Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)(21)

A darting glance toward the doorway confirmed her suspicion.

Julian had arrived. And arrived in style. He was always well-dressed, but tonight he’d outdone himself. Every detail of his appearance—each button, cuff, or twist of his cravat—had been arranged with such precision, the military uniforms in the room looked like paupers’ rags by comparison.

He bowed deeply to their hosts. “I apologize for my tardiness. I was”—he cast Lily a brief, cryptic look—“detained.”

The duke inclined his head with thinly veiled irritation. Amelia made hasty introductions, and everyone settled back to the table.

Lily indicated the empty seat next to her. “You’re just in time.”

So strange. Julian’s arrival ought to have heralded a deep surge of relief in her soul. If he was here, that meant he was not out chasing danger. And if he was here, it meant she had an ally to facilitate communication. She’d been waiting for him all night.

But when he approached, took her hand, and bowed over it—his intense blue eyes never leaving hers—it wasn’t relief she felt, but a prickling awareness that seemed some distant cousin to fear. The ground beneath her narrowed, coiled round and round on itself until she balanced on a taut, thin cable stretched between this moment and the next. Dizzying.

As Julian took his place at the table and the footman poured his wine, Lily found her attention drawn to parts of him she wasn’t in the habit of noticing. The neat, blunt edges of his fingernails. The freshly clipped fringe of hair just behind his ear. The red, razor-thin score on the underside of his jaw—the result of overzealous shaving, perhaps. The faint sandalwood aroma of shaving soap hovered about him, elusive and masculine, and with every breath her lungs expanded greedily, determined to catch more of it.

Had his earlobes always been that square-ish shape? Why had she never noticed it before?

Why was she noticing now?

Julian suddenly turned his head, and his gaze crashed straight into hers. She startled, embarrassed to have been caught staring. His eyebrow quirked in question. She didn’t have an answer.

“Commander,” she blurted out, swallowing hard as she turned. “You were telling us about the burning of Washington.”

“Yes,” the commander replied, his chest puffing a bit. “We occupied the American capitol for all of six-and-twenty hours before we were forced to retreat. But I was part of the group who burned the White House. When we entered, we found supper waiting on the table. Hospitable of them, wasn’t it?”

“Truly?” Amelia asked.

“Oh, yes. We walked in, and there was a meal laid for forty. So before we set fire to the house, we sat down and ate Madison’s supper.” He smiled. “But I must say, Your Grace, that meal was nothing to touch the feast you’ve laid before us tonight.” He gestured toward the array of roasts and delicately sauced vegetables.

Amelia blushed her thanks.

At the head of the table, the duke gave his wife a look of admiration and pride. He raised his glass. “A drink to her health. Her Grace, the Duchess of Morland.”

In unison, the lieutenants bolted to their feet with a chorus of “Hear, hear!” before sitting and gulping wine.

Julian’s brow creased with annoyance. “Such enthusiasm. Is that a naval tradition?”

Lily took it upon herself to explain. “The commander has requested his lieutenants stand when they speak, so that I may better follow the conversation. Isn’t that considerate of him?” With her eyes, she pleaded for his agreement.

She didn’t receive it.

“‘Considerate’ isn’t the word.”

The lieutenant in the middle rose from his chair. “If I may say it, Mr. Bellamy, it’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

Lily smiled at his earnestness. These officers were a perfect audience for Julian’s charm. Like so many men of their generation, they clearly idolized him.

As the first sat, the ginger one rose. “At sea, we’re always telling jokes and amusing stories. All the best ones trace back to you.”

“All the bawdiest, you mean.” With a riffle of his short dark hair, the youngest ignored the one-at-a-time proviso and fairly exploded from his seat. “Do Prinny! Or Byron, if you will.”

Lily knew Julian had dined for years on the popularity of his imitations. Supposedly, he had the uncanny ability to reproduce a voice faithfully after hearing it just once. Leo’s friends never tired of the amusement, but it was a talent wholly lost on her.

Reaching for the platter of broiled trout before him, Julian demurred with a shake of his head. “Not now.”

But the young lieutenant would not be deterred. He leapt to his feet again. “Please, sir. I saw you a year ago, when my uncle took me by Boodles before I shipped out. And I’ve been telling my mates about it ever since—”

“Sit down.” Julian leveled the fillet knife at him. “And stay seated. All of you. You’re insulting the lady.”

The youth’s face blazed crimson as he sank to his chair. Lily felt her own cheeks heat. Well. That was the last they’d hear from any of the lieutenants at this table. They would not disobey their commander by speaking without standing, and neither would they dare to cross Julian.

She passed a dish of potatoes in his direction, taking the opportunity to murmur, “What are you doing?”