Julia London 4 Book Bundle (79 page)

He shrugged indifferently and sipped at his whiskey. Claudia’s heart went out to him—he looked so tired, so ill. She could almost feel his agony emanating from him, radiating to everything around him. Ann leaned down to kiss the stubble on his cheek, and Victor murmured something Claudia could not hear. “See them out, Tinley,” he said wearily, and tossed back the last bit of whiskey as the door shut behind them.

They were alone.

Julian refused to look at her, and Claudia felt as loathsome as she ever had in her life. After a moment he came to his feet and walked across the room to pour yet another whiskey to the rim of the glass. He calmly returned to his seat, took a large sip of the liquid, and with a heavy sigh, leaned his head against the chair and closed his eyes.

It seemed to Claudia that hours passed as she watched him, feeling invisible, before she finally spoke in a voice cracking with tension. “How far did you travel?”

He slowly opened his eyes and stared at the whiskey in his glass. “To Lancaster.”

“I’m sorry you had to go so far,” she murmured, nervously fingering the small gold cross around her neck.

He glanced at her then, his gaze cold and hard. “I would have ridden to the ends of the earth if I could have stopped her,” he said sharply, and turned away again, as if she disgusted him. He was angry, that much was clear. But there was more, she thought as he closed his eyes once more. There was devastation.

She could see it in the weary lines around his eyes, the clench of his fist against his thigh. She had seen him look this way once before, long ago, when Valerie had died. Despite his fury with her, Claudia could not help feeling an overwhelming anguish for him, a deep, heartfelt sorrow.

That sorrow moved her to stand and walk to where he sat and kneel by his knee. His eyes remained closed, but he winced slightly when her hand glided over his and turned it over. When she pressed her lips very softly against his palm, he flinched, opened his eyes, and gazed down at her as she pressed her cheek into his palm. A lone tear slipped from the corner of her eye, coursed softly down her face—and Julian pulled his hand away from her cheek. He turned away, drank from his glass. “Your sympathy is touching, Claudia,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But you are too late with it.”

No, she wasn’t too late, she could
not
be too late!
“Julian,”
she whispered faintly, words failing her, “I am so sorry. I am so very
sorry
for what has happened.” Another tear slipped from her eye—her words sounded so empty, so inadequate, and she all at once felt very fragile, as if she was on the verge of shattering.

“If you want to help me, Claudia, you will leave me be,” he said impassively, and stood, his knee brushing her shoulder as he stepped away. “I’ve much greater things to contend with at the moment than your sudden attack of conscience.”

That remark stabbed at her heart. “Please, Julian, don’t do this. Let me help you!” she insisted.

Julian responded by walking out the door without looking back.

The family gathered beneath a pall of gloom the next afternoon, not unlike the one that had settled over Kettering Hall five years ago with Valerie’s death. The similarities between the two somber occasions were not lost on Julian, God, no—he felt both catastrophes keenly, felt the same burning pressure in his head. He anxiously rubbed the nape of his neck as he stood beneath a portrait of his father, staring up at dark eyes that mirrored his own and wondering if the old man somehow knew what a mess Julian had made of things.

It was that which he was contemplating when he heard Claudia join him. He knew it was her by the familiar sound of her footfall, but he did not look up, sparing himself the humiliation of seeing the pity in her eyes again, as he had when she had knelt beside him last evening. Fortunately, she did not beg him sweetly to let her help as she had then. In fact, Julian had no idea what she did—he did not turn around and she remained silent until Louis and Eugenie joined them a few minutes later. When he finally turned to face the room, Eugenie was with Claudia on the settee, their dark heads bowed together as they whispered fervently to one another.

“I accompanied Boxworth to White’s last evening,” Louis remarked quietly, stirring Julian from his brooding. “Unfortunately, this scandal goes very rapidly among your society,
mon ami
. You should distance yourself before it ruins your name.”

Julian slowly turned his head to look at Louis. The Frog steadily returned his gaze; he was quite serious. Hardly surprising—any self-respecting man in Julian’s position would disown Sophie, and frankly, that thought had certainly crossed his mind. Not because the
ton
would expect it of him, although God knew they would—a woman did not defy authority and propriety in such an appalling manner without risking complete censure. But
Julian didn’t give a damn what the
ton
thought. It was just that there were times, like now, that he wanted Sophie gone, because he was quite certain he could not bear to ever look at her again. He was that angry with her—
violently
angry with her. “You are not me, Renault,” he responded with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Thank God for this small favor,” the Frog muttered, and strolled away.

Frowning, Julian swung his gaze to his father’s portrait again. His limbs felt like lead, his mind churned with anger and desperation and, yes, even humiliation. It had been many years, decades even … perhaps never … that a person had trumped him so greatly. Particularly one of Stanwood’s ilk.

When Victor and Ann arrived a few moments later, Julian noticed Ann had been crying. She muttered some apology, blaming it on her condition. Julian despised her tears all the same, felt himself sinking under the weight of them as Ann stared morosely at the floor, Victor behind her with a comforting hand on her shoulder.

They waited.

Restless, Julian looked at the door, the window casements, his father’s portrait—anywhere but at Ann or Eugenie. Hell, he was hardly able to look himself in the eye, much less his sisters. What sort of man did they think their brother now? He hated all of them for looking at him as if they expected him to fall to pieces, shatter into a million fragments, explode with remorse and frustration and the overwhelming sense of powerlessness.

But not as badly as he hated himself for teetering on the brink of doing just that.

As the clock struck three, his heart began to slip in his chest, sliding down to his gut. At a quarter past, he impatiently stalked to the window, peering out across St. James Square, half expecting to see Stanwood down there, surrounded by those who would welcome this scandal, laughing at him.

The unexpected, gentle pressure of a hand on his arm startled him so badly that he almost came out of his skin.

Julian jerked around, sliced a scathing look across Claudia. She instantly removed her hand from his arm. “Tinley,” she murmured.

He looked up; the butler was not two feet away, bowing crookedly like an old circus performer. “Lady Sophie has come home, my lord.”

God help him, he would squeeze the bloody life from someone. With a quick glance at the others, Julian nodded curtly. “Show them in.” He was suddenly aware of Claudia again, at his side. She was too close to him, too close, her presence suffocating. He moved abruptly to the middle of the room, braced his legs apart, and clasped his hands tightly behind his back.
God give me strength
 …

Stanwood entered first, exaggerating the hitch in his gait like a bloody cock as he sailed into the green salon. Smiling broadly, he bowed with a flourish to Ann and Eugenie. “Ah, my dear sisters,” he crowed with delight. “How
well
you look.”

Julian opened his mouth, but whatever he might have said to the bastard died on his tongue as Sophie walked sluggishly into the room, her head bowed. His gaze narrowed on his little sister as the million things he would say warred for a place on his tongue. But before he could speak, she lifted her head and pierced him with a look so forlorn that he all at once felt submerged, as if he floated somewhere just beneath the surface—voices were suddenly muted in his ear, his vision of everything around him blurred. Sophie’s chin began to tremble as she looked at him, and Julian saw the perfect despair swimming in her brown eyes. He was not even aware he moved—he only knew he was suddenly halfway across the room, his arms held out to her.

Her tears erupted like a dam burst; she flung herself into his arms and buried her face in his coat, sobbing uncontrollably. Julian held her tightly to him, caressed her back. “
Shhh
,” he whispered in her ear, “
don’t cry, pumpkin. Everything will be all right
.”

“Oh,
come
now!” Stanwood scoffed, and grabbed Sophie’s hand, dragging her from Julian’s embrace. He
wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed tightly. “That’s hardly necessary, my love. You’ll cause him to think you regret what you’ve done!”

“No, of course not,” she muttered, and shakily wiped the tears from her flushed cheeks.

“Well, then, Kettering,” Stanwood continued with a smirk. “You heard her—can’t ignore me any longer, can you? Might as well introduce the family to me.”

“You know them,” Julian responded low, fighting the deep urge to strangle the smirk from Stanwood’s lips.

“Indeed I do.” With a chuckle, Stanwood turned to face the rest of them, a sneer of pure contempt on his lips. “But they do not know
me
, do they? Take the venerable Madame Renault, for example, and her renowned French husband. I never traveled in their circles, so how could they know me? But you know me now, do you not, Genie?” he asked casually, clearly shocking Eugenie with his familiar address. “And Ann, of course,” he said, shifting his sneer to her. “We encountered one another once before—you probably don’t recall it. You were leaving St. George Cathedral and I tipped my hat to you, wished you a good day. Unfortunately, you did not deign to acknowledge it.”

Ann looked uneasily at Sophie. “William,” Sophie said weakly, “please allow me to introduce you properly—”

“For goodness sakes, Sophie!” he exclaimed laughingly, and tightened his hold on her to such a degree that Sophie looked almost pained. “You make it sound as if I am an outsider! Ah, but I am a part of the family now.” He glanced at Claudia, cocking his head to one side. “You understand, surely, Lady Kettering. You know very well what it is to join this esteemed family under the cloud of a bit of scandal—”

“
That’s enough!
” Julian roared.

Stanwood laughed gaily, released Sophie, and took several steps toward him, his arms outstretched. “Julian! We are brothers! What, you would debate it? Of
course
I am part of your family now!” He smiled, casually
straightened his neckcloth, and without looking at his wife, said, “Tell him why we’ve come, dear.”

With a small shake of her head, Sophie looked helplessly at Eugenie.

“
Tell
him!” he said more forcefully, his derisive smile deepening.

Behind him, Sophie began to wring her hands. She looked to Eugenie again, then at Julian’s boots, seemingly unable to look him in the eye. “We, ah … we have no place to live. William and I thought … w-we thought …” She paused, cleared her throat. “We thought that perhaps you would agree to lease a house near the park—”

He had not thought the extortion would come so soon. “Am I to understand that, having ruined my sister, you would now attempt to extort money from me?” Julian interjected, yanking a lethal gaze to Stanwood.

“No!” Sophie exclaimed, but her protest was silenced by one look from Stanwood, and the resentment began to pound in Julian’s chest like a drum.

“I would prefer to call it a loan,” Stanwood said, turning back to Julian. “Don’t look so chagrined, Kettering. We require it only a fortnight or two—just until Sophie’s twenty-first birthday. Then we shall have funds sufficient to last us all our days.” He flashed a sickening smile; behind him, Sophie bowed her head and closed her eyes.

“Call it a loan if you will,” Julian said with deadly calm. “It is extortion all the same.”

Stanwood’s face darkened. “We require a residence, Kettering. Should you like to see where I could afford to keep my wife? It is small by your standards, and I daresay too far south of the Thames. It is, however, marginally clean, and I think the rats are not quite so thick there as—”

“
Oh my God!
” Eugenie cried out in horror.

“We take your point, Stanwood!” Victor angrily interjected.

“Good,” he drawled.

That was enough. If Stanwood wanted to extort
money from him, he could damn well do it without frightening his sisters half to death. Julian started toward Stanwood; the bastard stepped backward like the coward that he was, and Julian sneered as he brushed past him and reached for the handle of the door. “Rest assured, sir, I shall endeavor to find you suitable lodgings …”—he glanced at Sophie, who had yet to look up—“near the park if you like.” He opened the door and held it open. “I thank you for bringing Sophie to us. We are most grateful to see she is safe and well.”

A small sound escaped Sophie. “You … you are most generous,” she murmured, risking a shy glance at him.

“It has nothing to do with generosity, love,” he drawled, and pierced Stanwood with a look so hard that the man visibly flinched. “Was there more, Sir William?”

For the first time since he had entered the salon, Stanwood looked disconcerted. He glanced uneasily at the rest of them, seemed to think for a moment, then quickly shook his head. “For the moment, no,” he said tightly, and motioned impatiently to Sophie, who hurried to his side. “We are temporarily at the Savoy. Wish them all a good day, Sophie.”

“Good day,” she mumbled, and gazed longingly over her shoulder at her sisters.

“Come on, then,” Stanwood said, and scowling at Julian as he passed, dragged Sophie behind him as he quit the room. Julian watched until they were far down the corridor before closing the door.

“Outrageous!” a frustrated Louis bellowed as Julian turned to face them. “Who is this … 
this bastard
?”