Julia London 4 Book Bundle (59 page)

Her father was not sorry he would miss her tea.

Marshall Whitney believed Claudia’s causes were a pleasant hobby for her, but they were not the sort of thing he would ever give serious consideration. That was because Marshall Whitney did not concern himself with such mundane matters as the plight of poor women and children.

“I’m afraid not, Lady Cheevers,” she said, smiling apologetically. The woman’s mouth puckered slightly; she was about to respond but held her tongue as Randall, the Redbourne butler, appeared. Grateful for the intrusion, Claudia excused herself so that Randall could tell her that tea was served. As everyone was directed to find a seat at one of the dozen tables set up, she moved to the center of the room. Without thinking, she looked around for Julian.

For once his dark eyes were not riveted on her. But they were riveted on Miss Harriet Reed, thank you, sitting next to him at an intimate little table for two near the hearth.

Why that should anger her, Claudia had no earthly idea, but she pivoted away from the sight of Harriet, who seemed to be practically in his lap. It made no difference to her. None whatsoever. Other than it proved her point rather neatly—Julian was a bonafide, arrogant rake. As her guests filled their cups with tea and their plates with sandwiches and pastries, Claudia refused to meet his gaze, preferring instead to study the exact cut of the crystal in the chandeliers as she began to speak.

“I should very much like to thank you all for coming today,” she began. “It’s heartwarming to know I can count on my friends when there is a need. You’ve all had an opportunity to see the drawings of a school posted on the wall?” she asked, pointing to the sketches she had done expressly for this purpose. A murmuring went up among her guests amid the clink of china on china.

There it was again, the feel of his eyes on her
.

“The school doesn’t yet exist, but I hope with perseverance and a bit of luck, it shall be built very soon for the benefit of girls who work in the factories.” Claudia
risked a glance to the back of the room; his hands were on his knees, his eyes now locked on her.

“Pray tell, how did you develop an interest in
factories
?” This from Lady Cheevers, whose only redeeming quality as far as Claudia was concerned was the fact that she was married to Lord Cheevers.

She smiled at the woman. “It’s rather a long story, really, but I had the opportunity to visit some of the factories in London and Lancashire and discovered that working conditions can be quite wretched, particularly for the women and children.”

“I have heard that there are all sorts of untoward things that go on in those factories,” Lady Wilbarger said with a shudder. “I shouldn’t like to go into one of them.” Some of the other women murmured their agreement.

“You would hardly faint away, Eloise,” Ann interjected from the middle of the room. “The untoward things are pitiful wages for women and children, terribly long work days, and inadequate precautions taken to ensure their safety.”

“And the labor can be backbreaking,” Claudia interjected. “Moreover, women are paid roughly one third what men are paid for the very same labor—yet many of them are without husbands. Their children are often forced to work, just so they can put food on their tables.”

“You wouldn’t advocate that an unwed woman make as much as a man, would you?” scoffed Lord Montfort, looking around to the few men in attendance for their agreement.

Oh yes, in a heartbeat she would advocate that
. “I was merely explaining the conditions, my lord,” she said agreeably.

“And what has all this to do with schools?” asked Lady Cheevers. “Seems to me that it’s too late for the factory workers to be schooled. It would hardly be of any use to them now.”

The woman’s lack of compassion was astounding. “Yes, well, for many of the women that is true. But there are many young girls in the factories, Lady Cheevers, and
many of them can’t even read. Without a proper education, those young girls have no hope of escaping the drudgery of factory work.”

“Why would we want them to escape the factories?” Lord Dillbey asked, chuckling politely as if Claudia has just uttered the most witless thing in the world. He looked around the room. “This nation relies on the goods those factories produce, and clearly we must have the bodies to work in them,” he pointed out. Several nodded as Dillbey looked to Julian. “Here now, Kettering, you have a rather sizable interest in manufacturing endeavors. What would you do if you had no labor?”

Everyone looked at Julian, who dragged his gaze from Claudia and bestowed a look of pure boredom on Dillbey. “Of course we need labor in the factories, Dillbey. Yet I do not believe that obviates the need to educate our children.”

“You speak as if they are
your
children, my lord,” Dillbey scoffed, and sipped delicately from his teacup.

“Surely you would agree that one’s occupation should be a matter of personal choice,” Claudia quickly interjected. “But for many young women, the factories are the only viable option. They have few choices in the best of circumstances, but if they are unskilled and uneducated, they have even fewer choices.”

“I don’t agree,” Dillbey said flatly, swinging his gaze back to Claudia and placing his tea on the table in front of him. “Young women don’t
need
choices. Their course is preordained, and it is motherhood. If money is to be raised to build schools, those schools most surely must be built for our boys. There are just as many of them in the factories, and they will have a family to support one day.”

Claudia clasped her hands tightly in her lap in an effort to control her soaring indignation. “That is quite true, but many of the girls will, too—”

“Precisely the problem, madam,” Dillbey interrupted. “It is not a lack of education that keeps those girls in the factories all their lives. It is the lack of morals. Decent
young girls will marry eventually and leave the factories to raise their legitimate children.”

It was all Claudia could do to keep from lunging at the ignorant cretin. “I beg your pardon,” she said softly, “but that seems rather a harsh condemnation.”

The man shrugged indifferently. “It is merely a statement of fact.”

“Be that as it may, would you argue that girls shouldn’t even know how to read?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then it would follow that we must have schools to teach them.”

“We need more schools for boys!” Dillbey insisted. “For every pound you would waste on a girl’s needless education, there are two lads who could use it! If there are schools to be built, I say let them be for the boys! The only education a girl needs is how to be a proper wife and mother!”

The room grew deathly quiet; all eyes turned to Claudia. Her opportunity was slipping away, and she suddenly felt inadequate to debate the common thinking of the
ton
and searched frantically for an argument the old goat would accept.

“I beg to differ.”

Twenty heads swiveled toward the sound of Julian’s calm, even voice. He looked straight at Claudia … and her heart climbed to her throat.

“Of course we need to educate as many of our lads as we can, but we must also educate our girls. If we are to prosper as a nation, our mothers and our wives and our daughters must read and write and instill the value of knowledge and creativity in their children. I would submit that the education of our young, whether male or female, speaks volumes about the values we hold as a nation. And I, for one, do not believe we value ignorance in anyone.”

“Well said!” Ann emphatically agreed.

“I am happy to donate a sum to Lady Claudia for her girls’ school,” Julian said.

“As will I,” Lord Cheevers added, and was followed by two or three other male voices adding their support. Claudia hardly heard them—she was trying desperately to reconcile a gentleman’s noble gesture with a Rake whose gaze burned her every place it touched her. As if he knew it, The Rake smiled in that lazy way of his, one brow arched as if challenging her to explain
that
.

She couldn’t explain it. But she wondered if maybe,
just maybe
, she was wrong about him. Was it possible he had changed?
She
had. It was a thought that suddenly consumed her, and she pondered it for the remainder of the tea, stealing glimpses of him through the throng, feeling a jolt of lightning course along her spine every time he caught her looking at him. And she wondered about it during Miss Reed and Lord Cheevers’ duet at the pianoforte.

She was still wondering about it when Randall quietly informed her that Lord Christian was in the foyer.

Claudia slipped out of the salon in the middle of Lady Cheever’s solo—with a silent thanks to the Lord above for her reprieve from that awful screeching.

“How unfortunate that you couldn’t come a bit earlier,” she greeted Arthur, smiling warmly as she extended her hands to him. “We had quite a lively tea.”

He laughed as he brought her hand to his lips. “Ah, my misfortune! Alas, I had a pressing engagement. I beg your pardon, but I agreed to fetch Kettering after he had indulged his newly found charitable streak. I couldn’t even bring myself to inquire what had brought it about.”

Her thoughts exactly.

“My Lord Christian, as prompt as ever.” Julian sauntered into the foyer, wearing that lazy smile of his.

“Naturally. We wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting, would we?” Arthur asked, and winked slyly at Claudia. “I shouldn’t want to alarm you with the sordid details, but it would seem we’ve some unfinished business to attend.”

The image of Phillip suddenly flashed in her mind’s eye. How many times had she watched him leave some
engagement just like this, only to be seen at some rout much later, well into his cups, his purse empty?
I’ve some business to attend, my dear. I shall call in a day or two, if it pleases you
. A day or two that often turned into a week or more. A chill suddenly snaked down Claudia’s spine.

Chuckling, Julian accepted his hat from the footman. “I won’t deny it—I’m afraid no good will come of us tonight.”

Oh yes, she could certainly believe that, and suddenly felt a bit queasy, as if she had eaten something disagreeable. “Well then,” she said stiffly, refusing to meet his gaze. “Thank you kindly for your donation, my lord.”

“My pleasure, madam.”

“Yes, I rather imagine it was,” Arthur drawled, to which Julian merely chuckled. Arthur turned to Claudia and bowed. “If you will allow me, my lady, I will take this scoundrel off your hands.”

She would allow it, all right. Let Christian take The Rake far from her sight. “Yes, please do,” she said curtly, and turned away, feeling like a colossal fool.

T
HE
“U
NFINISHED
B
USINESS
” Arthur had jokingly referred to was supper at White’s with Adrian Spence. Adrian, the impossibly proud father of an infant girl, was in London for only the day and planned to return to his Longbridge estate the very next morning.

Over a steaming plate of venison stew, the three Rogues caught up on old news and the
ton
’s gossip. Over port, they argued about the exact crime Lord Turlington had committed to warrant Julian’s shoving his head into a chamber pot twenty years ago, finally conceding that none of them could recall it. Well into the early hours of the morning, Adrian finally suggested it was time he returned home, as he planned an early start the next morning. But Julian was the first to rise and take his leave.

As they watched him stroll from the room, Adrian looked at Arthur. “All right, then, who is she?” he asked bluntly.

Arthur snorted. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

That garnered Adrian’s undivided attention. “Indeed? Come on, man, out with it. Which debutante has finally snared the dashing young earl?”

Arthur slid his gaze to Adrian and smiled wolfishly. “Claudia Whitney.”

For a moment of stunned silence the two men stared at each other, then simultaneously burst into raucous
laughter. “Serves the old dog right” was the only remark Adrian could manage as he happily tried to catch his breath.

In a hack that smelled to high heaven, Julian was not laughing. He could not stop thinking about that impossible, frustratingly pert Demon’s Spawn. One moment she was laughing with him. Or
at
him, as the case may be. The next, she was torching him with a look that suggested she thought him the lowest of all blackguards. It was precisely that look she had bestowed on him when he had left with Arthur … 
but she had looked at him that way once before, too, when he had warned her about Phillip
.

Julian pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb, vainly trying to stave off the ache building at the base of his skull.

The ache spread to encompass his whole head by the next afternoon. Seated in his study, he peered through his spectacles at the medieval manuscript found in a wine cellar near the village of Whitten. Julian had relished history since he was a lad, particularly those tales of beautiful kingdoms and brave knights that could be reenacted in the ruins around Kettering Hall. As he grew older, he discovered in the course of his studies that he had a knack for deciphering Old English and Latin text. A boy’s fascination had turned into a man’s hobby, and he was now considered quite the expert—meaning, in this instance at least, that he had a commitment to Cambridge to translate the manuscript. But he hadn’t deciphered a single word in two hours.

At least the manuscript gave him something to look at while his head throbbed and his mind wandered. Damn her, but he had dreamed of her overnight—a very erotic dream—and after several long months of impotence had become painfully aroused.

This morning he had debated calling on her. No, he had
warred
with himself, alternating between disbelief
that he could be so bloody fascinated with a woman and indignation that she could hardly seem to abide him.

This is absurd
. Julian shoved the manuscript away and rubbed the back of his neck. In the first place, he was a bloody Rogue of Regent Street and could have any woman he wanted. In the second place, she had grown up in his house, among his sisters, had known him since she was a little girl. And in the
third
place, goddammit, she had been Phillip’s intended, and even if almost two years had passed, he could not betray Phillip’s memory by seducing the woman he had intended to marry!