Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1)(66)

“I’d say,” Val said and arched a long blond brow, “from the looks of your American beauty, it is you who wasn’t interested in leaving your home.”

Julian took the chair Val indicated and smiled. “May you be as happy when you decide to marry.”

“Thank you. That gives me hope of a smashing success.”

“How was your trip to Paris?”

Val folded his huge frame into the large Rococco chair opposite Julian. He pursed his lips. “Never happy. However, one fine evening, I was invited to a dinner party at the Duc de Remy’s house. A good gathering. Included your new extended family.”

“The Hannifords are excellent company.”

“To say the least. Your father-in-law is a cyclone.”

Julian laughed. “And what did you think of the others?”

“A charming bunch. Ada, the youngest. Irrepressible.”

“Like her older sister,” Julian added with pride.

“And Pierce, the brother. He’ll make his mark in business quickly.”

“And indelibly, I’d add.”

“The cousin, the widow, Marianne Roland was there. A beauty.”

“She is,” Julian said with a nod.

“The Duc de Remy is quite infatuated with her, isn’t he?”

“Very much so. Since the first day he met her.” Julian recalled the accident in the Rue de la Paix and how he, too, had become enchanted that day.

“I’d give him a run for her if it weren’t so obvious she finds him irresistible as well.”

“Does she? Good. Or I think it’s good.” So busy with my own affair, I hadn’t gauged another’s. “What was it that you wanted to discuss? Not Marianne and Remy, I’d wager.”

“No.” Val smoothed the wool of his trousers. “I wanted to give you fair warning. Wish I didn’t have to. But she invited herself at the last minute.”

Val’s tone froze him. That anyone would invite herself to a country house party was novel, rarely done, accepted only among family relationships built on blood or proximity. Ominous to hear that a woman had done this. A female whom Val knew and knew well enough that she would presume upon his good graces.

“Margaret,” he breathed.

“In all her glory. Arrived yesterday. Told me bold as brass that she’d come to examine the new Marchioness of Chelton. When I told her you had declined, she was crestfallen.”

“But remained nonetheless.” Julian’s mind rang with warning bells. Margaret, once an ingenue imbued with a certain noblesse oblige, had grown older, more worldly. One thing his wife was not.

“She did. I’m sad to say, too, she came alone.”

Julian’s mind raced. Meg Sheffield, in solo performance, could obscure the sun and the moon. Her husband of eight years was the only one who could restrain her, threatening to tighten her purse strings. “Norfield did not accompany her?”

Val shook his head. “He does not approve of my Puritan rules for my country parties.”

Julian tsked. “Against bed-hopping? Poor fellow.”

“He sent his regrets and stayed in London. He claimed his duties in Parliament detain him.”

“I bet they do,” Julian scoffed. “All two of them.”

Val looked like he eaten a sour drop. “One blonde, the other brunette.”

“Thank you for the warning.” Spurred by an urge to embrace his wife, Julian shot to his feet.

Val rose too. “I’ll be your right hand in this.”

As host, Val was one of the most acclaimed bachelors to entertain well.

“Thank you.”

Julian left, up the stairs, along the hall, following the butler to their suite. He found Lily in their adjoining dressing room being buttoned into a tea gown. The welcoming smile on her face faded as she looked at him.

“Are you well?” she asked him.

“Nora? Leave us for a few minutes please.”

The maid, normally dour-faced, did not appreciate his interruption. “Aye, m’lord,” she said but busied herself with folding undergarments.

“What’s wrong?” Lily approached him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Lord Burnett has bad news?”

“A few of his guests are…”

She tipped her head. “What?”

“New to you.”

“Oh,” she said and dismissed that with a shrug, “well. That’s not a prob—”

“Some are jaded.” He cupped her cheek and admired the happiness in her eyes. “Unkind.”

“That’s not a matter I care about.”

“You should. You must.”

“Why? I have you.” She nestled close to him and kissed the tip of his nose.

“But—”

“Did you not once tell me that if anyone made fun of me you’d see they were…ah, what did you say? Put to the streets.”

“Ah. The cartoonist. Yes, I did.” The ice block in his heart melted a fraction.

“And never forget, if they are still not deterred, I could challenge them to a shooting match.”

He chuckled. How she lit up his life. “Darling, I don’t think—”

“Don’t think that ladies here do that. I know.” She rose up and kissed his lips. “I know. But I am not a lady from here. I am a woman from there. And in Texas, we shoot varmints who attack us.”