Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1)(75)

“We are a perfect match.”

“Expert at this and so much else,” he told her with a wink and they finished the dance with ease.

The delight in it drained from him.

“What’s wrong?”

He inhaled and scanned the room. “My father.”

“What did he want?” What had he said that so disturbed Julian?

“He’s his usual self.” The duke had asked to talk privately with him soon after she and Julian had arrived at their home that night. “Demanding.”

She didn’t want to know more. Seton’s business was his own. And Julian’s.

“Shall we have another champagne?” he asked her.

“I think we should.”

“Let’s. I’ve a mind to show you the garden and kiss you among the roses.”

“Is there perhaps a folly, too?”

He snorted, then led her through the double doors and into the moonlit night. There he strode toward the tall maze and swirled her against a cool patrician statue. His lips on hers were insistent, demanding a fierce response. She accepted them, but wondered at the cause.

She assumed he would tell her later. For now, his kisses were enough to occupy her mind and her body.





Outside his parents’ house, Julian waited while Ada and Lily climbed up into the Hanniford town carriage. Pierce and Killian gestured for him to join the ladies and the two men followed him into the coach. The three men sat together facing the ladies.

“Remy brings Marianne home,” Killian informed the party as he settled into his corner. “I told her I don’t like it, but she insists.”

As a widow, Lily’s cousin had a bit of leeway to stay in the company of a man without a chaperone.

“Can she do that without hurting her reputation?” Pierce inquired of Julian. Acting like Cerberus at the gate, Pierce enjoyed his role and Julian sensed he would not give it up easily or soon.

“To a small extent, yes. She should come right home to us and not linger in his carriage.” Although the way his friend paid the blonde American beauty such respects that he’d danced with her four times this evening, Julian could wager the Frenchman wished to do more than simply see her to the door.

“She’ll create a stir,” Ada confided, a sheepish look at their father.

“Marianne knows her own mind, Ada,” Lily said. “She likes the duke. They’ve known each other as long as Julian and I. And she wouldn’t do anything to hurt us.”

Killian grumbled. “To hell with us. I’m concerned with her. The Duc de Remy has a notorious reputation for keeping mistresses. I simply demand he treat her honorably.”

Julian took that as a blow. Remy was not unprincipled. He loved women, lots of them. Usually one at a time. But he’d never loved one long enough or well enough to marry any. The extraordinary aspect of Remy’s regard for Marianne Roland was that it had lasted this long—and as far as Julian could tell, without culminating in any physical intimacy. He’d have a talk with Remy about his enchantment with the comely lady. Tomorrow at the wedding breakfast.

Killian pursed his lips, rubbed his fingers together and stared at him. “I understand, Julian, that you and your father talked this evening before the ball. Did he tell you about the purchase of the company stock?”

Anger rose to clog his throat. Outrageous that Killian would even ask about a private conversation, he found a polite response. “He did. He told me it’s almost complete.”

“He threw a wrench in the works, too.” Killian grew red with irritation.

His father was angry, resented that Julian had taken Killian Hanniford’s money, insulted that his only son had taken the American buccaneer’s oldest daughter as his wife. Worse, he was insanely proud that Elanna was about to sell herself to take the Earl of Carbury into her bed. The Duke of Seton had quite a few misplaced values. To say nothing of poor ethics and worse morals. It’s what had made him the man he was today. Or less than. “Whatever that obstacle is—and I do not wish to know—it is none of my business.”

Across from him, Lily went quite still and stared at Julian with wide eyes. Did she expect an argument?

Julian would not give it. Nor would he yield ground.

Killian waved a hand. “Does he want you to negotiate with me?”

“No, sir. He didn’t ask that of me.”

Killian cocked a brow at him as if to ask what was discussed.

Julian inclined his head but glanced away. The worst thing he wanted to reveal was the topic of that conversation. He’d been trying to forget it, in fact.

The Duke of Seton sought funds. Money. Lots of it.

But his father could die before Julian ever considered giving him a farthing. He could then squander it in hell.





Elanna and Carbury’s wedding at St. George’s in Hanover Square had gone without a flaw. Although Elanna looked angelic in her finery of cream Bruges lace and Italian raw satin, she’d resembled a ghost. Her cheeks were wan and her eyes glassy as she walked down the aisle toward her groom. Carbury appeared as he always had when near his bride—proud. Triumphant.

His attitude, however, was a bit galling. Lily took her eyes from the earl, haughty as he fawned over his bride of two hours. His meaty hand on her shoulder. In fact, too far down her shoulder to be prudent in polite society during his wedding breakfast.