Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)

He made a chagrined face. “I believe he’s left. Or was made to leave.”


“Why would he do that?” she wondered aloud, more to herself than to Laurent.

“To avoid a duel, perhaps?” Laurent shook his head. “The fool just rattled through the list of men in this room he’s cuckolded.”

“But …” Lily felt as though she’d taken a punch to the stomach. “But it’s not as though his dalliances are a great secret.”

“Everyone knows about them, but they’re never discussed. It’s one thing to entertain ladies in private and quite another to boast of it in company, you know. He’s unleashed a veritable plague of marital disharmony. And if he values his own health, Bellamy won’t dare to show his face anytime soon. Even if he were invited, which is doubtful. Can you believe the man even said—”

Lily turned away, muttering her thanks to Laurent for the information. It really mattered little what, precisely, Julian had said—she understood why he’d said it.

That night will be your second London debut. And my own grand farewell.

Laurent’s reaction was exactly what Julian had desired. He meant to leave fashionable London society and cut ties, irrevocably.

Including ties with her.

Chapter Fifteen

Well, Julian thought to himself, that ought to have done it.

Pausing just long enough to remove his gloves and retrieve the pistol he’d stashed behind a loose stone, Julian jammed the weapon in his trouser waistband and set off down the street. He kept his steps light, forced himself to maintain a steady, deliberate pace. He didn’t want to be too hard to catch. Being caught was rather the point, after all.

He’d been preparing for this night all week. Astonishing—and rather lowering—to realize how little he’d needed to arrange at his home. His offices had presented a greater challenge. He’d led his employees to understand he’d be taking a journey to inspect the mills. That bought him a few weeks’ time. If he didn’t manage to return, in a few weeks’ time or ever … well, he’d left instructions with his solicitor. Someone would eventually find them.

As for Lily …

He couldn’t think about Lily now. And so long as he lived with the specter of murder hovering over him, he would never be able to think about her. After that waltz and her words—those miraculous words; so incomprehensible, he could have mistaken them for phrases in a foreign language, or the utterances of a mystic speaking in tongues—he’d been tempted to reconsider the whole plan. But it was too late. Events had been set in motion. He had to resolve this, for good or ill, if he had any hope of a future at all, much less a future that included Lily.

He would do it, Julian vowed. If Lily offered him love, he would give his all. He would solve this mystery. He would somehow fix everything, find the answers, redeem his every stupid mistake. He’d crawl through an ocean of broken glass just to hold her again, and hear her speak those words against his ear.

His ear caught a less pleasing sound just now. He’d nearly reached the end of the block, and a burst of noise arrested him where he stood. Footsteps clattered on the pavement, accelerating with purpose as they neared.

That hadn’t taken long.

He steeled himself, putting one hand to the pistol at his hip. The thing wasn’t even loaded. He needed answers, not a murder charge. He had no intention of shooting his would-be assassin. Yet.

“Julian! Julian, wait.”

No. By everything holy, no.

His heart crashed to his boots as he wheeled around to find not an assailant, but Lily rushing to his side.

“Lily, what the devil are you doing?”

“I’m coming with you,” she said, breathless. “If you’re determined to commit social suicide, I can’t stop you. But I’m coming with you. You’re not leaving me behind.”

Jesus. What did he do now? Julian grasped her by both shoulders and moved her to one side, looking past her to see if anyone had watched her leave.

“Have we been spotted?” she asked, intuiting his purpose. “I hope so.” She threw herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck. The pistol clattered to the pavement. “Compromise me. Leave no doubt. Let them see us together, and no one will think to object.”

He pushed her away to ask, “Lily, have you gone mad?”

“Mad for you.” With that, she planted a kiss on his mouth, ripe and bold and sensual. Julian’s head spun, and his knees went weak. She wanted him. Lily wanted him. More than that, she wanted to be his.

“A kiss won’t be enough.” She disentangled her arms from his neck. “We need more.”