Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)

He flinched, almost imperceptibly, and pretended not to hear. A cruel trick, that. He knew she couldn’t always be sure of her voice’s volume. By ignoring her, he hoped she’d conclude that he’d missed her words entirely.

She thrust her hand into her pocket and pulled out a small tablet and pencil. She always carried these items, in case she needed to make certain she was understood. The tablet came in handy with shopkeepers and such. The fact that she had to resort to this with Julian was a sad comment on the state of their friendship.

Anything for me?

After underscoring the first word, she shoved the scrawled phrase into his hand.

“I was drugged and exhausted, Lily. Not myself, as you said. Now I’m sorry, but I really must be going.” The paper crumpled in his fist. “Come, I’ll see you back home.”

“Thank you, no.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I believe I’ll stay here and enjoy the fine afternoon.” It was the tiniest act of rebellion, and hardly a satisfying setdown. But she had to assert herself somehow.

“Lily …”

She averted her eyes and stared at the fountain, effectively ending the conversation. If he would pretend not to hear her, she would pretend not to see him. After a moment, she caught the sight of him leaving out of the corner of her eye.

Lily remained on that bench for some minutes. Frustration surged through her veins, hot and angry. What an impossible situation. How could Julian be so protective of her, to the point of bullying men into proposing marriage—yet completely negligent when it came to his own well-being? Couldn’t he see that taking care of himself was the surest way to safeguard her happiness? As for his guilt … she was at a loss for new reassurances. There was nothing to say that she hadn’t repeated time and again, over the past several months. He always dismissed her words.

For the first time, she began to see this obsessive investigation as selfish, and worthy of some resentment. Which made her angrier with him still, because she didn’t want to resent Julian. She just wanted her friend back.

And then, suddenly, she got her wish. Her friend was back.

He towered over her. “Three,” he said, holding up the same number of fingers. “If you agree to consider marriage, I’ll escort you to three events. No more.”

A wave of relief lifted her to her feet. “Thank you, Julian. This is wonderful. We can start with dinner tonight, at Amelia and Morland’s.”

“What?”

“They’re back in London, since Friday last. Hadn’t you heard the good news?”

“Morland in London.” He scowled. “How can that be good news?”

“I know you and the duke don’t get on. But Amelia is my friend, and I’m glad to have her near.”

To say Julian and the Duke of Morland didn’t get on was rather like calling the Thames an insignificant trickle. The two men had nothing in common, save that ridiculous club Leo had started. Membership in the Stud Club was represented by ten brass tokens, and anyone holding a token was afforded breeding rights to Osiris, a valuable racehorse now retired to stud. In the wake of Leo’s murder, Julian had first insisted that Lily should marry Morland. When the duke married Amelia instead, Julian interrupted the wedding to accuse the duke of murdering Leo just to gain ownership of the horse. That too had proved a groundless accusation, but even once the duke was exonerated of any involvement, the enmity between the two men continued to grow.

They resented one another, actively. Sometimes violently.

And absurdly, in Lily’s opinion, for two men who had nothing to fight about, save shares in a horse.

“Amelia has already invited me to dinner tonight,” she said. “I’ll see that she invites you, too. A small party amongst friends will be the ideal way to ease my reintroduction to society. From there, we can go anywhere. Everywhere. Balls, the theater, the opera, assemblies.”

He shook his head. “From there, Amelia and Morland can be your social guides. If they’re in Town, you don’t need me.”

“Oh, no. Not so fast. You’ve promised me three nights, and I mean to hold you to your word.”

“Don’t you know? I’m an inveterate scoundrel. My word is worthless. Always has been.”

She smiled. “Not with me.”

He paused. Their gazes locked, and the moment stretched. Stretched into something of uncertain shape; a pocket of time that held more awkwardness than it logically should. Lily felt the uneasiness swirling around them, pooling in her belly. She didn’t understand its source and wasn’t sure she wished to.

“I really must go,” he finally said. “I’m late for an appointment with my tailors.”