The Abduction of Julia (34 page)

Julia piled bacon on her plate and added two eggs. Just for good measure, she poured a thick cream sauce over the whole. She always ate when something bothered her. If she and Alec kept going as they were, she’d weigh fifty stone by the end of the year.

Just as she lifted a fork to her mouth, a roar reverberated through the house.

Julia started.
“Heavens!
What’s that?”

Burroughs tilted his head to one side as another roar echoed through the hallway. “I believe, madam, that is his lordship.”

As if in answer, the door to the breakfast room slammed open. A potted plant toppled to the floor as Alec stormed in, a newspaper clutched in his hand. Edmund took one look at his grim countenance and retired to the window, trying desperately to secret his own newspaper away in his waistcoat.

Alec advanced on the butler like an avenging angel come to battle evil. “What do you call this?” He tossed the
Morning Post
onto the breakfast table.

Lifting a gloved hand, the butler carefully examined the paper. “I believe it is a newspaper, my lord. I could be mistaken, as someone has ripped the heading from the—”

“It is
yesterday’s
paper.”

The butler lifted his brows. “Oh, you wished for
today’s
?”

“Of course I wanted today’s paper!”
Alec snapped, hands clenched into fists.
“Why would I want to see yesterday’s?”

Julia noted he had not changed from last night’s attire, his cravat loosened, his jaw shadowed. Rumpled and bloodshot, he still managed to make her knees quaver.

Burroughs sighed. “I’m afraid Miss Desiree is still engaged in ironing today’s paper. It was a bit sticky when it arrived this morning.”

“Surely it has not taken her all morning to iron a paper. Go and—” Alec broke off as he caught sight of Edmund standing still as a statue beside the curtain. “What are you doing here at this time of the morning?”

“Me? Oh, nothing.
Just out for my morning constitutional.
Deucedly healthy thing, walking.” Edmund patted his rounded stomach with false geniality. “Don’t know if you know it or not, but I walk everyday. Walk for miles sometimes. Once I walked all the way to—”

“At this time of the morning?”

“Uhm, yes.
Of course.
Better for your knees if you do it before nine.
I’ve decided—”

“Is that today’s paper?” Alec interrupted.

Edmund looked down at the newspaper crammed half in and half out of his waistcoat. “What?
This?
Oh, no.

_______________

This is yesterday’s paper. Must have left it in there and not noticed
.“

Alec’s gaze narrowed. “Give it to me.”

For a second Julia thought the young man would refuse, but after a heartfelt sigh, he pulled the crinkled mass from his coat and crossed the room toward Alec. Edmund shot an apologetic glance at Burroughs as he passed. “He was bound to find out, sooner or later.”

The butler bowed, and sending an enigmatic glance at Julia, left the room.

Julia frowned. There’s been an unmistakable warning in Burroughs’ gaze. She watched with growing trepidation as Alec scanned the front page, his face frozen into a mask. Whatever it was, it was not good.

After an agonizing moment, Edmund burst out, “Good God, Alec. Don’t just stand there! What are we to do now? I vow, when I read that article this morning and saw Lady H
.‘s
name, I almost—”

“
My
name?”
Dropping her knife, Julia reached over and yanked the paper from Alec.

He made an effort to grab it, but she eluded him and sprang from her chair, crossing to the window to read it in the morning light. Emblazoned across the front page ran the words well-known charity hides brothel.

The words danced and swayed before her eyes, and all she could do was catch jumbled phrases. Well-known sponsor… Lady Hunterston… providing servants-for-hire to many well known… hides an exclusive brothel… patronized by dukes and members of parliament alike…

The words spun round and round. She barely noticed when Alec retrieved the paper from her nerveless hand.

“Good God,” she said faintly.

The door opened. “The Duke of Wexford,” Burroughs announced.

Lucien strolled into the room. He checked his stride when he saw the paper in Alec’s hand. “Bloody hell, you’ve seen it already.”

Alec gave a curt nod.

Julia fought her way through a flood of thoughts, each more horrifying than the last. For the first time, she truly feared for Alec’s promise to his grandfather.

So far, they had battled innuendoes and whispers. She feared neither. But this, a newspaper article replete with names and sounding so official… a lump formed in her throat.

She looked up and found Alec regarding her with an inscrutable expression, the paper clamped between his hands. She wouldn’t blame him if he threw it at her.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “The executors will read this.”

Alec gave a brief nod, condemning her more thoroughly with that gesture than any words could. A band of misery clamped around her chest, weighting her down. She sank into a chair and tried to think what could be done.

“Don’t be so grim, Alec,” Edmund urged. “I’ll fetch Aunt Maddie. She’ll know what to do.”

Alec shook his head, his face a frozen mask of condemnation. “The damage is done.”

Edmund strode to the door, crushing his hat onto his mussed curls. “We can’t just stand here and do nothing. Aunt Maddie is up to every rig and row in town. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve seen her.”

Julia listened as Edmund’s footsteps faded. The tightness in her chest eased a bit at his words. So far Aunt Maddie had known what to do in every other instance. “Perhaps Lady Birlington can—”

“Not this time.” Alec tossed the paper onto the table, his bleak expression fixed on her with damning regard. “The executors will have already read every despicable word by now. You—” He stopped as if unable to go on, his face shuttered against some strong emotion.

She knew what was behind his bleak gaze. Every prediction he’d ever made about her charity work had come true. Because of her stubbornness, her refusal to compromise, they had lost it all.

She tried to swallow and failed. “Alec, maybe if I—”

‘You.
You have done enough
.“
The harsh words echoed.

“Alec,” Lucien said, stepping forward to place a hand on his friend’s arm. “Julia did not mean any harm.”

Burroughs entered carrying a small silver salver on which sat a note. “My lord, this just came from Mr. Pratt. He requests an immediate reply.”

Julia watched Alec ripped open the envelope. His face darkened as he read. Finally, he looked at Burroughs. “Tell Mr. Pratt I would be glad to attend a meeting at the executors’ convenience.”

The butler bowed and left.

Alec cursed and crumpled the note in his hand, the thick paper crackling.

Lucien sighed. “I assume they have seen the article and demand an accounting.”

Alec tossed the note into the fire. “They cannot wait to dig their hooks into me.”

Julia rubbed her forehead to still the ache growing behind her eyes. It was all so unfair. But she refused to believe that something could not be done. “Alec, perhaps there are some people who can help. Lady Birlington will do what she can, and the board members of the Society might—”

He rounded on her, his anger so intense she drew back. “Forget your damn Society and the inheritance! Don’t you understand what this means?”

“Of course I do. It means the fortune is at risk—”

“Damn the money, Julia! It means that you are ruined.
Completely and utterly ruined.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“You will. People will turn their backs on you so quickly you will wonder if you ever had their regard to begin with. All those who supported you and nurtured you will treat you as if you were a leper.”

She looked down at the newspaper, the hurtful words standing out in bold relief. “I am sure some will believe this, but not all.”

“One or two may continue to acknowledge you. But it will not be enough.”

He cut her off with an anguished gesture. “God, Lucien, explain it to her.” Alec turned to the mantel as if the sight of her pained him.

Julia clasped her hands in her lap. It wasn’t so much the thought of being shunned, or even of the Society losing its funding that sank her stomach to the floor. It was Alec’s dark expression.

Lucien sighed and regarded the tip of his boot. “I believe what Alec is trying to say is that every scandal has a victim, one person who must pay. That is especially true in a situation like this, when so many are caught in the ugly net.”

“You think it will be me.”

Lucien nodded.
“Thanks to the tone of that article.”

“But it is untrue. The Society would never… I would never…” She sighed, her shoulder slumping. “The fortune—”

“Is gone,” Alec said in a clipped voice. “The executors will never allow us to have the money now. We dare not even hope.”

She stood and took a step toward him. “Perhaps if I explain how all this happened, they will understand that you, at least, are not to blame.”

“Damn it, Julia!” he snarled, turning to her. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Her temper leapt to meet his. “You can’t give up without even trying!”

He glowered, his eyes dark with emotion. “One of us must face reality.”

Julia squared her chin. “I face reality every day, Alec.”

“You?” he scoffed with a bitter laugh. “
You
, who squander your love on a man who will never return your
affections
? If that is your reality, you can keep it.”

The words hit her with the force of a cannon shot, stealing her breath and crushing her heart. He knew. He knew she loved him and he despised her.

Her hand dropped to her side. She was unable to speak, unable to breathe.

Lucien’s quiet curse broke the silence.
“For the love of God, Alec.”

Alec ignored him and stalked from the room. Julia heard him calling for the carriage as the door slammed.

Tears rushed in as the shock slipped away, a raw pain in the region of her heart. She leaned against the window and closed her eyes.

Lucien spoke, his voice soft over her shoulder. “Julia, don’t. He doesn’t mean anything he says right now.”

She nodded, unable to do more. Seconds later she heard the door close, and then Lucien, too, was gone.

"As pleasant as the day is, I suppose we’re not just going out for a carriage ride
,“
Lucien said, holding tightly to the seat as Alec sped the phaeton between two lumbering carts.

Alec turned the light vehicle across a busy thoroughfare, narrowly missing an overloaded dray in the middle of the road. “I am going to find a man by the name of Thomas Everard.”

“Ah, the author of the libelous article.”
Lucien glanced at his friend’s grim profile. “And just what do you propose to do, once you have located Mr. Everard?”

“Tear out his heart and stuff it in his mouth.”

“There is a certain charm to that plan, but I hardly think it will help.”

“It will make
me
feel better,” Alec
said,
his brow low.

“Yes, but it may make things much worse for Julia.”

Alec’s scowl deepened.

Lucien sighed, recognizing the mulish expression. “Allow me to point out a few things. Unless you kill the man, he will write another article.
Maybe something about the violent tendencies of the nobility, accompanied by a nice drawing of a snarling Viscount Hunterston pummeling the innocent author.”

“I don’t give a damn what that cretin writes about me
,“
Alec said tersely. A heavy coach pulled in front of them and slowed their pace to a near walk.

As Alec cursed, Lucien pulled a cheroot from his pocket and rolled it between forefinger and thumb. He sniffed it appreciatively and cast a sidelong glance at his companion. “If you don’t care what Mr. Everard writes, why are we enroute to visit him?”

“Because he besmirched—” Alec broke off, controlling himself with an obvious effort. “It doesn’t matter. He will not be writing such lies again.”

Ah, so they rode to protect the lady’s honor, did they? Lucien grinned and wondered how much of Alec’s anger was due to pride, and how much was the cause of a deeper, more serious emotion. He suspected Alec felt much more strongly about his unconventional wife than he realized.

The phaeton pulled up in front of the seedy offices that housed the
Morning Post
. Lucien took the reins while Alec strode inside, returning a short time later holding a torn and bloodied scrap of paper, a hastily scribbled address scrawled across one corner.

Lucien noted the scrape on Alec’s knuckles.
“Any problems?”

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Alec wrapped it around his hand, a dab of blood staining the fine linen. “No. They were amazingly helpful.”

“How fortunate.”

Alec nodded.
“For them.”

Lucien did not vouchsafe a reply. In Alec’s current mood, any answer was sure to set off his barely held temper. In mutual silence, they proceeded to No. 10 Laura Street.

Climbing down from the perch, Alec tossed Lucien the reins. “I will not be long.”

“Shall I accompany you?”

“No,” Alec answered curtly. “This is a private matter between me and Mr. Everard.”

Lucien nodded and watched his friend disappear up a narrow stair. Never had he seen Alec so concerned about the opinions of others. Indeed, these last few months had rendered an amazing change that was especially obvious when Alec was with Julia. The very air seemed to crackle with contention.

Chuckling, Lucien lit his cheroot, pulled his hat low, and considered the faded door where his friend had disappeared. All told, it was very amusing.

Half an hour later, Alec returned, slightly mussed, but intact. Despite the fact that a scrape marred his jaw and his chin sported a swollen lump, he appeared remarkably satisfied.