Danice Allen (35 page)

“What wise man?” Jack inquired sleepily.

“Aristoph—something or other,” Rob mumbled. “What does it matter, Jack? Anyway, he once said, ‘There’s nothing in the world worse than woman … save some other woman.’ He couldn’t have been more correct, the ol’ Greek bugger.” Rob took another long drink of gin.

Jack pulled thoughtfully on his chin. “Tha’s a good one, Rob. Very much to the point, eh? But I like this one better.” He cleared his throat and endeavored to keep his eyes open by raising his brows as high as they could possibly go. “An
anonymush
fellow once said, ‘Woman is the chain by which man is attached to the chariot of”—he hiccuped—”folly.’ ”

Rob nodded gravely. “Too true, Jack. If not fer women, we’d be as happy as larks in a hedgerow, eh?”

Jack pursed his lips and squinted his eyes. “That makes me think of another one, Rob. I believe it was that old woman-hater Tom Dekker who said, ‘Were there no women, man might live like gods.’ ”

“Gods. There you go, Jack,” said Rob, much impressed. He raised his tumbler high for a toast. “That says it perfectly. And that’s just how we’ll live now that we’re rid of women for good … right?”

“Right!” Jack said, then lifted his own nearly empty tumbler and attempted to make contact with Rob’s. After three tries, the tumblers connected and the chime of crystal rang through the room.

“Like the gods!” they chorused.

After downing the remaining contents of their glasses and ordering another round, Rob’s head sunk to the table. Rolling his brow against the wood, he lamented, “Oh,
why
wouldn’t Charlotte have me, Jack? I thought we were friends, she and I!”

Jack shrugged and sucked his teeth. “You pounced too soon, Rob. She wasn’t over me yet, I daresay.”

“You bloody sod,” Rob grumbled, his words muffled by his mouth’s proximity to the tabletop. “Don’t know why women like
you
so much and
me
so little!”

Jack frowned and sighed. “Don’t
all
of ‘em like me. ‘Manda don’t like me above half. Won’t marry me. And now I don’t think I’ll ever stick my tail in parson’s mousetrap. Love ‘er like mad … don’t ya know. Bloody shame she don’t love me back.”

Full of self-pity, Jack lowered his own head to the table as well, his forehead hitting the wood with a dull thump at the end of his hopeless descent.

“Good
Gawd
!” drawled a familiar voice, and Jack peered up into the revolted face of his elder brother. Julian held his quizzing glass aloft and was staring down at him through it with obvious contempt. His pale, cold eye appeared enormous at the opposite side of the glass, and the effect was chilling.

“What are you doin’ here, Julian?” Jack wondered aloud. “Ain’t your sort of place at all.”

A corner of Julian’s upper lip lifted in a sneer as he took a swift and scathing appraisal of their surroundings. “Indeed not, little brother. Nor is it your sort of place, either.” He reached down and took hold of Jack’s arm just above the elbow. “Been looking for you all over town, you young jackanapes.”

“What for, Julian?”

“We need to talk. You’re coming home with me, where I can pour black coffee down your throat till you’re sober enough to comprehend what I’m saying.”

Jack wobbled to his feet. “Don’t mind goin’ home, Julian,” he admitted, his head throbbing from the sudden change of altitude. He made a wide gesture toward the table. Rob’s eyes were closed, and he was drooling. “But what about Rob? Think he’s passed out, Julian. Can’t leave ‘im to the mercies of th’ pickpockets and guttersnipes.”

“No, I suppose not,” Julian replied unenthusiastically, “though they’d get little enough for their trouble. Nevertheless, I’ll have the postilions carry him out and put him in a hack. Don’t worry. If I make myself known to the driver and pay him well enough, he’ll get your …
friend
home and into his lodgings without mishap.”

Jack nodded and allowed himself to be partially supported as he stumbled out to Julian’s shiny black-and-silver drag. The moment he got inside and settled himself against the plush gray squabs, he lost consciousness. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in Julian’s dark panelled library on the leather couch.

Several cups of black, scalding coffee later, he was wide-eyed and sober, his head pounding from the after-effects of another night spent drowning his sorrows in cups of gin. Sitting opposite him in a wing chair by the fire, Julian watched Jack’s gradual return to sobriety with a sapient eye.

Jack felt his hackles rising. “You look at me as though I’ve sprouted an extra nose.”

“I wish you’d sprout another brain. The one you’ve got now doesn’t seem to be working very well.”

Jack frowned. “What’s the matter, Julian? You’ve seen me drunk before.”

“You used to get foxed now and then, just like every other reckless scapegrace about town, but lately you’ve made a bloody habit of it.”

Jack shrugged and flashed a rakish grin, even though the effort made his head throb all the worse. “I’ve been celebrating my lucky escape from the nuptial knot, don’t you know.”

“You’ve been doing nothing of the sort,” Julian replied repressively. “You’re wallowing in drunkenness to numb your sensibilities, brother. You’re trying to forget that Miss Darlington refused your offer of marriage.”

Jack stiffened and set down his cup of coffee with a shaky hand. “How do you know about that?”

“Amanda’s aunts told me. They tell me everything.” He smiled ruefully. “They tell me some things I’d just as soon they’d keep to themselves.”

“Got cozy with them all, have you? You take a lively interest in the welfare of that family,” Jack growled, his jealousy stirred. “Tell the truth, Julian…. Are you after Amanda for yourself?” Every muscle in Jack’s body tensed while he waited for Julian’s reply.

Julian stared haughtily down his aristocratic nose. “Certainly not. Do you think I’d pursue a female my brother is passionately in love with? And a woman, moreover, with whom he’s been … intimate?”

“Did the aunts tell you that, too?” Jack inquired truculently.

“Do you take me for a gull? I figured that one out for myself.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed warily. “I was intimate with that opera dancer last spring, and that didn’t stop you from dallying with
her
!”

“That was an entirely different matter altogether. We’re talking about a lady, Jack. You’ve somehow managed to entangle yourself with respectable females lately. First Charlotte, then—”

“
Charlotte
, you say?” Jack raised his brows. “Are you on such familiar terms with my ex-fiancée that you—a stickler for proper social protocol—refer to her by her Christian name?”

Julian crossed his legs in a gesture of complete ease … almost of indifference. He waved a dismissive hand. “I
have
been calling on her. I’ve made no secret of my admiration for Charlotte. If you remember, I was quite pleased you were going to marry the girl.” He scowled. “But she’s too damn good for the likes of Hamilton and his sort. Couldn’t believe the impudence of the fellow to ask Charlotte to marry him ten minutes after she’d broken off with you. Even if she’d been inclined to accept his offer, her parents would never have allowed it. Can’t think where the fellow gets his cheeky confidence!”

“By God, you
like
her! You really like her!” Jack exclaimed, amazed. “I never dreamed … is this serious, Julian?”

“Possibly,” Julian admitted coolly, his features returning to their usual regal placidity.

Jack grinned. “You mean you might actually take on the task of perpetuating the Montgomery dynasty? You’re so deuced particular about females, etcetera, I always thought
that
undertaking would fall to my lot. Bloody hell!”

“I did not bring you here to speculate about my future, Jack. There’s another matter I wish to discuss. As you know, I’ve been helping Miss Darlington with her sister, Samantha.”

“Yes, you’ve been driving out to Surrey several times a week.” Jack suppressed the pang of envy. He wished
he
were as welcome at Darlington Hall. “How is the little hellcat?”

“As impudent and obnoxious as ever,” Julian drawled. “She’s extremely bright, however, and has what I can only describe as a certain
spirit
about her that if properly guided—” He shook his head and frowned, stumped for words. “In short,” he resumed, “if she would only cooperate and put a little effort into it, she could easily be turned from the proverbial sow’s ear to a silk purse.”

Interested, Jack nodded. “You don’t say? But will she cooperate?”

“So far she’s driven to distraction every tutor Miss Darlington has engaged to educate the ungrateful little baggage.”

At another mention of Amanda, Jack couldn’t resist asking, “Do they get along?” His voice unconsciously softened. “Sam and Amanda, I mean. Is Amanda happy she rescued the girl? It was so important to her to make amends to Sam for her father’s neglect.”

“They seem to have developed a measure of trust and do sometimes talk with a degree of amiability between them. However, Sam frequently does things for the sole purpose of annoying Miss Darlington.”

Jack smiled, satisfied. “Sounds like siblings to me.”

“But I’m apparently the only one that can get Samantha to apply to her studies, to concentrate on improving her language, her comportment, her social graces … as it were.”

“And who better than you, Julian? You wield a double-edged sword. You are
the
arbiter of social graces in the
haut ton
, and—forgive me for saying so—you are as intimidating as the devil himself. You’d be the perfect instructor for the chit.”

“Exactly. But I dislike traveling to Surrey so frequently. That’s why I’ve induced Miss Darlington to take a house in London till Christmas.”

“What?” If Jack wasn’t completely sober before, he was now.

“I found her charming lodgings in Mayfair. Very respectable.”

“But—”

“That way I can see Samantha regularly and terrify her into the silk purse we earlier used as an analogy. I’ve been bored lately, and the idea of performing such a miracle amuses me.”

“Are you saying—?”

“At the same time, I’ve encouraged Miss Darlington to enjoy what’s left of the little season. Naturally she’ll pay outward respect to the passing of her parents by wearing the darker colors of half-mourning.”

“As long as she doesn’t drape herself in black again,” Jack said gruffly.

“No, indeed,” Julian agreed. “That won’t be necessary. She won’t dance, of course, but I dare say it will be perfectly acceptable if she attends other sorts of gatherings.”

“But, Julian—” Jack tried to interrupt.

“As for Sam, she’ll be kept out of sight till she’s respectable. As she isn’t ‘out’ yet, no one will think to inquire about a schoolroom miss. Excursions will be brief and controlled. She’ll have to do without acquaintances beyond her family circle till her official coming-out in the spring. We’ll introduce her as Amanda’s orphaned cousin. Conveniently, Amanda had an aunt and uncle in Cumbria who died childless several years ago. He was a curate … poor as a mouse, but respectable, she tells me.”

“Dash it, Julian, I want to know—”

“By the start of the season, I fully intend Sam to be worthy of presentation in the best drawing rooms in London. With the handsome dowry Amanda has generously set aside for her, and with
my
sponsorship, she should be able to make quite a respectable match.”

Jack leaned forward, grabbed Julian’s lapels, and said wonderingly, “Amanda is coming to London?”

Julian produced a lazy smile. “Haven’t you been listening, little brother?”

“She told me her first and only season was a catastrophe.” Jack leaned back, his brow furrowed. “Are you sure she means to go out in society?”

“I’m quite sure. She’s much more confident now. Back then she was a green girl just out of the schoolroom. And I gather her parents raised her rather too priggishly. She’s got past that, I think. I’ve arranged for Sally Jersey to send her a voucher for Almacks and have already secured her an invitation to the Cowpers’ for a musical evening.”

“Bloody hell,” was Jack’s only comment.

Julian stood up, crossed his arms, and peered down at Jack with a sardonic expression. “That means—just in case you’ve lost track of what day of the week it is—you’ve got exactly eight-and-forty hours to pull yourself together, brother.”

Jack frowned up at Julian. “You don’t really think I’ve got a chance at changing her mind about me, do you?”

“There’s only one way to find out, Jack. If you make it your business to attend the same social functions she does, and you strive to be as charming as possible, maybe she’ll unbend a little. I don’t think she’s an unfeeling girl. In fact, I think she’s quite the opposite. I like her, Jack.”

“That’s praise indeed,” Jack said with a dry chuckle, then sobered. “But I don’t think charming her will have as much to do with winning Amanda’s favor as proving she can trust me again.”

“You know her better than I do, Jack. Use your own judgment.” Julian hesitated, staring at the floor as he seemed to consider whether or not he should say more. Suddenly he looked up and said, “And follow your heart. Matches forged by genuine affection are extremely rare. Don’t let true happiness slip away, little brother.” Then, as if he were embarrassed to have expressed such sentimental views, he turned abruptly on his heel and exited the room.

Jack smiled and shook his head. Julian terrified most people. If they only knew how human he was beneath that jaded, imperious facade. But Julian didn’t want anyone to know, and Jack was bound by an unspoken pact between brothers to keep his secret.

Filled with new resolution and hope, Jack stood up and braced himself with a hand against the back of the sofa till the room quit spinning. He smiled like a May Day fool. In two days he would see Amanda. How would she look? he wondered, and his heart replied,
like an angel
.…

“How do I look, Sam?” Amanda pirouetted in front of the cheval mirror in the bedchamber of her London town house. “Will I do?”