“Send them in.”
Schwartz and Cobb filed into the office, laden with patterns and samples. With a curt nod of greeting, Julian waved the latest sketches to his desk. He had not lied to Lily on this count, at least. He was late for this meeting with his tailors. Unconscionably late. The drawings and samples before him represented the culmination of a year’s preparation and strategy, and his men had teetered on the brink of action for months. The plans wanted only his final approval before a production schedule could be set. But something always held him back. The patterns weren’t right, or the dyes were inferior, or the price of wool too dear … Again and again, he’d found himself delaying, for one reason and another.
Strike that.
He’d been delaying for one reason. No other.
Lily.
Her sweet rosemary scent bloomed in his memory, and his thoughts tangled in the lush fringe of her eyelashes. He forced down the tide of emotion in his chest. Not here. He could not allow himself to think of her here. Whatever nocturnal exploits Julian Bellamy enjoyed, Mr. James Bell did not have time for women.
And neither man could afford to contemplate love.
“I told a dreadful lie today,” Lily said, even before the greetings were out. Standing in the entry of the Duke of Morland’s drawing room, she hugged her hostess tightly and confessed, “Several lies, as a matter of fact.”
Amelia pulled back from the embrace. “Really? That seems unlike you.”
“It is.” With a fretful shake of her head, Lily squeezed her friend’s arm in supplication. “I’m here to beg your assistance, Amelia. I have to make those lies the truth. At least some of them.”
“Well, I am all anticipation to hear what this is about. It’s not often I’m recruited into clandestine schemes, you know. But please, do sit down first and take some tea.”
Lily’s racing pulse insisted there wasn’t a moment to waste. But she would win no favors by being rude. And today she needed to ask a very big favor indeed.
Amelia steered her toward a pair of French armchairs situated beneath a tall, lace-draped window. A small table between the two chairs held a tea service and refreshments. In accordance with Amelia’s talent for homemaking, all was the picture of refinement and good taste. When Lily sat down, she found the striped silk upholstery to be so smooth and taut, it took some effort to keep from sliding off the seat.
“What’s brought you to Town?” Lily asked, as her friend poured tea. “I thought you and the duke would remain in Cambridgeshire until the babe is born.”
Amelia nipped a lump of sugar into the teacup and stirred. “Oh, it was Spencer’s wish to return to London. He wanted us closer to specialists and physicians when my time draws near.” She shrugged, extending the cup and saucer to Lily. “Never mind that the man owns England’s largest stud farm and has attended hundreds of equine births. When it comes to his own child, he’s suddenly a bundle of nerves.”
“It only proves how much he adores you.”
Despite the duke’s terse, autocratic nature, Lily had suspected from the first he’d make Amelia a surprisingly tender husband. It would seem she’d been right.
“I am no specialist,” Lily said. “But to my untrained eye, you look the picture of robust health. Not only health, but true contentment.”
From her radiant complexion to her gently rounded belly, Amelia embodied domestic bliss. And despite herself, Lily knew a brief moment of envy. Perhaps this was the real reason she’d let her friendships with women fall by the wayside over the years. One by one, they’d all become wives, then mothers. Much as she’d loved Leo and valued her financial independence, Lily found it hard sometimes, not to want what they had, too.
“I do feel well,” Amelia replied modestly, lifting her own teacup. “No sickness anymore. I’m more fortunate than many women in my condition.”
They each sipped their tea.
After they lowered their cups, Lily looked to her friend expectantly, waiting for her cue to begin. A long moment passed. She threw an anxious glance toward the clock, growing increasingly concerned with every swing of the pendulum.
Lily cleared her throat. “Well.”
Amelia raised her eyebrows and gave a benign smile. “Yes?”
Had she forgotten Lily’s confession, or was she simply playing coy? Just when Lily was beginning to wonder whether she needed to start at the beginning again, recognition snapped in Amelia’s eyes.
Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)
Tessa Dare's books
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- A Week to Be Wicked (Spindle Cove #2)
- A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)
- Beauty and the Blacksmith (Spindle Cove #3.5)
- Any Duchess Will Do (Spindle Cove #4)
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