” Mother demanded.

  “I cannot imagine,” Portia said as she put her needlework aside, calm and sure she’d done no wrong.

  “This is intolerable!”

  “Mother, please calm yourself.”

  “How can I do that?” Mother began to pace. “We had it all worked out, and now, something you’ve done or said has dissuaded gentlemen from calling upon us.”

  “Mother, you are being unfair. Gentlemen call upon the ladies they dance with, and it’s only natural that, since you have reduced my outings following the engagement announcement, there must be a decline in gentlemen calling for that reason, too.”

  Mother digested that, and then grimaced. “I guess we will have to go out more often. Come, get your bonnet.”

  “What? Now?”

  “Indeed now. Who do we know that we might have neglected?”

  “I’m sure we have neglected none of our closest acquaintances.”

  “Then that must be the problem. We have not made enough new friends.” Mother bit her lip. “I know. Lord Sullivan? Did he bring one of his sisters to Town?”

  “Not that I’ve heard mentioned.” She really knew little of him besides his connection to Lord Wade. She had not seen that man for a few days now, and she found herself unable to stop thinking about him…and how he’d never tried to steal a kiss from her until she was engaged to marry another.

  Mother rushed for a side table and opened the deepest drawer. Inside that drawer was their edition of the Peerage. Mother must be serious if she needed to consult that old thing again. She combed through the pages, squintin
g at the text. “Oh, if only Lord Wade were here today instead of the day before yesterday. He would tell us what we need to know.”

  Portia moved to her mother’s side and took the book, missing Wade for an entirely different reason. Mother’s eyes were giving her problems of late, and any small text tended to make her cranky if forced to read. Portia was more than happy to lend a hand while she still lived here. “He does seem to know everyone.”

  “And their secrets, too. A valuable acquaintance indeed.”

  Wade had been a font of knowledge for all of them, really, but he had saved Mother from social disaster time and again when they’d been drawing up their very first guest lists. “Here it is.” Portia quickly read the entry. “Lord Sullivan has three sisters, Amelia, Caroline, and Lydia. I’ve heard nothing of them so far. His marriage is not shown in our copy, but I know his wife died last year sometime. He’s only just out of mourning. Her name was Clare.”

  Mother snatched the book up, shutting it and dropping it into the open drawer. She kicked it closed with her foot for good measure, proving her mood severe indeed. “We will purchase a new edition as soon as can be.”

  Mother’s answer to any obstacle was to buy a replacement. “We should invite Lord Sullivan to dinner tonight. And Lord Wade, too, and his aunt.”

  “Lord Wade is engaged elsewhere tonight,” she told her mother quietly. “He’s to attend Mrs. King’s party.”

  Portia winced as mother shrieked in a very unladylike fashion.

  There had never been an invitation for them to attend the King dinner, although they had every reason to expect one. Mother collapsed into a chair with another wail of despair. “I cannot believe Mrs. King simply forgot us.”

  Portia could not understand it, either, except that it could have something to do with her betrothal. Montrose had been very evasive about his connections, and because he’d been absent from London the past two days, she’d had no chance to quiz him about his friends still.

  Portia was beginning to wonder if he had any, and if she was to endure an endless round of snubs in her future. If few of her friends liked Lord Montrose, would the feeling be mutual? If so, the dinners she’d hoped to host in the future as a duchess might be very awkward affairs, if they even took place at all. “I’m sure it’s an oversight.”