Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)

“Leo’s dead, and it’s my fault. You’re right, my enemies are plentiful. That’s the bloody problem. If there were only one person, I’d know where to go. But there are too many men with a grievance against me, and some incidents are decades in the past.” He couldn’t just go knocking on doors and ask, Beg pardon, but are you the one who’s discovered my true identity and wants me dead? He massaged his temple with one hand. “If I want to find Leo’s killers, I’ll have to find the man who hired them. Which means I’ll have to provoke him, draw him out.”


“Draw him out? None of this makes sense. It’s been five months since Leo died. If someone truly wanted to kill you and failed, one would think by now he’d have taken a second stab at it.” To Julian’s affronted silence, Morland half-shrugged in apology. “Poor choice of words.”

“Yes. I’ve noticed you have that problem.”

The duke went on, “Have there been any other direct attempts on your life?”

“No,” Julian admitted. “Not that I’m aware.”

“Then why are you so convinced it was a planned attack meant for you?”

“It only makes sense. The timing, the method, the resemblance between me and Faraday. He even said Leo’s last words were ‘Tell Julian.’” He turned away, swearing softly. “The man lay wounded and dying, and his last thought was to warn me.”

Leo was decent and selfless to the last, and what had Julian offered in return? Lies. Lies, and improper lust for the man’s only sister. What a miserable excuse for a friend he’d been.

“That proves nothing. He was wounded, and you were his closest friend. In any scrape, wouldn’t his first thought be, ‘Tell Julian’?” Morland approached, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “Listen. Leo was murdered by footpads. It was a random attack by petty criminals, not paid assassins. This was the simplest explanation from the first, and it remains the most credible theory now. It’s a tragedy. But you need to let it go and move on.”

“I can’t. You don’t understand.” And neither could Julian explain it. He surmised that Morland had some notion of his less-than-illustrious origins. But the duke didn’t know the particulars.

Someone out there did. And that someone wanted him dead, eventually. Five months were an insignificant delay, after so many years.

“There will come a time,” he said, “perhaps quite soon, when I will disappear. Whether voluntarily or not, I dare not guess. When that happens, you must promise me you’ll look after Lily.”

Morland looked surprised. “Certainly. Amelia is very close to Lily. We’ll offer her any assistance she might require.”

“Damn your offers of assistance. I need you to protect her.” Julian gestured angrily in the direction of the dining room. “Better than you did in there just now.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. That row of trained porpoises at the dinner table.”

The duke raised an eyebrow. “That was not—”

“The devil it wasn’t. And then that odious Commander Merriwin, taking every opportunity to fondle her wrist.”

“Fondle? I scarcely think—”

“Exactly. You scarcely thought.” Julian leveled a finger at Morland, leaving him with a tenuous grasp on his emotions. “This is your house. Lily is your guest. How could you allow those … those seafaring apes to make a mockery of her, right to her face?”

“No one was mocking Lily,” Morland replied evenly. “You’re the one who insulted her.”

“Me? I insulted her?”

“Yes, by treating her like a child who needs tending. Lily is an intelligent woman, and not nearly so fragile as you make her out to be. She can handle herself. She was doing so this evening, quite capably. Until you arrived. That’s the moment she began to look miserable.”

The truth silenced Julian. Morland was right. She’d worn a broad smile when he entered, but she’d visibly tensed as he slid into the chair beside hers. She certainly hadn’t spurned the slimy advances of that Merriwin slug—a fact that should have filled him with hope for her marital prospects but instead left him hollow with rage. And the wounded look she’d sent him when he barked at the lieutenants to sit down …

Dagger, meet heart.

He knew, rationally, that Lily was a capable, clever woman who didn’t need his help. But when he was around her, rational thought grew wings and flew out the nearest window. In its place, protective jealousy reigned supreme.

He scrubbed his face with one hand. “Well. At least she won’t have to put up with me much longer.” He rose and moved to quit the room.

The duke asked, “Just how much does Lily know?”

“About what? About her brother’s dalliance with a low-class whore? About Faraday? My enemies?”

“About your feelings for her.”

That dagger piercing his heart twisted, grinding against his solar plexus. He was too stunned to dissemble. Morland knew?

“Of course I know,” the duke said. “And if even I’ve noticed, it’s the worst-kept secret in England. When it comes to matters of the heart, I’m not especially perceptive.”

“You don’t say.” Julian stopped, hand and gaze fixed on the doorjamb. For years, he’d kept so many secrets. Why was he failing so miserably at hiding this? If even Morland could tell, did Lily suspect? How could she not, after that stupid, disastrous kiss?

Three nights, he told himself. He just had to make it through three nights. Somehow.

“Nothing,” he said flatly. “Lily knows nothing about any of it. Nor will she.”