“Grandfather died before he could change the will, and Papa inherited it all. But he didn’t want it.” A shadow passed over her face. Behind her spectacles, her eyes slowly filled with tears, the green shimmering like a mossy stone beneath a crystal clear stream. “After Mama died, Papa didn’t want anything.”
The tears forcibly reminded Alec why he steered clear of virtuous women. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.
“Thank you.” She tried to wipe her eyes without removing her spectacles and only succeeded in knocking them further askew.
“It’s the rum,” he said, slipping her spectacles from their precarious perch on the tip of her nose. Folding them neatly, he tucked them into his pocket. “Even sailors cry when they’ve had too much.”
She gave him a watery smile and he realized how much her spectacles hid. Perhaps that was how she had remained invisible. When one looked at the Frant Dragon, one saw what one expected—plain clothing, an unremarkable face and figure, and little else. Her disguise effectively removed any further desire to discover the color and shape of her eyes, the smoothness of her skin, the firm chin. Truthfully, she wasn’t a raving beauty like Therese, but there was a quality about her that was attractive…damnably attractive.
As if to belie his thoughts, she blew her nose into his handkerchief. “Papa was never the same after Mama died. He just sat in the dark for hours and hours and barely spoke.”
An unfamiliar stirring of sympathy made Alec say, “Your father must have loved her very much.”
He was instantly rewarded with a tremulous smile. The wide mouth parted to reveal straight white teeth. He brushed her cheek and caught a single tear as it slid down the silken skin. Loosened tendrils of golden-brown hair gleamed in the soft light, framing her gamine face.
Of its own accord, his hand wandered down her cheek and hovered near the generous mouth. Just before he grazed the softness of her lower lip with his thumb, he caught her bemused expression. Her gaze glimmered, so innocent and soulful that he felt as if a noose had tightened around his throat. Though he knew the love he saw reflected there was for her parents and not for him, it was still unnerving to face such naked emotion. He dropped his hand.
Damn it, this was no brass-eyed paphian. Julia Frant was a straitlaced reformer who’d attracted his notice merely because she offered a way to fulfill the vow he had made his grandfather. If he so much as kissed her, an innocent gesture he had performed thousands of times with countless women, he had little doubt she would either swoon or indulge in a fit of hysterics.
As if she had read his thoughts, Julia blushed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to turn into a gudgeon.”
“No need to apologize,” he replied lightly, sliding away from her and standing. “If I’d had as much of that punch as you, I’d be muddled, too. I’ll call Bramble and have him bring coffee.” He went to the door and opened it.
A man stumbled into the room and sprawled headlong onto the floor, a tangle of muddied boots and livery.
Alec stared down with a stern frown. “Johnston! What were you doing with your ear against the keyhole?”
The groom stood and brushed himself off. “What did ye think I was doin’ with my ear agin the keyhole? I was listenin’ to ye gettin’ caught in the parson’s trap like a green ’un.” He glanced at Julia from under lowered brows and shook his head. “It’s a wild thing ye’re about to do, yer lordship. Ye’ll end up hobbernoled and not a whit closer to the money.”
“When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it. Now, go and bring some coffee. We’ve only a little more than an hour left, and I don’t want to begin this marriage with rumors the bride was too tipsy to stand on her own.”
“I hope ye know what ye’re doin’. I’d not bet on this scheme if ye franked me the whole amount.” Johnston gave Alec a last warning glare and shambled out the door.
Alec knew the groom was right. There was no guarantee that this wild scheme would work, but he had run out of options. It was Julia Frant or no one.
“Who was that?” Julia asked, still staring at the door.
“My groom,” Alec said shortly.
She peered at him suspiciously. “He didn’t sound like a groom.”
“Well, he is one, though he doesn’t remember it as often as he should.” He hoped Johnston would hurry with the coffee. He knew how to handle most women, but a slightly dizzy Julia Frant, her mouth folded in a prim line and her eyes still wet with tears, was a totally different matter.
“Are you going to marry me?” she asked.
He detected the slightest quiver of her bottom lip. “If we don’t, Nick will inherit the entire fortune. I cannot allow that to happen.”
For some reason, she appeared disappointed. “I see.”
Alec frowned. “Nick is depraved, Julia. He would do irreparable harm with such a fortune.” He dropped to the bench beside her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I stand to inherit seventy thousand pounds a year, Julia. Just think of it.”
“S-s-s…” She swallowed, looking more sober. “Pardon me. Did you say seventy thousand pounds?”
“It will be ours, Julia, if we make it to the vicarage before midnight.”
A frown marred Julia’s smooth brow. “But…the executors have to agree to the claim, don’t they?”
“If your father was the Earl of Covington for so much as a second, they will have to agree.”
She pinned him with a serious green gaze. “And if they don’t?”
Alec shrugged, unwilling to say more.
She stared at him for a long, searching moment. “I suppose we could get the marriage annulled if it didn’t work out,” she offered.
“Of course,” he agreed smoothly.
Her brows lifted into a perfect arch that would have matched the curve of her spectacles. She looked like an especially virtuous schoolgirl, unsullied by the greed and corruption of the world. An uncomfortable flicker of remorse rose in his chest. She appeared so virtuous, so…drunk.
Alec pushed away the unworthy thoughts. He would honor the pledge he’d made to his grandfather, and to hell with everything else. Besides, it wasn’t as if he were forcing the chit into a life of drudgery. If anything, he was rescuing her. Hell, he would even allow her to use some of the funds for her charity work. In a way, that would almost make him as much of a philanthropist as her. He chuckled aloud at the thought of becoming a reformer. Not bloody likely.
At his laughter, Julia’s color deepened. She stood and faced him, her chin squared in defiance. “This is absurd. It would never work.”
The ticking of the mantel clock swiftly marked the time. There would be no soft seduction. Whether she knew it or not, Julia Frant’s fate was already decided. “You will marry me, love. One way or another.”
She frowned. “One way or another?”
“I could compromise you,” he said softly, staring at her tantalizing mouth. It was amazingly sensual, for all that she tried to press it into a straight, unexceptional line.
“You can’t compromise me.”
“Why not?” he asked, intrigued at her certainty.
“You don’t have time.”
He glanced toward the closed door. Somewhere down the hall came the firm tread of a heavy man. Alec pulled Julia toward him until her prudently buttoned pelisse fit smoothly against his waistcoat.
“What are you doing?” she asked in a breathless voice.
He knew what she wanted: soft words, a public declaration, all the noxious dance and parry that society demanded. It was laughable, really, when one considered how few members of the ton actually wed for love. Most were on the lookout for a title or fortune, and the practiced words and grandiose gestures were but a mockery.
Without warning, Alec sank his hand into Julia’s tousled hair. It gleamed the color of the clover honey his grandfather had so loved, and smelled just as wondrous. Ruthlessly pushing such thoughts aside, he covered her mouth with his.
He expected her to fight, to p
ush him away and then scream. Instead, she moaned and threw herself against him, almost knocking him off his feet. It took a stunned moment to realize she was not going to call for help. She was kissing him back just as wildly, just as passionately, as he could have wished.
Astonished, he almost stopped the kiss right then and there. But she arched against him, her hands pulling him closer and yet closer. A delicious tremor raced to his groin and he felt himself swell and harden. Pure, hot lust slammed into him, causing him to ache with need and desire.
Alec gave himself over to the kiss, running his hands over her back and cupping her intimately against him. Heat melded them together as he captured and recaptured her sensual mouth. God, she was incredible. So hot. So sweet. So very—
The door thrust open. “Here ye are, m’lord,” said Bramble in a cheery voice. “Martha’ll have the goose tarts and a nice side of—” The landlord made a choking noise.
Julia’s eyes flew open and she struggled to free herself, but Alec held her fast, his senses returning as a look of shocked dismay settled on her face.
The landlord’s mouth opened and shut before he stuttered, “P-pardon me, m’lord, I’ll just—” The door thudded closed and Alec released his captive, striving to still his harsh breathing.
With a muffled cry, Julia wrenched herself away. Gone were all traces of the rum punch. She shook with fury, her eyes flashing green fire. Putting a hand to her trembling mouth, she said accusingly, “You planned that.”
Alec shrugged, running a hand across his own mouth, wondering at how quickly he’d responded to her. He’d just about devoured her where she stood, inheritance be damned. There was just a hint of the wild Frant blood hidden beneath her prim exterior and it was, frankly, exciting as hell.
She glowered, her earlier trust gone. “That proved nothing, except that you are a beast.”
He adjusted his cravat with a deft touch, hating the glimmer of hurt in her eyes, hating these circumstances, hating himself. But he owed this to Grandfather, to keep the fortune from falling into Nick’s vile pocket. Alec had almost ruined everything by allowing his pride to get in the way. He couldn’t let this chance to redeem himself escape.
He met Julia’s brittle gaze with a self-derisive laugh. “I’ve never claimed to be a gentleman, love. You know my reputation. You knew it when you agreed to stay alone with me in this room.”
“You are a cad and a reprobate and a bounder,” she said furiously.
He approached the fire, careful to keep a distance between them. “Whatever I am does not change matters. Think, Julia, of what you stand to gain.”
Alec understood greed as he understood all the vices. They had been his closest companions for more years than he could count. “Think of how your life will change for the better.”
“What do you know of my life?” Her voice held a hint of a child’s wail that pierced him as thoroughly as any dagger.
He ignored it. While he didn’t know her exact circumstances, it took no imagination to guess. “Your life is one of unappreciated servitude. Your cousin and aunt expect you to wait on their every whim, to give up what you have left of your youth. They spare no thought of you or your comfort. And for what? An attic room with no fire and a few cast-off gowns?”
“I don’t have an attic room,” she said stiffly, though her hand made a telltale motion toward her worn dress. “Aunt Lydia has been nothing but kind to me since I—”
“Kind? Being asked to sit among the chaperones, as if you were a little countrified nobody? A spinster on the shelf? How old are you, Julia?”
“Seven-and-twenty,” Julia replied reluctantly, wishing he would stop. Her life was no fairy tale, but it was productive and useful. And with her new position in the Society, she could make even more of a difference.
He advanced on her, a heady combination of masculine beauty and bold determination. “You are young yet, Julia. Only think what it could be like. Gowns and jewels. Your own coach. Servants to wait on your every whim.” His voice dropped to a seductive murmur. “Think of all the projects you could fund if you had the money.”
The man had a dangerous knack for finding one’s weaknesses and exploiting them to the fullest. After a stilted moment, she asked, “How much will I get?”
A faint smile curved his mouth. “Ten thousand a year, to do with as you wish.”
“No,” she heard herself answer calmly. “I want half.”
Alec’s smile slipped. “What?”
“You heard me. Half.” And she would spend every last penny on the Society. Her own pain lessened as she thought of all the good she could accomplish with such a sum.
Alec looked stunned. “But we will have a household to maintain, and a—”
“We can do nicely on fifteen thousand a year. More than nicely—lavishly, in fact.”
“That leaves me only twenty thousand pounds!”
“And what do you need with that much?”
His face hardened, the lines about his mouth deepening. “You greedy little witch,” he said softly. “You are not so different from Therese, after all.”
The words flicked across her like live coals, but Julia held her ground. “Therese attempted to trick you from getting the fortune. I am helping you.”
His mouth went white with rage. “Helping me? By taking half? This is ludicrous! I have expenses you know nothing about.”
“I know enough.” She regarded him through her lashes, suddenly struck by the enormous opportunity that dangled within reach. There were more lost souls in the world than those assisted by the Society. Julia had thought for many months now that perhaps, just perhaps, Alec needed rescuing as well. But just like many of the women from the Society, he didn’t realize it.
Julia lifted her chin and prepared to do battle. “According to what you’ve told me of this will, you have to join the strict confines of the ton and live without scandal.” Her heart pounded like a drum against her chest. “For an entire year.”
His stare hardened. “So?”
“So you won’t need money for gambling or any other disreputable activities.”
“What disreputable activities?” he demanded.
“Opera dancers,” she answered succinctly.
He looked as if his cravat had suddenly become too tight. “I cannot believe you listen to such vile gossip.”
“Or actresses,” she continued undaunted, “or mistresses of any kind.”
“Who told you—what—” he sputtered, anger sparkling in his eyes.
“It doesn’t matter. I heard it.”
He leveled a glare that should have singed the edges of her pelisse. “For your information, I happen to be between mistresses at the moment.”
“How convenient. In a year, you may have as many as you please.” It was harder to say that one sentence than she would have thought possible, but somehow she managed to make it sound natural.
“Damn you,” he swore, his eyes a stormy gray, as bottomless as the roiling ocean.
She could see he wanted to argue, but couldn’t. And Julia realized that for once in her life, she was in control. Completely and utterly in control. It was a heady experience.
Still, she mustn’t forget the real reason why she was agreeing to this wild scheme—to help the women of the Society and to save Alec. She would be in the perfect position to show him the error of his wicked ways. He was a man who eschewed honorable endeavors, a rake ruled by his base passions, while she…. Heat flooded her cheeks anew at the sudden memory of her reaction to his kiss.
Perhaps she wasn’t much better. She fervently hoped he blamed her wanton behavior on the rum punch. She certainly intended to.
But the memory served as a forcible reminder that she had to protect herself from his practiced blandishments.
Catching his cold gaze, she forced herself to say in an even tone, “I have one more term for this arrangement: it is to be a marriage of convenience only.”
The viscount stood before her, dark and smoldering, an
gry enough, she was sure, to have happily shot her. “If I come to your bed, it will be at your invitation,” he said icily. “And maybe not even then.”
Hurt suffused her, but she managed to nod. “Of course. Do we have an agreement?”
“I don’t know,” he replied acidly. “Should I forgo whist? Perhaps confine myself only to country dances in case the waltz proves too lively for your tastes?”
“No, I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ve spelled out my conditions.”
“And what about my conditions?”
That gave her pause, but she managed to say in a credibly calm voice, “I can’t imagine you’d have any. I’m not likely to cause a scandal, after all.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” he snapped.
Julia glanced at the clock. “We’d better go, or we’ll be too late. There’s less than an hour left.”
After a glowering moment, he swore and stalked across the room to gather his coat. Fury lent his graceful movements a lethal quality. He opened the door and bowed. “After you, my lady.”
Clasping her shaking hands and wondering what imp of madness had possessed her, Julia marched out the door.
Chapter 3
The sofa was damned uncomfortable. Alec sat up and rubbed his neck, glad to see the sun streaming across the familiar carpet of his own room. Tired beyond belief, he eyed his bed with a ruminative gaze. The sight of Julia asleep, curled on her side with one hand tucked under her cheek, caused his anger to return in full force.
He wondered for the hundredth time what quixotic notion had made him hesitate to sleep in his own bed. The staff hadn’t known to prepare the extra chamber, so his room had been the only one fit to inhabit.
At first, the thought of forcing his wife to sleep in the cold, empty bedchamber had held some measure of charm. But Julia had the benefit of being soundly asleep, not even waking when he’d lifted her from the carriage and carried her into the house. Holding her in his arms, he’d pushed open the door to a guest room and faced the black cold. Then he’d had the misfortune to glance down. Honey-colored hair wisped about her small, white face, her mouth parted in deep slumber. She slept as innocently as a babe, her wide, smooth brow untroubled. Only the deep shadows beneath her eyes belied her tranquil sleep for the exhaustion it plainly was. Without another thought, Alec had gathered her close and turned to his own chamber.