Page 26 of The Lady is Trouble
“You came out in this storm. You must have something on your mind.” Lamplight passed through the crystal as Julian turned the tumbler, sending amber facets over his trouser leg and across the desk.
Finn extracted a sheet of folded foolscap from his coat pocket. Sliding forward in his chair, he ironed the list over the desk’s surface with a broad palm. “We came up with three names for those who visited Madame DuPre on both nights the hotel caught fire.” Finn shook his head, a frown pleating the skin between his brows. “Piper swears neither originated in the parlor she used. It helped when she finally mentioned the earlier blaze, minor as it was.”
Yes, it had.Julian rotated the list with a quick turn of his finger. A vision of Finn composing it streaked through his mind. “Why would the Duke of Ashcroft visit Madame DuPre? From the little I know of him, he doesn’t strike me as a willing participant to this absurdity. Perhaps his current mistress is intoxicated with the occult, as many in the ton are.” Julian settled back in his chair. “What did he ask her? Did she record his aura?”
“You’ll have to actually talk to her to find out,” Finn suggested, freeing his opinion and his body as it slid into an elegant sprawl.
Julian took a reflective sip, alcohol cutting a path through his resistance. Too much discussion with Piper and he’d be throwing paint on canvas, helping her catalogue auras. Then she’d knoweverythingabout him, and he’d be wholly and hopelessly destroyed.
“There’s a benefit to having a woman around who can manage our rather pathetic group of servants, Jule. For one, the house smells better, like lemons.”
Julian had noticed the changes. An unfamiliar but tantalizing scent clinging to his sheets; vases of flowers in every room; knickknacks he imagined had been packed away sitting atop once lonely mantles. It unnerved him that Harbingdon was more comfortable with her there, the close of a gap he hadn’t identified as essential.
“Dinners have been on time. I think there’s even a new rug in the hall.” Reaching for his glass, Finn studied it as if his attentiveness would produce more brandy.
“I’ve given her the gardens. And a horse,” he said and slammed the window at his back shut. The storm was pushing moisture into the room, which was not good for his artwork. Julian had recorded Piper’s journey past the lodge this morning, Murphy at her side, her rolling movement atop the bay snagging him like a hook beneath his skin. While he imagined, vividly, her astridehim. Releasing an exasperated huff, he bent the edge of Marianne’s letter in an inelegant fold, where against his will, it still peeked from beneath a battered ledger. “And my dog,” he added, laughing at his puerile reaction to Henry, who, after quiet consideration, decided he was fascinated and clung to Piper like a shadow.
Like master, like dog, he supposed.
Turning his glass in a circle on the desk, Julian studied Finn. “Let me guess what happened the other day on the footpath.”
Finn dropped his head before Julian read the confidences hidden in deep, vibrant blue.
Julian’s temper sparked. There would be no secrets between them until Finn came into his own, and Julian lost all control. “Is the compulsion to take her gift and keep it for yourself what you’re hiding?”
Finn’s cheeks bleached like the lodge’s brick.
“For one glorious moment, her touch soothed, then you had to fight to release her, thinking only of deliverance.” Julian slipped his spectacles off and flipped them to the desk, rubbing his eyes until stars shot behind his lids. “Am I correct or close to it?”
“Imagine…” Finn swallowed, his throat pulling in a long draw. His fingers drummed an anxious rhythm on the desk. “Imagine someone who cares naught for her being caught in that tempest. I told you about the dream, how that woman killed me without thought. Without hesitation or guilt. And I let her in, somehow, drew her closer to Piper. I’m so sorry—”
“Stop torturing yourself. We’d know nothing about this threat without your knowledge, Finn.” Julian poured himself another drink, and at the pleading look, splashed a modest dram in Finn’s as well. “We’ll protect her until she marries.” He lifted his glass high and gazed through the faceted liquid, the fractured picture perfectly fitting his tempestuous mood. Imagining another man’s hands on Piper made him want to put his fist through the wall. “If she’ll agree to entertain the suggestion, which she never would before.”
“What do you mean?”
Julian laughed when the situation had been an utter disaster. “You were too young to remember. Her grandfather sent her to London three seasons after her father’s death. He sought to gain interest from a family unconnected to the League.” A union with anyonebutJulian, as the attraction between them had become noticeable. Innocent, but noticeable. “She hadn’t learned to manage the auras in a country drawing room, much less a ballroom of crows wanting to ogle the earl’s uncivilized, half-American granddaughter.”
“And?”
“She stretched the boundaries of polite society until they snapped.”
Finn slid low, knees bumping the desk. “She had admirers?”
“At first, flowers arrived daily at the earl’s home in Berkley Square. Calling cards from the best families. Invitations to every event of the season.” He set his glass aside, the brandy making him maudlin. It was just after their kiss that she’d gone to London, agreed to it after a vicious argument where he’d tried to tell her both how he felt and why he could not allow himself to feel it. The earl, with vicious threats and compelling reasoning, had madehisposition clear. “A dowry was believed to be in existence. Maybe it was, in the earl’s mind, because it was certainly not on paper. I’ve always wondered if he realized the depth of his financial woes.”
“And now? If she were to agree to entertain the suggestion?”
“Easy to create a modest inheritance where none existed. I created one for you as well, from the devoted, albeit reckless, deceased Viscount Beauchamp. We’re blessed the old man acknowledged you, or everyone thinks he did, as it will pave your way in life.” Julian removed a tiny paintbrush from a gash in the desk and rolled it between his palms. He ran his thumb across the angled tip, dots of azure spotting the ferrule. The perfect tool for creating thin, crisp lines. Control on canvas, if not in life. “Enlist the assistance of a morally-flexible solicitor, falsify a few documents, and there you are. I used Pearson. Remember him? Best goddamn forger in England.” He swept the ox hair bristles across his skin and wondered at his sudden hitch of despair. It was substantial, although he couldn’t readily locate its source. “I recently floated rumors as I did with you, which caught fire and spread through the ton. Her situation is not as dire as assumed; the earl prepared well, and so on. Although I can’t do anything about the regrettable circumstances of her birth or her unmanageable temperament.”
His gaze met Finn’s. The boy’s regard was a deep blue sea, scorching him where he stood. “Quit reading me.”
“I can read your expression, Jule.” He shrugged, polishing off his brandy in a neat move that made Julian question how often he’d practiced it. “No need to delve into your mind.”
“Hell.” Tossing the paintbrush atop the desk, he bounded from his chair. The wind was creating havoc outside, sending branches tumbling across the lawn. The same turbulence was churning through his body. “No matter what you and Piper think, I’m making this up as I go along.” He rubbed his temple, a headache beginning to pulse. His image, partially reflected in the windowpane, looked drained, wrung out. “I don’t have all the answers. I only pretend I do. My conviction seems to make everyone feel better.”
“Jule…” Finn’s boot hit the floor, leather squeaking as he shifted. “Piper said something the other day. About being close to ‘getting what she wanted’ before her grandfather died. Any idea what she meant?”
A lightning strike lit the room, thunder rolling in just after. The storm was on top of them. Julian watched the chaos unfurl, marveling at Finn’s naivete. Thank God for it, however short its life. He had protected the boy like the most diligent of parents for just this sort of innocence.